A Jewish Journey of Identity and Courage

we live outside Israel. When she mentioned Israel, something shifted in her voice. Dad once told me it’s because you can leave Israel, but Israel never leaves you. I never really understood what he meant; I was born here, and this is my home. I doubt my friends would grasp why I’m doing this. They think being Jewish is a burden. When we met in first grade, Olivia once asked if I could stop being Jewish. I told her it was impossible but that it didn’t bother me. I’m American, and my mom being Jewish doesn’t change that. Bethany insisted it mattered, claiming I should keep it a secret. Since then, I’ve never mentioned being Jewish at school, not even when the teacher asked if anyone knew of holidays celebrated around the same time as Christmas. I knew she meant Hanukkah, but I stayed silent to avoid any silly questions. As the houses of our neighborhood rushed past, I knew we’d be home soon. I had a little time to grab a snack before the rabbi arrived to review my Torah reading again for the millionth time. He’d complain about my accuracy and make me repeat the part of the reading “Va’Yomer” over and over. “If you know your Torah reading, I don’t see why we can’t skip one lesson,” Mom said, breaking my train of thought. “Really?” I was taken aback. Mom never lets me miss a class. “Really,” she replied, smiling. “I’ll text the rabbi. Don’t worry. When do you need me to take you to the mall?” “At five,” I answered, still surprised by her willingness. “Thanks!” Do you feel the need to hide certain parts of your life? If so, what are the reasons behind it?

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