Navigating Jew-ishness: The Complexities of Identity and Weight of Heritage
Written by Gray W.
I cannot stop staring at the empty box in front of me. I have clicked through so many with so little effort, but I am at a junction. The Common App has trapped me because I’m not Jewish. I don’t know what I am. I’m 17 and not Jewish. I mean, I have had “Jewish” experiences. I mean, I have had matzo ball soup. I mean, I have heard my dad's stories of temple growing up. I mean, I have heard about his bar mitzvah and how, with liquid courage, he still can recite the Torah by heart. I mean, I am often told that I “look Jewish”. Maybe I am Jew-ish then, a mysterious combination of ethnicity and experience without a Jewish faith. It’s confusing. In an America with antisemitism on the rise, I should feel attacked because of my Jew-ish identity. Or maybe I should be even more offended because the need to go “Defcon 3 on the Jews” is why my dad had to forsake his religion and why I am Jew-ish.
Growing up, my dad was raised in a strict Jewish household; until, he had to convert to Christianity in order to marry my mom, who was raised as a Russian Orthodox Christian. My mom’s parents would have it no other way: their daughter could not marry a Jew. Because of their love for each other, I am now Jew-ish. Despite the fact that a DNA test would label him 100% Ashkenazi Jew, my dad was no longer Jewish to my grandparents once he stepped foot in that grand church and exchanged vows in front of an ordained clergy under a crucified Jesus Christ. If his withdrawal from his faith was enough to become a Gentile, then why should I be able to call myself Jew-ish?
If I check this box, what does that imply about a Jew-ish identity? The Jew-ish community is a rather new one, and it's one that comes with all the privilege and none of the struggle. George Santos, a con-man and current congressman who “claimed he was ‘Jew-ish,” is probably the most famous member of this group. Santos looked only to garner the votes of Jewish people in his district, exploiting the power the label had to bring himself up. 270 Republicans and one Jew-ish man walk into a bar and win the election. The most notable Jew-ish person is a fraud. For Santos, Jew-ishness is not an identity but a label, one that he adds and removes from himself like a sticker. It doesn’t commit, and it doesn’t honor the Jewish community; rather, “Jew-ish” actively encroaches upon the walls that bind a minority group who have suffered so much, while ignoring the discrimination that comes with claiming this identity. Only on the fronts of technicalities am I allowed in the Jewish space, and even then, it feels offensive to justify my way into it. Look at me now, writing an entire essay in an attempt to rationalize the checking of this box.
If I check this box, what kind of erasure could I be subject to? People like Ye — formerly Kanye — and Dave Chappelle further this, making it dangerous to question my place in the space out of fear of erasure. In 2022, Chappelle stood on the stage of SNL in front of millions of viewers and addressed the recent antisemitic comments of Ye, saying that Ye should have apologized to “buy himself some time”. He goes on to say, “I learned there are two words you should never say together. Those words are … ‘the’ and ‘Jews.’ Never heard someone do good after they said that.” I may check that Jew-ish box, but I would not be considered “the Jews” Chappelle claims ruin careers. For what I hope to be the only time I relate to him, I am just like Santos if I claim this identity for an advantage in college admissions. I would be cashing in on the experiences of every person who has been the target of people like Chappelle and Ye, their tongues whipping the word Jew around like it’s a slur. In fact, the greatest injustice I have experienced has been jokes about the length of my nose, something I laugh off. It is a privilege to be able to laugh this off because Jewishness is not a true part of my identity, it is that sticker that stays just as sticky the next time it is convenient for me to choose to wear it. If I check this box, I wouldn't be the first to cash in on Jewish suffering. When Adidas stuffs their boxes with blue squares in an effort to put a bandaid on the gaping wound Ye has left, that act is for financial gain, not human consideration. Those blue squares were a sad attempt at erasing an entire group's pain, as Adidas continued to make $437 million from the Yeezy-branded shoes. The erasure was not targeted at me, and when I did order my Yeezy shoes, rationalizing to myself the ethics of the order, there was no blue square in my box.
It is clear that I am not Jewish because I have never feared for my identity. The 2022 American Audit of Antisemitism, tallied 3,697 hate crimes against Jews. On average that’s 10 a day and 73 per state. I have never been the target of a hate crime. While I want to tick this box in remembrance of my heritage or to recognize the sacrifice my father made for love, I cannot, because I have the power to move through the world without fear of attack. I can blast Ye from eardrum to eardrum and I might feel worried about the impact his comments inflict, but I don’t worry about being attacked because I am not at a temple, or a Jewish festival, nor do I live in a Jewish neighborhood. When Trump, during Rosh Hashanah, posts “Quick reminder for liberal Jews who voted to destroy America, let’s hope you learned from your mistake & make better choices moving forward!”, I lack the experience to feel that as an attack. The fear of being “othered” or being called a slur would never occur to me. Today, because of the commonality of hate towards Jewish people, it seems that a requirement to check that “Jewish” box would be suffering and the strength required to reject the casualized antisemitism in society. I lack the strength that is acquired by a lifetime of efforts to withstand the fear of being “othered” or called a slur. Checking the box, knowing this, seems like an act of injustice.
If I do not check this box perhaps that would be an even greater injustice. My search history is filled with questions about my identity: What does it mean to be Jewish? Who is a Jew? Above all other factors, Pew Research found Jewish Americans valued a level of cultural competence most when it came to being able to be labeled a “Jew”. I have been to the US Holocaust Memorial Museum; I have seen the room filled with empty, sunken shoes; and I have been mortified. However, being mortified is not enough, and if I am to label myself Jewish, then I have to have proof of my ethnic roots. I do. I can flip through the registry and find the names of my ancestors, stuffed into concentration camps and left to die. I can find the names of my dad's grandparents fleeing Nazi Europe. If I do not check this box, it feels like I’m erasing my cultural heritage and the suffering and pain of my ancestors.
Yet, it feels so unfair to make suffering a requirement to be a part of a group, but until Jewish hate ceases to exist, it will be. Perhaps I do not want to attempt to label myself Jewish because of the burden that would put on me. Legacy admissions were first put in place to negate an increase of Jews accepted to university, so what would ticking the box for college truly do for me? If I truly claim to be Jewish, the comments on my nose would hurt me. Then, the Nazi flags outside of Disney, the happiest place on earth, swaying with a shifted swastika embedded against a deep red background would be targeted at me. Then, I would fear for my life as violent hate crimes towards Jewish-identifying people In New York rose 400% from 2021 to 2022. I want to click this box out of honesty, honesty about my confusion. I want to accept the fullness of what it means to be Jewish, but I do not know if I could willingly accept the label if suffering is the cost. Ticking this box would not be an advantage: that much is clear.
I can never check that box, no matter how much I want to connect with this part of my identity. While I may want to claim what my dad had to give up, having my flexible Jew-ish identity has never required strength. To have a Jewish experience will never equate to that checkbox in a world where public figures and celebrities nonchalantly pummel down a community in their comedy sketches, tweets, or speeches. My dad had to have the strength to stomach the snide comments, the struggle to give up his own identity to love whom he wanted to love, and to suffer the consequences of that decision. Until antisemitism ceases to exist, the Jewish sphere will remain exclusive and attempts to question the position inside will be negated. Being Jewish is strength, struggle, and suffering, and I have experienced none of these, so I do not click the box. Even though the identity of Jew-ish is boasted by a man I do not respect, I embrace this quasi-identity. Unable to completely deny this part of me, I am now Jew-ish.
