Gatekeeping and Being Jewish “enough”
I can already tell this is going to be a long one, but I figured I might as well get this one out of the way. I’m 17, and I’ve been Jewish for all of those 17 years. And yet I sometimes find myself wondering if I’m Jewish enough. If I pass the test. If I’m worthy of claiming my Jewish heritage, which is bull, because I absolutely am. However, I do have a lot of reasons to wonder, as my brain loves to remind me. I’m an incredibly white-passing Jew, I don’t speak Hebrew, I can barely read it (give me a minute to try and I’ll get there though), I only go to synagogue for the High Holy Days, I’m not very observant of most religious customs, I don’t know many old traditions, and I only have one Jewish parent. While I know that rationally, none of these things make me any less Jewish, they do occasionally bring me to question rationality. I’ve personally never been told to my face that I’m not Jewish enough, but it’s been said in a lot of little, mostly unintentional ways. When you go to a tiny small-town high school with under 500 students, hearing “Oh, I didn’t know you were Jewish.” isn’t too weird. My younger sister and I are the only two Jewish students in my school that I know of, so that one doesn’t faze me so much. It’s all the ones like “Really? You don’t look Jewish,” or “I wasn’t expecting that one lol.” Those are the ones that kind of get me, because it implies some overarching expectation of a Jewish person. Like there’s a list somewhere, and all the boxes have to be checked for me to count as a real Jew. Because what I need is for some random goyim to give their seal of approval on my unchangeable identity. But the real kicker is, it doesn’t just happen with goyim. Gatekeeping within our own community is one of the most hurtful things I’ve experienced and witnessed, both countless times. We are such a small population of the world at this point that it kills me to think that we’re excluding and harming members of our own community just because some of us have put ourselves on such high pedestals that we hate to think anyone else “deserves” to be there too. My mom just had an infuriating experience like this at our own synagogue, during Yom Kippur closing services. My family is not very religious. My mom is Jewish, my dad is the most Irish-looking man I’ve ever met, and my sister and I look more like an Aryan dream than “real live Jews”. I just fasted for real for the first time in my life today. But we care about our customs and culture, so you’ll more often than not catch me and my mom at Kol Neidre and Ne’ila. I couldn’t be there tonight, so my mom was by herself for Ne’ila. For context, my synagogue is the only one within 30 miles and rarely sees a congregation of up to 20 people. And also my rabbi straight-up cold calls on people to read during services. Usually there’s some sort of transliteration, but when my mom was called tonight to read straight from the Torah, she was terrified because she didn’t think there would be one for the Torah. So she walks up there and tells my rabbi that she can’t read Hebrew, which I know must have been mortifying for her on its own. He tells her not to worry, that there’s a transliteration, and she’ll be fine. She knows there’s a melody that goes with the verse because it’s a Hebrew Torah reading and that’s just how it goes, but she doesn’t know the melody. So she just reads it, like anyone in her place would. But before she goes to sit down, our rabbi said, in the most sarcastic, belittling tone, “Well that was an interesting Torah reading.” My mom said it was all she could do not to punch him right in front of the Ark. She told me it was the first time she had ever felt unwelcome in our synagogue. For a rabbi to make someone feel so invalid in their own temple makes me indescribably furious. I have so much respect for my mom for continuing to sit through that service and for breaking her fast at the synagogue with the rest of them. I don’t think I could have done it. I’ve had to deal with so many lesser incidences and I haven’t ever been able to keep my cool like that. Nothing can describe the feeling of fear and embarassment when you are made by someone else to feel as though you don’t have the right to claim your identity. And I know this is something people of countless other communities have faced, and continue to face on a daily basis, but for me, it’s one of the most isolating feelings in the world. I don’t know any other Jews my age where I live. I don’t interact with any on a daily basis or feel as though I have much of a community. So when I find myself in a situation where I feel like I have to “prove” my Jewishness, it’s bizarre. What am I supposed to do? My identity isn’t in the color of my skin or eyes, or the texture of my hair. I can’t burst into a tirade or a write a speech in Hebrew. I can’t recite Torah verses from memory. For me, my Jewishness is in the challah my mom and I make, my sister and I fighting over who gets to light the menorah which night, and my very gentile dad doing his best to sing the Hebrew prayers with us. It’s in my Grampa’s Yiddish swears and my Nana’s kvetching. It’s in my genes, and always in my soul. I’m trying very hard to realize that there is no “enough,” and sometimes I think I’m getting there, but it’s difficult when the only proof you have of your identity is your identity itself.