“Why do you have so much pride in being Jewish?”
It’s a question I get all the time. In my inbox, from my friends who are annoyed that I talk about it so much. It’s a question I get all the time.
And I struggle not to say because I can.
I have so much pride in being Jewish because my grandparents still have their “Jude” stars from the Warsaw Ghetto. Because so much of our family history died in Bergen Belsen and didn’t make it out of Dachau.
I have so much pride in being Jewish because my mom’s car was shot at 17 times by Neo-Nazi while she was driving through Arkansas, all because she had a Star of David bumper sticker. They said their aim was to kill her. It was a miracle they missed. This isn’t history, either. This was 1992.
I have so much pride in being Jewish because when, in 5th grade, when they painted a swastika on my locker and threw pennies at me in the hallways, the principe said “anti semitism isn’t real. Try being nice to them.”
I have so much pride in being Jewish because when my cousin asked his school bullies to please stop heiling Hitler, they beat him within inches of his life. He was the one who got suspended for “inciting violence.”
I have so much pride in being Jewish because after all the persecution, after all the hatred, we still sit down for Seders and Shabbat. We still laugh and joke in Yiddish- refusing to let it die out. We still make challah on Friday and seek refuge in our synagogues. We wear our kippahs and tzitzits with boldness and courage.
I have so much pride in being Jewish because I can. Because we have fought for the right to be Jewish for millennia. Because we are still here.
andulkaphoto
2087
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