Resisting Fear: What Being Jewish Means in an Age of Rising Anti-Semitism The Body Is Not An Apology
When I was growing up, being Jewish meant to me that we ate challah on Friday nights, put on a Purim play once a year (in which I always got to play Queen Esther), and lit Hanukkah candles while the Christmas tree gleamed in the other room. I loved learning about Jewish history, reading the stories, and celebrating the holidays with all their delicious food. Synagogue was a bore, though, and I spent my time there clambering around the balcony with other children while the singing wafted up to us from the congregation below. Rosh Hashanah and Sukkot meant inviting my neighborhood friends over for apples and honey or cookies and tea in the sukkah. I loved sharing my holidays and stories with my friends, and I never really thought of myself as Jewish in opposition to anything else. Some people were Christian, some Jewish, some Muslim, and so on. It was a natural part of my life and my identity, and I didn’t think much on my place in the larger world as a Jewish person. As I got older an...