burtmacklin:

Hi, my name is Emma. I am Jewish, and before I go to bed, I’d like to tell you guys a little bit about what that means. Before I begin, I should add that Judaism means different things to different people because like any cultural group, we Jews are not monolithic. Not all Jews are white (like I am), Ashkenazi (like I am), agnostic (like I am), or American (like I am). We might not all be offended by the same things, either—other Jews may read this post and find themselves thinking, “Well, what she considers so offensive really doesn’t bother me at all,” and that’s fine, but it doesn’t give any of you gentiles the right to dismiss my feelings or police my actions. Capische?

The first time I ever felt truly conscious of my status as a member of a religious minority, I was four, and my friend was asking me why my family didn’t celebrate Christmas. I said, “Because we’re Jewish,” and she shrugged and asked, “So why not?” I couldn’t tell her why not because at the time, I didn’t yet know what it meant to be Jewish. My understanding of religion pretty much boiled down to the celebration of different holidays. My friend celebrated Christmas, so she was Christian. I celebrated Hannukah, so I was Jewish. I really did think it was that simple. What I did know, however, was that my friend would never be asked why she celebrated Christmas, because even then I understood that her beliefs were those of the American majority.

My understanding of Judaism took nine years to fully develop. Nine years of asking my mom why they hung little papers Santas in the windows of the supermarket, but no menorahs. Nine years of learning about the Holocaust, of reading Number the Stars and asking my dad if Hitler was evil, or just a product of society. Nine years of that same friend who once asked me why I didn’t celebrate Christmas demanding to know whether or not I was aware that my people killed her Lord, Jesus Christ. Nine years of being told that I’m awfully pretty, for a Jewish girl. Nine years of socially conservative politicians claiming that what religious America wants is to say, “Merry Christmas!” instead of “Happy Holidays!” and thinking, isn’t my family part of religious America, too? The conclusion I finally arrived at—the conclusion that became a speech I gave at my Bat Mitzvah—was that Judaism, to me, meant living everyday in the shadow of history. Sometimes, that means using the oppression my people have experienced in the past as an impetus to fight for social justice. Other times, it means visiting a Jewish deli and knowing exactly what to order, or watching a Jewish comedian perform and thinking, “That’s the kind of humor you’d find in my household.”

Of course, living everyday in the shadow of history, by definition, means carrying some baggage. That’s why I can’t stand to hear some of you say “I love Jewnicorns,” “He looks particularly Jewish today,” or “I’d like to marry a Jewish guy,” because being Jewish has never meant anything so simple, so downright silly, to me, as being a heart throb, wearing your heritage on the back of your sleeve, or being a fucking magical unicorn. It doesn’t matter that you mean it as a joke or a compliment—I can’t just turn off this part of my identity, the part that demands I take with me the entire history of my people, for the sake of your precious joke. My people are not yours to demean or fetishize. I do not consider this a ridiculous demand.