Why Are You Jewish?
(but this isn’t a ‘conversion story’)
I was born into an interesting family dynamic. My mother’s family was a typical Black American one. I was the second generation, born in Pennsylvania, where all of the great-grandparents came from the South (North Carolina, South Carolina and Virginia respectively). The came to Pennsylvania in the early 20th century via the Great Migration. All were also pillars of their local churches; both sides were of the C.O.G.I.C. Pentecostal denomination. Christianity came with the package of being ‘a good and decent’ family. For most people, there would be no real reason to question this.
But that was just one side of my family. My other side (paternal) were recent immigrants from Jamaica. While Jamaica is a country with a very robust network of Christian churches, my family’s tie into them was pretty superficial. My father didn’t grow up with his Black father’s family (my grandfather was killed when my Dad was a teenager; and before that, he was an absentee father). My grandmother was the daughter of indentured laborers from India who were most likely Hindu (we don’t really know — but that’s a likely scenario).
While most of my family today in Jamaica is affiliated with some sort of church, they really run the gamut in terms of denominations. There are Catholics, Seventh Day Adventists, and even Free Holiness. But my father’s generation was very much inspired by rising popularity of the Rastafarian movement in the 1970s and 1980s. So I was also born into this open exposure to a manifestation of a type of spirituality that usually was taken upon voluntarily (Rastafarianism was founded only in the 1930s).
Being an immigrant, my father didn’t have the same geographical sentiments that my mother’s family had (a-la, ‘this is the Black part of town….this is the Italian part of town…’, etc.). Before eventually landing in Florida, he lived in predominantly Jewish neighborhood of Pittsburgh, PA (Squirrel Hill). He not only befriended Jews but he would go to Jewish bookstores and buy books on Judaism. He would then talk to me about who the Jews were and how both Christianity and Islam came from them. A very elementary exposure — but an exposure nonetheless.
By the time I was a teenager, I had been to quite a few churches. I had gone to a Catholic school. My Dad had dated a Muslim woman and she shared a lot with me about Islam as well. None of it was a particular draw to me. I didn’t have any bad feelings about the church of my grandparents. I just hesitated at the idea of embracing it fully. It just did not speak to me. I also loved the ‘one love’ and ‘me vs. the world’ approach of Rastafari. But I also hesitated on fully embracing that was well — because of the key points of what they promoted (like the divineness of Haile Selaisse).
Pretty early on I considered Judaism as an option. I didn’t have a clear idea about how someone became Jewish. I figured that I would start by going to services at a nearby synagogue. I had read enough to know about the major Jewish denominations: Reform, Conservative, Orthodox and Reconstructionist. I knew enough that Reform would be the best fit. Although Reform has the most English in their services; it was still completely foreign to me as far as the structure of the service — and even the tiny bit of Hebrew that was being recited, left me feeling like a complete outsider.
Judaism also does not take the approach that a non-Jew needs to become Jewish in order to have a share in the world to come. So for quite sometime, my relationship with Judaism was a-la carte. I would go to services sometimes. I would not eat on Yom Kippur. I wore a Star of David (even though my first one was gifted to me from my Dad as a Rastafarian symbol — not a Jewish one). But I didn’t make any moves towards converting. I will say that in college (save for the time when I was 14, and I met with a rabbi asking about conversion — he said he didn’t convert minors without their parents and that was that). I had actually learned a ton about living a Jewish life through my time spent at the Hillel at West Virginia University; as testament to how important religious student organizations are on a college campus.
The Importance of Community
When I moved to Southeast, FL in my 20s (first Broward county and then North Miami Beach), I realized how critical it is to live within a Jewish community. The way that life unfolded for me at that time was really incredible and quite frankly, divine handiwork. There are so many synagogues and ‘Jewish neighborhoods’ in South Florida, it was very easy to find a path to do whatever you wanted. I found an independent Reform congregation and I converted with them pretty easily (then became a full member). I then started working for an Orthodox Jewish company. This was the first time that I really met Orthodox Jews. In my desire to learn more about Judaism, I began to spend more and more time in the Orthodox community. It was amazing to see how Judaism influenced their entire lives — not just where they went to worship. I just could not get enough.
If I did not live in such a large (South Florida is home to more than 650,000 Jews and has the largest percentage of Jewish residents of any place outside of Israel) Jewish community, I would have never had the opportunity to learn as much as I did. And there were Jews there from all places, walks of life, etc. It melted away the idea that Jews were a race or ethnicity — and I had no way to become ‘really Jewish’.
The Push and Pull of Orthodox Judaism
In 2006 I had the privilege of going to Israel on a Birthright trip. In many ways it was the apex of my relationship with Orthodox Judaism (which is interesting, because I didn’t convert with an Orthodox Beit din (Jewish court) until 2011). I was learning with Orthodox rabbis, being invited to have meals and spend Shabbat with Orthodox families, my job supported my efforts. Everything was just incredible. Then one day in October 2007, it all changed. I was in a car accident that landed me in the hospital for 6 weeks. 6 weeks doesn’t seem like such a long time. But it changed everything. And I do mean everything.
While the local Bikur Cholim (an organization present in the Orthodox Jewish community that visits sick people) did come to see me in the hospital – I had to rely heavily on my biological family. And none of them were Jewish. None of them knew anything about cooking kosher food or the laws of Shabbat. And to be honest — I did not convert yet. So I had to just accept that at was at their mercy. They knew enough not to give me pork or shrimp (had to remind them about cheeseburgers and pepperoni pizza though). And I wasn’t mad at God — but I did think that perhaps it was a sign. Maybe this was a sign that I was never meant to be Jewish….according to halacha anyway (remember, I already had my Reform conversion).
The period between the time of my car accident and when I did eventually convert Orthodox could be a book in and of itself. And I said that this isn’t a conversion story! So I won’t get into all of that here. But I will say that for all the highs that I had in Florida, I would have corresponding low periods upon returning to Pennsylvania and trying to find my way back into the Orthodox Jewish community there. Let’s just say I crossed the finish line of the race — but I was bruised and battered afterwards. I did not understand how a religious community could be so toxic and dismantle my self-esteem so easily. The closer that I came towards converting, the more people (not just rabbis) would find reasons for me not to. In a nutshell I was made not to feel like a cherished adopted infant; but an unruly teenage foster child that the government forced you to adopt.
It was a confusing time. On one hand, I didn’t know how to not live and think like a Jew. But I’m also not the type to stick around and hang out at a party where I am not wanted. Trying to date after my conversion really cemented my feelings about not being wanted as well. The feeling finally broke me. I embarked upon a romantic relationship with an atheist non-Jew who was fine with me raising our children as Jews. At the time, that was a ‘win’ for me.
And perhaps my spiritual journey could have ended here. I would go to Chabad sometimes or a traditional Conservative minyan other times. I had regressed back to my Reform kosher rules to accommodate my partner. Things could have went on like that.
But alas….they didn’t.
Rebirth
My journey to motherhood also lit a spark to re-ignite my spiritual journey. Becoming a mother changed my perspective on my home life. I stopped living for just myself and now put a focus on my entire family. Unfortunately the father of my children had the attitude to treat them more as accessories, and was reluctant to make the necessary adjustments to our day-to-day living to accommodate parenthood. My loneliness was acute – in spite of having 3 babies and an adult man living in the same house as me. I began to try to find a way to nourish my spirit.
At first, I didn’t know how it would happen. But ongoing and escalating emotional abuse from my partner was helping. I would look for any type of event that I could go to and take the kids — just so that I could get out of the house. That is when I connected with Chabad (outside of just the occasional attendance at a Shabbat service at least).
I was gun-shy to say the least. I was hoping to just attend some Mommy & Me events and then just go home. But that didn’t happen. Instead the rabbi offered to meet with me so that he could get to know us (‘us’ being the boys and myself) better. I will say that he did need to verify my Jewish conversion first. But once that was done, we were totally welcomed!
And it really felt like a homecoming. And awkward one — but one nonetheless. I thought that I might forget the prayers. I didn’t. I thought that rabbis and laypeople would shut the doors. They didn’t. I thought that Hashem (God) might feel far away. But he didn’t.
Through the nurturing of newborns I came to understand the concept of unconditional love. Of forgiveness and of self-love. I was ready.
The Journey Continues
Real life is not like a story book where everyone lives happily ever after. There have been challenges. When the COVID-19 pandemic occurred in 2020, I was pushed to the limits and forced to face many steep challenges head-on. But this alone time (well, ‘alone’ meaning myself + three toddlers — a couple of hundred miles away from home) was important. It helped me to grow comfortable with myself. With both my shortcomings and my good qualities. The single-parent thing (I had left my ex in 2019) was not easy — but people marveled at me. I was called a super-hero.
I was thankful to God. I was blessed with healthy, wonderful children and they were being raised in a secure environment and lived in a distinctly Jewish home. But I admit, my exhaustion was putting a damper on my inspiration. Many times Judaism began to feel like a system of limitations and rules. I felt discouraged. And I also felt alone.
I took my time getting back into the dating scene. We had relocated to an area with a Jewish infrastructure; but it was small. I quickly realized that if I did want to date, I would need to look for men outside of my immediate area. It isn’t easy for a single women with 3 young children to date. And when you are a traditionally-minded Jew, it is even harder. I did not feel comfortable calling myself ‘Orthodox’ anymore — because we attended the local Conservative synagogue more than the Orthodox one because they had better children’s programming on Shabbat. It was a weird space to be in — walking to synagogue where most of the others drove; having my boys only wear kippot to shul and school; eating out dairy and vegetarian at local restaurants and bars; etc. Any man that I would seriously consider would need to be very respectful of traditional observance — but not try to push any particular level of observance on me (or the boys) that was premature.
Needless to say, the couple of men who I did date ended up being dead ends. I began to accept that I would just be single — because I was a mother. And that was an incredible blessing. And you can’t get greedy with you blessings, right?
When I first met my husband, the timing was uncanny. I had been ghosted by a man that I was seeing motzei Shabbat (after Shabbat ended). I was surprised that I wasn’t hurt or devastated or even angry. I was annoyed. I was annoyed that I had wasted the time and effort. The very next day, I noticed that an unfamiliar person was liking pictures on my Facebook profile (it was my husband). Mind you — post October 7, 2023, I would add unknown people as friends on Facebook that were pro-Zionist. Before, I had to personally know of you before I added you. But I became more lenient by this time (summer 2024) to try to find allies. My husband connected with me through this ‘back door’.
We exchanged niceties on WhatsApp — and then I got into some really weird mode of being 1/2 flirty and 1/2 bitchy — because I was just so over men and their games. I saw his picture — a headshot where he had on dark-rimmed glass and a black velvet kippa. Yeah — handsome guy, but no. Too religious. But he was someone to talk to. And the conversations were fantastic. Nothing creepy — nothing sexual. So I invited him to a voice call.
Not sure what I was expecting; but the voice on the other end kinda sounded like — Bill Clinton (I told him that). I mean, he was born and raised in the Deep South — so shame on me for being surprised. But again — not sure about this guy! I mean, I am a Black woman; he is a White man who was born and raised in the South. And he was a baal teshuva — which is a Jewish person who was born non-Orthodox but became Orthodox later in life. He could have the rose-colored glasses on about Judaism. He came back to Jewish observance via Chabad. And while that wasn’t a deal-breaker, I made it clear that I wouldn’t (ever) be Lubavitch (or any other kind of chossid).
But he didn’t have an issue with any of it. We talked about Judaism. We talked about what we want from life. We talked about different recipes. Nothing was off limits! But I was curious: why hasn’t this man asked me about my conversion? He didn’t grill me about that — or even about the boys playing with their tablets on Shabbat. I wanted to set the record straight though. I emailed him my conversion certificate & asked if he had any issues or questions. His response was simple: “No.” Wait….what? I started asking why. What if I gave him a Reform/Conservative certificate? Or none at all? His subsequent response set off a beacon to let me know he was absolutely the one. In short, he said he never doubted my Jewishness because I have the soul of a Jewish woman. It comes through in everything I do. Observance waxes and wanes. Yes, get a piece of paper to confirm what you are. But I had a Jewish neshama (soul)…he never questioned that!
It was an amazing thing to hear. Finally, someone ‘got’ me! Oh, and remember I said I thought he was too frum (religious) for me because of his headshot? Well come to find out he has tattoos all over his arms and hands. He lived with Black people on the rough side of town for years. Like me, he had hung out with youth subcultures (he was with the skateboard/punk crowd — I was with the ska/skinhead crowd). We both have the vice of nicotine (he does patches, I vape). So many Orthodox Jewish men made me feel ashamed of my past. My husband chuckles and said I was an angel compared to how he was.
Because it was the summer, the kids were away. So I booked a flight to see him. I was expecting to discover something that would shatter the idyllic vibe. That didn’t happen. Quite the opposite. I was so inspired — because as hard as I thought it was to be an observant Jew in small town Pennsylvania — I still had a much easier time then he had. But his effort had not only inspired me — but several other young Jews in the area who he brought to Chabad and they all learned together. I also inspired him. He had read about the Jewish home and family but felt that marriage was out of reach because good Orthodox Jewish women aren’t looking to marry men with a checkered past and no Jewish family left (all parents and grandparents deceased — siblings still alive, but not observant or even openly identifying as Jews). We were both smitten. Before my visit ended — he had proposed.
We ended up relocating again — to Cleveland, OH. Cleveland is affordable, has great options in regards to Jewish education, and has the type of vibe that my family feels comfortable in. We joined an Orthodox synagogue — but still don’t call ourselves Orthodox (I say ‘Traditional’ he says ‘Shomer Zionist’ lol). We’ve eased into this new dynamic at our own pace and in accordance to our own life rhythms.
We are Jews because this is how God made us. We know that the race it not always for us to finish — but we must do our part to continue this eternal covenant between ourselves and the Almighty. It’s an awesome responsibility. One that I strive to fulfill more and more each day.