Yitzhak ben Moshe, Editor/Reporter, New Mexico 

The following is from one of our readers and friends on social media. This friend has asked to remain anonymous. If you wish to send advice, or messages to the writer of this piece, do send them to us, via email, at [email protected]

Please note, when our readers write, they may share personal experiences, traumas, or life events. We do not edit what is sent in as we feel it may take away from what they are trying to say.

To submit your own piece, please email [email protected]

I hope you are doing well. I want to share a personal story about my life and the hope the Jewish faith has offered me through my darkest times.

Judaism ran through my blood since before I was born, and I feel like it was only a matter of time before I returned to it. I was born to two drug addicts who were both in and out of jail, and the only connection I had to them was that I had all the features of my father. He, of course, was a full-blooded, black-haired, long-nosed Ashkenazi Jew. Being put into the foster care system was traumatic, but I eventually found a permanent place to stay.

However, the concept of family was not something I had good experiences with. The people I call my parents were hard Christians who felt that Judaism was the devil’s work and wanted me to be just like them. Moreover, they constantly fought, and I was stuck in the middle. I was able to mend my relationship with them, but I still feel that being Jewish is a closer part of me than my connection to them.

I never really paid attention to the religious aspect of Judaism until I became the victim of a severe and traumatic crime just after my 15th birthday. When I tried to tell one of them what had happened, I received nothing but an angry lecture about how I deserved it and how they were not surprised. They said they expected me to amount to nothing and that as soon as I turned 18, I would run away, turn to drugs like my biological parents, and be killed on the streets. For some reason, I trusted that person to tell them I was struggling with suicidal thoughts, and they responded, in their own words: “Kill yourself and see what happens, I dare you.”

Those series of interactions arguably paralyzed me more than the crime itself. I still haven’t forgiven that person; they have never apologized for their words or actions. However, knowing that I came from a people of survivors and following in their footsteps was a form of rebellion against those who thought I was better off dead. I now knew I could not rely on those around me then and had to find hope from within.

For months after that situation, I was terrified to reach out to those who were actively a part of the Jewish community. I knew I didn’t fit into the rule of maternal descent, and I would be devastated if those I considered “real Jews” rejected me. They ended up being a lot more accepting than I had thought: they were the only people who understood how serious my situation was, and they knew that my Jewish identity saved my life.

The strictness of Judaism towards converts is not really about blood, nor is it done with selfish or cold intentions. I, too, had to undergo the formal conversion process because it was my father who was the Jew and not my mother. Jewish society wants to make sure that you have a severe and genuine connection with it and that you aren’t looking into it as part of a trend or hobby. Judaism is serious; once you devote your life to it, there is no going back. This – rightfully – scares off prospective converts and steers away those who think being Jewish is “cool” or a hipster fad. Those who I have met understand the meaning that culture and faith hold for me, and I am thankful for them more than anything. As soon as I am old enough to have a college degree and live safely, I fully intend to join an Orthodox Jewish community full-time and lead a traditional Jewish life. It is liberating to me, and it is comforting to know that I have a place where I no longer have to walk on eggshells to satisfy people who should be in a safe space. I understand that each convert comes from their situation, but I believe that if Judaism matters to you as much as it does to me, you will understand my perspective regardless of my personal story. For those thinking about converting, please ask yourself why it matters. If you know why, I encourage you to carry through with it. For those who are not and are not going to be a part of the Jewish world, I want you to know that for some people, it means everything. The genetics might flow through their blood, or they may be a Jew by heart, but nothing will change the fact that this is a severe and natural lifestyle. We are not a secret society or a group of re-enactors seeking to role-play lost societies; we are a culture that has always lived and will live on forever. It is welcome to everyone but does not bow down to anyone. Judaism, in my perspective, is the most sacred thing that has ever existed on this earth, and the title of Jew is the most honorable thing a person can hold.

Thank you.