Page 25 - Reflections on the Danger of a Single Story

Ifeel like I can’t really explain my single story without some background information, so, here it is: I’m a third-/fourth-generation, white American. My mom’s side of family came to the US from Ireland, and they are all Catholic. My dad’s side of the family is all Jewish, and they came to the US from Russia (although the area they lived in is now part of Belarus) and Romania. My mom identifies religiously as Catholic and ethnically as Irish-American. My dad identifies religiously as Jewish and ethnically as Jewish-American. My brother and I are cradle Catholics (like, we made First Communion but never had a bar or bat mitzvah, etc.). When we were little, our parents described our ethnic background as half-Irish and half-Jewish, so we naturally adopted that description for ourselves.
From preschool until I finished eighth grade, I attended a small Catholic school that was maybe 40% Irish, 30% Dominican, and otherwise fairly ethnically diverse. However, no one except me and my brother had any Jewish ancestry. Somewhat ironically, Catholic school pushed me to identify more with my Jewish side, as I was often seen as a something of a representative -- when I was in first grade, the teacher asked me to explain Chanukah to the class; if anyone had a question about Judaism, they would ask me (although, being Catholic myself, I would usually have to ask my dad if it was complicated); my classmates all felt the need to stare at me every time the Holocaust came up in history class; and there were some occasional borderline-bullying comments about my background. It never occurred to me to describe myself as anything but half-Jewish and half-Irish.
After graduation, I attended a public high school that was primarily Chinese, Bengali, and Korean, and I would guess about 20% Jewish. There were few Catholic students, and this led to a lot of people viewing my Catholic-ness as one of my dominant traits. Meanwhile, I was making Jewish friends for the first time, and I was surprised that almost all of them balked at my description of my own identity. They were deeply offended, even angry, at the idea that Jewishness could be “halved” or that “Jewish” could be anything other than a religion -- especially when it was coming from someone they viewed as strikingly Catholic (and whose mom is not Jewish). As a teenager, I was hurt and confused by this reaction, because being “the half-Jewish girl” had been a big part of my experience up to that point. As an adult, I more fully understand my friends’ perspective, and I accept that it’s not really my place to define Jewish identity -- that is an area where there are multiple stories.
So, now that that’s explained...when I encounter single stories about Jews, it’s uncomfortable for me in a particular way because I somewhat am, but somewhat am not, part of that group. For instance, once when I was a junior in college, I was talking with a new (white) transfer student. I happened to mention something about my church, and it was as if this comment had finally answered an unspoken question as to whether or not I was Jewish. Her facial expression and body language changed, and she leaned in conspiratorially. “Okay, there are soooo many Jews at this college, right?” she said. “You just know they all know each other.”
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ALICIA HOLLAND