Hold That Nose
(Page 4 of 4)
July/August 1999
Lisa Miya-Jervis Utne Reader
Only once did I feel uneasy about being 'identified.' At my first job out of college, my boss asked, after I mentioned an upcoming trip to see my family, 'So, are your parents just like people in Woody Allen movies?' I wondered if I had a sign on my forehead reading 'Big Yid Here.' His comment brought up all those insecurities American Jews have that, not coincidentally, Woody Allen loves to emphasize for comic effect: Am I that Jewish? I felt conspicuous, exposed. Still, I'm glad I have the sign on my face, even if it's located a tad lower than my forehead.
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Judaism is the only identity in which culture and religion are supposedly bound closely: If you're Irish and not a practicing Catholic, you can still be fully Irish; being Buddhist doesn't specify race or ethnicity. To me, being a Jew is cultural, but it's tied only marginally--even hypothetically--to religion, and mostly to geography (New York Jews are different from California Jews, lemme tell ya). So what happens when identity becomes untied from religion? I don't know for sure. And that means I'll grab onto anything I need to keep that identity--including my nose.
Copyright ? 1998 by Lisa Miya-Jervis. Reprinted from Adios, Barbie edited by Ophira Edut and published by Seal Press.
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