May is Asian American and Pacific Islander Heritage Month, and it is Jewish American Heritage Month (JAHM). Visit https://jewishamericanheritage.org to learn about events and ideas to celebrate the month. While “Asian American” is a broad term since there are dozens of Asian countries of origin, there are sometimes commonalities regarding how they are treated or perceived. Just six years ago, Asian Americans were harassed or beaten on the streets throughout the U.S. while being taunted about the “China virus.” People did not stop to ask them if they were Korean, Japanese or Chinese Americans — they just saw “Asian.” I was outraged, and I wrote about it in a column. People filmed the violence and rarely intervened! In our own region, we had a store that posted something about the “China virus” rather than posting information about COVID-19. The owners did not apologize even when it was brought to their attention. I remember an older Asian-American woman trying to make herself invisible in line for a grocery store opening, and I invited her to stand with me. Her gratitude was intense, and I felt embarrassed for her vulnerability and the state of our society.
Over the last two and a half years — since Hamas’ massacre in Israel on Oct. 7, 2023 — Jews who are visibly Jewish are frequently on the receiving end of verbal and physical violence. A kippah or yarmulke is a skullcap worn by Jewish men and some women while attending synagogue and by most Orthodox Jewish men at all times in public. As with most areas of Judaism, there are various interpretations regarding the requirement. It is common to consider covering one’s head as a way to respect or honor God. Hasidic Jews are highly visible because of even stricter dress requirements. In today’s world, they are all at risk.
Day after day, there is news about someone speaking Hebrew while on vacation and getting attacked, or someone simply doing their work or walking down the street while wearing a yarmulke and being called a litany of names not worth repeating here. The Talmud was developed by rabbinic leaders to help interpret and shape the ethics and teachings of Judaism through interpretations of the Tanakh (Hebrew Bible with Torah and additional books). There are exceptions to rules in certain circumstances. For instance, if someone is starving to death, keeping kosher is less important than eating what is available. The same could hold true for whether or not an Orthodox Jew could swap out his kippah for a baseball cap. Safety first.
Yet, we are reminded to carry on with joy. When Pierre Gentin was warned by a well-meaning friend to not wear his kippah around Washington after the murders of the young Jewish couple, he wrote, “The authentic response to antisemitism in our day is not to hide. Instead, we should challenge ourselves to be more identifiable as Jews, more confident and positive, to dedicate ourselves with greater passion to our heritage and ancient mission: to be a holy nation that respects all human beings. To be ambassadors of humanity. To be Jews who are unapologetic, productive, and proud Americans” (Jewish Journal, 2/25/26). The month of May is a reminder of Jewish Americans whose contributions to our country and the world at large are significant.
On May 1, I celebrated by attending the film, “Labors of Love,” at the JCC in Springfield. It is part of the Pioneer Valley Jewish Film Festival. I could write a very lengthy column about Henrietta Szold — the film’s subject. She is arguably one of the most important American-born Jewish women in history. Read her Wikipedia page and be inspired. She carried out a variety of groundbreaking and life-saving projects throughout her life. She held the space for both deep concern and joy.
Gentin is essentially calling on Jews to come out — to be who we are. Gay men and lesbians in my and older generations remember a time when we had to choose between safety and standing tall and brave. The more we came out, the more we moved from simply wanting tolerance to demanding dignity and respect. When we explained our dreams and hopes to others, they began to come around and to recognize our need for acceptance and compassion. Now the needle needs to move for Jews.
Did you notice the “we” in the first sentence of the previous paragraph? This is an appropriate time for me to come out. With tremendous joy, anticipation and gratitude, I am in a process of conversion. Since last fall, I have been reading important books, taking an intensive Judaism course, and meeting with my rabbi to prepare for the completion of my conversion. An old friend of mine from New Jewish Agenda days wrote, “Oh, so you are making it formal now?” She has always considered me a member of the tribe.
Since early adulthood, Moabite Ruth’s words to Naomi have resonated (roughly translated): “Wherever you go, I will go; wherever you lodge, I will lodge. Your people will be my people, and your God will be my God.” In a strong sense, this was Ruth’s “conversion” before there was a formal process for it.
While I have been a fierce ally combatting the insanity of antisemitism throughout my entire life, I was not spiritually inclined to convert until recently. I emerged from being raised Catholic with deep criticism of organized religion while appreciating some of the moral tenets that were foundational in my childhood. Becoming a Jew holds much more responsibility (as it should) than being born a Jew. In my earnestness, I felt I had to be “all in,” and now I am.
J.M. Sorrell is a monthly columnist. She believes that the moral inversion of hatred against Jews must be squashed by the joy and love we hold for humanity.