This article was produced as part of JTA’s Teen Journalism Fellowship, a program that works with Jewish teens around the world to report on issues that affect their lives.
When I finished a training conference at a BBYO leadership summer camp last summer in Pennsylvania, I couldn’t wait to tell my family in Canada. Most family members wished me mazel tov and told me they were proud of me.
But not everyone was so positive. A close family friend asked me if I was going to convert because “you’re not actually Jewish.”
Hearing this, I was so confused. I was a member of my school’s Jewish Student Union and attended events for both BBYO and NFTY Jewish youth groups. But I grew up with a Jewish dad and a non-Jewish mom. For those who hold the traditional view that Jewishness is inherited through the mother, nothing I do will be enough.
My parents immigrated to the United States, separating me from both my Swedish family and my Canadian family, including the Jewish side in Toronto. My parents never went out of their way to make me follow a religion because they wanted me to make the choice on my own. It wasn’t until eighth grade when, sparked by a BBYO convention, I really got active in Judaism. It became my favorite part of my identity.
As I gained leadership roles within the organization, my passion for religion increased. Though I was half-Jewish, the youth group members just knew me as Dani, another Jewish teenager within the movement.
At the BBYO camp I recited Torah verses and strengthened my bond to Jewish culture. But it was so much more than that to me: This was me finding a home in community, religion and friendships.
Having grown up without much by way of Jewish culture, there were some missing pieces within my Judaism, including my lack of a Hebrew name. At camp I started a text chain with my mom and my paternal grandmother about a Hebrew name. While my mom isn’t Jewish she has supported each step I’ve taken. She Googled “Jewish names” and texted a few that she thought suited me well. Knowing my personality and passions, my mom was able to use this information to give me my Hebrew name, Shiri.
Shiri, or “my song.” Living to the beat of my own tune, writing my own lyrics and religious path.
With the support of both of my parents I am now preparing for my bat mitzvah. At the age of 15, I am two to three years older than the usual bat mitzvah, but this isn’t about me wanting a bat mitzvah party or wanting to prove I am actually Jewish. It will be part of a journey that makes my story. I’m changing my future.
As I was doing some research for this article, I came upon a piece George Altshuler wrote about having a non-Jewish mom and a Jewish father.
“Being Jewish but not having a Jewish mother can be a symbol of a Judaism that is more desirable than a Jewish identity that insists on matrilineal Jewish inheritance or halachic conversion,” he wrote in 2016. “The Judaism I favor is a Judaism that is not built on being born into an ethnicity, but instead on choosing to live up to the Jewish covenant and choosing to belong to the Jewish people.”
Altshuler is now a rabbi at Congregation Sherith Israel in San Francisco. When I reached out to him, he told me that even as a rabbi he can’t get away from those who question his identity.
“I have encountered folks who doubt my identity both as a rabbi and as a Jew over the course of my life,” he said. “Sometimes people have said ridiculous things that I’ve just dismissed.”
Rabbi Altshuler and I have both been treated like we are irregular, but our stories and our passion make us unique. We chose our paths and stayed both passionate and persistent. Once you find something you care about so deeply, your motivation has to fuel you without letting comments along the journey push you down. If you want to be a part of something, be something. Not to prove anyone wrong, but to do it for yourself, because you wanted to.
My bat mitzvah is about finding a community and wanting to be a part of something truly unique. So while I may not fit others’ ideas of a Jewish teen born to Jewish parents, I will not let their comments affect my journey.
At first the name “Shiri” signified my love for singing, but its meaning deepened as my love for Judaism did. From singing along to Shabbat prayers to screaming the lyrics of Israeli pop star Omer Adam, I continue to sing my song on my journey to finding my identity.
My birth name will always be Danielle, and I may always be referred to as Dani. But in my heart I will always be Shiri. I sing what others can’t. I sing for those who can’t. Most of all I sing to share my story.
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