search
Danielle Sobkin

Between Who I Was and Who I Am Becoming

Screenshot. (courtesy)
Screenshot. (courtesy)

There are moments when I catch my reflection in a subway window, or a conference glass wall, and I don’t recognize the woman staring back at me. I pause, searching for some trace of the girl I used to be—the girl who kept her head down, who did what was expected, who never imagined a life beyond textbooks and quiet obedience. She is gone. And yet, sometimes, I mourn her.

Five years ago, I was small. Not physically, but in presence. I blended in. I followed the rules. My world was neatly mapped out before me—do well in school, get into a good college, build a future that made sense. I never imagined that future would include standing before world leaders or shaking hands with people who wield power in ways I am still learning to comprehend. I never imagined I would walk into foreign cities alone, navigating cultures and languages I had never planned to encounter, carrying nothing but my name, my principles, and an unshakable will to stand firm in both.

Who have I become? A woman my high school friends would not recognize. A woman my family is still trying to understand. I have become the one who insists on keeping Shabbat, even when it means stepping away from the demands of my industry. The one who kashered her kitchen in an act of assertion, not because it was expected of me, but because I felt a pull toward something deeper. I have become the one who stands out in a crowd not because I want to, but because my faith, my identity, and my convictions make it impossible not to.

One day, I was in the trenches of campus advocacy, fighting for a place at the table, battling the unrelenting tide of hostility. The next, I was in New York City, surrounded by towering glass and steel, navigating a world that spoke in numbers and projections rather than protests and speeches. I traded student rallies for conference calls, late-night strategy meetings for pre-market briefings. And yet, the fight did not end—it simply evolved. 

I thought leaving campus would mean leaving the battle behind, but I was naive. The war does not end when you step off the quad. It follows you. It waits in hushed conversations at dinner parties, in offhanded comments from colleagues who assume they are among like-minded people. It lingers in the way people hesitate before asking, “You’re Jewish, right?” as if weighing how much they are willing to reveal. Silence is a luxury I do not have, and so I do what I have always done—I stand my ground.

There is an exhaustion that comes with this. A weariness I see in the eyes of my friends, in the way we cling to each other in shul, in the way we mark time now—not by seasons or holidays, but by the return of hostages, by the names of those who will never come home. We’ve surpassed the one-year mark of October 7th, and still the grief is an undercurrent in everything. We work. We pray. We build. But we are not the same. 

Faith, for me, has not been an inheritance. It has been a battle. I was not raised in a home where Shabbat was sacred, where Kashrut was non-negotiable, where Hashem’s presence was felt in every decision. I built this life brick by brick, argument by argument, in the face of a world that would rather I let it go. And yet, in the quiet moments—lighting candles on Friday night, whispering blessings before a meal, embraced in the peace of tradition—I feel something I never felt before: certainty.

I do not seek an easy life. I do not ask for comfort. I ask for purpose. Hashem has led me here, through doors I never imagined, into moments that have rewritten the direction of my life. And so I keep moving—not because I have everything figured out, but because stopping is not an option. Somewhere between who I was and who I am becoming, there is something worth finding. And I will find it.

About the Author
Danielle Sobkin is a graduate of UC Berkeley, where she earned her degree in Economics at just 20 years old. Her passion for analyzing and interpreting complex global data drives her to make impactful contributions in every role she undertakes. Throughout her academic and professional journey, Danielle has been a relentless advocate for Jewish and Israeli causes, playing a frontline role in combating antisemitism and fostering unity within the Jewish community. She co-founded the Student Network, a nationwide network of over 60 student leaders dedicated to these causes, amplifying the voices of young Jewish leaders across the country.
Related Topics
Related Posts