Would You Be Willing to Die as a Jew?

I’m so glad I was born Jewish—not on the outside of our suffering, not blind to this pain and cruelty, and not living in a reality where any of this is okay.

Watching Eli Sharabi, Ohad Ben Ami, and Or Levy return home this past Shabbat, I can’t stop the tears or the words from flowing…

When I became more observant 17 years ago, I was told that since my mother was adopted and we didn’t have the papers to prove her biological mother was Jewish, I should do a giyur l’chumra—a precautionary conversion.

This meant immersing in the mikvah before three rabbis as witnesses. I’m not sure how I feel about that now, but that’s a discussion for another time.

I don’t remember it very clearly, but there’s one thing they asked me that I’ll never forget:

“If the Jewish people are persecuted again, as they were in the Holocaust, would you be willing to accept that fate and die as a Jew?”

Even as I stood unclothed in the mikvah waters, there was no hesitation.

“Yes.”

On one hand, it’s surprising. Even looking back, I’m amazed at how easily and quickly I responded.

On the other hand, it makes so much sense.

I never hid my Jewishness.

And neither did my mother, who was thrown off her bike, beaten, and often harassed as a little girl for being Jewish.

Even still…

She was always proud.
Always excited to meet another Yid.
Always passionate about passing on Jewish traditions and values…

(A DNA test through 23andMe later confirmed that her biological mother was Jewish, as we had thought.)

It’s such a strange and beautiful thing to know who you are on a soul level.

To know where you stand and who you stand with.

It goes beyond logic…

And so, here I am. We haven’t left this country since October 7.

More than a year has passed, and my husband has served in the reserves for exactly 301 days.

It must’ve been October 10 when my son, who was 11-years-old and anxiety-ridden at the time, said, “We can’t leave. That would be letting them win.”

So, I guess it runs in the family. And I know we’re not alone in that.

Sometimes it’s hard to accept that the immense pain we’re experiencing right now is part of our collective story—the persecution, the suffering, the loss…

Can’t we just focus on all the beauty and joy? There’s so much of that, too.

But the truth is, we don’t have another choice.

Something my career and personal journey has taught me is that embracing who we are isn’t simply about loving the good parts, the ones that are easy to love.

It’s about accepting the whole.

The beauty, the strength, the depth—and yes, the darkness, too. They all exist, and none of it diminishes our worth.

Our vulnerabilities and imperfections—they make us beautiful.

Layered. Dynamic.

Sometimes complicated.

But deeply lovable. And fully, unapologetically our Jewish selves.