Happy Birthday to me!

OMG, I'm, like, 29. That's like almost 30!

Here is the song my family sings along with "Happy Birthday" or rather "Feliz Cumpleaños." It's called "Estas son las Mañanitas."

Las Mañanitas Lyrics:

Estas son las mañanitas, que cantaba el Rey David,
Hoy por ser día de tu santo, te las cantamos a ti,
Despierta, mi bien, despierta, mira que ya amaneció,
Ya los pajarillos cantan, la luna ya se metió.

Que linda está la mañana en que vengo a saludarte,
Venimos todos con gusto y placer a felicitarte,
Ya viene amaneciendo, ya la luz del día nos dio,
Levántate de mañana, mira que ya amaneció.

Translation:

This is the morning song that King David sang
Because today is your saint's day we're singing it for you
Wake up, my dear, wake up, look it is already dawn
The birds are already singing and the moon has set

How lovely is the morning in which I come to greet you
We all came with joy and pleasure to congratulate you
The morning is coming now, the sun is giving us its light
Get up in the morning, look it is already dawn

Conversion News Roundup

"Ethiopians at the gate" (Haaretz)

Why is Israel suddenly resuming immigration from Ethiopia?

"Jewish school requirements ‘racist,’ British court rules" (Jewish Tribune)

Did Britain decide that Judaism is racist?

"Who is a convert?" (The Forward)

Why Ruth is pretty lucky she's not converting in 2009....

"New Conversion Legislation" (Ynet)

A step forward or a step back?

"The JFS lesson"

Take note-Converts across “denominational” lines sticking together.

"Who’s a rabbi?"

Glad someone's asking!

"Israel’s Politician as Super Woman" (The Forward)

This baby-making machine is making me feel lazy.

"Yisrael Beiteinu seeking radical reform of conversion courts" (Haaretz)

Hopefully, it's radical reform in the right direction....

"The Spanish Inquisiton and Me" (Aish.com)

One Latina Jewess tells the world why becoming a Jew was her greatest act of defiance.

"The Big Rewind" (The New York Times)

Thinks his mother got the idea to convert from the back of a comic book. You'll laugh or cry.

"Convert's marriage retroactively nixed" (The Jerusalem Post)

Now you're married...and now you're not.

Hope you're having an easy fast...

Check out my latest piece in The Jewish Journal of Greater Los Angeles: "A Lesson for Jews in Gates’ Arrest?"

My Favorite Dominican (After my little sisters, of course)

Can I tell you how much I love Junot Diaz? I never would have thought a book about a Dominican-American geek ("The Brief & Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao") win the Pulitzer Prize. It wasn’t even until college that I knew there were Hispanic American authors writing stories that felt like they could have been drawn from my Spanglish upbringing.

In an interview with Narrative magazine, Diaz tells all about growing up in poverty, who and what inspired him to write, about his increasing anxieties about writing and 11 years to write his award-wining first novel. 

Just Another Day @ The Shabbos Table

"So what do you do?"

"I'm a freelance writer. I also keep a blog called 'Memoirs of a Jewminicana.'"

"A Jew-what?"

"Jewminicana. A Jewish American Dominican."

"Oh." Confused face. "So your father is Dominican and your mother is...." Trailing off uncomfortably.

Eye roll. "Dominican."

Shocked face. "Oh. So, you..." Trailing off uncomfortably again. 

"Converted."

Silence. 

Racism is dead!!! Racism is dead!!! Racism is dead!!!

If one more person tells me racism is dead because Obama is president, I will....

Wajahat Ali believes that racism is not only far from over, we should all be able to agree that it's definitely "stupid."

Trembling on Tisha B'av

On Wednesday night, the fast of Tisha B'av begins. "Tisha B-what?" my friends say. If it isn't Rosh Hashanah, Yom Kippur or Passover, my non-Jewish or Jewish but less observant friends have no clue what I'm talking about. Why isn't the saddest day on the Jewish calendar more well-known?


I spent my first Tisha B'av in Jerusalem. It wasn't so hard for be to let the sadness of the day wash over me. It was just a few months after my fibromyalgia diagnosis. I'd just quit my job for once and for all because of it. I didn't know what was next. I felt homeless, untethered, roaming the world like a lost little ghost.


It was powerful to be in Jerusalem of all places, the place where the Temple had been destroyed not once but twice. The first time I went to the Western Wall, The Kotel, I didn't know what to feel. All around me women were praying and crying and I was awed into silence.



I spent the first Tisha B'av with a bunch of little old ladies at the OU building in Jerusalem. There was no one my age, no one sitting on the floor like mourners because everyone had an ache, an ailment, that kept them in a chair. I remember that one lady and I whispered to each other about the medications we were taking for our aches and pains.


I cried a lot. I wondered if it was possible that some part of my family had been Jewish, that some part of me had been in Jerusalem before. It wasn't fair otherwise. While many were mourning the loss of the Temples, I was wondering why I'd only become Jewish after the fact? I realized that instead of just mourning, I was trying to imagine what it would have been like to be part of the world that we were mourning.

Websites to check out:

Chabad.org on Tisha B'av.

My Jewish Learning on Tisha B'av

The OU on Tisha B'av

Aish.com on Tisha B'av

Reader Recommendation:

The Foundation Stone on Tisha B'av

Megillat Eicha


If you've got links to articles, books or thoughts you'd like to share about Tisha B'av, please comment and I'll incorporate them into this post.

The following broadcast will be brought to you...

by the letters S, A and P. (Get it?) Conan O'Brien is trying to embrace his Latino viewers out here in Los Angeles. Sure, there are stereotypes (sexy Latina) but it seems like Conan has been doing his telenovela (Spanish soap opera) homework!

What strengths from your Latino background have you brought to Judaism?

Over at Zinc Plate Press, I was asked this question and for a second, I didn't have an answer until finally, it poured out of me. Usually, people are trying to find out what strengths from Judaism, I'm bringing to my Latino side, not the other way around. For the answer to this question, mosey on over to Zinc Plate Press's "Patchwork Project": 

"What Strengths from Your Latino Background Have You Brought to Judaism?"

Do check out the responses to other fascinating questions by Jewish converts. 

Schooling the Uneducated Masses

Does biracial Jew Rashida Jones have to deal with this crap?

MixedJewGirl is making a career out of schooling the uneducated masses, especially when it comes to race relations.

In "Cultural Etiquette: Don't Ask 'What are you?'", she's tackling how to deal with those "stupid questions" I get all the time as a Jew of color and also, why some people (read: white folk AND everybody else) need to stop asking them.

Stand-up Comedy Routine #6

And that's all folks. It was six stand-up comedy classes for under a $100 at Santa Monica College. The teacher, Kevin Garbee, was awesome. And he coped well with my weird brand of Jewish Dominican humor. Here's the last routine.

Coming out to my family was difficult. Especially since I wasn’t telling them I was gay, I was just telling them I wanted to be Jewish.

I was 14 the first time I told my mother I wanted to be Jewish. She reeled her arm back like a baseball player (she is Dominican) and she smacked me across the face.

Altogether, I think that went rather well since when my sisters told her they wanted to be Wiccans, my mother took them for an exorcism.

The second time I got it into my head to become Jewish and actually converted and everything, I…didn’t tell my mother at all. I just ran away from home. Changed my name. Didn’t leave a forwarding address. If you knew my mother, you would understand. An exorcism would have been the least of my problems.

I was 25 when I told my father for the first time I wanted to convert. He took it so well that he forgot. About the entire conversation.

The second time I told him I wanted to be Jewish, I tried a new tactic. I said, “Guess what, Dad, you’re going to have Jewish grandbabies!” I thought it was a good opening but all I heard on the other end was silence. And then my Dad just started laughing, the kind of laughter you could hear around the world. It was an international call.

My Dad has an interesting sense of humor. When I told him I was marrying my white Jewish husband, he said, “Well, I dated a Filipino girl once.”

My sisters said, “We picked our religion, you should pick your religion.” They were also convinced that I would be giving them presents on all eight days of Chanukkah.

I came out to my cousins in DR, who are the kind of Catholics that actually go to church and don’t have sex before marriage (I know, right?). My cousin, said, “Whatever brings you closer to Gd.” But I’m not sure if she realizes that this means I don’t believe in Jesus and I’m not going to be the one to tell her.

My aunt thought I was joining a cult. But she was polite about it, she didn’t tell me to my face. She told my sister who told me who told my other sister. In Dominican culture, that’s what we call bochinche. When there isn’t a new Spanish telenovela on, Dominicans thrive on it.

My coworkers created a pork eater’s only table. Obviously, working in high school makes you regress. On a frequent basis, we acted out parts from Mean Girls. And for some reason, I was always Lindsay Lohan falling into a trash can.

My friend Carrie thought I was just going through a phase. A phase that involved not returning her calls on Fridays and Saturdays. Giving her all my pants. Forgoing our favorite Chinese-Latino restaurant. But that’s not what pushed her over the edge. It was giving up Halloween that finally earned a “WHAT THE F#$%!” and some other stuff in Chinese I didn’t understand.

Right about then I decided it’d be simpler if I just left voicemails on people’s phone announcing my new life change. And it was. So much easier, some people never called me back. Ever. It’s been like four years, do you think they’re just busy?

Lesson learned. If you want to get rid of your crappy friends, don’t stop wearing deodorant, just tell them you’re converting to Judaism.

From Harvard to Handcuffs

Did you hear the one about the black Harvard professor, Henry Louis Gates, Jr., who was arrested for trying to break into his own home? No, this is not the beginning of a joke.

All over the country people were crying racism and President Barack Obama responded to the whole thing by saying the police officers had "acted stupidly." (He apologized later.)

The whole thing had me thinking about Chris Rock's "How not to get your ass kicked by the police" video which I had recently posted on this blog.

My aunt's a cop so when it comes to police officers, I have a definite bias. I grew up hanging around them, visiting my aunt at the police station and even going to theme parks with groups of cops. But there is no question that cops are humans like everyone else, perhaps even more susceptible to racism because of the jobs they do and the racial factionalism on the job.

Do check out: "Professor’s Arrest Tests Beliefs on Racial Progress"

Incidentally, this whole incident sparked a nasty, nasty argument at the Shabbos table today. One the one side, one person was arguing that it was understandable how the professor responded because as a black man, he is probably sick of finding himself in these types of situations. Who hasn't read a story about "driving while black" or "walking while black"?

On the other side, I heard comments about blacks "always trying to pull the race card" and Obama being "stupid" for his comments on this situation. Well, obviously, whether or not this situation was racist, it was racially charged enough to start a racially charged discussion that ended in tears.

I left the Shabbos table shaking, whether from anger or horror I'm not sure. In one fell swoop, I went from feeling like just another Jew to being the only person of color in a heated discussion about race that made me increasingly uncomfortable. I am not sure when, if ever, I will fully recover from it.

Honestly, the worst comment I heard was someone who said, "At least, Jews don't try to use slavery as an excuse never to work the rest of our lives." In response to a Tweet I wrote about this comment, @ChrisMacDen, a Jewish Twitterer, wrote back "No, some Jews just use Shoah as excuse to...oh, never mind."

Also read: "A Lot Said, and Unsaid, About Race"

Rabbis in Handcuffs?

"44 Charged by U.S. in New Jersey Corruption Sweep" (NY Times)

Everyone's talking about the latest scandal involving Jews and money. This time it's rabbis in handcuffs. No, not even rabbis are above the laws of the land. Will the latest news breed more anti-Semitism?

Read "More Bad News for Orthodox Jews" by Jew in the City, Allison Josephs, and find out what you should be doing after reading this kind of news on Jews. 

Stand-up Comedy Routine #5: Shabbos is for Shtupping

So as it turns out, this show is NOT going on the road. While my stand-up comedy class classmates will be getting together to perform two Sundays from now, I will be at a big fat Jewish wedding. My body cannot handle ferrying from both. Besides, it's only a mitzvah to do one of those things and it's certainly not embarrasing myself and the Jewish people in public.

Aliza on Shabbat (Warning, this will get inappropriate)

From Friday night to Saturday night, I observe Shabbat, you know the Jewish Sabbath, most stringently. No Twitter. No Facebook. No Blackberry. For 25 hours I am sucked into, what I like to call, a technological black hole. My friends call it “Hell.”

My friend Carrie screamed me out the first five times I ignored her calls on Friday night and refused to hang out with her on Saturday. Finally, I asked her, “Well, why don’t we hang out on Sunday.”

She said, “No way.”

I asked “Why not?”

She said “Because on Sundays, I rest.”

No, Carrie does not believe in Jesus, she believes in Haagen daz and TiVo.

I am a New York neurotic. Relaxing is not in my vocabulary. I get through life the same way I get through driving which is by gripping the wheel until my arms get all scary and veiny and it looks like I’m ready to rip the steering wheel off. Tao of Aliza: Relax when you’re dead.

I started observing Shabbat because I realized that the only way I could convince myself to take a day off is if I told myself G-d was making me.

So on Shabbat when G-d says “pray,” I pray, when G-d says “hang out with my friends,” I hang out with my friends, when G-d says “overeat,” I do it with enthusiasm. Because people tell me on Shabbat you don’t gain weight. But I find that this only works if you wait until 3 days after to hop on the scale.

Yes, there are a lot of weird rules surrounding Shabbat that were all derived from some Jewish sources I don’t completely understand. Something like G-d rested on the seventh day, do like G-d. I don’t worry my pretty little head about it though because I’m a “because G-d says so” kind of girl.

So when G-d says I shouldn’t be tearing toilet paper on Shabbat, I use Kleenex tissues (only the best) to wipe my butt for 25 hours. Who am I to question G-d in His/Her infinite wisdom?

While you’re tooling around with your Blackberry Friday night, G-d says I get points in heaven on Friday nights for shtupping my husband. I can’t read my ketubah but apparently it promises food, shelter and orgasms. What does yours say?

Of course, no one tells you that the 24 hours before Shabbat are completely, TOTALLY FREAKING INSANE. You’re cooking three meals in advance, scrubbing the toilet and worst, even WORST than all that, IRONING. All at the same time. It’s a completely horrible 24 hours that you couldn’t get through unless you knew you were going to spend the next 25 chilling with your latest copy of People magazine.

What? I cannot get through Shabbat without seeing a new picture of Brad and Angelina.

I know, now you understand why my husband doesn't let me out of the house. Oy vey.

Friendship has no religion

The film "Arranged" is a New York story about two Brooklyn public school teachers. One teacher is an Orthodox Jewish young woman, Rochel and the other a devout Muslim, Nasira, who become friends in the midst of the period in their life when their well-meaning, but sometimes off-the-mark parents try to marry them off.

At first, it seems like Rochel and Nasira have nothing in common but as we get to know them, as they get to know each other, we see that because of their traditional religious cultures, they have plenty to commiserate about. No one can pronounce their names. No one understands why they dress the way they do. They live at a constant tension with the secular world and when they recognize this, this brings them together as friends.

The film is full of poignant moments like when their students wonder aloud if Rochel and Nasira hate each other because people from their religious traditions are always at odds in the media. And Rochel and Nasira's parents are more than shocked by this friendship.

There are the infinitely awkward moments the two women share with the secular Jewish principal who tries to make it her mission to get free from the religious oppression she is so sure marks their daily lives. Lest you think the principal is a cruel caricature, I found that she was representative of the strange encounters I had with my own former principal, which I worked under during my conversion process, as well as what I experienced with secular Jewish friends.

The film is also full of hilarious moments. I found that I couldn’t stop laughing while watching the film. There is a great montage of all the nebbish guys the matchmakers set up the Orthodox Jewish girl with. And while the stereotypes abound (about matchmakers, about secular coworkers), all of them are good-natured.

The New York Times review noticeably missed the mark. They were so concerned with how "awful" and "patriarchal" the girl's lives were that they couldn't even be bothered with appreciating the film. Anyone who has lived between two worlds, the secular and the religious, will find themselves connecting with this amusing, light-hearted story.

(If you have Netflix, you can watch "Arranged" instantly.)



Another notable movie about religious folk is "Doubt," starring Meryl Streep, Phillip Seymour Hoffman and Amy Adams. Streep is cast as a stern Catholic nun who is concerned with a parish priest's (Hoffman) relationship to a young boy in their parochial school. The film is an artful walk on eggshells pulling the audience between two strong characters while remaining doubtful of the characters' true intentions.

Yes, I know a lot of us aren't watching movies in theaters (or at home) because of The Three Weeks. I also know that this year Hollywood is supporting Jewish causes by putting out films that no one wants to watch anyway.

Conversion is not a joke (especially when it's not funny)

Yes, Ivanka Trump is Jewish, now please get over it. I mean, I'm all for Perez Hilton and the mass media wishing her a "Mazel tov" but I am sick of hearing about how you wish she'd cover her elbows, stop touching her fiance and well, in so many words wondering if she's really Jewish. What Ivanka Trump is doing is bringing out the biases people already have against converts.

And now, oy vey, we get to Britney converting to Judaism. The New Yorker decided to mock her and her possible conversion in a piece called "Britney's Conversion Diary." Did anyone find this funny?

Tweeting Profoundly

Is there an art to Tweeting profoundly? (Tweeting is posting to Twitter. Twitter is microblogging at 140 characters or less.)

Apparently, The Jewish Channel thinks I got it. For the second week in a row, I've made it onto the list of "Most Profound Tweets in Jewish History". To check out last week's: click here.

Plantain Party

Growing up, I ate pretty much the same thing every day without deviation: eggs (or eggplant) with mangu (mashed green plantains) for breakfast and/or lunch and chicken, rice, beans (my favorite were red but my husband loves then black) and plantains on the side (tostones or maduros). If my mother served anything else, I said it wasn't a real meal.

Today, I can't go without rice for more than a couple of days without feeling like the world is out of order. But on Pesach (Passover), my husband's Ashkenazi Jewish family doesn't eat beans or rice so I survive by eating plantains and yucca instead of (yeech!) potatoes. In fact, since I'm watching my weight, Pesach is the only time I eat plantains fried. The rest of the year it's baked or not at all.

Lately more than one Jewish friend has asked about my obsession with plantains so I thought I'd share these recipes. Here are my three favorite ways to eat plantains (with help from "Traditional Dominican Cookery" by Clara Gonzalez and Ilana Benady)...

First, your basic lesson on plantains:

Green plantains are not ripe but starchy. No, they are not bananas.

Unlike bananas, plantains are cooked and never eaten raw.

Yellow plantains are ripe and sweet.

Even so, adding a little brown sugar and cinnamon doesn't hurt anybody.

And now, for my top three favorite ways to eat platanos.

Mangu (mashed plantains)

Ingredients:
4 unripe (green) plantains) 4 tablespoons of butter
1 large onion 2 tablespoons of olive oil
Salt

Before beginning: Peel the plantains and cut into 8 pieces.

Preparation:

Boil the plantains adding 2 teaspoons of salt to the water. When the
plantains are very tender turn off the heat. Take the plantains out of the
water and mash them with a fork. Add the butter and 1/2 cup of water at room
temperature and keep mashing until you obtain a smooth puree.

Cut the onion into strips and saute until it turns transparent.



Serve with eggs or fried cheese.

Tostones (flattened fried plantains)

Ingredients:

2 unripe (green) plantains 4 teaspoons of cold water
1/2 teaspoons of crushed garlic 1/2 cup of oil
Salt



Preparations:

Peel the plantains and cut into 1 inch-thick slices. Heat the oil in a deep
frying pan and fry the plantains till golden brown on both sides. Flatten
the plantains to half their original thickness using a tostonera (or the
bottom of a flat bottomed glass bottle). Fry the plantains again for about a
minute, rotating half-way through. Sprinkle with salt to taste and serve hot.

This last step is optional: Mix the water and the crushed garlic. Stir and
pour over the plantains.

Baked/Fried Maduros (yellow plantains)

Ingredients:
4 very ripe plantains (when the skin is yellow with spots of black)
cooking spray or olive oil



Optional: cinnamon and brown sugar and/or vanilla to be sprinkled on plantains before baking.


Preparations:


Preheat oven to 450°F. Coat a nonstick cookie sheet with cooking spray. Cut the ends off of the plantains and peel. Cut each plantain on the diagonal into 1/2 inch slices. Arrange in single layer and coat tops with cooking spray. Bake, turning occasionally, for 10-15 minutes, until plantains are golden brown and very tender.


(Also, yellow plantains can be fried. Cut into slices or 1-inch discs and fry in oil until golden brown or a little black.)

And if you're not ready to cook them but you want to taste plantains, your local grocery store may carry kosher plantain chips. They're a bit salty but totally yummy and crunchy.

Very important read: "How to peel a plantain"

Stand-up Comedy Routine #4

Only a couple of more classes left to my Stand-up Comedy class at Santa Monica College. My stand-up comedy teacher wants me to be more conversational and less theatrical when I deliver my bits. My husband said, "Is he asking you to be more white and less Dominican?"

Aliza on Stupid Questions

I am a self-described Jewminicana—a Jewish American Dominican hybrid, who grew up Dominican in New York and converted to Judaism.

I make identity seem like an extreme sport.

Either people are really uncomfortable around me (“You can’t be Jewish and Latina, you have to choose!”) or really, really comfortable around me. So comfortable, they’ll ask me just about any awkward question that pops into their head.

For instance…

Do you have sex through a hole in a sheet?

Honestly, if I did, would I be telling you?

And how come you won’t eat food that’s not blessed by a rabbi?

Then I have to get into the fact that kosher does not mean a rabbi performed some kind of Jewish hocus pocus over my turkey sandwich.

But then my friends want to know exactly what kosher means and they get this worried look on their face like kosher means I’m going to starve from lack of options.

I tell them kosher means no pork (which my Mami never let me eat anyway), no cheeseburgers (did I mention I’m lactose intolerant), no shellfish (amazingly I’m allergic) and no octopus legs (which I spent most of my childhood eating straight from the can. Slurp, slurp.).

Honestly, the most important food groups are kosher: rice, beans, and plantains. Obviously, my stomach is 100% Dominican.

The only conversation my deadbeat dad and my husband have ever had was about keeping kosher.

Papi told my husband how Dominicans kill chickens. By whirling them over their head until the neck cracks.

My husband told Papi how Jews kill chickens. Quick slice to the neck.

I think I made the right decision, don’t you?

Awkward question #2,506: So you don’t believe in Jesus?

I’ve gotten this question in the public bathroom, from my mother-in-law’s Hispanic maid, from my sad-faced former Santeria (Spanish voodoo) worshipping relatives.

No, I tell them, I don’t believe in Jesus.

And then they get this look on their face. This OH MY GD look on their face which is quickly followed by the statement, “Well, you’re going to hell!”

Can anyone explain to me why Christians believe this ever makes for good, polite conversation?

And when I tell people I converted, they ask, “So you married a Jew?” As if to say I converted for marriage. I’m sorry guys, Gd, but I would never do something this crazy hard for love.

And then I’m standing all casual like outside of synagogue, after just having had a Shabbat meal (yum!) with the twit who’s aching to ask me the next stupid question of the day…

”Are you Jewish?”

No, seriously, I just like to loiter outside of Orthodox synagogues waiting to see if they’ll be handing out free gefilte fish at some point on Saturday afternoon.

For Gd’s sake, I reply, “Yes I’m Jewish.”

But then I get “Funny, you don’t look Jewish.”

It’s incredible that with my anger management problems, I don’t smack more people on a daily basis.

My Jewish friends want to know why Dominican women dress like…what was the word they used? Sluts. And my Dominican friends want to know why Jewish women dress like they hate their bodies. I mean, for instance, Catholicism doesn’t say anything about being a walking fashion faux pas for Jesus.

One little beady-eyed Dominican lady laughed at me for wearing sneakers and a skirt. She didn’t think I understood Spanish. You see, people don’t think I’m Hispanic, they think I’m biracial.

I know this because I’ve been asked:

Are you part black?

Are you African-American?

And…why is your hair so nappy?

Sometimes all in the same conversation.

When I tell Dominican cab drivers I’m Dominican too, they turn around in their seats to look at me with open mouths agape and they ask, “You’re Dominican?”

Didn’t I just say I was?

So I don’t look Jewish, Dominican or American.

I know I don’t look American because the other day at a Shabbat table, while reaching over for my next piece of challah, I got asked, “Are you from America?”

As the wife of a future rabbi, I’ve been told that it’s not kosher to give people the finger.

My not Orthodox Jewish friends want to know if I’m Orthodox because I hate women. Well, obviously, aren’t I wearing my “I’m Orthodox, I hate women” t-shirt.

No, I’m probably wearing my “Gotta Love that Jewfro” t-shirt. So that five people ask me if I’m Jewish that day. No, I just like wearing Jewish shirts. Hello? DUH.

Am I wearing a sign that says ask me stupid questions, please? And If am, how can I get this thing surgically removed?

Idiot on Interracial Dating/Marriage

On the July 8, 2009 episode of the morning show "Fox and Friends," co-anchor Brian Kilmeade lost his marbles when discussing a study on marriage and Alzheimer's that was conducted in Sweden and Finland.

Mr. Kilmeade stated: "we [Americans] keep marrying other species and other ethnics . . . Swedes have pure genes . . . in America we marry everybody..."

Notice that Mr. Kilmeade doesn't even stop talking when his cohosts try to cut into his crazy monologue with notably uncomfortable laughter. Mr. Kilmeade remained clueless.

Mr. Kilmeade is apparently the resident white supremacist on "Fox and Friends" and UNITY: Journalists of Color, Inc., a multicultural coalition of national journalism organizations with an outreach to over 10,000 supporters, hereby calls for Fox News and its parent company, News Corporation, to:

* Issue an immediate apology for Mr. Kilmeade's offensive comments
* Enter into a serious discussion on the program regarding intermarriage and the value of diversity in our society.

Do check out "Mixedchild.com", a website devoted to mixed children who are the products of interracial unions.

The Jewish Channel Features "Atypical Converts"

Check out the interviews with "From Ghetto to Ghetto: An African-American Journey to Judaism" author and African-American convert Ernest H. Adams and "Unlocked: The Life and Crimes of a Mafia Insider" author and convert Louis Ferrante. 

I just picked up Ferrante's book and I'm hoping to read it soon. As for Ernest H. Adams, I've profiled him before for this blog, including a review of his book and an interview with the author. 

Now, I'm going to go check if we have The Jewish Channel here in Los Angeles. 

Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Jew

What if the United States government decided who is and isn't Jewish. 

Now substitute the United States for that of Britain, the land of Harry Potter, because that's what has people thinking about the "Who is a Jew" controversy in a whole new light ever since the son (now dubbed the "half-blood Jew") of a non-Orthodox convert was turned away from an Orthodox day school there. A British court ruled that this was racist and based on that has changed the admissions policy for Jewish schools.

Was it racist? Chief Rabbi Jonathan Sacks is calling the court racist for calling Judaism racist. Or is it chutzpah for this family to go to court against an Orthodox Jewish day school's admission policy when the mother did not have a Orthodox conversion?

I've hesitated to weigh in on this one because the "Who is a Jew" debate can get some pretty explosive. I know I'm wondering, as always, if some day I'll have to worry about my (currently only imaginary) children getting into a day school or yeshiva because someone thinks my Orthodox conversion isn't legitimate enough. 

But Anshel Pfeffer is wondering "What are Jewish schools for?" anyway?

Ivanka Trump is 100% Kosher

According to Women's Wear Daily, Ivanka Trump completed her conversion to Judaism and is now engaged to New York Observer owner Jared Kushner. Like, wow. Who knew that Ivanka Trump would become the poster girl for Orthodox conversion (as of six months ago online sources said she was studying with Rabbi Haskel Lookstein). Well, I, for one, am wishing both of them a big fat "MAZEL TOV!"

More of the dishy details: "Ivanka Trump on New Fiancé Jared Kushner: ‘He’ll be a Great Father'"

Israeli President & DR President hanging out?

What is Israeli President Peres doing meeting with the President of the Dominican Republic, Dr. Lionel Fernandez? 

Well having a Jewminican conference, of course.

Now, how come  I wasn't invited?

Stand-up Comedy Routine #3

I’ll probably offend plenty of people with this one. I’m not even sure it’s funny. It’s definitely a work in progress. I don’t think I have it in me to be the Jewish Chris Rock. Maybe I'm just trying to get back at the classmate who made jokes about being a Columbian (he's not) drug lord.

Aliza on Drugs

Has anyone ever noticed the difference between what black and Hispanic people tell their kids about drugs and what white people tell their kids?

I was listening to this white Jewish author talk about what she tells her kids. It’s okay to do marijuana, she says. She did it. So why can’t they do it, too? As long as they don’t sell it, she’s fine with them smoking up. I mean, didn’t she spend like most of college high anyway?

Then, in the OH NO SHE DIDN’T moment of the evening, this white girl goes on to crack jokes about DARE (say it with me now y’all…DRUG ABUSE RESISTANCE EDUCATION!). In the 80s, it was all about DARE keeping kids away from drugs, gangs and violence. But she says most of those kids ended up mixed up in that stuff anyway.

Girl, well, if they didn’t, who would be around to sell your kids drugs? You gotta keep the status quo, you know? Because you know how white people are about their marijuana. It’s like Starbucks. They can’t live without their fix.

Full disclosure: My aunt’s a cop. The only dirt brown cop for miles sometimes. So you know she wears her badge up high so none of her white coworkers busts a cap in her ass during office hours. Thanks to my dear old auntie, I’ve still got DARE pencils and t-shirts coming out of my ass. When the Pictionary pencils are running low, I pull out DARE pencils from 1985.

You see, when my aunt talked to me about drugs, she kept it simple. Drugs are bad. Drugs will kill you. And if drugs don’t, I will kill you.

Some of my friend’s moms kept it even simpler. They just smacked yo’ ass the hell up! Because black people and Hispanic people don’t be playing around about giving their children that all too necessary beat down. 

But now, I’m in LA and like every white person I know wants to own a dispensary. You know what I’m talking about if you’ve been to Venice Beach lately where for every Rastafarian beret store; they now have three marijuana dispensaries. THREE.

Because you know what happens when white people want to sell drugs. They make it legal.

Are Orthodox Jews Sexist?

OMG!!! MAYIM BIALIK IS STARRING IN AN EPISODE OF JEW IN THE CITY!!!!! OMG!!!



So how did Mayim Bialik end up on "Jew in the City" anyway? Read: "Mayim Bialik to Guest Star on a Very Special Jew in the City!" 

Of course, my husband has no idea who Mayim Bialik is. Sometimes, I can't remember why I married him. Just kidding! But I mean, this is what happens when people don't have TV in their homes! They miss like really important stuff...like MAYIM BIALIK! 

P.S. I have a TV but I don't have cable. Sniffle. My flat-screen is just one giant DVD-playing device.

Okay, now I have to go watch this again!!! And again!!! And again!!! 

P.P.S. Read about Mayim at the Mikvah

Britney the Jew

Um, the longest article in the world asks "Will Britney Become Jewish? Has she?"

Do we care? (Well, this is the least negative news on conversion in a while, no?) 

And isn't that my star of David?

Justice

Seth J. Frantzman tells you what really happened when one Ethiopian woman's conversion was annulled after a run-in with a cold-blooded but connected yeshiva student in "Terra Incognita: Where's the justice for a working-class heroine?"

"High Court to rule on yeshiva student's acquittal" makes you wonder if about the additions that could be made to the Ashkenazi Privilege list. "Outside the courtroom, Ethiopian-Israeli activists said that if Zoraish had not been Ethiopian and the defendant not haredi, the district court would have convicted him on the spot."

Too Black to Swim Here

Did you hear the story about the African-American (and Hispanic) kids and the swim club? Basically, a camp took their kids to a private swim club (they had paid for the privilege) and while there, they heard all sorts of comments like “What are all these black kids doing here?” If that wasn’t enough damage inflicted on the campers, afterwards, the private swim club returned the camp’s $2000 check, without any explanation, telling them they would no longer have access to their pool.

Sigh.

I’m sure no one is missing that this is a pool. A pool where African-American and Hispanic kids heard racially charged comments. What are we in 1950? Is it possible that even in 2009 that those signs from way back when that read “No Coloreds” are now invisible but still ever-present as always? Did these kids cross an invisible line of race and class?

And isn’t it interesting that the Jewish community center has“offered its pool to the campers for the rest of the summer. Because, after all, didn’t those signs also used to read: “No Coloreds/No Jews”? 

Though the private club in a near unamimous vote decided the kids could come back, the campers weren't buying it. 

More Jewish Content

Hey, y'all, I've been meaning to apologize for not having Jewishy content up during holidays, fast days and such. Even if I can't come up with something interesting to say, I'm going to try to link back to cool stuff on those days. You can yell at me if you don't see something up here. 

D is for Depression

Here's something I wrote last week....

Lately, I’ve been too depressed to write. I can’t get motivated to write my book. I can’t get motivated to write any new articles. Mostly, I can’t get motivated.

Sometimes, I wonder what life would be like if I wasn’t depressed. But I can’t remember if there was ever such a time. I do remember a time when I jumped out of bed. I guess that was before fibromyalgia made jumping out of bed, forget sleeping, damn near impossible.

On the really bad days, I wonder what’s the point? What’s the point of writing my little blogs? My little articles? My long, long, long memoir which never seems to end? What’s the point of fighting this depression? What’s the point of fighting reality? Reality being…how fibromyalgia has irreparably changed my life and how depression continues to weigh on my rickety, pained shoulders.

The other day I was hanging out with a new friend having a nice chat. And then pain ripped through me. It went from a level 1 pain (dull ache) to a level 10 (SCREAMING PAIN) in under 10 seconds. It felt as if my left eye had been stabbed and pulled out of the socket. The pain on my left side was crippling, raw, inflamed. I told my friend I had to stop talking, I had to go home immediately. In an instant, I couldn’t function anymore. And even though she was kind about it, all I could think was…how embarrassing, how embarrassing to be so sick and weak.

On the good days, it is so easy to remember what it was like before I was sick. Sometimes, I think of my life as before conversion and after conversion. Some days, I think of my life as before fibromyalgia and after fibromyalgia. I remember when I could eat at any restaurant on the block. (Okay, I couldn’t because my irritable bowel syndrome made it impossible but you know how we can reimagine the past.) I remember when my body didn’t hurt and when my body felt weightless, “light as a feather,” not heavy, leaden, stiff.

Someone told me I need to get a Patronus. I asked, “a what?” You know, like in Harry Potter when the Dementors, those predators of souls, were attacking, Harry would yell “Expecto Patronum” and suddenly a Patronus, a protector, a weapon against despair, would appear. A Patrnonus would conjure up the innermost positive feelings, such as joy, hope, or the desire to survive.

I know, you’re wondering if I smacked this person. I’m drowning in a pit of doom and gloom and they’re talking to me about Harry Potter. But I've always liked Harry Potter. He had a sad childhood (check) that was all about overcoming adversity (check) and he had to fight overwhelming odds (check) when anyone else would have said “give up!” But Harry was always so brave.

When people call me brave, I shake my head and tell them I wasn’t brave. I was never trying to be brave. I saw no other options. Run away from home. Kidnap sister. Fight for custody. Fight fibromyalgia. Fight depression. Fight pain.

Okay, I saw another option. Walk out. Walk away. Let go. Die. But for some reason, my feet wouldn’t cooperate. And yet, I have sat down in front of my pain medication and thought, hell, why don’t I just drink it all and call it “The End.” But no, I’ve lived long enough now to know people who have lost their friends and family to suicide. I can't forget their faces, their pain, their guilt. I'd never kill myself but I can't say I haven't thought "Please G-d put me out of my misery."

How can I be brave and have these thoughts? How? My sisters and I thought life would get easier and in some ways it has...while in other ways, it has just gotten unforgivably hard. In some ways, we have never escaped our mother. She is always there in our heads, snuffing the life out of us just when we need it most. I know those are the moments I need to ask myself “What would Harry do?” (Smile. Grimace. Smile.) But I don't.

There are some wounds that don’t heal. They stay open and pus. They start to heal and then the scar tissue is ripped back and there’s blood. Lots and lots of blood. I walk around and I stare at people and I wonder if any of them feels the same way. If any of them are 28 and thinking, it’s time for retirement because they’re just so exhausted by life, a life that has been, well, exhausting.

Don’t tell me that it could have been worst. I am so over that statement. The older I’ve gotten, the more I’ve learned that it could have been much better. So seriously, what was G-d thinking? I didn’t want to be inspiring. I would have settled for just being…boring. Really, really boring. The kind of boring that opens its mouth and instantly makes you cover your mouth from yawning right before it makes your eyes roll back into your head and knocks you unconscious. So boring it makes you cross-eyed.

This week, someone forced me to go reread my fan mail. Every time I get a nice letter, I've printed it up and saved it. I’ve never looked them over. But someone is making me. She said, go read all those letters that people take the time to write, the letters that say “thank you for telling your story” and “thank you for being so brave” and “thank you for putting what was in my heart into words.”


And what kind of cheeky humor does G-d have that every time I get REALLY, REALLY depressed, I get another one of these letters from Australia or Africa or some place I’ve only ever dreamed of and never actually seen?!

My grandmother says (we are now talking despite that time that she testified in court against me in my mother’s favor) that in our family you just keep picking yourself back up again no matter what obstacles get in your way. Great, so this stuff is genetic? And I thought the flat feet I inherited were damn annoying.

News of Note

Are you Jewish? Can you prove it? ”Rabbinate refuses to marry Jewish couple over adoption suspicion”  It won't be just converts having to show their papers anymore. Do you have your certificate of Jewishness handy?

Orthodox Women Rabbis? ”Between a rav and a hard place” Profile on Rabbi Avi Weiss wonders whether or not the rav has chilled out. 

Should conversion be promoted to intermarried couples? ”Conservatives End Push to Convert Intermarried”  (Can someone explain why non-Jews want to be presidents of synagogues or in the Sisterhood when they have no plans to convert? That just boggles my mind. I heard someone say once that you should never be so open-minded that your brain falls out of your head.... I just can't imagine a non-Christian being the head of any Catholic church committee.)

Days later though, worried about the misrepresentation in the previous article, the Rabbinical Assembly issues this statement via the JTA: "Conservative Rabbis: We Still Back Conversions".

Gary Tobin dies, does his dream of a more inclusive Jewish community die with him? Three articles look at Tobin's (sometimes, kind-of-out-there) views on conversion and reaching out to Jews of color. ”He Took Our Measure, and Dreamed Bigger” (Forward)

"Gary Tobin’s death sparks thoughts on positive nature of conversion (Examiner.com)

"Maverick researcher Gary Tobin, 59, reached out to Jews of color" (JTA)

One Ethiopian woman's conversion puts conversion back under the microscope and adds fuel to the fire of rabbis hoping to make conversion as difficult as possible. 

"Ethiopian woman used conversion to bring non-Jewish husband to Israel"

"Ethiopian victim of rabbi’s road road has conversion revoked"

"Dangerous religious radicaliztion"

"A Christian's Journey to Judaism" The story of a Mexican-American Crypto-Jew tells you a whole lot about conversion, family, Sephardic Jewry, and more. Favorite lines: "“My family thought I was going nuts,” Barkhausen said." & "They couldn’t be Jewish. Now, we can.”

Stand-up Comedy Routine #2

Yeah, my family would kill me if they read this. But that's okay, I survived them trying to kill me before.

Here is the second stand-up comedy routine I came up with for class.

Aliza on Breeding

My sister-in-law is 7. My husband is 27. People can’t control themselves when they hear this so they always ask, “Are they from the same father?” Sigh. Yes, yes, they are. Please ask me more because who doesn’t want to talk about their in-laws having sex?

From this people usually segue to “How many siblings do you have?” I usually roll my eyes and stare at the heavens at this point. It sounds like an easy, safe conversation topic but with me, there don't seem to be many safe, easy conversation topics, you know.

So I do a dramatic pause and then I say. "There are 10 of us…give or take a few."

Hearing this, people think I grew up in an ultra-Orthodox Jewish home where my mother gave birth every year for 10 years.

If they already know I converted to Judaism, they just assume my family was REALLY, REALLY Catholic.

Because what do ultra-Orthodox Jews and Catholics have in common?

A need to overpopulate the world.

The last time I asked my father to make a list of all my brothers and sisters, he came up two short. (No, really, I'm not making this stuff up.) So I know you're wondering, how the heck did he lose two kids in one conversation?

Well, my father is your basic stereotype of a Latin lover. My father only thinks about women. Lots and lots and lots of women. On our last family vacation, Papi took me to meet his girlfriend. Sorry, girlfriends. I didn’t catch their names. Papi called them Girlfriend #1. Girlfriend #2. And Girlfriend #3. And no, not to their faces of course. Papi is smoother than that.

Papi knows women, he knows how to make them swoon. Except for the lady at the birth certificate office. When my father tried to pull birth certificates for all his kids, this lady gave him a dirty look, refused to give him the certificates claiming he had "clogged up the system." Basically, she was not having any of his baby mama drama.

But I don’t blame my father. I blame my grandfather…who I only met once. But even then, I would have done anything for him. Anything. You see, he seduced me over a toy baby calf. My grandfather had seduced so many woman with so much less. Family folklore says that when Abuelo died, my father met all of Abuelo’s illegitimate children and baby mamas at the funeral.

So it’s true. My grandfather was hot. My father’s hot. My mother was hot, too. And just in case you wonder where my mother got it from, let me tell you about the time my grandmother asked me “So you know how sometimes you can have a kid but you’re not sure who the father is?” Did I mention that at one point one of my grandmother's husbands was almost thirty years younger than her?

So Grandma, no, I don’t know. I think hotness skipped a generation.

America: Post-Racial, Multiracial, Mixed Racial, Racist...

"Post-racial America." I'm wondering if someone makes money every time someone in the news media uses that term. Is it copyrighted? Because honestly, if it is...cha-ching! 

You know how I feel about "post-racial America." We've come a long way, baby, but we still have a long way to go. But enough about me. Let Melissa Harris-Lacewell tell you why "Racial progress is far from finished".

Snorting Books

Because some people's lives are better than soap operas!

I am absolutely obsessed with Philippa Gregory novels. My sister gave me a copy of “The Queen’s Fool," about a Spanish Jewess escaping the Inquisition in Queen Mary I's England, and then my mother-in-law lent me her copy of “The Other Boleyn Girl,” about those infamous Boleyn sisters and Henry VIII. (And no, the movie was not this good.) If this continues, I’m not going to get any kind of writing done this summer. And did I mention that I picked up copies of three of her other books? “The Virgin’s Lover,” "The Boleyn Inheritance” and “The Constant Princess” are next on my hit list.

When my husband asked “why the hell" I was buying so many books at Barnes & Nobles, I explained that I sheepishly explained that I had a coupon. No need to explain that I was emotionally cheating on my life with my latest addiction. Seriously, I can't leave the house while I'm reading these books. I can't get out of bed. I can't eat. (Okay, well I have a Book Chair and I eat in front of it.) 

You know I’m a fan of vampires but lately, my hunger for historical fiction knows no bounds. Did I mention I actually picked up Philippa Gregory books INSTEAD of starting another vampire book, the first of the Sookie Stackhouse series by Charlaine Harris that my sister loves so much she's got every single one on her Kindle? And no, I won’t be watching the “True Blood” TV show based on the novels--I hear it’s too steamy for my blood.

I read somewhere that reading is antisocial behavior. But it feels so good!

What are you reading?

Fallen Princesses

Why do we like fairy tales? Do we like them because they always end in "happily ever after"? Do we like them because they are so far removed from our harsh realities? Do we like them because they take us back to an age (you know, like never for me) where the words "harsh realities" were unknown to us?

"Fallen Princesses" tries to put things in perspective. A startling, slightly frightening, photo project, "Fallen Princesses" takes Disney fairy tale characters and places them in modern day scenarios. The effect is shocking. (Click on the thumbnails to see close-ups of the shots. Then read why the Princess Jasmin pic" has some people up in arms".)

But who says we want our fairy tales to give us a dose of reality? Don't we want them to take us away from it all? Well, perhaps times have changed. Take note that, more often than not, new fairy tales (like "Enchanted" for instance) take a feminist turn that has the princess saving the prince, not the other way around. 

Stand-up Comedy Routine #1

As you may have read on previous posts and/or Twitter, I am taking a Stand-up Comedy class at Santa Monica College. (I'm also taking a Figure Drawing class and a Memoir Writing class.) My husband, being ever supportive as always, has already decided I'm the funniest person in my class even though he's never been to the class to hear anyone else. 

After the last class, 6 classes in all, my classmates and I do our routines at a club and invite all our friends and family. But since most of my jokes are about friends and family, I don't know if it would be such a good idea to invite them.

Honestly, I think I'm discovering that I'm much better at improv (thinking up funny stuff on my feet), than I am plotting out jokes to tell in advance. While the teacher and my classmates seem to agree that I am funny, it seems my style is to tell stories. I'm a storyteller who just happens to be funny, not a stand-up comedian who tells funny stories.

By the way, despite tummy trouble before class, I did not fart in this second class. 

Here is me playing around with a joke about "pants," part of which I do in my "Memoirs of a Jewminicana" speech where I talk about my life and journey to converting to Judaism. 

Aliza on Pants

Jews are funny. That’s what people keep telling me. But I wasn’t born Jewish. I was born Dominican. So if we’re going by genes here, I’m probably really good at baseball and shimmying my hips. Not so funny.

Besides, I’m an Orthodox Jew. Nobody thinks Orthodox Jews are funny. Orthodox Jews are serious, seriously old-fashioned and seriously hate women. That’s what people tell me keep telling me. They tell me we hate women so much we won’t even let them wear pants. Think of all the evils women could do if you let them wear pants!

Snowboarding. 

Hiking. 

Secretary of State.

So this is what I tell people now: I’m an Orthodox Jew now so I don’t wear pants. Nobody has to know the truth. 

That my mother wore tight pants. That my grandmother wore tight pants. That my great-grandmother’s 97 and she’s still wearing tight pants. Generations after generations of women in my family have been doing that dance and shimmy to get their pants over their hips and then lying back on the bed to squeeze them closed over their guts.

No one has to know it wasn't just about modesty. It was about never squeezing my big Dominican butt into another pair of tight jeans. 

The benefits of my new Torah lifestyle are endless.

Post-Racial Rabbis...Or Not?

Post-Racial Rabbis. 

An article from Moment Magazine on African-American rabbis (though strikingly, no Orthodox rabbis despite the fact that there definitely are African-American Orthodox rabbis) meant to highlight Jewish diversity might only compound common beliefs held about non-Orthodox movements and converts. 

Um, when do we get to see an article about Latino rabbis? Alright, probably never, I know. There are more than enough Latino rabbis, so that's nothing earth-shattering, I know, even if we never hear about them. 

As usual, keep the comments clean. 

Ricci, Race and Wearing Blinders

I've been largely quiet on race, lately. I've done this, despite the fact that every other time I've posted about Sonia Sotomayor someone has tried to call me out on this. I've been reading, as I always do, all the latest news on racism, racism all over the world, racism in America, liberals and conservatives whispering (SCREAMING) sweet nothings about racism into each other's ear. 

Mostly, what I've been hearing is a lot of fear and confusion. There's fear that trying to fight racism has only led to more racism. There's fear that non-whites are "taking over." But I haven't seen anything that has reflected my concerns, my worries about how racism works in this country (until today, see article below). And I won't bother telling you how I felt about the Ricci case because I don't think most people can hold a coherent conversation about it. Plus, you might keel over if I told you where I stood on it. You know, from the shock. 

And let me tell you, people think they understand how I feel about racism just by looking at my skin, or rather, while aiming astonished glances s at my hair. I am a first-generation child of immigrants, poor immigrants, one of whom raised me while collecting welfare fearing the whole time that I would be swallowed by the ghetto and never get out. I'm no expert on racism or poverty, but I've been the unwilling a victim of it, nonetheless. 

Often, I've had people try to bait me on affirmative action and they are surprised to hear that I watched several of my friends, with lower grades in high school but from similar income brackets, open up shiny, special acceptance letters from NYU while I was told that with my better grades, with my too-high SAT scores, I wasn't considered disadvantaged enough. I got rejected. 

My first SHOCKING C+ in a college English class, after mostly As and Bs, seemed to suggest otherwise. And I wonder how many of my classmates with better grades, easier lives, petty cash accounts, spring and summer vacations, had spent most of their childhood escaping into Shakespeare and Dickens. Probably not many and still, I did not have the tools to compete in a fair fight with them. 

A lot of my friends failed out of NYU eventually but I never failed out of Fordham because just as I was trying to decide whether or not it was more important to eat or go to college, Fordham awarded me a full scholarship and I found myself handwriting over 30 personal letters to my generous donors. 

I was lucky when the time came to kidnap my sister I had incredibly supportive, understanding professors at Fordham, in fact I've always had supportive teachers--financially and emotionally. They never made the work easier for me, but they gave me to the tools to step up when the obstacles in my way were piled higher and higher. 

Still, I ran into professors who thought my papers were too good to be written by me. I ran into professors who said my English wasn't good because it wasn't my first language (I learned English and Spanish simultaneously from college-educated parents who were non-native speakers). Other Hispanic students asked me if I was half-white while the whites asked to touch my hair and complimented me for being so light-skinned. 

And no, I still haven't told you how I really feel about affirmative action, just in case you haven't noticed. 

I don't know how to solve racism but I do not think it will be solved by colorblindness. I think there is a great hope that someday, the world will be colorblind. Great. I won't hold my breath just yet. I hope being colorblind doesn't mean people will stop noticing that I tan better than a huge percentage of the population. I can only hope this means that people will stop thinking that because I tan better, I am stupid, backward, ignorant, unable to string coherent sentences, lazy, trying to take over America, trying to steal their sons for all manner of sordid behavior, illiterate, and of course, a virulent socialist. 

And no, I won't try to pretend that I think the welfare system in America is perfect, especially since I have actually scrapped by on it. In fact, that welfare system ensured that I was hungry 3 out of 4 weeks a month. Quite the luxury. I am sorry for you in more ways than one if you believe I should have been hungry 4 weeks out of 4 weeks and you'd rather have given your money to some organization feeding hungry children outside America. Would you like me to write you a check now?

A good read: "Color-blindness, Racism and Impact" by A. Serwer.

How to Tell People They Sound Racist

Just discovered "Ill Doctrine," a video blog by hip hopper Jay Smooth, and I thought I'd share this video on "How To Tell People They Sound Racist." Be sure to check out his other videos if you like this one, "If Bill O'Reilly was a rapper" is another good one. 

The trouble is that many people can't distinguish between racist actions or racist people. Even when I try just to focus on the action, people don't want to accept their actions as racist because to them, that means accepting they might be racists. And many people refuse to do that, even when their actions are harmful to other people.

Loving the Jewish diversity

Okay, how many times can I blog about Be'chol Lashon, seriously? I can't help it. I love their monthly newsletter. Even with being a Jewminicana myself, it's easy to forget how diverse Jews are when I show up at a typical Jewish lifecycle function and I'm the darkest person in the room. Okay, sometimes there are darker folks but man, can people please stop giving my hair the look already? I know it's big. Just get over it. Haven't you ever heard of a Jew 'fro? Come on!

So, the latest newsletter has really outdone itself. We've got Japanese Jews, Jews of the Carribean, Jews in Mexico, Indian Jews, African Jews...ah, the Jewish world is so beautiful and so colorful! If you're not already getting the Be'chol Lashon newsletter, sign up for it. Send it to your friends so that we can change the pervasive mentality (Jewish or otherwise) that says all Jews have to look like Woody Allen or Natalie Portman, which unfortunately for the last one, last time I checked, I don't.

Now read up on... having Japanese-Jewish roots or about Jews of the Carribean or what it's like being Jewish in Mexico.

To submit articles of interest that relate to Jewish diversity to the newsletter, email Esther Fishman, Esther@BecholLashon.org.

And if all that diversity has got you terrified, well, 1. why are you reading this blog? and 2. check out Chabad's Question of the Week "Is Diversity Good for Jews?"

Being a Cool Jew on Independence Day!

I am spending this 4th of July in good company out here in Los Angeles with many cool folk from the synagogue where my husband is interning. We're having a major Sheva Brachot blast to celebrate a recent wedding. Since the 4th falls on Shabbat, we won't be barbecuing but you can be sure that once Shabbat is over, I will find the nearest kosher burger joint open on Saturday night. Yum!!!! (Though not so good for my thighs, I suppose. That's the part that is getting more and more Dominican as time goes on.)

And while eating my burger, I will contemplate what it means to be Jewish and American, American and Jewish since, incidentally, these thoughts scored me some cool stuff over at ModernTribe where I wrote in about being an American Jew/Jewish American as my entry for the Cool Jew 4th of July Giveaway! Do you think my Dominican side feels left out? Not to worry, the colors on the American flag are the same as the colors on the Dominican flag so you know, it's all good.

Jewish Myths

All Jews are white or Eastern European. (And eat kugel and gefilte fish and cholent every Shabbat because otherwise, they wouldn't REALLY be Jewish.)

Jews don’t welcome converts. (Is this a myth? Alright, in some communities it is. But in others, as we've seen in Israel and South America, it's a fact. A sad, sad, sad reality.)

Rabbis are male. (Even secular Jews have a problem with this which I find very interesting.)

There are the myths that Sandy Sasso, a Reconstructionist rabbi, tries to debunk in “Debunking the myths of Judaism” but how much can one little article in The Indianapolis Star do? Well a lot if you send it to all your friends and their friends and then Facebook and Twitter about it!

Driving Miss Crazy: Why I Cut Class, Cried All Afternoon and You know, Other Stuff...

My husband has decided that this is the summer I’m going to learn to drive. Actually, he decided I was going to learn to drive last summer but I came up with plenty of excuses. I managed to go a whole year without every picking up that DMV manual.

This year, my husband got smart about it. Just after our arrival in Los Angeles, where my husband is interning at a local synagogue, he dragged me out of bed and over to the DMV to take the test for a learner’s permit. The first time, I failed by one question. I stomped out of the DMV with a mysterious dark cloud floating above me. Oh wait, that was just my hair.

The next time, I took the test, the DMV clerk looked it over and then blinked up at me after several moments. “You passed.” I stared him. “Gee, I was hoping I’d get a response.” I stared at him some more. It was 2pm and I’d only been awake an hour.

My husband was so excited he decided to take me out driving that afternoon. I took the opportunity to negotiate for a “You Passed Your Learner’s Permit Test” present. I was hoping for either a date to see the new Sandra Bullock movie, “The Proposal” or $15 to spend at Itunes on Michael Jackson classics. I was also hoping instead of driving, I could crawl back into bed, prepare for my writing class, work on my book, you know anything but driving.

But My husband was insistent. So, at his parent’s place, we traded our stick-shift Saturn for an ugly black Maxima and we hit the road. I managed to drive around the neighborhood without hitting any parked cars while riding the breaks most of the way. I decided driving wasn’t so bad after all. My husband was super enthusiastic about my driving. Clearly I was an idiot savant! He decided I was going to drive us the .09 miles from his parent’s place to our apartment.

It should have taken us 5 minutes but with my foot mostly on the break, it was more like 15. I made it all the way home without taking out any parked cars, little old ladies or mailboxes. At one point, I was driving so slow the neighborhood security stopped to talk to us.

Finally, we made it to our duplex and all I had to do was round the corner and park on an empty street. My husband got distracted by the two Hispanic guys staring at our car as I angled it around the corner. He cracked a joke I can’t even remember but I must have gotten distracted too because the next thing I knew, the Hispanic guys were running out of the way as I hit the gas pedal instead of the breaks, jumped the curb, hit the parking sign and blew out a tire. Luckily, the parking sign broke my “fall,” otherwise, Bubbe’s duplex would have a big, fat hole in it.

The moral of this story? My husband shouldn’t tell jokes. Especially, when I’m driving.

My first stand-up comedy class

I farted during my first stand-up comedy class. 

And no one laughed.

I knew I shouldn't have had that butter over my baked potato for dinner. But I did. I had it. And I had it without protection. Lactaid pills are so expensive and so every now and then, I take risks.

As you well now, some risks can lead to farting.

Hopefully, I'll survive my second class...without farting. I'll be doing some jokes about Jews, Latinos and giving up pants.