May has always played a central role in my identity. I was born in Louisville, Kentucky, on Saturday, May 4, 1985, which was a big deal for my family and friends because I took part in the grandest race of the year: the Kentucky Derby. Not to brag, but I was born just an hour before the race started, making me a Derby winner. May also happens to be Jewish American Heritage Month, another deeply meaningful part of who I am. Although, like many, this part of my identity is complicated and multifaceted.
I was born into a mixed faith family. My mother was born and raised Jewish, but she married a Catholic man, so my older brothers and sister were raised Catholic. As it turns out, I was responsible for us leaving the Catholic church and our subsequent search for a new religious home. Here’s the story told to me ever since I could sit on my parents’ knees: one Sunday, when I was still a young baby, I began crying in church. Apparently, this was very frustrating to the clergy running the service, who yelled out to the congregation, “Will someone shut that kid up?!” At this point, my father gathered our family and left the church, never to return.
We then began moving through different faiths, looking for a home that would satisfy my siblings and parents. We tried Lutheran, Episcopal, Unitarian, and Jewish—however, none fit all of us in the same way. Despite our search, my mother still kept elements of her Jewish culture and religion present in our home. We celebrated Rosh Hashanah, Passover, Yom Kippur, and Hanukkah (even though she really loved Christmas, too). I grew up with a keen understanding that, despite not being raised in a traditional Jewish fashion or attending synagogue services, I was still Jewish…