#because Judaism passes down through the mom | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

jellybeanium124 · 6 months ago

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I don't have kids but I do want kids sometime in the future. idk how much my reasons will be helpful because some of them are kinda specific.

I like kids! I was a camp counselor for 5 summers and as much as it was very hard work I also really loved it! I worked with the same group of kids from when they were 7 to 12 (ok so technically I worked there 6 summers but online camp 2020 doesn't count). I initially asked to move up with the same group of campers for selfish reasons: I wanted them to remember me (I only remember the counselors I had my last couple years as a camper or the ones I had multiple years. also 1 really shitty one who didn't care that this boy was bullying me rip), but it was actually really nice to watch them grow up (and grow up with them kinda, since I went from being a 14yo kid myself to 19). several campers who were little assholes when they were 7 turned into good kids by 12. kids are cute and fun and I still remember holding my little cousin when she was a baby and getting to feed her to this day, and that happened about 12 years ago now. holding a baby actually really is magical to me. I can understand why it wouldn't be for everyone but if you've never held a baby before and you get a chance: hold the baby. maybe it will be magical for you. not saying this to try and get people to want kids. holding a baby in and of itself is just an experience.

I'm jewish. I want to have jewish kids. this isn't really helpful for your purposes I am assuming. passing down judaism and jewish traditions is important to me. maybe your characters aren't jewish, but they still have things they want to pass on. personal traditions, or something.

I've just always wanted kids since I was a kid myself. it has always been a part of my vision for my life. I'm pretty lucky in that I always imagined myself living till at least 80. kids (and grandkids, if my kids wanna have kids) has just been a part of the vague life plan for me.

maybe this is selfish and kind of a bad reason... but like, my parents did a lot of things right. they also did a lot of things wrong. I want to emulate the things they did right and fix the things they did wrong. this isn't to say I want to like, live through my kids, or like, use them to fix my own trauma, but like, when my kids almost inevitably start displaying the Symptoms Of Neurodivergence around middle school, I want to do better than my parents did for me. and like idk I just want to raise good kids who become good people.

this isn't exactly a reason, but the absolute best part of my retail job is seeing parents and kids who love each other. I cannot explain how much it brightens my day to see a dad joking around with his toddler daughter, picking her up and putting her on his shoulders. or another dad asking his young son about which thing he should purchase. or a mom smiling and watching her very little daughter toddle around and climb into the clothes rack and just let her explore and play. it is just a delight. maybe you could have a scene where the characters people watch some kind of wholesome, loving parent-child interaction, and feel a deep want for that in their hearts. I think we all know that parent-child relationships can be terrible, but they can be fun and full of love too. and respect, even. watching kids grow up is amazing and magical, and having a part in that feels like such an honor.

Disclaimer: I am asking this question because I'm genuinely curious about other people's lives. I know last time I tried to ask something like this I got drawn and quartered because apparently people get very fucking precious when you question their lifestyle even if you're just asking without intent to judge. So I'm not trying to judge anyone I just legitimately cannot fathom a choice that a lot of people make and am trying to gain a better understanding. Thank you for answering my questions and leaving me alone otherwise.

Hello Tumblrinas with children! I am writing a fic and I have reached a point where two characters discuss having children and it is narratively fulfilling for these characters to plan to have children at some point in the future at this juncture in the story.

Unfortunately for me I'm an autistic tranny for whom having a child to take care of literally sounds like a fate worse than death and these two characters are in a loving healthy relationship with each other and the guy's not a creep so I cannot default to baby trap, bandaid on a failing marriage, or horny about the concept of pregnancy and these characters also did not expect to make it to baby making age so societal expectation is also out the window as a motivation. Which means I need to find another motivation and I genuinely am coming up with nothing because again I would rather die than have kids. So I'm asking y'all. Why did you decide to do it? If the answer is anything other than the ruled out reasons above please let me know why you did it.

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kisakunt · 3 years ago

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MIKA AND MITSUYA ?!?! JUDAISM?!?!

if ur not mika this ain’t ab u that’s crazy innit. this a little too long and not good mika @mtsuyas i’m hungover i’m sorry😞☹️

mitsuya was never really one for cooking. he did it a lot— had to for his sisters and for himself, and sometimes for his mom if she had a really long day (which she always did) and he wanted to do something nice.

but, here he is now, temperature checking the pot of oil in front of him with a piece of bread, sheet of unfinished sufganiyot to the right of him. he’d told you to treat yourself to something nice on him; go do something like get a massage or get your nails done or have breakfast with your family or literally anything because he knows you’re more than excited for sunset and he told you it would help the time pass quicker. the second you were out the door, though, he was mixing yeast and water in a pyrex in silence, not even listening to music so the dough could properly rise.

takashi liked to learn about your life. he liked to learn about your dumb little groups, and what drinks you like to drink in the fall and which drinks you like in the springtime, and what type of fabric made for your favorite pillow case, and everything. he liked your birthday— he loved your birthday, actually— and he was ecstatic when you asked him to go with you to your parents for hanukkah dinner.

he’s sure there will be a surplus of these there— you’d told him about the alcohol infused donuts they always make— but this was different. it was special—he hoped it was, anyway—, it was him trying to be part of your life, trying to show you the care he had toward your devotion.

and maybe he’s doing this because he’s nervous. the dough falls into the oil, cracks and splatters louder than his breathing, and he watches. maybe he’s nervous that he’ll pronounce things wrong when speaking about food or playing dreidel, maybe he’s nervous that he researched something about the festival of lights wrong and he’ll sound stupid, maybe he’s nervous at intruding on your family setting he never learned how to navigate, maybe he’s nervous because you just make him nervous.

he flips the donuts right at a minute and thirty seconds on the dot, and he doesn’t think about anything but you. the countertops are kept tidy, two trays adjacent to each other (one with raw dough, one ready for cooling down), a little squeeze bottle of jelly he’d spent god knows how long homemaking and a sifter shaker full of powdered sugar placed to the side. he needs everything to go right, and he’s pretty confident that he’s set himself up for that.

he almost gets through cooking all of them before you get home. the first couple of batches are moderately cooled, adorned with a little cut in them for the jelly, while the rest are still dripping from the oil, and six extras are in the pot. shit.

“‘m back!” you sound excited, and his chest wrenches. he can’t multitask or else the last ones will burn, and he can’t serve you plain sufganiyot or else wouldn’t even be sufganiyah, it’s just fucking dough.

he burns himself a little taking the last ones out of the pot, turning the stove off with a grimace. “just a sec.” he thinks he’s substantially lucky. he thinks you sharing the intimate parts of your life with him is beyond anything he could’ve ever asked for, and he wants to aid in the perfection of it.

“thanks for that, takashi.” your voice is muffled while you walk the halls, and he grins when you say his name. “they had the perfect blue, lemme show you.” he’s finished exactly two of the sufganiyot when you get to the kitchen.

“and my nail tech knew it was hanuk— what are you doing?” he can hear it— the smile in your tone. he’s hunched over, squeeze bottle up close and personal with one of the donuts, wince on his face at your company.

“so, they’re not finished.” he turns to you, toothy grin and all, dessert in his fingers, and he catches sight of the nails on yours. you were right, the blue is perfect.

“takashi mitsuya, is that.. sufganiyah in your hands?”

“maybe?” you laugh, walking over to him and grabbing one of the completed ones he has presented on one of your nicer plates.

“i’m so glad i didn’t get breakfast— stop.” he watches you with baited breath as you bite into it, rolling his eyes at the dramatic noise you let out as you chew.

“fashion designer and a chef? i scored myself a little house wife.” he puts down everything he’s doing to wipe at the powdered sugar that sticks to the side of your mouth, eyes softening involuntarily.

“i wanted them to be done before you got back.” you shake your head, holding the pastry to his lips, waiting for him to take the second bite. and when he does, he’s a little proud. it is good— maybe not the best thing in the world—, but the jelly isn’t too sweet nor too bitter and he didn’t overcook it. it’s something to be proud of, so why does he still have that little pit in the bottom of his stomach?

“why? we could’ve done it together.” and he knows you’re right. he shrugs, turning back to top the one he’d just made with powdered sugar.

“dunno, wanted to do something for you.” you don’t say anything as you wash your hands, drying them thoroughly before you grab the squeeze bottle from under his arms, taking it on as your own job to help him finish the pastries.

“we should take these to my parents.”

“no.” and he knows that’s why he has a little shake to his hands as he takes hits the bottom of the sifter, sliding easily into working side by side with you.

“okay, then you can eat ‘em all, fatty.” he snorts, nudging against you as he looks at the counter. okay, maybe he made too many, but he wants everything to be perfect, and he wants to be perfect, and he’s worried if everything’s not you won’t want it; but he thinks that’s stupid, now, as you dirty up your fresh nails to help with his project.

“happy hanukkah, by the way.” mitsuya loves you, and it’s not as if he doesn’t already know your family. they like him, he likes them, and just because it’s a holiday and a gathering and something of a high value doesn’t mean they’ll randomly change their opinions on him. he tells himself it’ll be great.

“thanks but,” you lean to him, kissing the edge of his jaw, bumping his cheekbone with the top of your head. “the sun is still high and bright, chill out.” he looks at you, nerves beginning to slide off his skin. it’s like he forgot you’d be there with him, by his side, making fun of him and welcoming him into your life. it’ll go just fine.

#mika x takashi = real #btw #JUDAISM SONNNN #YEAHHHH #no tags #judt mika

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ask-jumblr · 5 years ago

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You guys never published my question! What’s wrong with wanting to have a space for people who were born Jews? I’m not saying we shouldn’t be welcoming of converts, they just never experienced the anti-semitism growing up or the experiences of growing up Jewish.

Mod (singular) here. Yes, I didn’t post your original ask because it wasn’t consistent with this blog’s standards, although I did make a post recognizing that it was (1) sent in, and (2) didn’t meet content standards. It might be time to clarify or expand the current guidelines; anyone who thinks that’s the case is welcome to reach out. Back to your ask...I know that having a not-posted ask can sting, and I’m sorry you’ve gotten this far through life without your community providing you with the knowledge for you to understand why your proposal is inappropriate and dangerous.

I’m going to remind everyone blog is welcoming of converts. From this blog’s stance, except when there are halachic nuances followed by certain communities, converts should not be treated any differently than born Jews.

Converts don’t need to be treated any differently than born Jews (excluding those halachic nuances relevant for certain communities), because those differences you’re thinking of, anon, they’re not true for all converts. There are very few experiences that couldn’t be shared by a born Jew and a convert. Your generalizations about converts are causing fallacies in your logic. I’m including some stories below the cut that I hope will give you a more complex understanding of the breadth of experiences among people who have converted to Judaism. The stories I’m sharing are all made up, but most of the nuances, the catches that it’s easy to forget are lived experiences. Many are borrowed from friends, friends of friends, or famous Jewish figures.

You mentioned experiencing antisemitism growing up; I suspect that you’re hurting, but you will find converts who hurt for the same reasons; please don’t shut them out.

However, even besides the issue of treating converts differently (1) generally breaking custom/halacha, and (2) being pretty pointless because many will share experiences of born Jews, creating spaces that exclude converts is also dangerous. Converts, like some other groups in Jewish spaces (e.g. JoC, Jews with disabilities) already experience hostility, exclusion, and isolation in Jewish spaces. Building spaces that intentionally exclude them for some reason perpetuates the problems we need to fix in our communities.

Folks are welcome to add to or correct this response. However, I hope that my own response and the standards I’m setting about respecting converts as fellow members of the broad Jewish community will eliminate the need for me to moderate any anti-convert sentiments on this post. Another ask that I’m linkng here might be a better place to discuss the situations where converts are differentiated and/or any Jewish communities that do not recognize converts. If it’s getting another round of activity, I’m happy to reblog it again.

Jessie’s parents converted in a Modern Orthodox community when she was 3. She and her siblings, age 5 and 8, were converted along with their parents. A year later, her baby sister was born Jewish.

Brad’s father raised him celebrating Jewish holidays at home. Brad’s mom stopped being Christian long before they met, although they sometimes visited her parents and exchanged Christmas gifts under their tree. At school, Brad was bullied for being Jewish. When his mom was offered a job in a local city, Brad’s family decided it was long overdue to move to a community where they felt more welcome. In the city, Brad was able to attend a Pluralistic Jewish High School. In college, Brad’s experience with Chabad led him towards an Orthodox Jewish community, and he converted so that he would be halachically recognized as Jewish.

Melanie was adopted by a Jewish couple as an infant and was converted shortly after. For as long as she can remember, her personality has consistently clashed with her birth mother and they had a tenuous relationship. They cut ties when Melanie turned 20. Melanie doesn’t remember a time before she was Jewish. When it came time for her Bat Mitzvah at her adoptive family’s Open-Orthodox synagogue, her decision was easy to reaffirm her Judaism as a Jewish adult. When she started looking for someone to marry, her friends were surprised when they tried to set her up with a Kohen, and despite their sparks she didn’t want to go out on a second date. Until then, they hadn’t known that Melanie had converted, growing up they’d assumed her birth mother was Jewish.

Sam’s mom is Episcopalian and their dad is Jewish. They were raised with both sets of holidays, attending both a church and a Reform synagogue. However, in high school, Sam started going to youth group at a Conservative synagogue with some of their friends. They really loved the Conservative Jewish community they found at the youth group and its associated synaogue. With their parents’ support, Sam decided to convert so they would be able to count in a minyan and have aliyot at the Conservative synagogue.

Maya’s family is Jewish. While knowledge of their Jewish status was passed down, clear documentation of ketubot/gravestones/etc. was lost when they were fleeing persecution. When she wanted to get married, her fiancé’s parents wanted to ensure their grandchildren would be recognized as Jewish. Even though her fiancé was against it, they encouraged her to complete a conversion to dot i’s and cross t’s. Maya decided it was easier to complete a conversion than deal with her in-laws’ pressure. She also didn’t want her children to have to deal with the consequences of a murky Jewish status. A rabbi connected to the family quietly arranged for a conversion so the Jewishness of Maya and any children she should have would be documented and undeniable.

Josh’s dad is Jewish, but his mom isn’t. His dad didn’t raise him as Jewish and he didn’t even know he was Jewish until his mother told him when he was 15. His mother explained that his dad was a child survivor of the Holocaust, and he didn’t want his new family in the U.S. to be burdened by his Jewish identity. However, Josh didn’t feel burdened. Now, he finally understood whyn his father had suffered from nightmares and depression. During high school, Josh taught himself about Judaism behind his father’s back; he didn’t want to upset his father further. After graduating high school, Josh moved out from his parents’ house to attend nursing school. Josh joined a local Reform synagogue, where the rabbi encouraged him to complete a ‘reclamation’ conversion and helped him fill in the gaps in his Jewish education.

When she was in kindergarten, Sarah’s mom remarried, forming a blended family with a Jewish man and his two kids. Sarah’s father isn’t in her life, so she only lived with her mother and new step-father for most of her childhood. A few years after their marriage, Sarah’s mother converted through their local Reconstructionist Synagogue. However, Sarah’s mom wanted to make sure Sarah had the freedom to make her own decision. While Sarah wasn’t converted, she did celebrate Jewish holidays with her family. Shabbat was Sarah’s favorite day of the week; sometimes her family would go to synagogue, but even if they didn’t, they would make time to spend together as a family. When Sarah turned 13, she wanted to have a Bar Mitzvah like her older step-brothers. Her parents and the local rabbi encouraged her to think through her decision, and her parents offered to throw her a big 13th birthday party without her reading Torah. However, Sarah really wanted to be fully recognized as a Jewish adult in her community. A few months after she turned 13, she completed her conversion and read Torah at their synagogue for the first time.

Complicated stories like these happen all the time.

#not a question #anti-convert sentiment #modding #converts #Jews-by-choice #jewish community #gerim #Anonymous #why?

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yikesharringrove · 5 years ago

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Holidays

I hc Steve as Jewish just fucking because.

So Billy, who’d rather not be trapped in his house all day slips away at the first chance he gets. He drives around a bit, but small town on Christmas NOTHING is open,,,, except of course the one Chinese restaurant in town. He walks in looking for some soup and expecting it to be empty, only to see none other than Steve Harrington by himself living out that classic Jewish tradition of going to a Chinese restaurant on Christmas.

Cut to them hanging out and having a heart to heart about life and Steve explaining various Jewish traditions, how his parents have stopped bothering with Hanukkah, maybe making an appearance for Yom Kippur or Rosh Hashanah but that’s about it anymore. The last of his birthdays they even bothered to remember was his Bar Mitzvah.

Billy (who I hc as v Catholic) telling him about his mother, a total hippy who believed Jesus would be open to all, that God loves everyone regardless of anything, and his dad, a classic case of fire and brimstone.

(I like the idea of his mom being one of those who picks and chooses and interprets everything in the spirit of love and acceptance, and his dad being one to take it all literal (it would also be an interesting place for his canon homophobia to come from) and I love the idea of gay billy battling between his faith and his sexuality and trying to find a way to bring the two together in some way). Plus Judaism is passed down through the mother, so them bonding over their mothers’ faith traditions and what they mean to them in different ways 🥺.

They bond over shitty parents and it’s all just soft.

I also want Billy teasing Steve

Billy: I mean, your people killed my boy Jesus

Steve: No we didn’t!

Steve: Jesus is OUR boy! He was a Jew! JESUS WAS A JEW!

Billy: Harrington I was k i d d i n g

#harringrove #steve harrington #jewish steve harrington #billy hargrove #catholic billy hargrove #harringrove holidays #steve x billy #billy x steve #steve harrington x billy hargrove #billy hargrove x steve harrington #soft boys opening up about their shitty parents over hot and sour soup #i mean i love the fics and stuff about steve being Super into christmas and loveing evwrything about it #but idk jewish steve just REALLY speaks to me #also give me him in a tacky hanukkah sweater #yikes writes

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jazon-todd · 5 years ago

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hey! can i you ask a question on judaism? today i learned that judaism is traditionally passed down through the mom, but i remember you saying that your dad is your jewish parent, so has this belief changed? or did you have to convert? or did you just say 'fuck it' and identify as jewish anyway? sorry if this sounds invasive! i'm genuinely curious

Hi!

I’ve always saw myself as Jewish and (as far as I know) my father’s community always considered us to be Jewish even if my mother wasn’t, because my grandparents were in the holocaust, and I don’t think anyone wanted to be that asshole to stand up and try to tell us that we weren’t. But I did officially convert, as did my sister. We did it at a young age, and since we had always been participating in the Jewish faith and have always been attending services, we had an easier process than what most people would have I guess.

But even if we didn’t, we’d still consider ourselves Jewish, at least ethnically. My father’s whole family aside from his parents were murdered because they were Jewish, and that’s not something I’d ever start to ignore just because we decided to not ultimately convert.

#ask #jewish tag #anonymous

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jewish-privilege · 6 years ago

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My little girl loves synagogue. She asks to go to Tot Shabbat at least three times a week. Given her tendency to run to the bimah and start dancing, we joke that she might one day become a rabbi.

Taking her to synagogue makes me overwhelmingly happy, like I am connected to every woman in my bloodline through space and time—and they are all smiling and proud of me, radiating warmth and understanding. These include my grandmothers, who never met her, and their grandmothers who never met me, all with us, with their hands on her little head.

Ever since the Tree of Life synagogue shooting in Pittsburgh, there has been one moment where the joy evaporates for me—when my little girl, 2 years old, opens the door and is greeted by the Washington, D.C., police department manning their metal detectors. She doesn’t notice. She can’t remember.

I remember. I remember life before this.

The D.C. police have done a great job, despite my early reservations. They smile. They greet us with a hearty “Shabbat Shalom!” They act like it’s normal that they are there. I thank them for doing their job. I wonder if I am teaching her, a black Jewish girl, the right lessons about interacting with police, and worry if I model it wrong it might get her killed one day. We thank the police for a job well done. They work hard to keep us safe, and I am grateful for it.

But it hurts to see them there. It hurts so much that for a single moment every Saturday I think I won’t be able to bear it. Then I smile. I tell my daughter to say thank you. Just wait for mommy while they check my bag.

This past Saturday, she twirled through the metal detector, showing off her fancy dress. She was so proud of it, made specifically for her by an aunt in Ghana, with beautiful intricate batik pink prints and a full skirt that makes her feel like a princess. The policewoman bent down and told my daughter how beautiful she looked; she beamed back, said thank you and started running full speed for Tot Shabbat.

I’ll never be able to explain to her what has been lost for Jews in America.

This week the Jewish community said our mourning prayers. There is a special service for mourners that we say four times a year, including on Passover. It’s called Yizkor. We didn’t know that this year, by nightfall we would all be mourning. We would be mourning Lori Gilbert Kaye of Poway, California, killed in her own synagogue. Killed six months, to the day, after 11 other Jews were killed in their house of worship—a wound from which our community had barely begun to heal and which has now ripped wide open again.

Now, the whole community is mourning. We have all lost someone. We have all lost ourselves, who we were in America, in a unique and beautiful place in the long history of Jewish suffering. We were free. We were freer than our grandmothers could have ever dreamed. But there is no more lying to ourselves in the night. There is no more hope that Tree of Life was some terrible aberration. We are not safe. Our kids are not safe.

We lived a life that I am now sure my daughter will never know.

I remember a synagogue with unlocked doors. I remember a synagogue where there was no fear. I remember running wild through its halls. I remember being taught that a Jewish little girl could be anything she wanted if she worked hard, and knowing it was true. I remember when conversations about anti-Semitism were about remembering history—not dealing with terrifying realities. When questions about whether we were Jews first or Americans first were ethical dilemmas for a lazy Shabbat afternoon at summer camp, ignored chavruta in favor of a swim—not debated in American politics with stakes I still cannot fathom. I was there. I know there was a time before this. When we were taught how blessed beyond measure we were to be who we were: American Jews. When we listened to the old men at synagogue who had lived through hate, the Holocaust survivors, the Russian refugees, our fathers’ stories of quotas and academic denial. These were stories that we learned so we appreciated who we got to be as American Jews. We sighed sadly at the old men who told us to be ever vigilant, because they would never be as free as us, like the men who had to die in the desert before we reached the Promised Land. America was our Promised Land.

How crushing to learn that they were right all along.

Over drinks and in hushed tones, my brother is skeptical of my surprise. Maybe it was different for boys, he says, but you never got punched in the face and called a kike? There were always swastikas on the playground, he remembers. We had a swastika drawn on our synagogue. We wanted to believe it was better here. That we had found a safe place. It was never safe for us, he says, for any of us. We are from Boston, Carly. It was never safe for our black friends, our Irish friends, our immigrant friends. It was never so good for anybody here—you just wanted to believe it was.

Something in me is irrevocably broken. Maybe we were never real. Maybe this era never happened.

I know some readers never experienced freedom in America. I know there are people who grew up in an America that enslaved their ancestors, an America that brought their community smallpox and genocide, an America that put their grandmothers in internment camps, that deported their parents. An America that stole from them, hurt them, killed them. They ask me: How can you complain? Why should we care that you once knew freedom and lost it, when we have never been free. To those readers: I stand with you unequivocally. I know you never had the America I once did. I will fight beside you to build an America where all of us had the freedom I once had. None of our children should pray behind armed guards. All of us, all of our kids should be safe, prosperous, and free. I want to hear all of your stories, all the ways America hurt you and took freedom from you. But I also want you to understand how it felt to find a safe harbor after thousands of years and build lives and generations there—and then watch it begin to disintegrate before our eyes. All of our voices should be heard. All of us deserve a new era of freedom, prosperity, and safety. I hope what we build in the coming years makes us freer than all of our grandmothers’ wildest dreams. I believe we must come together and fight for the America that seemed so close we could taste it just a few years ago. We must fight for all of us, for every American to have lives so free we can’t even begin to imagine them yet. Hope still lives here, somewhere, even if it feels far away today.

The era where the Jew could consider herself safe here, safer than anywhere else in the rest of the world, has ended. My daughter will grow up with a Judaism under lock and key. Prayer behind armed guards. Jumping out of your skin if a child knocks over a folding chair. No babies out of sight. No hiding behind the synagogue curtains with their best friends, trading chocolates and whispering secrets. Stay close to Mom. Instead of the old man who preaches vigilance, she will have the mom who cries and remembers freedom. How freedom was taken away one Passover, and we don’t know when or if it will ever return. She will never understand what we had.

My little girl’s run from the metal detector to Tot Shabbat passes the Holocaust memorial. Most of the time she blows right past it, excited for Ma Tovu and plushy Torahs and dancing when she is supposed to be sitting. Once in a while she stops to touch the six candelabras. I shiver. I remember that for most of Jewish history violence was normal. We were exceptional. We were lucky. We were blessed. We learned the history so we could appreciate who we were and how far our ancestors had come.

We aren’t so extraordinary. Now we are just another generation of terrified Jews.

Some days, I don’t want to go to synagogue at all. I don’t want to pass those metal detectors and feign normality. I want to go to brunch. Let’s run from this heritage, I think. I am too afraid and I don’t want to be. I don’t want to lose my baby. Let’s buy a Christmas tree and make pork chops and change our names! You can’t, my grandmothers whisper from the pews. From my recipe books. From my soul. This is who you are. We put on our twirling dresses and sparkle shoes. We drive to synagogue. We walk through the metal detectors. We sing our songs, drink our juice and eat challah. We are Jews. And some things never change, even in America.

#white supremacy #antisemitism #carly pildis

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sandersbayhq · 5 years ago

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[Laura Anderson] ✖ [24] ✖ [pansexual] ✖ [the scewup]

dob: july 4 occupation: cam girl face claim: hailee steinfeld pronouns: she/her

Laura grew up struggling. From the time she was born, things were hard. Her mom was just 15 when she was born, and the two of them moved from place to place, due to the fact that her mother always ended up moving in with boyfriends.

By the time she was 5, Laura had been two three different pre-schools and kicked out of two for behavioral issues. It wasn’t that she was mean to other kids, but when Laura saw little kids being mean, she intervened and got herself into trouble.

Her mother started abandoning her for weeks at a time when she was 12. She never complained or told anyone, as she had figured things out for herself pretty early on. She knew how to cook without burning the house down, that the easiest way to make money was to sell something, and that she could always rely on her cousins if things got too bad.

Due to her mother never being home, Laura took that freedom and ran with it. With her new found freedom, she met an aspiring actor who was directing plays at the college in her town. Soon after meeting they began dating.

Within three months, Laura and Eli were steadily dating and shortly thereafter, Laura found out she was pregnant. Eli, like other 19 year olds, freaked out at first but decided to stick by her, wanting to be by Laura’s side to help raise their child.

The pregnancy was a smooth one, and the two of them scrimped and saved so that they could get an apartment to welcome their child into.

death tw For a year, the new family of three lived happily. Going through each day with a new found optimism, both Laura and Eli watching their little boy grow right before their eyes. They had just passed Aiden’s first birthday when Elijah was on his way home with some diapers, and he was hit by a drunk driver whom had gone through a red, whilst crossing the street.

After finding out and being left with debt from Elijah’s funeral and the worry of caring for an infant, Laura was beside herself for what to do to try and support herself and her son.

She found it more difficult than expected. She had gotten used to having Eli there to support her, and without him she didn’t know what to do, or where to go.

To try and compensate for the fact that she was now a single mother without someone else to help her, Laura fell into the adult film industry. She started with an agent at a company, but quickly found it to be too restricting. Instead, she went into debt – bought a new computer, camera, and lights and became a cam girl. It was the one way she could make money for her and Aiden, and not have to worry about owing anyone other than a bank. She was her own manager – and that gave her some sort of freedom.

In her downtime, she spends time with her son. Making sure to read to him, help him learn, and take him to the various practices he has to go to with his extracurricular sports.

When she’s not in ‘mom’ mode, or ‘manager’ mode, Laura likes to sit down, watch Netflix and drink some wine. It’s your typical version of Netflix and chill, but its one of the only ways she feels she can wind down and be herself without having to worry about being called mommy or have to worry about how she looks.

Her job takes a toll on her though, despite it being empowering and making it so that she doesn’t have to answer to anyone, she knows that some of the stares she get in the street are because of her occupation, and that once Aiden gets older, he’ll understand just how far she fell to put food on the table.

She tries to visit her cousins as much as possible, but with their demanding lives, and her own life – it can be hard. But she loves Blaine and Cooper and would do anything for them if they were to ask.

When she does get to see Blaine however, she usually always brings Aiden – unless he’s at pre-school. Aiden loves his ‘uncle Blaine’ and enjoys playing around with him whenever he gets a chance to see him, and for Laura it’s a nice thing to have. Her family – despite her relationship with her mother being an estranged one – is one of the most important things to her.

One way to her heart is through coffee. The girl runs on Venti coffee’s with three shots of espresso to get her through the day.

Despite being baptized in a Christian religion, Laura knows that her father was Jewish and practices Judaism. She celebrates both Christmas and Hanukkah, trying to teach Aiden about both and letting him decide for himself which religion he would like better.

Due to the fact that she has no relationship with her mother, Laura has been toying with the idea of looking for her father. She doesn’t know his full name, just where he went to high school, his first name and his age. It doesn’t help a lot, but she’s intrigued to know just who he is and if they share any similarities other than the colour of their skin.

Laura’s a Sander’s Bay native.

#takenc #takenf #anderson family #laura anderson

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wvldcvrd · 5 years ago

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[SHAWN MENDES, CIS MALE, HE/HIM] have you seen MARCO SPIEGELMAN around sedona? MARCO is a BEEKEEPER, but they’re also THE WILD CARD in the sedona sleuths, so you’ve probably seen them around the firehouse shed. they’re known for being WARMHEARTED and OPTIMISTIC, but they’re also known to be OVERWROUGHT and NAIVE. when they’re not at the shed, i can usually find them at THE SEDONA FOREST. i can always recognize them by (a worn guitar neck with old strings, coming home three minutes before curfew, a crackling woodfire, and freshly blown out birthday candles).

hi friends ! my name is reed, i use they/she pronouns, and am so stoked to be here ! keep reading to find out everything you’ve ever wanted to know about my boy, marco.

tw: cancer, death, car crash, addiction

marco joshua spiegelman was born on an overcast august day in the city of boston, massachusetts. he was the fourth child and the youngest by seven years, meaning that in some way, he was his parents’ last hope.

the spiegelman family practiced orthodox judaism – his dad was raised orthodox and his mom converted from reform judaism in order to marry his dad– so marco’s childhood was very much focused on religion. the spiegelman family went to services every friday night, celebrated every holiday, forced marco to wake up early on sundays to go to hebrew school, and treated him they same as they had treated his older siblings. however, as his siblings grew up and moved out, they all stopped devoutly practicing judaism and moved into a more modern and laid back interpretation of their religion. marco craved this from a young age, but because he was stuck at home with his parents, he was forced to follow their rules and beliefs.

marco went to jewish private school for elementary and middle school, had his bar mitzvah in the seventh grade, and tried to blend in as best as he could. he liked history and english, eager to learn more about the past and help shape the future. at this point in his life, he had his goal of becoming a politician pretty much set. he would help the end the fighting in israel, solve world hunger, and just be an all around awesome guy.

however, his plans shifted on valentine’s day his eighth grade year. after coming home from school, his parents sat him down and told him that his dad had stage four exocrine pancreatic cancer. he knew that his dad had been losing weight and not eating as much recently, as well as complained all the time that his back hurt, but marco didn’t realize that it was something so terrible and life threatening.

with a survival rate of about one percent, the spiegelman family knew that his dad’s chances of survival were not good. the next few months were difficult, his dad went through lots of chemotherapy and experimental trials, but nothing seemed to be working, and he passed away before june. this crushed marco and his mom; his dad was a kind, gentle, and loving person, and the three of them had grown extremely close with each other due to marco being the youngest and the only child still living in the house.

it was hard for the two of them to live by themselves in a town that his mom didn’t really have any connection to, so a few months after his dad’s passing, marco and his mom moved to sedona, the place where she had grown up, to try and start fresh. their new beginning came coupled with the loss of their connection to their religion, and marco and his mom no longer practiced judaism

freshman year in a brand new town was intimidating for marco, and this resulted in him being extremely quiet and shy for the majority of the year. however, his history teacher saw how invested in history and current events he was and convinced marco to join the debate team. this is where he found his voice once again.

marco did a type of debate called public policy debate, a style of debate where you talk extremely fast and have to do an insane amount of research to ensure that you know what you’re talking about. in order to participate in that style of debate, his teacher assigned him a partner and he grew extremely close to her very quickly. the two of them went on to win the national title their sophomore and junior years

after joining debate, marco grew more confident in himself and began to talk more both in and out of class. being good at something gave him the boost he needed to no longer be shy, and he was well liked by most people at school. marco’s sophomore and junior years were quite possibly the best years of his life.

however, right before the trophy ceremony his junior year, he got a call from his mom, telling him that his sister had gotten in to a car crash and that she was in a coma in a hospital in san francisco. marco flew to san fran immediately after receiving the call, leaving his partner to collect the trophy on his behalf.

for the following two weeks, marco rarely left the hospital for fear that his sister would pass away without him there. although the two of them were not that close, losing another family member was something that marco could not imagine. on the fifteenth day of her being in the hospital, the doctors said that there was nothing they could do to save his sister. so they harvested her organs as donations, and the spiegelmans were forced to put another member of their family into the ground.

senior year came around and marco was a changed person. he was not as passionate or confident as he used to be, he quit debate, and he focused on judaism again to try and give his life some meaning. however, he explored the type of judaism his sister was into, reform judaism, based more on learning and exploring the ideas of religion than sitting in a sanctuary and praying.

although he skipped school often and had mediocre grades, he managed to graduate, his dreams seeming unimportant and his life in shambles. throughout this, he still managed to keep a positive attitude, now convinced that god had a plan for him and that everything would work out fine. he does have really bad anxiety tho, so it’s this classic combination of trying to have faith in the way things work out but never really being sure that they will

without his debate professor, he wouldn’t have even gotten into college, but with the help of someone making sure he followed through, he got into college t to study sustainable food & farming. this seemed like a out of the blue choice, but it combined marco’s love of research & science, and allowed him to feel like he could have a greater impact on the world than he could as a politician.

college went by without incident, but here are some highlights (joined hillel and loved being w/ other jews, was a nerd, did nerd things **including a lot of acid, lived his best life)

he recently graduated, and has found a love for beekeeping ! he has two hives and thousands of bees and he loves them all.

headcannons !

marco worked as a waiter at an italian restaurant in high school so that he could have spending money. money was never a problem in his household as his mom is a cardiologist, but he always felt bad asking for money for things, so he made his own money instead

if marco was a crayola crayon, he’d be pine green. the color is a bit darker than most of the other greens in the crayola family, just like marco in his family, but also has a hint of blue in it, hinting at the sadness that lies beneath marco’s outer layer.

marco really loves old school video games. his old nintendo 64 is collecting dust in his closet, and although he rarely has time to play it anymore, he refuses to throw it out. while growing up, video games were his way of connecting to his two older brothers, his older sister always watching on with a disapproving gleam in her eye. whenever the siblings get together, however, they always manage to turn on an old, favorite game of theirs, and the competition is always heated

in high school, marco smoked a lot of weed. he would always be seen outside at any high school party, smoking by himself or with a group of other people. however, after graduating, marco switched to cigarettes. he smokes frequently, but will furiously deny being addicted if approached about it

marco plays as waluigi when he plays mario kart/party

marco is a night person. he utterly hates getting up early in the morning, but staying up late comes easy and natural to him.

marco recycles religiously. if something is recyclable and you don’t put it into the recycling bin, he’ll lose a bit of respect for you as a person

marco absolutely loves space and the universe and stargazing (part of his appreciation for nighttime), but he also wholeheartedly believes that aliens are real, no doubt about it.

1/2 wholesome sunshiney boy, 1/2 sad and lonely and lost kid

#intro.

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strengthrequireskindness · 5 years ago

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OC shitpost

So, I notice a lot of u on here are into PJO/HOO/anything Rick Riordan writes.

@storm-broken-wings

@blackjacktheboss

@cindersart

@ananbeth

And that’s who I can think of off the top of my head. If you don’t read him you should, but I’m warning you that the second series (HOO) is slightly iffy.

While the man and his writing has some flaws, I’ll admit he made a damn good storyboard to work with. I have made several Riordanverse OCs, and would like to share them with you all.

First up, my anxious fire boy, Cal Kowalski! Note: I tried to do my research on Judaism and autism, but if I have offended anyone with this character, please let me know and I will change it!

Name: Caleb David “Cal” Kowalski

Hair: brown

Eyes: brown

Age-17

Height: six foot one, someone stop this boy from growing

Mother: Deborah Kowalski, fire chief for the Cleveland fire department. A force to be reckoned with and extremely inventive-once used a nearby lake to fuel the fire hose when there were no hydrants nearby

Godly Parent-Vulcan. A lot of people forget he’s also the god of fire, so when he saw Deborah risking her life to fight it, he was smitten. Completely fell for her when he admitted that he watched her work as a fire chief. Her response? “You’re a god, right? Stop watching people and buildings burn and start fucking helping.”

Sexuality: bi. Let’s be real, he’s admired Ichor and Jason more than once. Is completely devoted to his also bisexual girlfriend. More on her later.

Camp: Jupiter, Fifth Cohort. Has considered moving to Half-Blood, but dropped it after Octavian...oh right, there are people who haven’t read the books. Let’s leave it at that.

Nationality: Polish.

Religion: proudly (though not supremely devoutly) Jewish. Will make all the jokes about his religion. Was very confused when his mother told him his father was a god

Weapon: Roman infantry axe, or dolabra. Has heard all the woodcutter or lumberjack jokes. Has come up with a few of them

Personality: actual golden retriever, loyal, kind, hardworking, patient, and generous. Won’t fight unless it’s in self-defense, for training, or against monsters. Even then, does so reluctantly. Shy, clumsy, awkward introvert. Not great with public speaking, social interaction, or crowds, though he tries. Ride-or-die friend once you get to know him. Happiest when working at the forges or with his close friends. Autistic. Stims by lacing his fingers together or through card tricks, often says inappropriate things at the wrong time, tends to compartmentalize negative emotions, can talk about forging, metalworking, and firefighters for hours on end, needs systems and routines to function, thinks in very black and white terms. Goes nonverbal when angry, sad, or frustrated.

Powers/Abilities-

Geothermokinesis-can manipulate molten earth, phase change earth into lava and vice versa, cause magma to rise from deep within the earth, forming miniature volcanoes, turn nearby rock molten, and telekinetically project blasts of lava, magma, or molten earth at targets

Weaknesses-socially awkward, gullible, black and white thinking, tends to think badly of himself, survivors guilt, lava he creates can spread and cause more damage if left unattended, can be harmed by his own powers, powers are linked to emotional state so he has to keep his temper or things start to melt

History

-Fire chief mom with large extended family

-mom met Vulcan one night while firefighting, it was rocky at first but after some talking things through and some kissing they made it work

-cal was born that August

-when Cal was three, tragedy struck

-his mother was diagnosed with mesothelioma

-they suspected it was from a fire in a chemical factory shed fought

-the firefighters she was chief of helped raise Cal while his mother underwent treatment,as did his extended family

-He grew up shy and quiet, the opposite of his mother but very much like his father, had difficulty reading, and could never pay attention that well if he didn’t like something

-It took a few years, several theories (some well meaning, some extremely inappropriate, some both) and an official diagnosis at the age of seven before the people taking care of him realized he was autistic, dyslexic, and had ADHD, and that they had to respect that instead of treating him like a normal kid

-some of his extended family thought that meant he wasn’t normal

-he doesn’t talk to them anymore

-the firemen and ninety percent of his family were totally fine with it, even when other things started to happen

-they found him in the courtyard at age ten, a miniature volcano spouting lava into the air and him frantically trying to turn it off

-the Mist shielded them from seeing the entire thing, but they still sat him down and had a Talk about playing with fire

-but Cal knew what happened

-At age twelve, his mother took a sudden turn for the worse. When he went to see her with Hector and Brandon, two firefighters, he was turned away by a doctor that did not look at all like a doctor to him

-The Doctor insults him, only to be challenged by Hector, who can see through the Mist

-He tells Cal to run and see his mom before punching the doctor square in the face

-Cal makes it to his moms room, only to find her struggling and squirming as a monster in a lab coat shoves a pillow onto her face

-Terrified but furious, he scares off the monster with a blast of lava from the ground, which also sets the room on fire

-Making it out of the room, he turns to his mom, only for her to tell him that he’s the son of a god

-He predictably freaks the fuck out, running with her to where he last saw the firefighters

-Only to find that Darnell is dead and Hector is losing the fight against something that looks way too much like the estrie he’s read about once in the Sefer Hasidim

-Seeing Cal, Hector grins with bloody teeth before driving a fire extinguisher into the things head

-it collapses, but before it can get up again the building groans as the fire spreads

-They flee the hospital, forced to leave Darnell behind as the alukah pursues them

-When they get back to the house, everyone is in an uproar. Why is Deborah back, why is Hector’s mouth bleeding, where the hell is Darnell

-While everyone is arguing and taking care of Deborah, Hector and Cal’s aunt Aviva take him into Cal’s room

-He and Aviva confirm what Cal’s mom said, also telling him about the existence of Camp Jupiter. It turns out he is a former legionnaire, having come to Cleveland two years before Cal was born to look after him at Deborah’s request. Aviva can just see through the mist, though Deborah confided in her in case she died before she could do so herself.

-They don’t have much time. After what Cal did at the hospital, his aura is going to attract every monster from here to Columbus.

-He gives him a weird-looking axe, explaining that this dolabra was once his when he was a legionary but now he wants Cal to have it

-They all share a hug, with Hector telling him that everyone in the house has his back

-There’s a knock on the door, revealing the monster from earlier, now disguised as a human social worker via the Mist

-Uses a bunch of ableist language to explain why they should give Cal to him

-No one in the house buys his bullshit, even when he appears human

-The firefighters don’t like the government in general because they offered no workers comp for the cancer their chief got from the factory, and they’ve watched her fight against something that the government was supposed to help her with, the government draining her money all the while. But now this jackass is insulting their kid.

-The extended family are unwilling to give him up, and especially not to a man who insults and belittles him

-monster gets fed up, says that if cal stays here he’ll keep coming for him until he gets what he wants

-cue the entire family telling him to get bent

-Aviva tells Hector to take Cal and go, that she’ll explain to them why and that they all love him

-Roadtrip to California with monsters on their tail

-the estrie catches up to them in Oakland, flanked by its monster buddy, which Cal now knows is a telekhine

-it’s pissed at cal because he’s a demigod and because his father took over their forges

-they fight, and Cal uses the dolabra and kills the telekhine, burnt from his earlier encounter with it

-he’s extremely grossed out by this

-Hector intercepts the estrie before it can get to Cal and fights the estrie, but he’s out of practice and is fatally injured

-Cal watches him die and is furious, pleading to know why the estrie did it

-the estrie just wants to kill a Jewish human, it doesn’t particularly care that he’s a demigod. Hector was in the way.

-Using his powers intentionally for the first time, Cal opens up a volcanic fissure under the estrie and sends her down into the magma

-He then takes Hector to the camp tunnel before passing out

-He’s found there by Gwen, who stands for him

-Some time after, she pulls him aside and tells him that she read in the local paper (all praetors and centurions read the outside paper to get the news for the camp, fight me) that there was a suspected terrorist attack in Ohio around the time Cal came in

-He breaks down and tells her it’s his house, there are no confirmed survivors except for three firemen and his mother

-Alex comes along a month later, and they dance around each other for a while before making it official

Trivia

-he writes letters to his mother whenever he can

-Darnell taught him how to play cards and do card tricks, both for fun and as a stim if needed, he burns a card every year on the day he died

-he definitely had a thing for Jason before he started dating Alex. It never went anywhere though.

-he makes the menorah for the camp-wide Hanukkah celebration (cmon you’re telling me everyone at CJ is Christian or atheist or agnostic? Cmon man)

-he imagines his dolabra is a fire axe when he’s fighting monsters

-his aunt taught him to cook Polish cuisine, among other things, and his kotlet schabowy is to die for, but he’s recently branched out into Chinese food due to his girlfriend’s complaints about how the restaurant chains near them only serve shitty Chinese food

-can jump rope like a boss due to many hours with his younger cousins

-terrified of heights

-that’s all I’ve got so far! If you guys have any other questions about him, send me an ask!

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ofmarcos · 6 years ago

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( shawn mendes, cismale, he/him ) i just saw MARCO SPIEGELMAN walking down the street’s of provincetown the other day playing 100 BAD DAYS BY AJR out loud. rumor has it that the TWENTY TWO year old is WARMHEARTED, but can also be UNNECESSARILY OVERWROUGHT — overall they’re a POLYMATH. they remind me of A WORN GUITAR NECK WITH OLD STRINGS, COMING HOME THREE MINUTES BEFORE CURFEW, A CRACKLING WOODFIRE, AND FRESHLY BLOWN OUT BIRTHDAY CANDLES. ( ophelia, 19, est, they/she )

hello guys, gals, and non-binary pals, my name is ophelia and it’s lovely to meet u all!! i am nineteen, living in florida, work at an escape game, and my t key on my laptop gets stuck so um if u ever see me leave a t out of a word that’s why. also, fun fact!! i’m originally from a small town in ma about a two hour drive from provincetown :O but enough about me !! this is marco, he’s an actual meme, and you can read all about him under the cut. like this and i’ll come slide into ur dms for plots. <3

(also this got way longer than anticipated, i’m sorry, pls love me)

PINTEREST.

tw: cancer, death, car crash, addiction

it was hard for the two of them to live by themselves in a town that his mom didn’t really have any connection to, so a few months after his dad’s passing, marco and his mom moved to provincetown, the place where she had grown up, to try and start fresh. their new beginning came coupled with the loss of their connection to their religion, and marco and his mom no longer practiced judaism

after joining debate, marco grew more confident in himself and began to talk more both in and out of class. being good at something gave him the boost he needed to no longer be shy, and he was well liked by most people at school. this was also when he found the snackpack, and he has always been grateful for their presence in his life. marco’s sophomore and junior years were quite possibly the best years of his life.

without his debate professor, he wouldn’t have even gotten into college, but with the help of someone making sure he followed through, he got into u mass amherst to study sustainable food & farming. this seemed like a out of the blue choice, but it combined marco’s love of research & science, and allowed him to feel like he could have a greater impact on the world than he could as a politician.

college went by without incident, but here are some highlights (joined hillel and loved being w/ other jews, was a nerd, did nerd things **including a lot of acid, lived his best life)

he just graduated and is home for the summer, he has a job working for the local farmers’ market, and is just chillin’, trying not to think about the other shoe that is bound to drop

he’s doing okay, and that’s all he’ll ever answer the question “how are you?” with

headcanons:

marco plays as waluigi when he plays mario kart/party

marco has a slight boston accent

marco is a night person. he utterly hates getting up early in the morning, but staying up late comes easy and natural to him.

marco recycles religiously. if something is recyclable and you don’t put it into the recycling bin, he’ll lose a bit of respect for you as a person

marco absolutely loves space and the universe and stargazing (part of his appreciation for nighttime), but he also wholeheartedly believes that aliens are real, no doubt about it.

wanted connections

his debate partner from high school

romantic connections (male or female or nb!!)

exes w/ lingering feelings

exes who ended on good terms

the person who took his virginity l m a o

that person that he’s been pining after since freshman year in high school who he just wants to get w/ but has convinced himself he cannot

neighbors when they were growing up

current roommate

that friend that u always compete with and like ur friends w/ them still, u are, but also u always want to brag about how great ur doing

someone who confides in him who he rarely confides back to

u KNOW they probably made a band in high school

people he went to college with

anything ur heart desires!!

#snackpackintro #im sorry that i wrote a novel i really am

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anaxolotladay · 6 years ago

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( big fucking word dump to get my thoughts together; TW for antisemitism and a lack of editing

tentatively titled, “Lucky”, ‘til i can edit it to the essay i want to write )

❝ We didn’t know much about Jesus of Nazareth at all, but wasn’t that guy Jewish, too? He wasn’t as lucky as I was. ❞

it took a while for me to be able to joke about being the “token jew friend”. because really, what was so “token” about it? ever since i stopped wearing my star and keeping my hair tied up, it’s harder to tell. i’ve been teased about “pointed ears” and my family’s long-passed-down “jewy nose”, but with these thick rimmed glasses, it takes the attention away. i’m aware of the privilege my skin color affords me. nobody looks too hard; i’m passing. i’m lucky, something i’ve always been told by every generation of family i meet. i’m lucky, and i know it.

my elementary schooling was private hebrew schools (on scholarship for our low income large family, where my mom worked as a school employee) between two different states. i grew up in so many jewish communities and with such a large family, i never thought of it to be so different.

that was lucky.

fifth grade- the first year of junior high- we couldn’t afford private school any longer, nor could the majority of my sixteen-person grade level. three of us switched to the same public middle school. nobody knew where we came from, but that was alright until somebody asked. Dan H. in art class asked if we were “hebrews”, because “oh, i thought ‘jew’ was a bad word”. the three of us laughed! that was hilarious! until he started interrogating us, asking us if we knew it was OUR people who killed Jesus.

we didn’t know much about Jesus of Nazareth at all, but wasn’t that guy Jewish, too?

he wasn’t as lucky as i was.

throughout middle school, more and more students had just started to learn about the Holocaust and Hitler- aka my second grade history unit, aka my family history-- and all the jokes they’d heard and read about began to make sense. the “shoah”, the “fire”, the “ovens”. hilarious. the wise words of my old hebrew teacher echoed in my ears: as long as we don’t forget, it will never happen again. but i started wondering why we had to teach THESE kids about it, and fuel THEIR jokes. middle school, it was mostly all just poorly timed jokes in bad taste.

THAT was lucky.

come high school, i shared a bus with the only other jewish kid in my neighborhood, Ari J.-- a year younger than me, left our old hebrew school a year later than me. he was a bully and i hated his guts, yet, he was kin. we didn’t talk in all my four years of high school. but at the back of the bus sat another group of boys, the ones who wore shirts that read: “That’s nice, babe, now make me a sandwich”, and called eachother “f*gs”, and told jokes in racist accents. they were larger than Ari and i combined. we kept our heads down.

they dared not crack the same racist jokes in the hallways of school-- there were black, indian, AND asian teachers around, who could call their parents, god forbid!-- but the gays and the jews of the school? outnumbered and quiet. i heard nazi jokes shouted two hallways down. i heard the laughter that followed.

one day, boarding the bus about four seats in front of Ari, the ringleader of Back of the Bus Bad Boys waltzes up the steps and shouts, “HEY, you Jew in the back!!!” i felt my blood run cold, and sat completely still as he stormed down the aisle. i smelled his gym sweat as he breezed past my seat, and exhaled a relieved sigh. except, turning around to see who he was referring to, i couldn’t believe my eyes: the lot of them had slid into and behond Ari’s seat, were tousling his hair, were shoving his shoulders and laughing. “Pretty hot outside, but not as hot as those ovens, am I right?” i couldn’t hear if Ari replied. i didn’t know what to do. the bus lurched forward and the insults were hurled louder: “Hitler wasn’t such a bad guy, y’know? Just incompetent. He never carried through, but he had the vision.” when i got home that day, i cried and cried. the next morning, i reported them to the counselor, but begged her to wait a few days to take action; what if they thought it was Ari who’d reported it? what would they do to him?

would he be so lucky again?

a year later, i’m on a trip to New York City- the second time i’ve been, but the first time alone with my mom. it was a busy day over school break, and the city was bustling-- walking back to our lodging, there was a pro-palestine rally occurring about a block away. flags were waving! people were shouting for justice! it was amazing! we raised our fists in support and kept walking. but after packing our bags and leaving the same way we came in, we stepped to the sidewalk and heard louder noise down the road. the streets were stuffed to gills, police officers stood with their backs to the rally, face to the crowd. the proud rally had turned angry, blaming not israel for their troubles, but their “rabbinic leaders”. new flags were hoisted, depicting the magen david, star of david, crossed out in red. their faces were pink with righteous fury, shouting against the ears of the officers to let them march, to take vengeance on their jewish oppressors. my mother and i ducked to the back of the crowd, removed our star necklaces, and kept our heads down. i felt the points digging into my palm. i wore it a few times afterwards-- the star i’d fawned over at our Yom Ha’Atzmaut festival, supporting local israeli immigrants, bought for me in surprise by my bubbe-- but after the chain broke, i couldn’t find it in me to wear again. i’d never felt so scared, but i emerged unnoticed and unharmed.

that was the luckiest i had ever been.

during my first year of community college, i had a class with a nazi apologist. nobody thought about it too hard, since he was also the best designer in our group, but walking to our class, i’d hear him shout from behind me: “What’s up, you fucking kike?!” i’d never heard it out loud before. when i whirled around, it turns out he was greeting his “buddy” further up in front of me. i walked a little faster to class, hoping he wasn’t suspicious of me now.

he wasn’t. how lucky of me.

on that same campus, i heard more jewish slurs than i could even recognize at the time. some i’d only read of. others were learned of in hindsight. ignorance was bliss. past tense.

i told my family these stories, face burning. my zayde’s eyebrows would raise and my mother would shake her head, recounting her own stories. my siblings had never been familiar with these terms. i wish i could apologize for teaching them.

they were pretty lucky, too.

when i transferred schools, it was during election season. i never brought up my judaism until the high holidays-- early in the school year-- when i’d need to miss class, and would be returning home to NY for a few days. even then, i told my roommates and teachers, that was it. i was alone for some of those holidays for the first time ever, and there was no community to be found. it was an irrelevant secret.

during election season, however, were the pro-Trump rallies. the protests. the women’s marches and the mud slinging. some of my friends saw words on the news that they’d never heard of before. the mistake i had made was explaining them, outing myself. again, it was no big deal at the time, my friends were supportive.

but from then on, i was referred to as one of their “minority friends”. and that was annoying, because i didn’t have the right to claim that title. i wasn’t being “oppressed”. i had just started to learn about “privilege” and “oppression” and politics and diversity. i knew i was privileged, i never had the RIGHT to claim oppression. i didn’t experience racism daily and i never would. there were people of color who were harassed and discriminated against and denied service because of the way they LOOKED, things they could not change about themselves. i will never experience that. it was 2016, i was not oppressed!

multiple times, i was introduced to others as the “jewish friend”. and it stopped bothering me, because it wasn’t untrue. apparently, jews were a rarity in these parts. it was funny. it was part of my identity. and for the most part, people didn’t care.

then, our 45th president was elected.

within three days, over four dozen synagogues, campuses, homes and vehicles had been vandalized with swastikas. jewish cemeteries were torn apart. hasidic civilians were punched in the faces. i couldn’t bring myself to call home for an entire week, because that would mean admitting out loud that i was scared. my research writing essay that semester was a small 8-page essay, analyzing and documenting the rise in jewish hate crimes, and where they happened. i had to stay in the know. i brushed up on jewish history. i listened to family stories. i relearned everything i could so i knew how to navigate arguments, debates, and accusations. afterall, i’d been pretty sure i was the only jew on campus.

within a year, i met another one. it shouldn’t have been such a big deal, but my excitement was tangible. we’d throw yiddish back and forth and tease eachother in brooklynese or russian-bubbe accents. he knew what holidays i would refer to. it wasn’t a big part of the friendship, but it was nice to have some familiarity. i was brought into a new group of friends who were curious, and eager to learn. i’d never thought about judaism as a culture or history before that, until these discussions ensued and i realized just how MUCH my life was shaped by it. and it was fun to share stories and meals and holidays with people who wanted to celebrate with me.

this past semester was the first time i didn’t go home for the high holidays. i found a synagogue in the next city over, and two whole other jews who wanted to celebrate with me on campus! on yom kippur, we met up to break the fast. they were clearly as excited to meet another jew as i was.

unfortunately, i was a girl. a “nice jewish girl”, if you will. their view bled into the conversation. and on top of that, one of them wanted to chant the barucha, loudly, OUT LOUD, in the middle of a dinner-busy campus dining hall. the other guy and i mumbled it with our heads kept down. suddenly, we were tense. we were scared. my roommates asked me why that was. i told them that you can’t just chant hebrew in public in this day and age! why was that? have you ever heard of muslims speaking arabic in public and being labeled terrorists? do you understand the kind of danger semitic languages entail?!

we had been ignored, but some folks aren’t so lucky!

a week ago, i was walking down the hall of my class building. it was mostly empty, save for one or two other students. out of the blue, i hear one of them say loudly, “Shalom!” i spun around. “excuse me?” the girl walking behind me laughed and said, “it’s just something he does”. we walked down the hall for a few more min, chuckling about it. i asked if she or he was jewish, she said neither of them were, but thought it was hilarious when i explained how the guy had managed to say “shalom” to the only jew in the department.

i let out a breath i hadn’t realized i’d been holding. funny, right? he never would’ve guessed.

yesterday, at 9:50 AM, a synagogue was shot up an hour and a half away from me. but not just any synagogue. one of the most well known conservative shuls in the Squirrel Hill area. in particular, the one my pittsburgh family were members of. the one i had watched my two cousins become bat and bar mitzvahs on the bimmah of. the one i had, for the first time, met three branches of family from my adopted uncles’ side, family who had welcomed me to their congregation and introduced me personally to the rabbi: “Yes! She’s our brothers’ niece! Our family has come such a long way to celebrate with us, tonight!” and then-rabbi, Rabbi Chuck, laughed a booming sound and shook my hand with both of his, cracking jokes and telling me how happy he was i was here.

yesterday, at the Tree of Life--Or L’Simcha temple, there was a baby naming ceremony- a time in jewish tradition where a new baby of the community is spoken into the family and recognized by the congregation. the rabbi will speak its names-- english and hebrew-- and the world rejoices under them. yesterday, there were twins to be celebrated. yesterday, three congregations had come together under one roof, so many families and friends supporting and celebrating the new arrival.

yesterday, a celebration of life turned into a vigil mourning death.

eleven shulgoers were not so lucky.

i have never met Rabbi Hazzan Myers, but i know he’s taken care of the community since then. i can’t imagine the fear he must have felt, after hosting the tight-knit community he’s helped build, harbor, and lead. i can’t imagine walking back into that building a week from now and continuing to read torah, the way i know he will.

Rabbi Hazzan will forever remember how lucky he was, to make it to next week’s torah portion. living in a community that has always been safe, and hospitable, and embraced eachother as neighbors, the remaining minyan will never forget how lucky they were, as well.

my family in pittsburgh-- aunt janice, uncle steve, and cousins hannah and tyler-- were so lucky to have stayed home, yesterday morning, and i am so lucky that we live in a day and age of cellular devices.

i was on the phone with my father and grandfather, both in florida, when dad received a group text between his brothers, their sister janice, and him, assuring everyone that they were home safe. he asked me to look up what happened in pittsburgh.

i never thought it would be my family.

i never thought it would be their home.

12 casualties could have been 16.

i’m so lucky it’s not my family sitting shivah, this week.

#venting #antisemitism #long post under read more

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lgbtessay-blog · 6 years ago

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LGBT Community

First and foremost, being gay is not a choice. Just in the same way that heterosexuals like the opposite gender, it is not because they were raised to be straight, it is just the way their brain is programmed. Sexual orientation can be defined, by the LGBT Communication Manual as, “each person’s capacity for profound emotional, affectional and sexual attraction to, and intimate and sexual relations with, individuals or a different sex/gender/ or the same sex/gender or more than one sex/gender” (LGBT Communication Manual). With each person’s preference to sex/gender, there comes a title so that within their community they can distinguish each other and know what each person prefers. For example, they use terms like bisexual, gay, lesbian, heterosexual, pansexual, transgender, intersexual, t-lover, and drag king or queen to name a few.

The LGBT community wasn’t always accepted for who they were, and it took much courage to come out into the nonaccepting time of the 50’s post-war. This is thanks to a man named Harry Hay because he found the first gay rights organization, that he called the Mattachine Society. Its founders, to the surprise of many, were former communists and radicals. Their goal with creating this group was not only to change the way that people looked at gay men and what they stood for but for men to start being comfortable in their skins. In a matter of three years, the Mattachine Society had grown to the point that you could attend a meeting every day for the rest of your life if that is what you desired to do, claimed Dorr Legg. At this point, the Gay community was peaking and not stopping with tens of thousands of people joining in the Los Angeles area. (Roscoe, accessed 20 October 2018).

Not too much after the Mattachine Society was created, the Daughters of Bilitis was formed. A lesbian group based in San Francisco, the founders Del Martin and Phyllis Lyon, were the first same-sex couple to be married after the legalization of same-sex marriage was passed. Initially, this group was created so that lesbians could meet other lesbians so that they could start socializing and dancing at the clubs together. Eventually, this secret club at the time had realized that many laws were “anti-gay” and instead of partying and having a good time, they needed to start making a change in society for the well being of their futures. Soon after this realization, they began to focus more on educating the public about lesbians, they started to participate in research about lesbians and started to repealing anti-LGBT laws. (Anti-Defamation League, 2011)

Coming out in the 1950s was a very bold act considering that the United States government targeted the LGBT members because politicians strongly and wrongly believed that homosexuals were infiltrating the U.S. poses a threat to national security. The leaders of the U.S. in this time believed that those who were declaring themselves as homosexuals were both weak and mentally ill, and this posed a threat because the U.S. was sure that anyone in these conditions would reveal state secrets to undercover spies if they were blackmailed. Because of the government creating this illusion to citizens, the “Lavender Scare” was created. A time where LGBT members were fired on a daily bases and were forced to go through police raids at gay bars, parties, and places that weren’t even morally okay… their homes. It was a hard time for those who were coming out in this era because laws started being made that would prohibit wearing the clothes of the opposite gender and dancing with someone of the same sex. As a result of all these laws and unfair judgment, many members of the LGBT community went into hiding. (Anti-Defamation League, 2011)

Coming out can be defined but the LGBT communications manual as “a process of self-acceptance which may take an entire lifetime. A person builds their identity as a lesbian, gay man, bisexual, or transgender person, at first keeping it to themselves. Later they may or may not reveal it to other people” (LGBT Communication Manual). In modern day today, coming out is not as hard as it used to be 60 years ago, but it is still and always will be a big deal. Coming out isn’t just about telling people what sex you are interested in, but about finally getting to show your loved ones whom you are and hoping that there is still a way that they will accept you for who you are. Depending on where these people live is and what goes on in their household depends on if their family and friends would accept them for who they are. For my mother coming out was not an easy thing to do. Her father and mother thought she was utterly disgusting and to this day don’t accept her. When she came out to her brother and sister they were not accepting at first, but in my family, there is one thing that will always be important, and that is you only have one family it can grow, but it will never change. Over time, both of them came to accept her and love her just for who she is. My second mom, Lu, has passed onto another life, but if it wasn’t for her I know that my mom wouldn’t have been strong enough to come out on her own to our family, and for that, I will be forever grateful. For two people my age, I have come to find out they don’t have coming out stories because they always knew and acted on being just who they were, which has to be the most beautiful change I have seen throughout society.

A big factor that has played a role in many people coming out is what religion they are. Almost all religions have an accepting or nonaccepting truth to it considering the LGBT community. The Christian faith does not approve of homosexuality but preaches that we must love and accept everyone. Which is why over time the Christian community has some who support the LGBT community and some who do not. Judaism sees the LGBT community as not natural and does not accept it, although there are Jewish LGBT groups. (LGBT Communication Manual)

Although many people in today's society accept those who are a part of the LGBT community, there are still those times where people who don’t accept these people start to harras these members, which does have its title and definition: Homophobia. This is described as the fear and irrational hatred towards homosexuals. Homophobia can be seen almost anywhere but is slowly dissipating as time goes on. Familiar places we can see this kind of hate is in areas of extreme religion, the workplace, and school.

In Bogota, Colombia nineteen people were interviewed as being a part of the Colombian LGBT community wanting to know their stories and what it is like for them living where they do. For Carmen, a 46-year-old transgender woman, her upbringing into this community was an extremely rough case. Before completing the gender reassignment process, Carmen had finished her military service, and here sadly she was taken advantage of because of rumors going around that she (he at the time) liked other men. Even though he had said no to this sergeant, he started touching her and forcing himself onto her and speaking to her “Lie down, I am going to be good to you.” After this experience, Carmen had started to have consensual relationships with other men in the army. As Carmen did eventually leave the military, she moved around and became successful again (Zea, Reisen, Biachi, 2013). However, moments like these are what people think is okay, to be able to experimental and force another person to try something that they do not want. This is a clear and horrific example of harassment that has happened, there are many other stories like these and to fix this we need to fight against it and bring attention to what is happening.

Furthermore, completing the process of a transgender person is not an easy process. There are multiple steps to getting to where they want to be, starting with the said person needing an official confirmation from a qualified mental health professional that they suffer from “gender dysphoria,” which refers to the distress that comes the wrong fit of expressed gender and one’s assigned gender. Next, they must undergo twelve months of feminizing or masculinizing hormone therapy, administering more testosterone or estrogens into the body to have the body change more into the desired one. Following, those undergoing this process must go through a most important part of their transition, the “real life” experience. Here they must see the importance of coming out to partners, friends, community members, and family here they must also see all the challenges that are going to be up ahead of changing their sex, such as family, educational, vocational, economic, and legal problems that they will be facing every day. The final step in this years-long process is finally the surgery. For male-to-female they must undergo breast augmentation, facial feminization surgery liposuction, gluteal augmentation, reduction of Adam’s apple, hair reconstruction, penis and testicle removal, and creation of neovagina and clitoris. For female-to-male, they undergo removal of breasts, create of a male chest, liposuction, voice surgery, removal of the uterus, fallopian tubes, ovaries, vagina, and the construction of a penis and scrotum, and finally the implantation of erection and testicular prosthesis. (Bracanovic, 2017)

As you can see it is not easy to get to the end for the transgender community, and once it is all done, things can get harder. For the LGBT faculty in S&E fields, they claimed they felt that “gayness” was invisible and that everyone was just assumed to be hetero. This is assumed because in the Science and Engineering community it is all that what should matter seeing that everyone would fit the “norm” of being hetero. However, this has caused problems for those who have come out in this community, some peers even coming to the point of saying “I think she’s lesbian; I’d never trust her date.” This is a precise moment of work hostility. Those who are part of the LGBT and S&E community have been faced with many difficulties of how their peers feel around them. Some even reported that they knew of peers who were even uncomfortable and anxious to be in the same room as them. These conflicts have created many consequences for them in and outside the work climates. Internally the participants in this research reported that there is a fearfulness with being a part of the LGBT community because those who are not gay have become rude and not approving of them and their work. This created an environment that pushes members to not come out because of being afraid that their action will not be taken seriously. Externally, participants made it clear that they have not gotten jobs because someone had outed them before them receiving the position. Other participants even claimed that have tried to ruin their research and collaboration with others by outing them. (Bilimoria, 2009)

To continue the discussion of harassment that transgenders must face, it is commonly known among Portland, Oregon that public transportation is not a safe place for them. Public transportation is offered throughout the city, for all and is protected under Title VI of the Civil Rights Act, that prohibits discrimination on race, color, and national origin. What it doesn’t protect yet is the discrimination of the LGBT community. Several participants in the social science literature on gender, public space, and urban mobility, had told of many stories of being not being harassed anymore on these public transportation sites. Even a white transgender man (most unlikely to receive hate because of white privilege) could say that he experienced hostility almost on a daily basis when he was a female. This goes to show that until someone looks more “correct” with societies norms that there will always be a hostility accountable for. (Lubitow, 2017)

Thanks to the Pew Research Center, we can come to see that there has been an 18% increase from the decade before in the acceptance of the gay community. There has also been a 19% increase in acceptance for the lesbian community (Drake,2014). Eventually, this won’t even be a number or a thought that will cross the mind, but how can we help to ensure that the LGBT community is more accepted quicker? A few suggestions would be to speak out against any bullying you could see going on towards an LGBT member, being accepting of those around you who come out to you, and most importantly be nice. Being a part of the LGBT community is not an easy thing but with the help of everyone we can change the way people view them and accept them.

Among those who are apart of the LGBT community, there are many ways that they are able to communicate with each other in today's modern age. Like most communities, the LGBT community has a strong online form of communication. By online communication, they communicate when events are, have hotlines, and so they can express who they are. They also have holidays that mean the utmost to many members of the LGBT community. Such as LGBTQ Pride (June), International Drag Day (July 16th), National Coming Out Day (October 11th), etc. Another form of communication that can be seen throughout the LGBT community is the LGBT rainbow flag. For the LGBT community, this is an unspoken form of communication that stands for being apart of this community. Usually, those who are apart of the community have found some type of way to incorporate the flag into a part of their social media or what they wear on a daily basis.

Although with all the hate and unnecessary hostility there are great and wondrous things that come with being a part of the LGBT community. This is also known as, PRIDE! The LGBT Pride march is a celebration of the LGBT community as a whole. If you don’t know what pride is, it is a giant festival where people from all over come an celebrate what it is to be a part of the community. Coming to these events, you can expect a gay version of the Macy’s day parade. There will be people dressed in fantastic costumes, dancing, singing, rejoicing, and have a phenomenal time. The point of gathering in these festivities is different for everyone, but it can be a place where the LGBT community can stand up to the political troubles they are going through as a whole. What is most important to understand when attending one of these events is that everyone will be accepted no matter what because it is supposed to place respect and mutual understanding. As well with visiting one of these events, it is critical to know that there will always be those who are going to protest but they are not the point. What is most important to understand and take away is that no matter what your choice is and what you decide to do with it you can love anyone you would like to because LOVE IS LOVE

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uberoll-oystercrackers · 7 years ago

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random larsadie headcanon

so anyway i was bullshitting in a larsadie discord when someone asked for prompts. i was like, lol, “lars and sadie go to church”.

but now that’s it has been like a day i was thinking about it, and.. actually wow!! cute! cutecutecuuuuute!!!! i like this idea actually!!!

idk about all the specifics but i love the idea of Lars being Roman Catholic (the most common religious identity in the Philippines). i can imagine Sadie making an Easter basket for Lars, and coming over early on the holiday morning to drop it off. She goes to knock on the door, but Lars swings it open before she does, wearing a nice short-sleeve dark blue button up and black dress slacks. He blinks down at her, a faint trace of annoyance held at bay by his early morning grogginess. She kinda snorts at first, surprised to see him in clothes like that, but admittedly kind of thinks he looks cute dressed up like that. “Uh, hey. I put together this basket for you and your parents,” she lifts the basket up so he can see. He blushes juuuust a little bit, taking it from her. “Oh, cool, thanks...” is all he can manage to spit out b4 his parents come from behind him, also dressed in their Easter best.

“Oh, Laramie, who’s this?” Martha asks, delighted. “I think it’s that young lady we saw him run into the Universe household with,” Dante says, then looking to Sadie.

“Haha yeah, um, my name is Sadie, actually. Nice to meet you-meet you,” she smiles shyly, realizing she hasn’t really interacted with them to this extent.

“Happy Easter!” Lars’ parents say in unison, and Sadie begins to wish them a happy one in return but Martha gasps, saying, “Oh, we’re running late!” and she scoots her lil mens out the door, shutting it behind them. Lars is still holding the basket, his face becoming redder and redder as the embarrassment of the entire situation starts waking him up fully. Sadie notices his state and steps aside, allowing the Barrigas space to get to their car in the driveway. She tentatively waves, and Lars exaperately waves back, shuffling over to the car. As soon as he opens the back door, his mom cheerfully asks Sadie if she would like to come with them to Easter service.

Lars, of course, turns into a solid block of ice and shatters into about three million pieces. Naturally, he can’t protest like that. >:3c

“Oh, wow,” Sadie stammers, smiling bigger than before. “That’s so nice of you! Really, I, I would like to come, but...” she gestures at her clothes, a plain light grey tee shirt and blue jean shorts. “I feel like this isn’t appropriate attire, heh,”

Lars relaxes just a bit, curling around the inside of the opened car door and watching this interaction with narrow eyes. If he thought he was escaping such an awkward situation as bringing his crush to EASTER MASS with his PARENTS, an already pretty embarrassing situation, well.. he had quite another thing coming.

“Oh hunny, a pretty package doesn’t always need a bow, but...” Martha reaches into her hair, unclasping a white wooden hairclip decorated with beautiful carved sampaguitas (national flower of the Philippines). She leans down, and as though there were much more familiarity between the two women then there truly is, Martha secures the clip just above and behind Sadie’s left ear. “There,” she said, clasping her hands together in giddiness. “You look perfect! You can sit in the back with Laramie. :)” Lars slams himself over to one side of the car as Sadie curiously climbs in their car, fastening her safety belt. Her entire face pink, a small smirk creeping at the corners of her mouth, she glances at Lars’ fumbling hands around the basket in his lap, his flustered expression only revealed to her from his reflection in the window. ‘Guess I better text my mom,’ Sadie thinks to herself as she pulls out her phone.

‘I am SO not going with them next year, oh my god,’ repeats in Lars’ head the entire drive.

---

I thought it would be really cute that after that experience, Sadie might consider why she and her mother aren’t religious. She one day gets the moxie to ask her mother about it, and Barb mentions that she was raised Lutheran Protestant, but as she grew older religion didn’t really have much of a place in her life. Sadie is almost satisfied but then she courageously asks: “Wh... what about, my dad? Was he Lutheran, too?”

Barb lowers her eyes to the floor for a moment, but then laughs warmly. “Your dad was Jewish, actually! Religion was a lot more important to him than it was to me, that’s for sure.”

And thus begins Sadie’s interest in researching Judaism. She follows a few Jewish religion and culture bloggers, she buys a few study texts, and just for fun she learns to count to ten in Hebrew. She mostly keeps this all to herself, but one day she realizes it’s kind of lonely to do communal things without anyone else. Not wanting to put her mother through any stress by reminding Barb of her father, Sadie nervously texts Lars for help with the one part of Judaism he might know about.

“Hey, uh, I know this is kind of coming from no where but... do you know how to make cholent?”

He takes about 20 minutes before he responds.

“y”

Sadie frowns, but rolls her eyes and replies immediately.

“I wanted to make some, but you know a lot more about cooking than I do and I wanted to ask you for help. *angel emoji*”

this time, he responds after only three minutes.

“do u already have all the ingredients”

Sadie wonders why he’s asking that now instead of just answering her question, but she checks her pantry after pulling up a recipe on her phone.

“It looks like I have just about everything except for... pearl barley? Idek what that is tbh lol”

She presses send, leaning against her kitchen counter as she awaits his response.

“b there in 30 mins.”

he sent that one in about 30 seconds, which really took Sadie aback. she didn’t mean she was going to make it today! but, his enthusiasm impressed her a little bit, and she felt good in choosing him of all people.

She sets everything up, and after looking over the recipe again, she starts boiling some water for the beans.

It takes 37 minutes, actually, but the knock on her door after that time passes is distinctively Lars’, a package of pearl barley in tow. Completely in contrast to his performance at the Big Donut, Lars remains methodical and focused, occasionally asking her to read things off from her phone. She tries to help, but he kind of ends up doing most things by himself. She doesn’t really mind, because she can learn by watching him. Eventually she becomes a little embarrassed at the situation, a bit too pleased that he is here and helping her like this. She almost wanted to give him a hug for it... almost.

After a couple of hours they could just set it on the stovetop and wait, and Lars finally seems to snap back into his usual personality and asks her, “Why cholent? I’ve never seen you eat cholent,” squinting his eyes at her, it finally dawns on him that this might be some kind of setup. Was he too eager? Oof!

Sadie blushes, unaware that he’d been paying attention to the things she ate in any capacity. “Well...” she sighs, pulling a chair out from the kitchen table and sitting down. She looks at him, the slightest amount of pain etched into her chubby face. Lars’ brows furrow, his eyes opening fully again. He shyly makes his way to the opposite side of the table, flipping the chair around and sitting on it backward. “You remember when your parents kinda... just decided I was going to church with you guys?”

Lars grimaced, “Mass,”.

“Mass,” Sadie repeatedly apologetically. “That’s kinda it, I’m not... I’m not so good at this religious stuff yet, haha...” and she finally begins to tell someone in her life what she’s been thinking about with regards to religion, and how she thinks learning more about Judaism will help her understand herself and her dad better, and that maybe it shouldn’t be so important to her but it just kind of became important to her.

After her lengthy explanation, the stove timer immediately began going off. She had begun tearing up a bit, so she took the opportunity to wipe her face off on her shirt when Lars shot up to take the pot off the burner to rest. He turned the heat off, sheepishly looking over his shoulder back at her, face still buried in the collar of her own shirt. He tiptoed back over, standing about a foot away from her chair.

“Okay!” he announced, surprising her enough to peek her eyes out from inside her shirt, pretty brown eyes puffed and glossed over. “I can guarantee this cholent is going to be amazing, so,” he grabs his arm, digging his fingers in nervously as he struggles to maintain eye contact with her. Sadie fully emerges from the inside of her shirt, brushing loose strands of hair from her face. “S-so, no crying!” he almost shouts, and the subtle crack in his voice at the end makes his blush deepen. Sadie sniffles, smiling up at him from the table.

“Okay,” she giggles. “No crying.”

#larsadie #lars barriga #sadie miller #steven universe #religion #ube on a roll #ube in a can #that's my brand spankin new tag for headcanons hope y'all love it #long post #y'all like tags for long posts right

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jawbone-xylophone · 3 years ago

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I sort of feel like rambling, so don’t mind me. Vague religion talk ahead.

I’m just.... very confused about something I can’t quite pin down. I think I was maybe thirteen or fifteen at the time, and I don’t know how it came up in conversation- maybe it was just one of those things, like “How have you not seen The Lion King?” or “You need to hear at least one Elvis song,” but my dad asked me if I knew the Lord’s Prayer.

I didn’t, because not only did I sleep through church religiously but also church rarely came home. My dad’s an atheist, church was my mom’s demand. Either way, I knew probably less of it than any accused witch in Salem. My dad was... offended, in some way, like people get when I say I’ve never seen a Studio Ghibli movie (I have now). If I recall right he had to learn it in elementary school, apparently, so he taught it to me. I didn’t have many feelings about it, and mostly just thought it was odd that he’d had to learn it in school. It’s a neat little poem, all things considered?

It bothers me.

A lot of things about cultural Christianity bother me, honestly, and not only because I have a stake in it as a pagan. I’ve watched the news stories, seen Church of Satan exploiting loopholes, and I like the statement. But some part of me is still asking why I had to learn that prayer, why they handed out little red bibles in public school for free when a priest came to speak, why there’s bibles in the bedside table of pretty much every hotel I’ve stayed at. Why a Bible. What am I supposed to do with that?

I’m from the middle of nowhere, so there weren’t many religions out there to ask questions about, but I wondered a lot. How do Muslim people pray at school? If I recall the times are set throughout the day, not that I know much, and at least one of those definitely had to be during the school day. What about teachers? Could a Muslim teacher step out and pray? They should be able to, but I’ve never seen it before. And I don’t just mean in person- I’ve never seen it on a TV, in a movie, read about it in a book. The fact that it’s hard to answer doesn’t sit right, with me. I could ask someone directly, I suppose, but that’s not really the point.

I’m pagan, but my religion relies closer on the lunar calendar than the Wiccan Sabbats, so I metaphorically pass Judaism in the hallway a lot. I’ve never really seen it in person, except for one time when I stepped into a Jewish museum in a back alley in Spain. I wonder about that too. It’s natural to get curious by nature, when you’re trying to see Christianity in your rear view mirror- what are the other major world religions, how to they work, what do they think? How do they structure their holidays, why, what do they mean? When are they? How do they celebrate, when everything is so... overwhelmingly American, and by extension so overwhelmingly Christian?

People try to say we don’t have a culture, but we do. Some of it’s good, like sharing food, or just niche, like slapping your thighs when you say goodbye and always storing your cups lip-down so the dust won’t get in. Some of it’s the exact same culture as Spanish missionaries trying to whip the primitive natives into shape with Proper Literacy and Bibles.

Do other countries even have the same attitude about mission trips? I know we’re spoon fed a lot of propaganda about how every other country is walking wounded in need of rescue and charity, but. Mission trips. The idea’s so pervasive. Something about it seems very presumptive, don’t you think? Probably the colonialism.

I can’t buy alcohol on Sundays, and maybe that’s good for me, but the fact that I can’t seems off. I’m not a Christian. Hell, sometimes I forget what day it is period. Why do I have to respect Sundays? I get praying in my mom’s house over meals, that’s her thing and her house, but in my house sometimes my cake needs white wine and the lady at the counter is telling me the only way I’ll find any is if I go to That One Godless Town thirty miles away to a dingy run-down little gas station that might skitter away on many legs if a policeman sneezed at it.

It just itches, sometimes. I know other people have it worse than I do. But there’s a problem, here, and I wish I could do something about it.

#just a ramble #thrak speaks

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