#i’m learning about my own heritage with sharpay

[hsm-sapphic-selfship-fanfiction]

EHS Lesbians groupchat

Sharpay: what’s y’all’s plans for… winter break

Josefina: Sharpay, you can just say Christmas

Sharpay: but you don’t…

Sharpay: do you?

Martha: Sharpie! You can’t say that!!!

Josefina: Martha, it’s fine, I get this a lot, I celebrate both Hannukah and Christmas, the latter being a secular holiday these days

Josefina: and I eat Cassava pie

Emily (Redhead Cheerleader): but, you’re not supposed to do that, you’re baking meat in a mother’s milk

Josefina: the Torah says Chicken doesn’t count as meat and neither does fish

Kelsi: but they’re both flesh????

Josefina: I know, it’s confusing

Emily (Redhead Cheerleader): but so is our disallowing of nicknames in a school we KNOW is homophobic as fuck

*Sharpay enabled nicknames*

*Sharpay has changed her handle to Theatre Girl*

*Emily (Redhead Cheerleader) changed her name to RC

*Josefina changed her name to Dinah*

Theatre Girl: Happy now

RC: yeah

RC: >Dinah what is that name tag Josi

Dinah: my Jewish name, at my Bat Mitzvah last year

*Kelsi changed their name to Allegra*

Allegra: after Joseph’s sister, I presume

Dinah: yes

[hsm-sapphic-selfship-fanfiction]

2007- Josefina teaches Sharpay Jewish culture Part 1: Rosh Hashanah

I closed the door on the empty hotel suite and looked at Sharpay, who was sitting on the bed looking eager to learn for once

“Right!” I announced “it has come to my attention that you don’t know about my family, or their culture” Sharpay was kinda crude about me not scheduling anything on a Friday, asked my mother and she had a chat with me at home about the “crowds” I attract, and that her family was my only one after dad kicked me out for being trans and gay. Sharpay sighed “I was just curious why you took Fridays off”

“Ask me then”

“Why”

“Because that’s the Shabbat, the sacred day”

“Ok”

“Anyway” I continued “I thought it would be nice to run through a few Jewish holidays so you don’t embarrass yourself again”

“So which one is the start of the civic calendar, Josie?” Sharpay inquired

“That would be Rosh Hashanah” I answered, unzipping my school bag “be a dear and open a window for me Sharpie” I now asked back, picking up my ram horn

Sharpay turned around and looked at me like I’d grown a second head “what in God’s name, is that?

“This, Sharpay” I chirped, smacking it like a salesman would a car roof “is a Shofar, you blow onto it, like so” I stepped out onto the balcony and blew into it as hard as I could, so hard I could hear a faint fruity yelp of “Jesus Christ! Elton John on a pogo stick Sharpay!” that had to belong to Ryan. I turn back to Sharpay self regulating, giving her Bamba, before explaining the meaning behind the horn and why Jews celebrate the festival at all

“So that’s… how many blows?” A still whimpering Sharpay asked

“Three Tashrats, three Tashats and three Tarats is the tradition in my mother’s family, we’re descended from Spanish migrants to Bermuda in the 1800s” Josefina braced for any crass questions about the slave trade, but nothing “Josie, you look tense, anything wrong”

“I’ll explain later”

[hsm-sapphic-selfship-fanfiction]

Part 2- (Yom) Kippur

After the Rosh Hashanah fiasco two things happened, one, we agreed to make it regular, with Jewish culture lessons every Thursday after school, with me hiding behind extra cheer practice to ease my mother’s mind about it. The other thing is I was given free member’s access by the All Seasons Resort to their resorts so long as I never the shofar again on their property. On that stern note I escorted my student to an empty room. “Right, you might have noticed today that I didn’t eat today, at all” Sharpay let her eyes wander in thought “actually yeah, you didn’t eat! You must be starving!” Sharpay leapt to call room service “I’ll have a bottle of Muscat Red and two bowls of dates” I stopped for a moment “Sharpay, it’s Yom Kippur today, I can’t, not until sundown” Sharpay chuckled “then I shall wait until sundown” Sharpay did a double take “don’t you guys like not wash at all during those days” I sighed “some don’t, but remember, just as not everyone takes the Bible literally, not everyone follows the exact literal text of the Torah, most that I know don’t even do Kosher 100% as the book says anymore on the account of it being impractical and unnecessary in the modern world, personally I wash my hair and put on natural soap for some areas, but beyond that, nought”

“Ewwww, why? I thought you were secular”

“kinda, not really, I still follow some rules”

2007- Josefina teaches Sharpay Jewish culture Part 1: Rosh Hashanah

I closed the door on the empty hotel suite and looked at Sharpay, who was sitting on the bed looking eager to learn for once

“Right!” I announced “it has come to my attention that you don’t know about my family, or their culture” Sharpay was kinda crude about me not scheduling anything on a Friday, asked my mother and she had a chat with me at home about the “crowds” I attract, and that her family was my only one after dad kicked me out for being trans and gay. Sharpay sighed “I was just curious why you took Fridays off”

“Ask me then”

“Why”

“Because that’s the Shabbat, the sacred day”

“Ok”

“Anyway” I continued “I thought it would be nice to run through a few Jewish holidays so you don’t embarrass yourself again”

“So which one is the start of the civic calendar, Josie?” Sharpay inquired

“That would be Rosh Hashanah” I answered, unzipping my school bag “be a dear and open a window for me Sharpie” I now asked back, picking up my ram horn

Sharpay turned around and looked at me like I’d grown a second head “what in God’s name, is that?

“This, Sharpay” I chirped, smacking it like a salesman would a car roof “is a Shofar, you blow onto it, like so” I stepped out onto the balcony and blew into it as hard as I could, so hard I could hear a faint fruity yelp of “Jesus Christ! Elton John on a pogo stick Sharpay!” that had to belong to Ryan. I turn back to Sharpay self regulating, giving her Bamba, before explaining the meaning behind the horn and why Jews celebrate the festival at all

“So that’s… how many blows?” A still whimpering Sharpay asked

“Three Tashrats, three Tashats and three Tarats is the tradition in my mother’s family, we’re descended from Spanish migrants to Bermuda in the 1800s” Josefina braced for any crass questions about the slave trade, but nothing “Josie, you look tense, anything wrong”

“I’ll explain later”