Living as Less Than by Madison Levinson

In class we read "The Minority Report" by Philip K. Dick. Although my blog post does not have to do with predicting the future of crime, it does pertain to the title of the work. Specifically, the word "minority". When people mention the word "minority", minds tend to travel to the obvious: skin color, race, and gender. The minority that people tend to ignore is religion. For the purpose of this post I will be focusing mainly on the Jewish religion, as it is my personal experience. Now, I was never deprived. I am a Caucasian, affluent, single child, who got anything I set my little heart on. But what I never truly got was a the sense of inclusiveness. This feeling was especially heightened during the winter months that approach the holiday season.

For most people the morning after Halloween is the official start to the holiday season. And for most people the holiday season means family, snow, and Christmas trees. Yes, Christmas trees, Who would ever think that Christmas trees could be the source of a problem?

As a small Jewish girl living in Sparta, New Jersey (The capital of farming but not Judaism) I was left out. All my friends would have days dedicated to simply decorating their houses: putting up lights, hanging up stockings and decorating the Christmas tree. All my family did was pull a Winnie the Pooh Menorah out of a box under our china cabinet. All of my friends had off on "winter break" for their holiday (but let's be honest, it may as well just be called "Christmas break"). I had to go into school practically all seven days of my holiday, and I guarantee nobody asked me what I got after saying my prayers on the fourth night of Hanukkah. All of my friends gushed about all of the toys that they got for Christmas when winter/Christmas break was over. By that time I had probably either broken or lost half of the toys my parents got me. As a small Jewish Girl I sunk to the back of the classroom during the holiday season. I quietly participated in all of the Christmas themed crafts, I just nodded and made something up when somebody asked me what I got for Christmas (even though it secretly infuriated me), I smiled and told the clerk "you too" at the store when she told me and my mother "Merry Christmas", and I envied all of the stories the children had of waking up on Christmas morning and running downstairs in their footie pajamas. That was the first time that I felt like I was less than everybody else around me.

As I grew up I came to terms with the fact that it was easier to please the majority and just do a Christmas craft. I realized that the school just didn't have the ability to give kids off for Hanukkah and Christmas. And I accepted the fact that I would always hear about decorating Christmas cookies as a family and getting into a frosting fight with Uncle Jimmy. But as I started to grow up I didn't just learn more about how society worked, I also learned more about my faith. I learned that Hanukkah was not a super important holiday, but Yom Kippur was. Yom Kippur is the Jewish Holiday for atonement, it is referred to as a holiday of the "high holy days". But I also learned that I was not given off from school on Yom Kippur. The most important important holiday of my religion was just another casual day at school where I had a science test. I had to take off from school for Yom Kippur, go to temple, and fast because that was what my religion mandated I do. That was the second time that I felt like I was less than everybody else around me.

A breakdown of religion in the United States
 (numbers may vary between different studies).

As I became a young adult I just accepted that the world was not going to give me special privileges because of my religion. The world wasn't going to favor me because I was different but the world also wasn't out to get me. What I did not accept and cannot accept is the way that people treated me because I was different. As an adult I came to terms with the person I was and the religion I worshiped because of it. I was not afraid to tell people I was Jewish when they asked what I got for Christmas. I was content with my beliefs. I felt as though I could handle however people reacted. I was wrong. I could not handle when somebody told me "You don't look Jewish". Sorry, should I carry around a giant sign with the word "Jew" and an arrow pointing at my face? Should I have my friends wear shirts that say "I'm with Jew" and an arrow pointing to me? Was I supposed to have a specific look because of my religion? I could not handle when somebody asked me if "That's why I had a big nose?". Yes, not only are all Jews supposed to look alike but were all also supposed to have the same exact honker on our face. Thank you for pointing it out because I am not at all self conscious about it. I could not handle when children started throwing pennies at me to see if I would bend over and pick them up. I am sorry to disappoint you but a penny is not going to buy me anything in this day and age. Maybe next time try a quarter so at least I can buy myself a decent gumball. I could not handle the first time somebody said "you're Jewish" as a reason for me not to have an opinion on a matter. Oh yeah, oops, I forgot. Us Jews just aren't allowed to have an opinion anymore. I could not handle learning about the Holocaust in school and feeling all of those piercing Christian eyes turn and look at me. Yeah, 6 million of us died, but I am not going to just burst into tears so you can feel bad for me. That was the third time that I felt like I was less than everybody else.

Now I can ignore the Christmas season. I can ignore the fact that my religion forces me to work around school and the world that I live in. I can also ignore the obscene remarks I receive. After all, 83% of the American population identifies as Christian, 13% identify as no religion, and the remaining 4% identify as a religion as non-Christian (The Jewish population makes up about 2.7% off the non-Christian population). I will always be a minority and I have come to accept that. I will also always feel like I am less than everybody else and I have come to accept that.