I come from a non-practicing Russian jewish family. My mother's maiden name was anglicized from Brokovitz to Brook. I grew up without a notion of jewishness. But, I was different. A picture of me shows a young girl, perhaps three years old, with an afro halo three feet above her. I grew up in Seattle, a mostly segregated city, during the 80's and 90's. African-Americans thought I was mixed. When asked to touch upon my racial background, I would shyly admit to being "jewish" not having any idea of the sacraments and duties, but to hint at my "ethnicity." I was "jewish." My mother, not wanting to take the time to fix or mess with it, made me stick to an afro. Oy, how I hated this. I was teased relentlessly. Some felt that it would be fine to try to see if a ball would bounce off my head-real funny. I finally relaxed my hair after again growing it out three feet above my head. It was a disaster- it looked like fried bacon strips. Again, I grew it out, and wore it proudly, purple, for my graduation. It continued to grow, and finally I wore it back, tied down. (always a few frizzy strands escaping) Today, after having again, gone through the relaxation process, I cut off my relaxed hair to once again wear my jewfro halo. A few relaxed strips create an interesting touch to my frizzy fro.It is my "ethnicity of jewishness" the only, granted tangible thing, I can identify to a culture.
I come from a non-practicing Russian jewish family. My mother's maiden name was anglicized from Brokovitz to Brook. I grew up without a notion of jewishness. But, I was different. A picture of me shows a young girl, perhaps three years old, with an afro halo three feet above her. I grew up in Seattle, a mostly segregated city, during the 80's and 90's. African-Americans thought I was mixed. When asked to touch upon my racial background, I would shyly admit to being "jewish" not having any idea of the sacraments and duties, but to hint at my "ethnicity." I was "jewish." My mother, not wanting to take the time to fix or mess with it, made me stick to an afro. Oy, how I hated this. I was teased relentlessly. Some felt that it would be fine to try to see if a ball would bounce off my head-real funny. I finally relaxed my hair after again growing it out three feet above my head. It was a disaster- it looked like fried bacon strips. Again, I grew it out, and wore it proudly, purple, for my graduation. It continued to grow, and finally I wore it back, tied down. (always a few frizzy strands escaping) Today, after having again, gone through the relaxation process, I cut off my relaxed hair to once again wear my jewfro halo. A few relaxed strips create an interesting touch to my frizzy fro.It is my "ethnicity of jewishness" the only, granted tangible thing, I can identify to a culture.