The holiday season doesn’t truly begin until the glimmering menorah ornament is carefully placed on my family’s Christmas tree. It isn’t a Hanukkah bush; it’s a Christmas tree. I’ve been raised following Jewish tradition while also acknowledging Catholic customs, and I’m lucky enough to have grown up in an environment that has encouraged my complex Jewish identity, and helped me build a versatile and sturdy religious foundation.

Los Angeles (especially the private school sphere) has rightfully earned its reputation as a liberal bubble, but I feel that this environment has only affected me positively. Every time I’ve been confronted about my identity— whether that be my Jewish, feminist, or interfaith identity— I’ve engaged in thoughtful conversation in an attempt to understand the other person’s point of view. In almost all cases, I’ve been able to find common ground with the person I’m speaking with, and have largely been treated with acceptance and respect. Considering this, there’s no doubt in my mind I could engage in cordial discourse with someone whose beliefs completely oppose mine, as long as their claims are supported with evidence, and not ignorance.

Sure, I’ve met boys who roll their eyes at Radical Feminism, Christians who are passionately pro-life, and those who claim I can’t “technically” be Jewish because my mother never converted from Catholicism to Judaism. Though these conversations can often be difficult to navigate at first, most of them have resulted in the opposing party finding my viewpoint more interesting than harmful, because of the way I’ve presented it.

I leave these conversations with a sense of validation and pride in my ability to articulate my own beliefs. Whether or not I’ve persuaded the other person to identify as a feminist or to come to my Christmas dinner, I’ve helped them gain a new perspective on topics they’ve only ever viewed one way. I firmly believe that the larger the quantity of diverse perspectives we obtain on any issue, the stronger the bridges we can build together, and the more walls we can tear down.  

At my exceptionally diverse and progressive elementary school, my friend’s dad, a Jew, dressed up as Santa Claus every December for our holiday party. Our class was brought together, not through the biblical significance of Christmas, but through the universal spirit of the holiday season. Similarly, I recall fond memories of Christmas Eves spent with my family in local churches, learning about the Irish Catholic rituals with which my mother grew up. My parents have always believed it’s important to expose their children to the practices of other religions and cultures–to acknowledge my mom’s religious background, to be comfortable around people of different faiths, and to contextualize our Jewish practices. These experiences have shaped who I am, and have significantly influenced my identity as a young Jewish woman.

While I’m dedicated to Judaism and feel most at home in the Jewish community, Christmas will always be my favorite holiday. Just as my other Jewish friends love Passover or Rosh Hashanah because of their families’ traditions, I can’t recall happier moments than the last sixteen Christmas mornings I’ve spent with my Jewish relatives and friends.

I might not believe in Santa Claus anymore, but I do believe in the joy of Christmas and the power it has to bring people of different faiths and backgrounds together. There will always be skeptics and grinches, but when I step out of my intellectually curious and accepting liberal bubble in a year and a half, I know I’ll be ready to take my interfaith identity with me, and spread my own kind of Christmas cheer.