Jews Never Feel More Like Outsiders Than At Christmas

As a Jew, I look forward to the holidays for exactly one reason: latkes. But to be honest, Christmas feels like a large arrow pointing at me, declaring: “Not one of us.” This feeling of being on the outside is complicated by the fact that I enjoy what Christmas has to offer: I say Merry Christmas when others say it first and because of the culture we all live in, I know the words to most Christmas songs. And yet, the words and the songs aren’t mine. 

Jews are fortunate recipients of a prized social location: we are a minority, but the majority of us have white skin and receive the benefits that the dominant culture bestows. We are persecuted and oppressed by some, but recognised as victims when we are victimised. More than half of the world’s Jews live outside of Israel, where most of our experiences are punctuated by oppressions, not defined by them. December is one big punctuation mark, a time when I, as a Jew, grapple not with my Judaism but with the desire to assimilate. After all, I know Jews who put up Christmas trees, I know Jews who host holiday parties replete with poinsettias, ornaments, Rudolf alters and songs about Santa.