Shiksa

Dear Reader,

This summer I learned a new word. 

Shiksa. 

s-h-i-k-s-a

sh-ick-suh.

Shiksa, a derogatory word, of yiddish origin, deriving from the Hebrew word, šiqṣâ, which derives from sheqeṣ,  or detested thing.

Merriam Webster defines Shiksa as “often disparaging : a non-Jewish girl or woman”

To my boyfriend’s mother, I am a Shiksa. Not a Shiksa, the Shiksa, invading their family and “controlling” what used to be her good jewish son. 

I am invited to his graduation dinner. 

Then disinvited. 

“It’s just a family thing, and it should stay that way, you know?”

She tells him, 

“Don’t get too attached to that girl”.

When I buy him anything, she tells him,

“She’s just buying your love”.

He is told not to waste money on me. I am not worth it.

She calls him,  only speaking in farsi, so I cannot understand what is being said.

Anytime we spend together is too much time.

“Married people only spend that much time together.”

“It isn’t right”

What isn’t right is me. I wasn’t in her equation for what she calculated for her life and for her  son.

I am the foreign factor in the equation she thought she had solved.

My academic success, my talent, and my whole person could not satisfy her desperation for the persian, jewish, girl she needs for her son’s equation.

“Your girlfriend is amazing and a great person, but how do you expect us to be comfortable  whenever you bring her around?”

“How do you expect us to be comfortable  whenever you bring her around?”

Comfortable around that thing. 

That girl.

Shiksa girl.

Black girl. 

She despises me, she doesn’t understand me.

In her mind, I’m just another one of those niggers, which all they can seem to do is get into trouble. 

Another one of those niggers, that what she calls our black friends too.

She says it so casually at the dinner table.

“If they can say nigga and nigger why can’t I? It’s not fair!”

...that’s a discussion for later…

I am the Shiksa nigger that is snatching her good jewish son away from her. 

Her Persian Prince.

My existence in his life, to her, is almost as if her son is taking every tradition and value and letting it rot.

My existence to her feels like every sacrifice she’s made to preserve their lifestyle, fleeing Iran after the revolution, it is all meaningless because of me.

Stupid Shiksa.

Some final thoughts

I am very well aware that not all Jewish people are racist.

I grew up around Jewish people for my entire life, went to a predominantly Jewish school.

 I’ve been to Temple services, Bar Mitzvahs and Bat Mitzvahs, Passover dinners and services. 

I’ve been welcomed into Jewish homes and families for years and they have created some of the most wonderful memories of my childhood.

My favorite bread is Challah (not even joking, it is the best bread on this earth).

That is why this  comes from a place of pain. This woman does not see me as fit for her son or their culture. I will always be an outsider. 

I was rejected from a culture which I had admired and appreciated for all of my life, simply for melanin in my skin. 

I have come to the realization that I will never, ever, be good enough for this woman’s eyes.

I am an oddity to her.

I am an alien to her.

To my boyfriend’s mother, I am, and will always be 

The Shicksa.