i’m struggling to identify myself here in this incredibly public space. my conglomeration of values, varied and contradictory even, are seeming impossible to convey in a venue as limited as this. i’m certain something essential will be missed. i’m afraid that i’ll say, “i’m this. i like that.” and you’ll all say, “oh, so you’re one of those.” but i’m not. i’m not one of those. i’m something else. the labels and boxes are endless and i just want one that is me and has my name on it. i want for that to make sense all on its own. so i can say, “i’m an orthodox jew. i like yoga and good espresso.” and you’ll all say, “oh, so you’re emily weisberg.” yes.
but that’s not how it works. in the end you’ll read those little words, “orthodox jew. yoga. espresso.” and i’ll still be “one of those” because you can’t possibly know all the little lines that draw those things together. and i’ll still be the only holder of my entire story. so i yield to the imperfection of language, blogging and other cultural disorders. i’ll tell you who i am, and you’ll decide what that is. that’s okay. it’s no one’s fault. it’s unavoidable.
but one request: let all the definitions be true at the same time. let me be not first an orthodox jew and then a lover of yoga, but rather both at the same time. let me be a mother, a child, a convert, a soul, a sister, a wife, a friend. a midwesterner, an immigrant, a small-town girl, a well-traveled woman, and lost. let me love kale and french fries, jeans and torah. let me just be me.