If the doors of the generous ones are locked, The doors of the sky won’t be locked

When there’s a lot of information in my head to process, I tend to use lists to organize it all. So here goes.

I am:

1. Jewish

2. Israeli

3. Yemenite

4. Tunisian

I believe the best way to go about this list would be to explain how I feel about each of the communities I belong to, in an attempt to make sense of how the four coexist.

Being Jewish–it comes first to me, automatically, unconsciously.  The fact that I’m Jewish grants me a sense of stability, a sense of direction in my day to day actions.  While it’s a religion, and not necessarily a cultural or ethnic community, I so heavily rely on it that a sense of community is created.  Furthermore, the reason I categorize it as a community is specifically because of where I live: New York City.  NYC has one of the highest Jewish populations in the entire world, not including Israel; subsequently, a Jewish ‘community’ has been established here.  The community branches off into numerous smaller communities depending on the town one lives in, but there is a sense of community as a whole, and each person can find a sense of belonging in this whole.  It’s beautiful to me how the Jewish community in New York thrives, and how people are always there for each other.  It gives me pride to see how such a small percentage of people (.2% of the world’s population?) come together and build a community.

Being Israeli–I would say it comes second because it doesn’t govern my day-to-day actions like my religion does.  Nonetheless, it is an important part of who I am.  I belong to a community of zionists, those who believe in the State of Israel for the Jews.  I was born there, I was partially raised there, and I always have a connection to Israel. It is also encompassed by my “Jewish” communal identification because the community of Jews I belong to in New York City has a strong traditional tie to the land.  I was raised here with the outlook that Israel has importance and significance, and so my identification as an ‘Israeli’ really falls under the umbrella of “Jewish.”

Being Yemenite and Tunisian–I group the two together because they are of equal importance to me.  My mother is Yemenite, and my father is Tunisian, and there is no choosing sides for me.  I value both cultures equally, with their various customs and beliefs.  They are cultures that I love, and appreciate more and more as I get older. They too, fall under the big umbrella of “Jewish,” and it is why I put them third and fourth on my list of identities.

What stands out most in my mind about both cultures is their hospitality and warmth.  Anyone walking into either of my grandparents house is greeted with food, drinks, a place of comfort to sit and relax, and it’s a feature of the traditional people of those times that I awe-inspiring.  It is such a pleasure to identify with such cultures.

It’s difficult for me to choose one piece of art that has special significance to me, but there’s just something about Yemenite music that touches my core being.  While I was in Israel this past summer, my Yemenite grandparents took me to a Yemenite music festival, and I was simply mesmerized.  Listening to alluring music, staring at the exquisite costumes, watching the men and women dance; I felt so in tune with my culture. In lieu of that, the following song by Ofra Haza is one I believe has incredible meaning to me.  Ofra Haza was a well-known, traditional Yemenite singer of the 70s-90s, but passed away prematurely in 2000.  Every time my mom plays her CD, of which the first song is the one I am posting (Im Nin’alu), the music radiates within me.  The Yemenite culture I am somewhat detached from comes flooding back to me, and I feel it.  Ask me to explain what it means, and I’ll have no idea what to tell you.  But you know that feeling when you’re really feeling a song?  That’s how it is.