When you have lived in one place all your life, you become accustomed to certain things. These things begin to become a normal part of your everyday life. Living in Texas for sixteen years, all my life, I became used to abnormally hot summers, crazy weather, and the mad hysteria that surrounded high school football. Unfortunately, I also became adapted to feeling like a weird, Jewish outsider in a place where being Christian is not only the norm, but expected. 

It started as early as elementary school. As was common in Texas schools, Christian youth groups were held after school had ended. A classmate of mine asked me if I was going to attend. “No,” I replied, “I’m Jewish.” Her response was a furrowed brow and a “Why?”  I struggled to come up with a response of my own for a few seconds before replying, “Because my parents are Jewish.” This answer clearly did not suffice because her brow became furrowed even deeper and once again she asked, “Why?” To this day, I still as feel as out of place as my fourth grade self when I think back to that moment.

Four years later, in 8th grade, I made the stupid mistake of wearing a Star of David necklace to school. In my Spanish class, a boy sarcastically commented “I like your necklace,” while smirking at me devilishly. Cross necklaces are the hottest accessory in the typical Texas teenager, but as soon as you change the symbol it is joke material. Other boys in my class would tell me “Merry Christmas” while snickering, knowing that I did not celebrate the holiday.

I’m not the only one in the family that felt out of place simply due to their religious affiliation. My mother used to be a ticket agent at an airport, and one day when talking to a co-worker, she mentioned that she was Jewish. The co-workers face contorted into an expression of disbelief and disgust and she exclaimed “YOU’RE JEWISH?!” Safe to say, my mother never mentioned being Jewish around her ever again.

Almost as bad as rude words, are words of ignorance. My friend, also Jewish, was invited to a church service by her Christian friend, and out of respect, attended. She told me that someone asked her “if Jews had four gods”, as if Jews weren’t the first to practice monotheism. Someone asked me, “So is the Jewish god like the same as our (the Christian) god?”, as if Christianity didn’t originate from Judaism. While these comments were not said to hurt or offend, they did. Christianity is shoved down my throat through American mass media and history classes, so I know enough about religion to not ask such blatantly ignorant questions. Would it hurt others to take a time to learn about my and other religions? However, any ignorance on my end is absolutely not acceptable. One time I asked my friend what “confession” was, and she was shocked I even asked the question. How could I possibly not know what confession is? Yet, it was perfectly acceptable for her to ask me over and over to clarify the differences between bar and bat mitzvahs.

Some may claim that I’m overreacting or being trivial. I must also note that experiences like mine aren't unique to Judaism -- my Hindu and Muslim friends have shared similar experiences. Is my life threatened because of my experiences? No. But is it less enjoyable? I would say so. After years of enduring them, little comments and gestures force you to become ashamed of your religion, your culture, and your heritage. The saddest thing is that I didn’t teach myself to be ashamed of my Jewishness, it happened innately in response to my environment. Surprisingly, I actually do love some aspects about Texas. I love Tex-Mex food, I love the warm weather, and I love cities like Dallas and Austin. However, my time here has left me yearning for a more accepting, liberal location. I don’t fit in the Bible Belt. One size does not fit all.