When I was in college, still unsure of my sexual orientation, and chronically single, I tried to explain to my friends why my parents frowned upon me dating non-Jews.My friends, who were just trying to help me get over my lack-of –dating woes would say, “Why? I don’t get it. You’re liming yourself and you options.”

 

At the age of twenty I didn’t fully understand the consequences of dating a non-Jew, but I did know that my parents were against it because “it would make things harder,” as they said. I would have to explain my upbringing, my traditions, holidays, and my faith. It meant pissing my parents off, (something I had done enough of with body piercings), disappointing them, perhaps even making them feel like I was shunning how they raised me.

 

Then, to really try to put it all together, I would say to my friends, “Okay, let’s put it this way. My parents would rather me be gay, and bring home a Jewish girl, then be straight, and bring home a Catholic boy.”

“Really, wow! Are you serious?” My friends would exclaim.

 

At 24, when I brought home my first serious girlfriend, a Jew, it became true.

 

I am now 28, an out lesbian, and in love with a woman who was raised Presbyterian, and then converted to Mormonism in college; she no longer practices either religion, but Mormonism is important to her.Thus begins the tricky conversation with my mother.

Early in mine and Chriss’ relationship, I said to my mother over the phone, “I’m dating someone. She is really nice.”

 

“And does this person have a name?”

 

“Um, yeah, her name is Chriss,” I said, tentatively.

 

“Oh, I’m guessing that’s not a Jewish name.”

 

“Um, no.”

 

“Okay.” And that was the end of that conversation.

 

Weeks later, my mother met Chriss and really liked her. She thought she was “lovely,” and “confident.” She also said, “I could tell you two love each other.”

 

The day after they met, I was talking on the phone with my mother, and she asked a question I wasn’t expecting so soon.

“So, was she raised with any particular religion?”

 

I had to tell her the truth. I wanted to lie, say “Oh, she is just, you know, Christian,” but I am a terrible liar, and my mom knows that. I took a deep breath, and gave her the spiel I had told my Jewish friends.

 

“Well, she was raised Presbyterian and went to Sunday School, but in college she converted to Mormonism.”

 

“YOU’RE DATING A MORMON?”

 

I added quickly, “Yes, but she isn’t practicing anymore, because she likes women, and caffeine, and booze.”

There was an audible sigh of relief on the other end of the line.

 

The thing is, I don’t feel that is an issue, consciously. Yes, there are some obvious differences. She has no idea what Shabbat is, what Channukah is about. She’s heard of Rosh Hashanah but has no idea what it is. She finds classic Israeli names amusing, and likes to make fun of the fact that I have cousins with names like Shlomo, Tamar, and Yochai.

 

Then there are times when I think about my future, our future, and I panic. How would here parents feel about me being a Jew? Would she convert? Could I still have a Jewish wedding? And the list goes on. I have to stop myself, and breathe. And then I think of things to calm me down, bring me back to reality.

 

Chriss is reading Judaism for Dummies. From the book she has learned some Yiddish words, about Conservative Judaism, and what a Bar-Mitzvah is. She ate chicken soup with Matzoh balls and loved it. She wants to learn Hebrew, and brings the vocabulary flashcards I made her on the subway.

 

A few weeks ago I taught her to say Ani Ohevet O’tach, I love you. After she told me she loved me, I said a shehechyanu, and she liked it so much, she wanted me to repeat it.

 

Thinking back to what I wanted when I was twenty years old, I realize my life is not what I envisioned for myself, mainly that I am not married to a Jewish man. However, I am in love with a woman who treats me well, supports me, and is curious about my background. I know both of my parents are happy with my choice, because they know my heritage means as much to me as they hoped it would, and Chriss knows it too.

 

In the meantime, my mom enjoys telling people “Sara is involved with a very nice woman from Boro Park. Her name is Chriss.”