My Shiksa Daughters Want to be Jewish

We went to a Bar Mitzvah Saturday.

You would have thought we’d asked our tween Shiksa daughters to shave their heads and flap their arms when they walked. T

he caterwauling. Yes, they had to miss part of their best friend’s birthday party at a trampoline orgy, but still, I made them suck it up.

We arrived. We sat through the reading of the Torah, the melodious singing of the cantor and the various familial blessings and speeches, my daughters twitching and sighing by our sides, rolling their eyes in a “you owe us big time” manner.

But then came the after-party.

Oh the disco music, oh the gambling tables, oh the free flowing Coca Cola and yummy beef sliders, oh the minions holding you aloft like a Deity in a chair. My girls were sold.

What they don’t realize is that when they turn 12 (that’s just one year away Clare), as Jewish girls, they will be held entirely accountable for their own actions.

The parents are off scot-free!

That’s right ladies, we are not going down for you after that. The stolen Klondike bar? Wasn’t me. Maybe you better think this conversion thing through.

אתה בעצמך! Which means “You’re on your own” in Hebrew.

Our job is almost done ladies!
Our job is almost done!
Gambling runs in the family Bridget. Back away from the Black Jack!
Gambling runs in the family Bridget. Back away from the Black Jack!
Be careful with your father Clare, his bones are brittle.
Clare, once the rest of your teeth come in you’ll be old enough to pay for your own braces!
I'll admit it does seem cool to have your adult minions hold you up to the heavens. But you could get nosebleed.
I’ll admit it does seem cool to have your adult minions hold you up to the heavens. But you could get nosebleed.

To our dear friends Steve and Nancy, congratulations on the rearing of such an eloquent, funny, self-possessed young man.

We love your family, and Nancy you do not have size 10 thighs. Having said that, if our daughters convert, can we send them to you??

You’re very good at this parenting thing. xo S

11 thoughts on “My Shiksa Daughters Want to be Jewish”

  1. Even though I am not a practitioner of any certain affiliation, I do find comfort in knowing there are whole groups of like minded people who believe in something (anything) greater then ourselves. It has been my experience that every religion has something wonderful to share.

  2. Nice post, Shannon.

    I was raised a Conversative Jew. Dad escaping the Holocaust, and studying at Yeshiva in Germany while the Hitler youth stood outside waiting to stone him and his friends kind of kept him thankful that G-d saved him from the camps. We were raised strictly. Needless to say, my brothers and I are not observant, but our kids all went to Hebrew School and were Bar Mitzvahed.

    My son’s Bar Mitzvah was beautiful, small and since we are a jazz family had a great jazz ensemble. Not a typical affair, but it was fun! I HATE the big glitzy parties today’s kids get. (Mine was in the gym of our temple. My brothers got the big glitzy affair; boys have more clout in our religion…)

    Sorry to drone on so long about me, Shannon. I really did enjoy your post, and I haven’t seen anyone blog yet using the word “shiksa”. As usual, you beautifully stand out in a crowd!

  3. The main thing I am converted to is how funny you are. If you sell your talents you can afford braces and an outsized party for your children. College is another matter. If they master guilt and you pay, then you have done a good job getting them to embrace their inner religion. Cue the irony. Oy vay!

  4. We did the Bar/Bat Mitzvah circuit with both of our kids (who each had their own celebration). Every one was fun, touching, and cost a bloody fortune.

    I can’t tell you how many of my kids’ friends wanted to be Jewish during those days. Now? Not so much 🙂

    1. I try to remind my children that our Jewish neighbors bring their kids over to sit by our Christmas tree. You just can’t have it all.

    1. I will write them and let you know Janie. If they’re not lying under their beds in exhaustion. Just writing that made me wish I had a glass of Port. I suspect that’s not a good sign.

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