New flicks with celebs in interfaith relationships and from interfaith backgrounds, plus their baby news!Go To Pop Culture
Itâ€™s been two weeks of vacation for my family in upstate New York. Nothing but fun, sun, relaxing walks by the lake, fishing and QuinceaĂ±era Barbie. Waitâ€¦what!? Hereâ€™s how QuinceaĂ±era Barbie came into my life.
My daughter Helen Rose is American, Mexican, Jewish and Catholic. The question from my Jewish-American side of the family is always, â€śAre you going to give her a bat mitzvah when she turns 12?â€ť And the question from Adrianâ€™s Catholic-Mexican side of the family is always, â€śAre you going to give her a QuinceaĂ±era when she turns 15?â€ť
Both of these ceremonies celebrate the move from girlhood to adulthood. At a bat mitzvah, a girl may read a portion from the Torah in synagogue and then have a big party or sometimes, itâ€™s just a big party. At a QuinceaĂ±era, there is a traditional dance that the girl does with a childhood doll. When the dance ends, the girl must give the doll away and then she is considered a woman. That dance usually takes place during a big party. Mostly, I believe these questions are brought up from both families because itâ€™s a hint that we should start saving money now, even though my daughter is just 2Â years old.
I hadnâ€™t given much thought to bat mitzvahs or QuinceaĂ±eras. Iâ€™ve been enjoying the part of my daughterâ€™s childhood where every moment and every new discovery feels like one big party. She finds bugs and runs through outdoor sprinklers on our vacation. She chases birds and learns new words in both Spanish and English: boat, burro, cook and hola. But, one day it starts to rain and so instead of having our usual barbecue by the water, we take her to a Barnes and Noble in town so that she can run through the kids’ section.
Her first choice in toys when we get there is a train set thatâ€™s been set up in the corner. But she quickly tires of the train set after she realizes there are other toys in the store. She reaches for Peppa Pig, Elmo, Cookie Monster and Big Bird. She brings each toy over to me. She smiles and then runs to get another one. Finally, I spot her holding a large cardboard box with a doll inside. The dollâ€™s skin is the same cinnamon tint as my daughterâ€™s. The doll is wearing a long purple gown and at the bottom of the plastic that encases her, it says, in shiny silver letters, “QUINCEAĂ‘ERA BARBIE.” Oh help me.
I never had a Barbie. I didnâ€™t really want one. My brother was older than I was and he had G.I. Joes and all kinds of science toys so I veered more toward those. The only time I played with a Barbie was when I was at someoneâ€™s house for a play date. Once, at my friend Avivaâ€™s house, I took her favorite Barbie and shoved its head into her parents’ whirlpool (a machine used to make the bath into a jacuzziâ€¦it was the ’80s) in the bathtub. Iâ€™m pretty sure I broke the whirlpool when Barbie came out but her head stayed in. Her father spent two hours trying to shave Barbieâ€™s hair off to get her golden locks to break free from the whirlpool.
But there was my daughter, on a rainy afternoon, holding QuinceaĂ±era Barbie and waving her in my face. And there was QuinceaĂ±era Barbie with a glazed look in her eyes as if to say, â€śRemember me?â€ť She had also plucked two other Barbie dolls from the shelfâ€”Ballet Wishes Barbie and 2016 Birthday Wishes Barbie. But, QuinceaĂ±era Barbie towered over those two petite Barbie dolls and claimed her moment.
As my daughter ran off to get another doll, I wondered why there was no Bat Mitzvah Barbie. I imagined what she would look likeâ€”complete with her Torah scroll and equally shiny dress. As soon as my thoughts began to wander, I looked up everything having to do with Barbie dolls. What I found out shocked and surprised me.
Ruth Handler, who was the Jewish daughter of Polish immigrants, invented the Barbie doll. She actually thought of the idea after she saw her daughter playing with paper dolls. As I read up on her, I found out how she became one of the most successful business women in history. I then thought of the hilarity of my own situation. Barbie, even the QuinceaĂ±era Barbie, is Jewish! Sheâ€™s not only Jewish but sheâ€™s interfaithâ€”an interfaith Barbie! Her original creator is a Jewish woman named Ruth Handler and her identity in her current costume is that of a Catholic Latina girl about to enter womanhood! Iâ€™ve now become obsessed with the idea that any Barbie doll sold on the shelf of a toy store today is part Jewish.
I didnâ€™t purchase QuinceaĂ±era Barbie only because my daughter doesnâ€™t really know how to play with her yet. However, I do know that when my daughter is older and has questions about her two faiths, I will use QuinceaĂ±era Barbie as a model of something that incorporates a rich history of Judaism, Catholicism and invention. After all, as an interfaith child of a Jewish mother and a Catholic father, reinvention is something we are very familiar with.
By Melissa Henriquez
Growing up in a small, rural town in northern New Jersey in the â€™80s, I never had perfect attendance in school. Not because I was sick or because my family took vacations outside the school calendar, but rather because every fall, I needed to take two days off in observance of the Jewish holidays.
Unlike my friends who grew up in one of the predominantly Jewish parts of our stateâ€”where schools are closed for the High Holidaysâ€”I was one of about six Jewish families in our entire school district. So for us, school was definitely open and the High Holidays were consideredÂ excusedÂ absences (but still counted as absences), which meant Iâ€™d never have perfect attendance.
Of course, what I share today as a sore spot of my youth seems beyond frivolous now at 36 and a married mother of two. But at the time, it really bothered me. I already knew I was â€śdifferentâ€ť from the other kids.
Sometimes I really loved being unique. For example, my bat mitzvah was the first one my friends who weren’t Jewish had ever been toâ€”it was their inaugural exposure to Judaism and, not surprisingly, it was happily met with rave reviews. After all, whatâ€™s not to love? Thereâ€™s the party and the fancy dresses and the DJ and the neon necklaces and Shirley Temples.
Yet, other than the fact that I missed some school days each fall, or that I attended Hebrew School and had a bat mitzvah (whereas they all went to CCD at the same Catholic church and had confirmations), my religion remained a very personal thing for most of my childhood. It wasnâ€™t until I was getting ready to look at colleges that I realized finding a school with a large Jewish population was going to be really important to me.
I didnâ€™t want to be the only Jewish kid on the block anymore.
And so I accepted an offer from American University in our nationâ€™s capitalâ€”affectionately dubbed â€śGay Jewâ€ť (or at least it was called that when I attended, 1997-2001!).Â At American, I found myself part of the crowdâ€”religion often came up in conversation (as did politics, internship opportunities and study abroad plans). Suddenly, being JewishÂ bondedÂ me to others. And later my freshman year, I even dated an NJB (Nice Jewish Boy) for a few months.
I finally felt like I belonged atÂ AU, like I was among my people. And though the university didnâ€™t close for the High Holidays, many professors canceled class, either for their own observances or because they recognized many students would be going home to their families. Instead of being singled out at American, I feltÂ accepted, not having to explain at length why I couldnâ€™t present a group project on Rosh Hashanah. It was justÂ understood.
So you can imagine I was none too happy when I learned Iâ€™d have to take PTO for the Jewish holidays, as at this particular company, sick, vacation, personal and religious holidays all fell in one PTO bucket. It didnâ€™t seem fair to me when Iâ€™d be perfectly willing to work Christmas Day and Christmas Eveâ€”which were considered company holidays.
It was a poignant reminder that, once again, I was back to being in the minorityâ€”even in a culturally, religiously, ethnically diverse city like Washington, I still had to â€śexplainâ€ť myself.
Years later, when my husband (who isn’t Jewish) and I moved to Kalamazoo for his job, I told my parents, â€śGREAT. Iâ€™ll be the only Jew in Kalamazoo!â€ť And it sure felt that way for a while. My one Jewish friend here was my friend Dana in Chicago, two hours away. But then my husband introduced me to his new colleague, Emilyâ€”and said, half-kidding, â€śSheâ€™s JewishÂ andÂ has curly hair, too; youâ€™ll be best friends!â€ť
And he was right. She is one of my best friends, to this day.
When the ad agency I worked for was acquired by a global marketing firm a couple years ago, one of the best changes to come out of the acquisition was that now religious holidays are counted as personal days, versus PTO. Though Iâ€™m still the only Jew in our Kalamazoo office, I no longer feel â€śalone,â€ťÂ or like I have to explain myself, knowing this is an across-the-board policy.
Which brings me to present day. Our 5-year-old daughter Maya is really into the Jewish holidays, traditional foods and singing the songs Iâ€™ve taught her. She can begin Hebrew school this coming fall, and Iâ€™m excited to begin her formal Jewish educationâ€”but I know how small the Jewish community is here in Kalamazoo. Itâ€™s just a tad bit larger than my hometown community was, and I worry about how sheâ€™ll feel, being one of just a few Jewish kids in her elementary school.
While Iâ€™ve always been proud of who I am and love our faith and its teachings, I remember that hard-to-explain, nagging feeling of not belonging growing upâ€¦ and it plagues me. Though I know as parents, we shouldnâ€™t project our emotions onto our kids, itâ€™s hardÂ notÂ to when experience is tainting how we feel. Fortunately, the synagogue we will be joining has a lot of young families and even some interfaith families like oursâ€”so I am sure we will get some guidance from those who have gone before us. But itâ€™s hard living in a community where we really are a minority.
Itâ€™s my hope that I can instill in her that being â€śdifferentâ€ť is what makes her specialâ€”what makes her (and our family) interesting and unique. We might have to explain ourselves to some people, especially living here in the Midwest in a city without many Jewish families, but thatâ€™s OK. Who knows, maybe sheâ€™ll find her place in college, just like her mama did.
This article was reprinted with permission from Kveller.com, a fast-growing, award-winning website for parents raising Jewish and interfaith kids. Follow Kveller on Facebook and sign up for their newsletters here.
MelissaÂ HenriquezÂ is red-headed Jew from Jersey who married a wonderful dark-haired Catholic guy from El Salvador. They met in college, endured several years of long-distance love, married in 2006 and now liveÂ in Michigan with their two wonderful children: Maya (5) and Ben (2).Â By day, she is a marketing manager at a global marketing agency and by night she blogs atÂ Let There Be LightÂ (est. 2008).Â Melissa’s writing has been featured on Babble.com and The Huffington Post.
I get weekly emails from my synagogue, and, a few weeks ago, I noticed that there was a little paragraph tucked in between notices from the Sisterhood and requests for coat donations.Â A bar/bat mitzvah meeting for parents of kids fourth thru sixth grade. It took me a minute, but I realized quickly that it meant me. Â My daughter is in fourth grade. Â It’s that time already? Â Really? Â Wasn’t it a week ago that I was pregnant with her and couldn’t fathom how she’d be able to have any kind of clear religious identity with a Jewish father and me? Â Â Wasn’t it just the other day that I realized that while she was self identifying as Jewish the way she considered herself Irish but because I hadn’t converted, according to our synagogue, technically, she wasn’t Jewish? I didn’t think she’d really remember the mikveh, she was only five or six, but I remember it so vividly. Â And suddenly – we’re there already. Â A bat mitzvah.
And the more I thought about it, the more emotional I got. Â Which isn’t surprising, I cry at pretty much every milestone. Â Dance recitals, preschool graduations, her first real report card. Â But a bat mitzvah seems like it’s so important. Â Not only because she’s the first in my husband’s family, of her generation, to read from the Torah. Â Not only because my family will come, of course they’ll come, but won’t have the foggiest idea what we’ll be doing. Â But also because the bat mitzvah has so much meaning attached to it. Â It’s coming right when I’m starting to realize that this baby girl, this tiny little baby of mine isn’t always going to be mine. Â She’s her own person – and that’s terrifying and wonderful and, yeah, I’m welling up with tears as I’m writing. Â I’m going to be in so much trouble with this…
That’s what the bat mitzvah is – it’s a public acknowledgement that we’re Jewish, and that Jessica is Jewish. Â That she’s responsible for herself now, that she’s going to take ownership of her own religious identity in a way that I’ve been worrying about since before she was born. Â What will her religious identity be? Â She’s Jewish, yes, but not only Jewish. Â She’s inherited a rich family tradition dating back thousands of years. Â She’s also the product of my side of the family, a family filled with people who have no strong tie to any organized religion but a very strong and heartfelt connection to God.
She’s all intellectual questioning rules and ritual on the one hand, and on the other, she’s got a sincere and absolute relationship with God that, as far as I can see, she’s never doubted. Â She blends both of us, the Jewish side from her father, and the spiritual intensity from me. Â She’s got an extra dash of drama and wonder and intensity that’s all her own. Â And it makes me cry. Â I’m not sure if I’m crying because I’m grieving the loss of the little girl who’s growing up so fast, or if I’m crying because I’m so incredibly proud of the woman she’ll be.
When she was born, my husband picked out her Hebrew name. Â It means “beautiful celebration.” Â That’s what she’s always been for us, a celebration of love and life and so much joy. Â And on her bat mitzvah, she’ll stand in front of our friends and family, and she’ll read from the Torah. Â She’ll be exactly who she is. Â And that’s amazing to me.