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Itâ€™s Purim again and Iâ€™m afraid to leave the house. During Purim, my neighborhood is like being inside a disco ball at Studio 54 in 1976â€”only there are a lot more Jews and no sign of Bianca Jagger riding a white horse. When I was growing up, Purim was not one of the major holidays celebrated by my family. In the Yeshiva I attended we got to dress up, but there were only four biblical characters we could choose from: Esther, Mordechai, King Achashverosh or Haman. In first grade, I got so bored with dressing up as Esther that my mother hung two pieces of oak tag off my shoulders and I went as a castle. Nowadays, itâ€™s different. Kids go as all sorts of things.
When Adrian and I decided to finally leave the house with our now 16-month-old daughter Helen, it was because we had a craving for quesadillas and grapefruit sodaâ€”not because we were delivering Shalach Manot (the bags of wine and food that are customary to gift to friends and neighbors on Purim).
Our car was inconveniently parked three blocks away in my motherâ€™s driveway. I say inconveniently because anything goes on Purim in the Midwood section of Brooklyn. Again, it reminds me of Laura Luft’s famous quote, â€śStudio 54 made Halloween in Hollywood look like a PTA meeting.â€ť The same can be said about Midwood on Purim.
Adrian thinks itâ€™s hilarious. He grew up in Mexico in a small Catholic village and as weâ€™re walking to the car, he says to me, â€śYou know, in my town thereâ€™s a guy whose name is Purim.â€ť I absolutely donâ€™t believe him and tell him to stop mocking my people. He says, â€śIâ€™m so serious!â€ť Then he laughs and yells, â€śFeliz Purim!â€ť to a boy running past us while wearing a donkey mask and roller skates.
Where were these costumes when I was a kid and what will our daughter want to dress up as when she gets older?
This year, when Purim wasnâ€™t so visible because everyone was in synagogue for the Sabbath, my brother and his wife invited us to join their synagogueâ€™s Purim celebration. I paused at my brotherâ€™s invitation because Adrian had to work, it was 20 degrees outside and when I took Helen last year, it was the weirdest Purim party I had ever been to. Also, as much as I think Purim is strange in my own neighborhood, it was ten times more zany in their neighborhood of Bay Ridge.
I remember that there was a big screen TV with videos of the Purim story for kids at last yearâ€™s Bay Ridge Purim celebration. The kids ran around singing songs and getting their faces painted. I also remember wrapping the fruit roll ups that they had around my fingers and pretended to have long nails like I did when I was 10 years old. No one found that as hilarious as I did and then I had a huge stomachache when I got home. Come to think of it, maybe I just made Purim weird in Bay Ridge.
This year, I opted out of Purim even though Iâ€™m trying hard to have my interfaith family celebrate every holiday. I knew I wouldnâ€™t be able to resist the fruit roll ups, but also, the only costume I had for Helen was a sad and tired monkey costume that she already wore for Halloween. Yes, Iâ€™m that parent that never wants my child to wear the same costume twice.
Before we reach the car, a group of teenage boys dressed as giant cows and rabbits cross the street toward us. One of them looks defiant and drunk. It reminds me of another thing about Purimâ€”everyone gets completely blitzed and runs around the neighborhood like itâ€™s a ’70s disco party. This boy looks at me, then he looks at Adrian and finally looks at my Helen in the stroller. I can see judgement on his face and I feel that heâ€™s thinking: Who are we? Why are we in Midwood? What are we doing on this block on this day? Donâ€™t we know itâ€™s Purim? He, more likely, could have been thinking, â€śMan I shouldnâ€™t have done that last shot of tequila.â€ť But the look, whatever it said, meant something. I felt uncomfortable as this giant boy child dressed as a floppy bunny looked at me and then at my family. I felt as if I had to explain that I grew up in this neighborhood, went to a Yeshiva, but found a different path and that I love my family, our differences, our two cultures and our two religions. I felt I wanted to say all of this to a 15-year-old boy in a rabbit costume. Why? Because of that look.
I have been getting that look long before I had an interfaith family. I got that look when I wore jeans on Sabbath and smoked cigarettes behind my parentsâ€™ house on the High Holy Days. I know that look well. The look has nothing to do with the person giving it and everything to do with the person getting it. I feared that look for a long time. I fear it now for my Helen Rose. She will get that look. She may get it in more ways that I received it. Maybe this is what I realize as the teenagers prance past us. With all our colorful cultural and religious differences as a family, how will I protect Helen from the look? My eyes meet the look and lock on it as if on a dare. I’m 14 years old again. The one boy who catches my eye turns away from me and I hear myself say as if for the first time, â€śChag Sameachâ€ť (Joyous Festival) and then, â€śFeliz Purim.â€ť
Purim in my neighborhood is an extravaganza. Limousines crowd the streets and rabbles of teenagers run in and out of houses dressed up as the main characters in the Purim story.
A quick summary for those who are not familiar: There is Vashti, who is dethroned by the King Ahasuerus. Then Esther becomes the new Queen after she wins a beauty contest, which she doesnâ€™t even dress up for (sheâ€™s THAT beautiful). Mordechai is her cousin (probably equally beautiful) and he figures out that some people are trying to kill the king. Then Haman (the evil one in the story) gets promoted to be the head official by the king, but he hates the Jewish people. Mordechai refuses to bow to Haman and then in turn Haman makes it his life goal to destroy the Jewish people. Mordechai asks Esther for help. She invites the King and Haman to a banquet and when they attend she invites them to a second banquet. At the second banquet she asks the King to have mercy on her people and accuses Haman of his wrongdoings. Haman is then sentenced to death on the very same gallows he had himself made to kill the Jewish people.
The more daring ones in my neighborhood dress as Haman. The more beautiful dress as Esther. Occasionally, a Vashti costume will be thrown into the mix. But most popular are Mordechai and the King.
My partner Adrian and I live three blocks away from my mother with our newborn girl, Helen Rose. Last year, we remembered to call my mother on Purim to heedÂ the warning: â€śListen Ma, remember if the doorbell rings donâ€™t answer it. Itâ€™s just the kids who like to dance around everyoneâ€™s living room to celebrate Purim.â€ť
My mother ignored us as usual.
â€śHoly cow!â€ť The phone call came from her at 9 p.m. She yelled over the tooting of horns and the rattling of groggers. â€śThe doorbell rang and I thought it was you guys,â€ť she screamed. â€śNext thing I know thereâ€™s about twenty Orthodox Jewish boys dressed as biblical characters dancing around my living room! I gotta go before someone breaks something.â€ť She hung up.
Thatâ€™s how Purim goes in Midwood, Brooklyn.
Adrian, who is Mexican-Catholic, asks me, â€śIs it like Halloween?â€ť
I laugh, â€śWell sort of but we really put Halloween to shame.â€ť And we do. Forget about goblins and ghouls. We make hamantaschen, triangle-shaped cookies thatÂ symbolize Hamanâ€™s death. (Haman wore a hat shaped like a triangle.)
â€śWell, what did you wear for your first Purim?â€ť Adrian enquires. I laugh again and think back.
The first official Purim I celebrated was at the Orthodox Yeshiva I attended as a girl. It was first grade and every girl wanted to go as Esther. Itâ€™s like the newest Disney character but sheâ€™s thousands of years old. I wanted to be different and I hated wearing dresses even though I had to wear one to school every day. Here was my chance to break out! Instead of going to school dressed as Esther like every other girl I went dressed as the castle.
My mother walked me to The Variety Store on Avenue M and Mr. Miller showed me where the colorful oak tag was. I bought two pieces of hot pink oak tagÂ and punched holes in the top of each piece. Then I used string to tie the pieces together and put them over my head. I drew windows and a door and that was it. I was the castle. It was funny but not as funny as Stephen, a boy in my class, who dressed up as Vashti the banished Queen. I think I saw him on Ru Paulâ€™s Drag Race a few years ago.
â€śWeâ€™re not dressing Helen as a castle,â€ť Adrian says.
Â â€śNo kidding,â€ť I answer.
Traditionally speaking, the kids in my neighborhood usually only dress up as characters from the Purim story. I suppose we could put Helen in something different and I suggest this to Adrian.
â€śHow about a piece of challah bread?â€ť he asks.
Â â€śWhat?â€ť I say pretending not to hear him.
Â â€śChallah bread,â€ť he continues, â€śItâ€™s kosher, itâ€™s traditional and itâ€™s my favorite!â€ť
â€śYeah, because thatâ€™s not embarrassing at all,â€ť I add.
Adrian smiles, lifts up the baby and says, â€śChallah por favor!â€ť
Trying to explain Purim is not easy. For starters G-dâ€™s name is not mentioned once in the entire book.Â Does this mean G-d is not present? It actually means the opposite, that G-d is ALWAYS present and for this reason Esther and Mordechai are able to save the Jewish people. Also, thereâ€™s the part about the Megillah. The Megillah is the scroll of Esther and tells the Purim story. This scroll is read on the evening Purim begins as well as the next morning. In Midwood, young Orthodox Jewish boys of about 10 and 12 years old stop people on the street to ask:
â€śAre you Jewish?â€ť
Â On my walk to my motherâ€™s house every year I answer, â€śYes.â€ť
Â Then the boys say, â€śHave you heard the Megillah this year?â€ť
Because I do not attend synagogue on Purim I say no and they ask to read the entire scroll of Esther to me standing on the corner of East 23rd Street and Avenue M.
The scroll of Esther can take some time and there is even a Jewish saying, â€śItâ€™s like he read the whole Megillah,â€ť referring to how long something can take. But, every year I say, â€śYes, boys, please read.â€ť
And this is the most beautiful part of Purim. That two boys who are 10Â and 12Â years old know it is a good deed to read the story of Esther to a wandering Jew on the streets of Brooklyn. And because they are Yeshiva boys they speed read their Hebrew out loud as if to prove the â€śwhole Megillahâ€ť saying wrong.
This year I canâ€™t wait to take the baby on a walk through the streets of Midwood during Purim. I wonder what those boys will say. â€śIs she Jewish?â€ť
Â â€śYes,â€ť I will answer.
Â â€śHas she heard the Megillah this year?â€ť
Â And because she does not attend synagogue with her mother on Purim I will say no and they will ask to read the entire scroll of Esther to her. Then they will ask, â€śWhat will you dress her up as?â€ť and I will smile and say, â€śChallah bread, we were thinking challah breadâ€¦or a hamantaschen cookie.â€ť
Happy Purim, everyone! From the Mexican-American-Jewish-Newborn and her family.