The Other

Two days a week I drive to Haymarket, Virginia to teach English to three kids (when the name of your city has "Hay" or "market" in it, you live in the middle of fucking nowhere). I get pretty freaked out once I pass the NRA's headquarters in Fairfax (it's as if I'm crossing into a different country). I pass by with my thumb firmly locked in the "boo" position.

I try to make my thumbs down quite discreet as to not attract any more attention to myself than a short hairy Jewish man with Turkish Hip Hop blasting out of his car in Virginia will already do.

"No one knows you're Jewish," my friends say. So, reality is supposed to ease my fears? I don't understand. Anyway, when I substitute teach, the first question is almost always, "Are you Jewish?" So my friends' theory goes out the window.

The students live in a gated golf community (they exist, who knew?). The first visit I made, I showed the security guard the yellow piece of paper with their unpronounceable name (to me anyway) and address of the students I was about to teach. He let me through. Quickly, his inquiry into my every visit to the gated community became less intensive. Until Passover.

I decided to wear a yarmulke for Passover. I debated with myself the entire one hour drive over whether or not I should keep the yarmulke on when I pulled up to the security gate. I finally decided to leave it on. To my surprise, the security guard asked where I was headed. I scrambled for the yellow piece of paper that I hadn't used for a few weeks. Then he let me through.

Not such a big deal and I had missed the session before, so I hadn't been there for a week. He may have forgotten me. I don't believe that he questioned me because I'm Jewish, but possibly because I represented the Other. It isn't often that I fall into the category of Other, but it does happen. Those moments are shocking, upsetting, confusing. I can't imagine living my life like that constantly, as millions of Americans do, and not because they wear a yarmulke, but because of the color of their skin. Then came the awkward explanation to a group of Korean students with limited English skills on what the hell is a yarmulke. "It's a Jewish holiday, so we wear these funny hats. Understand?"

By the way, check out http://russasian.blogspot.com/. She is brutally honest (which I love) about issues of identity, politics, and others that are important. Maybe one day, when I stop being an idiot, I will be able to put links of blogs that I like on my site. My fingers are crossed 'til that day comes!