dedication
Foreword
Launched in 2021, The Portrait Identity Project is a social documentary project that broadens the perception of what it "looks like" to be Jewish. Sharing stories paired with professional portraits, this initiative brings communities together to look, listen, and learn from students as they selfreflect on the intersection of their identities and how their perception of being Jewish has evolved. The Portrait Identity Project brings to light students' experiences of feeling as though they struggled to belong, inviting us to change the narrative by celebrating the many ways to be Jewish.
Participants in the project share their stories by reflecting on a series of interview questions about how Jewish identity intersects with other facets of identity, how one's environment impacts how Judaism is viewed and embraced, and how stereotypes affect how Jewish identity is conveyed or internalized. The interviews create the space for participants to process the full range of their experiences with Judaism, and the project amplifies the voices and experiences of underrepresented Jews.
As one looks, listens, and learns from these narratives, all audiences are encouraged to reflect on how their personal experiences have shaped their identity, reconsider past perceptions, and feel connected as they see themselves in others' stories.
About Tulane Hillel
Tulane Hillel is a nonprofit community center that fosters leadership and community engagement. Our mission is to create a radically inclusive community, develop students’ leadership, and encourage curiosity through our Jewish values.
Tulane Hillel is excited to broaden the scope and impact of the Portrait Identity Project by expanding this meaningful project nationally, ensuring more students and community members across the country can learn, grow, and share their stories.
If you would like to learn more about the Portrait Identity Project and how it would impact your campus and help your organization meet your goals, please get in touch with jmattis@tulane.edu.
For more information, visit tulanehillel.org or find us on Instagram @tuhillel
How to Digest:
As you read each story,
1. Scan the QR code
This will open an audio file in Google Drive in a new tab.
2. Click play on the audio file.
3. Listen as each share their story in their voice.
Ethan Kulp
He/him
Ivividly recall my grandmother stressing the significance of imparting Jewish knowledge to her children, a sentiment she reiterated just last week. She believed in equipping her kids with a deep understanding of Judaism, after which it was their prerogative to shape their lives and beliefs. My parents shared this conviction. As a result, all my siblings and I received a Jewish Day School education, ensuring we were well-versed in our cultural and religious traditions from an early age.
Upon entering college, leaving behind the familiarity of my childhood community in Potomac, Maryland, I had the space and freedom to explore and define my relationship with Judaism. Surprisingly, this newfound independence made Judaism a stronger part of my identity. It made me see that the Jewish community is small but so strong.
I had never been more scared to be Jewish in my life. At the same time, I’ve never been more proud. I felt the need to conceal symbols of my faith while simultaneously yearning to display them proudly.
The remarkable unity within the Jewish community following October 7 serves as a testament to this strength. I’ve been inspired to see individuals who previously hadn't fully embraced their Jewish heritage now stepping forward, demonstrating the resilience and solidarity of our people. However, I must admit that, as a student, post-October 7, especially during my time abroad, I had never been more scared to be Jewish in my life. At the same time, I’ve never been more proud. I felt the need to conceal symbols of my faith while simultaneously yearning to display them proudly. It was a paradoxical feeling, and being one of the few Jewish students in my program often left me feeling isolated. Yet, the support from people during this challenging time played a crucial role in reinforcing and strengthening my Jewish identity. This support and solidarity have fortified my conviction in our shared resilience, embodying the enduring spirit of our people.
Gia Sohmer
She/her
My father’s family is Jewish, and my mother’s whole side is Catholic. Growing up, I often felt like I was both and neither simultaneously. I would find myself diving deeper into one part of my identity, sometimes at the expense of the other.
I wished I had an easy answer, but it became evident that I didn’t.
For a long time, it was difficult for me to balance the traditions and cultures of both religions. I vividly recall the first time I was aware of this distinction. I was in second grade, discussing winter break. I enthusiastically shared my excitement about celebrating Christmas and Hanukkah, and a classmate questioned how it was possible, suggesting I should choose one. At that moment, I was frustrated with him, but I was also frustrated with myself. I wished I had an easy answer, but it became evident that I didn't. I expressed irritation to my parents that evening. With their help, I returned to school the next day with a new perspective. My peer wasn’t being malicious; instead, he had just never encountered the coexistence of different religions within one person. As I reflect 11 years later, I’ve realized the beauty in embracing two distinct backgrounds — the opportunity to learn and evolve them both rather than silencing one for the other.
As I reflect 11 years later, I’ve realized the beauty in embracing two distinct backgrounds — the opportunity to learn and evolve them both rather than silencing one for the other.
Gia Sohmer
She/her
Being at Tulane has catalyzed this sort of learning and evolution. When I first arrived, my knowledge was limited; I knew my dad's side was Jewish and that we had a familial connection to Russia and Israel, but the details were vague. I also knew that I wanted to have a deeper understanding of Judaism, but I didn’t know where to start. I initially assumed Judaism adhered to a rigid set of rules, and I assumed it was ‘too late’ for me to appreciate this religion, as I had never even had my Bat Mitzvah. When meeting with mentors at Hillel, I was encouraged to join their 10-week intensive Jewish Learning Fellowship. In doing so, I met a fantastic group of individuals who opened my eyes to the dynamic nature of Judaism. I discovered that the perceived 'rules' can be contested, debated, and interpreted in boundless ways. Judaism is beautiful, and I embrace the uncertainty of not having a definitive conclusion about what my faith truly entails.
I knew that I wanted to have a deeper understanding of Judaism, but I didn’t know where to start
Have you ever felt challenged to explain or justify a part of yourself, and how that experience shaped your perspective moving forward?
Avi Gorodetski
she/her
Growing up as a first-generation Israeli American, I felt caught between two worlds — too American for my Israeli family and too Israeli for my American friends. I didn't really understand what it meant to be an American Jew because Judaism was simply something that I shared with my family in Israel and didn't think about at home. I didn't have Jewish friends at school, as I was one of the few Jewish students, so I kind of just considered Judaism something familial. When I celebrated Jewish holidays, it was a family thing. When I went to Israel and spoke Hebrew, that was a family thing, too. Then, when I entered high school and joined BBYO, a Jewish youth movement, I finally had something Jewish for myself for the first time.
I was thrown into a situation where I had to figure out what it meant to be a Jewish teenager in America, something that my cousins and my parents never had to do.
This journey led me to explore the nuances of American Jewish identity and find my place within it. After my senior year of high school, I embarked on a gap year serving as BBYO’s International president. As an ambassador, I engaged with Jewish teens, donors, stakeholders, and alums worldwide. Still, the central part of my role was learning about Jewish experiences around the world, which is super interesting to me and helped my own identity evolve as a Jewish young adult.
Transitioning from my role in BBYO to college has been a significant change. As a freshman, I no longer hold leadership responsibilities over a Jewish youth movement; instead, I can focus on my journey of Jewish exploration, facilitated by Tulane’s vibrant Jewish community.
Avi Gorodetski
she/her
In the process, I’ve recognized how the challenges with terms like AmericanIsraeli or Israeli-American Jew have been exacerbated since October 7th. So, I am navigating the complexities of being an American Jew and an Israeli American and experiencing Judaism in the U.S. and Israel, each aspect adding depth to my understanding as I evolve. Despite these identities coming into odds at some points, these parts of my identity are my favorites. I love being American. I love being Israeli. I love being Jewish.
Currently, embracing my Judaism entails confidently expressing it and speaking out when necessary, striving to embody positive Jewish values in my actions. I find fulfillment in delving into Torah study and exploring how its teachings and mitzvot intersect with my daily life alongside friends. While this might not be the typical activity for first-year college students, it fuels our enthusiasm as Jewish students. Our discussions help us find relevance in ancient teachings within our modern context. I believe that identifying and living by Jewish values is crucial for young adults like myself, and in embodying these values, we contribute to a more positive perception of Judaism in society and a better tomorrow.
I’ve recognized how the challenges with terms like AmericanIsraeli or Israeli-American Jew have been exacerbated since October 7th.
How have your experiences with identity and belonging shaped your understanding of being Jewish in America?
Oliver Scheier
he/him
As a child, my upbringing was deeply intertwined with Jewish religious and ethnic traditions. However, even from a young age, I was strongly inclined towards independent thinking. I wasn't content with simply accepting beliefs without questioning them. This led me to embark on a personal journey to carve out my path and develop beliefs that felt authentic to me.
Along this journey, I developed a respect for all religions, recognizing the value and diversity each brings to the world. Despite exploring various faiths, my Jewish heritage resonated with me on a deep level. The sense of community and connection it provided became an integral part of who I am. With time, I came to understand that my identity is multifaceted. Yes, I am Jewish, but I am also queer and disabled. These aspects of my identity are not separate from one another; rather, they coexist and interact in complex ways. I refuse to let any single aspect define me entirely. Instead, I see myself as Oliver first and foremost, with each identity playing a distinct role in shaping my experiences and perspectives.
Yes, I am Jewish, but I am also queer and disabled. These aspects of my identity are not separate from one another; rather, they coexist and interact in complex ways.
In today's world, where anti-Semitism is unfortunately on the rise, I feel a profound obligation to embrace and defend my Jewish identity. I recognize the privilege of not having endured the hardships faced by my ancestors simply for being Jewish. Their sacrifices are a constant reminder of the resilience and strength within our community. And, in the face of adversity, I believe we must stand together, drawing strength from our shared history and collective identity.
Noah Marquez
he/him
People don’t assume I’m Jewish when they first meet me. With my brown/ tan complexion and the last name Marquez, I don't match the typical stereotype of what people think a Jew should look like – you know, fair skin, distinctive nose, and the whole ‘Jew fro’ thing. And while it’s true that Tulane does have a significant number of Jewish individuals who fit the traditional description, there's also a bunch of us, like me, who don't quite fit into that expected mold.
In high school, I stood out as one of the few Jews among a predominantly Asian, Indian, and white student body, making me feel isolated. So, choosing a college with a Jewish community was a factor in my decision. When I came to Tulane, I was like, ‘Oh my god, everyone is Jewish!’ and it was great to have that common thread with people. Having something fundamental in common right from the start has been a natural foundation to build on, and I make it a point to embrace those connections.
People don’t assume I’m Jewish when they first meet me.
However, growing up as a Hispanic/Latino Jew, I didn't really embrace my Latinx heritage. I wasn't exposed to much Spanish, and only occasionally would my grandma make empanadas, offering a taste of the culture, but that was about it. Now, I'm trying to explore that side of my identity. I'm planning to study abroad in Peru, my grandma’s birthplace, I’m minoring in Spanish and engaging in conversations with my grandparents to fulfill a childhood desire to speak the language.
Noah Marquez
he/him
Despite this lack of connection, the strong cultural influence from my Jewish side is evident in celebrating Jewish holidays, attending a Jewish Day School, and spending summers at a Jewish camp for the past 10 years. Camp, in particular, has played a significant role in my journey and connection with Judaism, and last summer, working as a counselor felt like coming full circle. Witnessing kids at camp discovering their Jewish identity transported me back to a simpler time when I was a kid doing the same. It's a nostalgic journey, a way to reminisce about those times and how I connect with my Judaism. I feel this connection not just at camp but during services when we sing the same tunes we sang at camp. In that space, I let go and immerse myself in the memories. It's a beautiful and awesome experience.
In high school, I stood out as one of the few Jews…making me feel isolated. So, choosing a college with a Jewish community was a factor in my decision.
How has your cultural background shaped your sense of belonging and connection with different communities
Noah Lion
he/him
Growing up, Judaism was always there. I attended a Jewish High School and spent summers at a Jewish camp. But, over time, my relationship with Judaism has evolved. During COVID and the changing environment during my freshman year, I found it difficult to replicate what I had growing up and engage fully with Jewish traditions. So, I had to find new ways to connect. Over the past few years, I have discovered how participating in rituals like wrapping tefillin on campus or sharing my family history and traditions fills me with pride and reinforces my identity, especially when others observe and listen.
There are moments when I’ve felt like my identities have been at odds. One vivid memory stands out— I was at an Orthodox community celebration, dancing on the men’s side, being part of the vibrant energy filled with joy and connection. But I struggled with conflicting feelings of guilt, knowing that women were excluded from actively participating in the experience. I left midway to stand outside with some female friends, and I felt the weight of exclusion and longed for a sense of unity. I strive for connection and inclusion while acknowledging the inequalities that are sometimes present.”
As I have matured, I've been striving to cultivate a more personal, daily connection with Judaism. I try to find moments throughout the day to express gratitude for life by saying Modeh Ani, honoring my Jewish heritage, and celebrating holidays. Gratitude is the most important Jewish value I have learned. And at Tulane, a campus with a vibrant Jewish community, I find myself most empowered when openly expressing my Judaism.
During COVID and the changing environment my freshman year, I found it difficult to replicate what I had growing up and engage fully with Jewish traditions. So, I had to find new ways to connect.
Emma Buono
she/her
While my faith remains firmly rooted in Judaism, it’s understandable why I might not fit into a strict Jewish mold. My upbringing, infused with Catholic and Italian heritage from my father's side, has profoundly shaped my identity. Immersed in both worlds through education in Catholic and Hebrew schools, I've come to embrace the richness of my diverse background. Despite differing beliefs, I see them as complementary facets of my identity, each contributing uniquely to my identity.
Embracing my Jewish identity means expressing myself authentically. Despite being the token Jewish girl in a Catholic high school, I proudly displayed my Hebrew name on the necklace I wore daily. Refusing to hide who I am in this way affirmed my self-identity, and witnessing the involvement of those around me in their Catholicism inspired me to explore and share my religion, igniting a desire to deepen my connection to Judaism.
Now that I’m at Tulane, my connection to Judaism feels different from home, where the blend of Italian and Jewish cultures is more prominent. I feel less connected to my Italian side here, perhaps because I haven't had as much opportunity to cook traditional meals with my Nonna. Nonetheless, I cherish both sides of my heritage; I wouldn't alter anything about my upbringing. It's shaped me into who I am today, and I am genuinely grateful.
My upbringing, infused with Catholic and Italian heritage from my father's side, has profoundly shaped my identity. Immersed in both worlds through education in Catholic and Hebrew schools, I've come to embrace the richness of my diverse background.
Mali Weitzmen
she/her
As a Venezuelan and Jewish person, my worldview is greatly influenced by experiences of displacement and the perpetual search for community. My grandparents emigrated from Venezuela in the 60s so my grandfather could continue medical school in Israel. At the time, they could not have imagined the decline of Venezuela, so they would never choose to live in Caracas again. However, their dream of returning with their family became impossible as they watched their country crumble while in the United States. Consequently, the majority of our extended family has since departed Venezuela, finding a new home in Miami, particularly within the vibrant and tightly-knit Jewish Latin community of the city.
Having been fortunate enough to have been born in the United States, I'm acutely aware of my privilege. This awareness fuels my empathy towards struggling Venezuelan migrants as I recognize the barriers they face.
This awareness fuels my empathy
My Jewish heritage adds another layer to my narrative. I strive to align my beliefs in Tikkun Olam and the lessons of the Holocaust with my Jewish identity. It's a perspective that underscores the importance of empathy and understanding, especially in complex conflicts. These beliefs have guided me to reject the notion of turning a blind eye to suffering to maintain personal comfort, as it contradicts the necessity of embracing diverse perspectives. Even still, I've sometimes felt tension between my identities, particularly in discussions around polarizing conflicts, like the war in Gaza. Whenever this tension arises, I remind myself that my beliefs are sound and grounded by the shared narrative of constant movement and the search for community, inherent
Joseph barlia
he/him
Ifeel like there's a certain connection that Jews have that I can't explain. It's a connection that you just feel. So, growing up in Puerto Rico, where I was one of two Jews in my grade, this connection was something I longed for but couldn't quite find among my peers.
Growing up in Puerto Rico, where I was one of two Jews in my grade, the connection to Jewish community was something I longed for but couldn't quite find among my peers
Fortunately, I had Young Judaea Puerto Rico. It was small; there were about 15-plus staff members, and we’d only meet once a month. Even still, it provided a rare opportunity for connection within Puerto Rico's tiny Jewish community. However, the limited scope meant that true camaraderie among Jewish peers was elusive. Considering the minuscule population of approximately 150 Jewish families in Puerto Rico, finding a sense of belonging was challenging.
Transitioning to Tulane University was transformative. Suddenly, I was surrounded by a much larger Jewish community, enabling me to forge deep connections and fully embrace my heritage. From the joy of playing Jewish geography to sharing traditions like Rosh Hashanah and Sukkot, I discovered a sense of belonging that had been absent.
My Jewish identity goes hand in hand with everything I do - it is like the roots of my life, and from my Judaism sprouted everything that I am today. From attending sleepaway camp to celebrating my Bar Mitzvah to taking a gap year in Israel before university. In essence, my Jewish identity is intertwined with my very being, guiding my path and shaping my sense of self.
Lauren alexander
she/her
My identity is multifaceted, but Judaism and disability stand out as integral parts of my daily existence.To say they are at odds would be inaccurate; rather, they coexist, intertwining to shape my experiences and perspectives. Disability isn't just a facet of my identity; it's a lens through which I navigate the world. Whether it's maneuvering through the uneven sidewalks of New Orleans or seeking accessibility in Jewish spaces, my disability definitely influences my experiences to some extent.
I’ve learned that my disability isn't a barrier but a bridge. It connects me to the struggles of others and empowers me to advocate not just for myself but for the broader community.
Yet, I’ve learned that my disability isn't a barrier but a bridge. It connects me to the struggles of others and empowers me to advocate not just for myself but for the broader community. One of the aspects of Judaism that resonates deeply with me is its dedication to social justice and advocacy. It started from advocating for my own needs, but as anti-Semitism has risen, I’ve advocated against that in of itself.
However, since October 7th, I've kind of struggled to differentiate between my obligation to defend against anti-Semitism and engage in conversations that are centered around Zionism when I really don't feel like it's my place because I am neither a staunch Zionist nor a staunch anti-Zionist. I don't think I've ever been in either of those things.
For me, the distinction between anti-Zionism and attacks on my Jewish identity is crucial. Understanding where criticism crosses the line into prejudice against Jews is essential in navigating these discussions. It's a delicate balance that requires introspection and engagement with others who may hold differing viewpoints. Ultimately, as I continue my journey, Judaism will serve as a lens through which I find purpose in striving for a more just world.
Blake Finkel
he/him
Ithink that a lot of people see Judaism as a religion, and they identify as a religious Jew, or they see it as a cultural thing. However, Judaism is my way of life and encompasses everything I do, even secular things. For example, let's say I have a test in school; why do I want to do well? I want to do well because I want to be successful and be able to help my family, raise a Jewish family, and give back to the Jewish community. So, as I see it, everything connects back and relates to Judaism. The religious aspect connects to the cultural element, which connects to being happy and positive, having a good day, and being thankful. So, in the day-to-day, I try to connect everything to Judaism. And even though sometimes I'm not thinking about it, I hope to embody that inherently.
As I reflect on the centrality of Judaism to my life and process the current Israel-Hamas War, I feel my Jewish identity, which I relate to Israel, conflicts with my identity as an American. In doing so, a question that feels increasingly relevant arises: Am I an American Jew or a Jewish American? Which aspect takes precedence? While it's not a topic I anticipated delving into, recent events have underscored the importance of this distinction. It's prompted me to contemplate the possibility of choosing between the two, a realization that has heightened my awareness and nudged me to embrace my Jewish heritage more prominently in such potential dilemmas.
A question that feels increasingly relevant arises: Am I an American Jew or a Jewish American? Which aspect takes precedence?
Blake Finkel
he/him
Overall, the essence of Judaism lies in community. Living within a Jewish community provides a sense of belonging and fulfillment that transcends individual experiences. When I live a Jewish way of life surrounded by others doing the same, a distinct sense of fulfillment and joy permeates every aspect of existence. It's within this framework that Judaism truly comes alive, and its wisdom and practices make profound sense.
Particularly in the American Jewish community, where such communities aren't always readily available and require proactive engagement, fostering and contributing to communal bonds becomes even more pronounced. Stepping away from this community can sometimes feel like distancing oneself from Judaism itself. While it's a personal choice for some, future generations will grapple with the implications of such disconnection and its impact on the continuity of Jewish identity.
I think that a lot of people see Judaism as a religion, and they identify as a religious Jew, or they see it as a cultural thing. However, Judaism is my way of life and encompasses everything I do, even secular things.
I've encountered people who feel like they're 'bad' at practicing Judaism because they don't adhere to certain customs or practices.
However, it's essential to remember that everyone's experience is valid, and there's no right or wrong way to practice.
Zoe Gittleman
she/hers
As a freshman in a Quaker high school, I wasn't particularly focused on issues of anti-Semitism. It wasn't a mindset I walked in with. I focused more on settling into the new environment and navigating the hallways. I joined the Jewish Unity Club but couldn't help noticing the absence of acknowledgment for significant events like the High Holidays or Hanukkah. It felt odd, like being overlooked. So, I got together with fellow students and the club's advisor to advocate for recognizing the Jewish high holidays. It took persistence, but the following year started with the school granting us these days off, a small victory.
However, when I suggested commemorating Holocaust Remembrance Day, I hit a roadblock. At first, I chalked it up to being a freshman - maybe the school thought it was too much to take on as I was still finding my footing. But then, the Pittsburgh shooting occurred, hitting close to home. Even though I wasn't directly affected, the proximity and knowing people who attended synagogues there made it painfully real. Yet, my high school did not make a statement. One defining feature of our Quaker school was the weekly meeting for worship held on Wednesdays. It was mandatory, a throwback to centuries past, where we'd sit silently for what felt like an eternity in a room steeped in history. But to me, it felt more like a formality than a genuine moment of reflection.
Despite our professed principles of equality and respect, I lamented the indifference shown towards incidents of antiSemitism, highlighting the discomforting reality of discrimination within our halls.
Zoe Gittleman
she/hers
By my junior year, I'd had it. It felt as if the school was blind to the glaring issues right in front of them. So, during one Wednesday worship, fueled by a surge of emotion, I was compelled to confront the hypocrisy that simmered beneath the surface.
It was a leap into the unknown with no clear plan or companions. But something within me urged me to discover what this place meant.
I addressed the room, questioning why our purported values of inclusivity faltered when faced with the plight of the Jewish community. Despite our professed principles of equality and respect, I lamented the indifference shown towards incidents of anti-Semitism, highlighting the discomforting reality of discrimination within our halls. My impassioned plea for introspection was met with resistance. I soon found myself summoned to the headmaster's office, where my earnest advocacy was met with the threat of severe repercussions. The aftermath left me not in trouble but isolated and branded as an outcast among my peers. Though my words may have been misconstrued, my intent remained clear: to challenge the selective compassion that undermined the very essence of our purported values.
During these tumultuous high school years, I made a bold decision—I booked a trip to Israel alone. It was a leap into the unknown with no clear plan or companions. But something within me urged me to discover what this place meant.
Zoe Gittleman
she/hers
The experience was transformative. I immersed myself in a diverse group of teenagers, navigating a program that felt more like a free-spirited adventure than a structured itinerary. Living in a Tzvat, I even entertained the idea of adopting Orthodox Judaism, only to have my mom swiftly quash that notion. Yet, amidst the exploration, a deep sense of belonging washed over me. Israel felt like home, where my roots intertwined with history and heritage.
My family's stories of survival during the Holocaust, coupled with my experiences in high school, all converged in this land. It became my anchor, my driving force. Without Israel, I wouldn't have understood the depth of my connection and its significance.
As I prepare to graduate from college, my path is clear. I intend to return to Israel, complete my degree, and establish a psychology practice focused on helping children. It's not just a career choice but a calling, a testament to where I want to be.
Aiden Leit
he/him
Igrew up in the Reformed Jewish community and interfaith household, and when I was young, I wasn’t super interested in Judaism. Despite attending programs at the JCC, summer camp, and having a Bar Mitzvah, it wasn’t until I got older that my curiosity about my Jewish heritage deepened.
I followed my curiosity, deciding to participate in Alexander Moss, a transformative high school program in Israel. It was there that my passion for Jewish history ignited. Eight weeks of immersive exploration across the country kindled a profound appreciation for my roots, ultimately influencing my decision to make Aliyah after graduation.
Living in Israel for the past three years has been an enriching journey, profoundly shaping my identity. There, I completed an official conversion to Judaism and embraced Orthodox practices, finding solace in observing Shabbat. Yet, amidst this spiritual awakening, I grappled with the nuances of my dual identity as an American and an Israeli Jew.
In the United States, people are much more individualistic, contrasting sharply with the communal ethos of Israeli society. For example, in Israel, people are much more upfront and in your face. In the army, for instance, when I opened a snack, people would just come over, stick their hands in, and take some because that was the norm. At first, as an American, that blew my mind, but over time I adjusted to the directness of Israeli interpersonal interactions.
Having lived in both America and Israel, I value just trying to preserve my Judaism and keep it as an active, thriving part of my life. I strive to be a Jewish American rather than just an American so that I do not forget my identity.
Amidst this spiritual awakening, I grappled with the nuances of my dual identity as an American and an Israeli Jew
Negev Geri
he/him
Due to scheduling conflicts, Negev’s portrait and audio recording are not included in this edition.
Over the past few years, my identity has evolved from being solely Israeli and Jewish to encompassing both as an Israeli Jew. My parents grew up in Israel to immigrant parents and moved to the US in the '90s, and their influence definitely gives me a broad view of what it truly means to be Israeli and Jewish.
My identity has evolved from being solely Israeli and Jewish to encompassing both as an Israeli Jew.
Raised in an Israeli family in California, the approach to religious practices was more fluid. Instead of attending synagogue, even on high holidays, the focus was on being part of a community, celebrating Jewish holidays with other Israeli families. As time has passed, my perspective has solidified, recognizing Judaism as more of a cultural identity rather than a strict adherence to religious rituals.
As an Israeli American, my Jewish identity is deeply intertwined with Israel, more so than for some others. Particularly in recent months, I've felt a tension between the American perspective and my views shaped by an Israeli or Jewish lens. When examining different aspects of American and Israeli life, my perspective shifts depending on whether I view it from an American or IsraeliJewish standpoint. This dual perspective sometimes results in conflicting opinions and, at other times, alignment when I share my thoughts.
Navigating these conflicting opinions can be difficult, so I think it’s important to learn about Judaism and understand the accomplishments and shortcomings of my people. This knowledge allows me to carry the torch forward, contributing to the ongoing legacy of our shared heritage.
Andrew Specter
he/him
Due to scheduling conflicts, Andrew’s portrait and audio recording are not included in this edition.
I’ve never had a Bar Mitzvah, but I've always desired it. I recently discussed having a small Bar Mitzvah, which got me thinking. As we grow older, we become more aware of our identities, and for me, Judaism is becoming a significant part of that awakening. Despite being only half Jewish, I find myself increasingly drawn to this aspect of my identity as I age. The crucial lesson here is embracing your true self; nobody can alter that fundamental aspect of who you are. It's a deeply personal journey originating from within oneself.
Whether you identify as Christian, Catholic, Jewish, or any other faith, it's about what resonates within you, not genetics. I've encountered many deeply religious individuals, and while I may not personally align with their beliefs, I respect their convictions. The crucial lesson here is embracing your true self; nobody can alter that fundamental aspect of who you are. It's a deeply personal journey originating from within oneself.
The crucial lesson here is embracing your true self; nobody can alter that fundamental aspect of who you are. It's a deeply personal journey originating from within oneself.
Jamie Esquenazi
he/him
Due to scheduling conflicts, Jamie’s portrait and audio recording are not included in this edition.
Iwouldn't trade being a Sephardic Jew for anything, ever. Being a Sephardic Jew is a connection to a small, niche community across the globe. Growing up in Miami, often dubbed the Sephardic capital outside of Israel, has fostered a deep pride in my heritage. Our customs, blending traditional Jewish practices with flavors and traditions from our diverse backgrounds, create a unique identity. For example, during Yom Kippur, breaking the fast involves not only customary dishes but also foods like rice and beans and salsa verde with whatever we’re eating. We do this because we're Jewish, but also because this is what people eat in Mexico and because we enjoy eating it this minute. It’s a part of our family history, which I am proud of, and is meticulously documented and reveals my ancestors' journey.
I wouldn't trade being a Sephardic Jew for anything, ever.
My grandmother's origin story is a tale of resilience and migration. Born in Jamaica to a mother who fled Europe during turmoil, her family's journey took them across continents and oceans. Escaping the tragedies of Europe, they traversed from the Netherlands to Spain, then Portugal, before embarking on a voyage to the Americas. Settling briefly in Jamaica, the oppressive heat prompted them to seek refuge in Venezuela, where the climate was more hospitable.
Jamie Esquenazi
he/him
Due to scheduling conflicts, Jamie’s portrait and audio recording are not included in this edition.
However, fate intervened tragically when my grandmother's parents embarked on a journey to explore the possibilities of a new life in Los Angeles. Their hopes were dashed when their plane crashed upon landing, leaving my grandmother to be raised by distant relatives in Venezuela. Despite the hardships, the family persevered, eventually expanding with the birth of my mother, uncle, and aunt before eventually resettling in Miami. This journey, marked by loss and resilience, is a testament to the strength and determination embedded in my family's history. Meanwhile, on my father's side, the narrative unfolds from Turkey to Mexico and ultimately to the United States, shaped by the turbulence of historical events like World War I and the Inquisition.
This journey, marked by loss and resilience, is a testament to the strength and determination embedded in my family's history.
Reflecting now on how my Jewish identity has evolved, I am inclined to believe that it hasn't undergone significant change. Growing up in Miami, a city rich in Jewish culture, I've always been surrounded by Jewish friends and family. Our tradition of gathering for Shabbat dinners with around 30 people every Friday has been a consistent part of my life, instilling a deep appreciation for my heritage. This steadfast connection to my Jewish roots has made it a seamless and fulfilling aspect of my identity rather than something to discover or question. Even here at Tulane, while I've noticed fewer Jewish friends compared to back home, it hasn't altered the strength of my identity. This diversity in my college environment has subconsciously drawn me to explore connections beyond my immediate cultural circle. Nevertheless, my Jewish identity remains a constant source of pride and continuity, maintaining its significance throughout my college experience.
A Note from the Photographer and Creator
After hundreds of conversations and hours spent listening to students’ stories, it became clear that the limiting lens through which Jewish narratives have been and continue to be told was a problem that left many students feeling like they struggled to belong.
As an artist and a photographer, I had to do something with this realization. I began using portraiture photography, reflective interviews, and storytelling to change the narrative, foster connection, and instigate reflection on intersectional identities.
Two years and about 90 interviews spanning students from Tulane to Cal Berkley to Ithaca College later, I’m in awe of students’ vulnerability and ability to reflect on how their experiences have shaped their identity.
By sharing their stories, students uplift us all, reminding us of the complexity of the human experience.
I hope the impact of this project extends beyond this book and encourages all to engage with and listen to people’s stories, for what we’re doing with the Portrait Identity Project is telling stories of contemporary that will become history.
It’s also important to note that while this project serves as a platform to share, discover, and document individual stories, it’s limited to the people I had the privilege to interview and photograph. This body of work is ongoing and by no means a complete representation of all people who embrace “Jewish” as a part of their identity.
– Julia Mattis
