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"But You’re Blonde!" – Reflections on Identity

By zoegoldstein23

Now that it’s almost midterms (yikes, where did this semester go?!), and I’ve really started to get into a routine here, I want to reflect on a topic that has become considerably more apparent for me each week that I’ve spent in Spain. I want to talk about my identity, and how studying abroad has immensely impacted my understanding of my uniqueness. To sum it up, I am a blonde-haired, green-eyed Jewish adoptee. Obviously, I am much more than that, but those three things (my looks, my background, and my religion) are what tie together to make me really stand out in this country.

This is my story, in short: I was adopted at birth into a Jewish family, and was converted to Judaism before I could even walk. I grew up practicing Judaism faithfully – having a Bat Mitzvah, attending religious school regularly, and celebrating important Jewish holidays surrounded by family and friends. When I became a teenager and inevitably became more self-aware, I began to walk into my synagogue and religious school classes and notice my starkly different features. I was a tall, blonde, Aryan-looking anomaly in a sea of shorter, dark-featured, curly-haired peers. The one thing that connected me to all these people was my faith. I had grown up accustomed to not looking at all like my parents or my extended family, but to be a part of a community that had a strong racial connection that I wasn’t a part of suddenly felt alienating. In the past few years, I have come to embrace my differences in this community and accept that Judaism is truly not a race, but a faith and a way of life, in the way that I choose to see it. However, coming to Spain has made me explore my differences yet again, in a way that I never anticipated.

In Spain, where a majority of native people have darker features, I stick out like a sore thumb. It’s the first time in my life where I truly understand what it means to feel like someone who doesn’t belong. I get prolonged stares from middle-aged women on the metro who I feel are immediately judging me as the blonde American stereotype. Spanish men harass me on the streets, whistling at me or grabbing my arm and yelling, “baby!” or “Americana!” None of this attention is flattering. Sometimes I want to just cover myself up in a bunch of jackets and scarves so I can get to school every day without feeling so self-conscious. However, I have realized that this feeling of being an outsider is more of a construction in my own head than anything else.

Another thing that makes me (possibly much more) unique here is my Judaism. During the Spanish Inquisition, which began in 1492, King Ferdinand and Queen Isabella issued an order to expel all the Jews and Muslims from Spain in order to create a unified Catholic country. Since the Inquisition lasted so long, the Spanish Jews, in essence, have not returned. The topic of Judaism in Spain is very complicated and is best saved for another blog post in the future, but for all intents and purposes, being a Jew is very unique here. I am lucky to have a host mother who embraces cultural differences and is very interested in learning more about my Jewish heritage. By default, some (not all) Spaniards have very basic misconceptions of Jews – that we are a race, that we are all bankers or businessmen, and that we have to look a certain way in order to be “really” Jewish. Although these stereotypes somewhat exist in the United States as well, most educated people know that these are myths and jokes. In Spain, because there are so few Jews, these stereotypes are not always seen as stereotypes, but as facts. I get very surprised reactions from some Spaniards when I say I’m Jewish – they often say, “but you’re blonde!” Typically, these aren’t accusatory or insulting statements. Most Spaniards are genuinely interested in figuring out why I am the way I am and why their perception of Judaism isn’t entirely correct in my case. And I am happy to explain it to them, for I feel like I am bridging a cultural gap that will help both of us understand one another better.

The final thing that makes me unique here, but also makes me unique everywhere in the world, is that I was adopted. As I’ve mentioned in previous blog posts, family is very important here. I haven’t told many Spaniards that I was adopted because I wasn’t sure if they would understand why a mother would give up her own child, since having and taking care of children here is such an integral part of the culture. However, last week, my host mom had her daughter and her daughter’s family over for lunch like she does every Sunday. Her seven-year-old granddaughter was talking about how she has a friend in her class at school who was adopted from China, and how it at first confused her but she was beginning to accept her. My host mother (her grandmother) then looked at her and said, “Niña, quién es tu madre? La mujer que está a tu lado.” Which translates to, “Who is your mother? The woman that is by your side.” I was sitting at the table and had to quietly stifle tears. I knew that I didn’t have to explain anything – that the concept of being a parent and a child is universal, no matter the biological relationship. My true mother is no doubt the woman that has been by my side throughout my entire life, and I realized in that moment how much I missed her. It was an amazing moment of cultural understanding for me.

Living here above all has caused me to accept my identity and my uniqueness in different ways. Although I stand out, for the first time in my life, I am proud to stand out. I can learn from other people and they, in turn, can learn from me. What’s normal in one part of the world can be unheard of in another part of the world, which means that a constant norm doesn’t exist anywhere on this planet. When I return to the United States, I will definitely blend in better, but I will still take this lesson with me, and remember to accept others in the way that I’ve been accepted here.