Aishe HaTorah
Belinda and I struggled with the idea: Does God care if we intermarry?
"What are we waiting for?" Belinda asked, buoyant yet somewhat confused as we sat facing each other. For weeks we had been talking about the prospect of getting married.
I held back. I was not supposed to marry a gentile, I thought. To do so would be a betrayal of my family, my ancestors, my tradition. Yet it would sound racist if I told her that.
Then I realized: It would sound racist to me as well.
I needed time to think, to read up on intermarriage, to figure things out. Belinda, who is Chinese, and I had been dating for a few months. Never before had things felt so "right," and yet there was an underlying sense that something was very "wrong."[...]
Belinda and I struggled with the idea: Does God care if we intermarry?
"What are we waiting for?" Belinda asked, buoyant yet somewhat confused as we sat facing each other. For weeks we had been talking about the prospect of getting married.
I held back. I was not supposed to marry a gentile, I thought. To do so would be a betrayal of my family, my ancestors, my tradition. Yet it would sound racist if I told her that.
Then I realized: It would sound racist to me as well.
I needed time to think, to read up on intermarriage, to figure things out. Belinda, who is Chinese, and I had been dating for a few months. Never before had things felt so "right," and yet there was an underlying sense that something was very "wrong."[...]