Dealing with Imposter Syndrome as an Interfaith Jew

Hanukkah styled stock composition. Decorative pattern. Wooden dreidel toys, larch cones, anise and silver confetti stars decoration on white background, flat lay, top view. Jewish design.

Before my university classes one day, I called my dad to discuss some articles I have written recently that I was proud of. Instead of talking about issues that I brought up in my articles, my dad, who was raised in Swiss Calvinist household, responded by saying that I was “misrepresenting” who I am by saying that I’m Jewish instead of “half-Jewish.”

In the moment, I calmly told my dad that it is not relevant for me to bring up his side of the family when I’m writing about Jewish issues, but deep down I was irked. A lot of my family members, both Jewish and non-Jewish, have not seemed to recognize my deeper involvement in Jewish life, both in cultural and social justice spaces, since I’ve been at university. No one has said this to me, but I do wonder if some of them don’t even see me as Jewish at all. 

Comments like these from my family have filled me with imposter syndrome. Imposter syndrome, according to Arlin Cuncic, is  “the experience of feeling like a phony,” where people often feel that they “are going to be found out as a fraud.” I know that as an interfaith Jew, I’m still Jewish, and I don’t have to justify my Jewishness to anyone, including my own family. This doesn’t make things less confusing, and I know I’m not the only one. In her Alma piece “I Was Raised Catholic and Jewish. I’m Still Figuring it Out,” Blair Nodelman discusses how she was “met with profound rejection” when trying to join Jewish communities in college because of her interfaith upbringing.

Despite knowing on a deep level that I am valid, sometimes I still doubt myself. Even when other Jews don’t know that I come from an interfaith family, I worry that they will see me as a fraud. I’m sometimes nervous to discuss my love of Christmas because I don’t want people to see me as a fake Jew. These feelings hit a boiling point during the backlash over two Hanukkah movies from Lifetime.

One of the movies in particular, Mistletoe & Menorahs, has been criticized for being a hybrid Hanukkah/Christmas movie. These criticisms are fine, but I did not enjoy logging on to Twitter and seeing comments like “Jews don’t have Christmas trees” – because some of us do. I know these comments are not intentionally aimed at interfaith Jews, but it still stings. I did not tweet anything expressing my hurt because I was nervous that it would escalate to me having to justify my existence to gatekeepers who do not see interfaith Jews as Jews. 

While feeling like an imposter in the Jewish community has been frustrating, talking to other interfaith Jews has made me feel less alone in navigating my interfaith identity. I used to say that “half my family is Jewish,” rather than describing myself as Jewish before I left for university, which I now recognize as me internalizing fears of being a fraud. I’m now able to call myself Jewish in large part due to the leftist Jewish spaces I’ve found that accept me as an interfaith Jew. 

Interestingly, I never felt that I didn’t belong in Christian circles growing up. I’ve never felt that anyone has questioned my belonging in Christian spaces. While I can’t read people’s minds, I suspect that this may be because Jewish spaces can be home to a lot of gate-keeping.

Photo courtesy of the author.

Figuring out who I am as an interfaith Jew has been complicated, but I have gotten to the point where I am more confident in my identity. Yes, I am the person who proudly wears Chrismukkah sweaters to parties. I do not think I would have become more confident in my identity if I had not met and talked to other interfaith Jews and people raising interfaith children. I’ve met most of these people because we have written for the same Jewish publications, including New Voices, or through Twitter. I’ve found that some of them, too, have felt excluded from Jewish spaces, especially if they are patrilineal Jews. 

I do wish that people would recognize that interfaith people, of all different combinations of religious backgrounds, are not “half” part of one culture or religion. We are whole in our religious identities, regardless of their multiplicity. Fortunately, trying to navigate being an interfaith Jew has been more confusing and annoying than harmful. I still have work to do in kicking my imposter syndrome to the curb, but I feel more Jewish than I did even a few years ago. 

Featured image credit: Canva.com/Tabitazn.

Julia Métraux is a writer, dog person, and student at The New School. Her work has appeared in The Tempest, Alma, BUST, Briarpatch and more. She’s an editorial assistant at Narratively and a staff writer at The Tempest.

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