I was born into a world where my identity was divided. My mother, a Canadian Catholic, and my father, a UK Protestant, represented different traditions and ideologies that often felt like a divisive force within my family. We tried attending church a few times, and the United Church seemed like a compromise that could bring my parents together. But when I thought I was getting closer to understanding our family’s religious identity, we stopped attending services. This left me adrift, searching for spiritual meaning in a world growing ever more complex.
Desperately seeking a sense of purpose, during my teenage years, I tagged along with friends to their churches, including Anglican and Pentecostal congregations. Each had its appeal, like the singing and laser puppet shows in the Pentecostal church, but none offered me a real sense of belonging. When I left home to explore the world on my own, I stopped attending church services altogether. Instead, I threw myself into love when I met my first boyfriend at the age of 19. We moved in together, created a warm and welcoming home, and shared a life filled with everyday joys, like a bathroom shrine of makeup and brand-new pots and pans that we quickly made our own.
Seven years later, when that relationship ended, I found myself alone in Toronto, Ontario, while he returned to Halifax, Nova Scotia. I was thrust again into a search for purpose and meaning. I didn’t have a family to turn to for support, as my mother was still dealing with her separation from my father, and my brother was living far away in the North. Navigating the world and, more importantly, my own thoughts became a solitary journey.
As a woman alone in the world, I began to worry about where I walked, how much I drank, and how late I stayed out at night. These were concerns I had set aside in the stability of my relationship. But then, I stumbled upon a martial arts club that offered me a sense of community and family. I started attending faithfully on Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays. Walking with my kung fu friends to the metro, we never drank, and they became my safe space.
As I advanced through my belt levels in martial arts, I developed a keen interest in the philosophy behind the physical form. For me, kung fu became closely connected to Buddhism. I decided to explore some temples and was drawn to the ideas of kindness and compassion. I began to appreciate the wisdom in the parables, such as, “It doesn’t matter what you do; it matters that you do it.”
Just as I began confronting the significant questions about life, I moved once again. This time, I relocated to Hamilton and searched for new martial arts clubs and philosophies. This was when I was introduced to, and given an opportunity to visit, the Middle East. While in Abu Dhabi, I delved into the Quran and the Torah, two religious texts as divided as my parents’ beliefs.
Upon returning home, a realization struck me: Many of the things I naturally loved – art, music, history – seemed to have ties to Judaism. I began to make connections, listing influential figures such as Mark Rothko, Marc Chagall, Norman Mailer, and Simon Schama. But my greatest inspiration was Ruth Bader Ginsburg. I even began tracing my family tree, uncovering hints of Jewish heritage in my grandmother’s surname, Albrecht.
This newfound connection with Judaism led me to Temple Emanu-El-Beth-Sholom in Montreal, Quebec, where I was warmly welcomed. There, I attended classes with no obligation, and I instantly felt part of a supportive community. The rabbi is an openly gay woman, and the rabbi educator from the United States was also a woman. These diverse leaders were something I had rarely seen before in my almost 40 years of searching.
I became addicted to the learning process, completing Conversion Classes 101 and presenting a portion from the Torah. I had the opportunity to challenge my beliefs and what I was reading. In our last—and most emotionally poignant — class, we read letters from the Montreal Holocaust Museum. One was a letter thrown from the train. They were the last traces of life families had received from the victims of the Holocaust. The words within those letters conveyed a harrowing reality that mere reading could never truly encapsulate. Yet, as I immersed myself in the firsthand accounts of the immense suffering endured during that dark period in history, I found myself moved to tears and heartache so great that its echo still resonates within me. I had been touched by something far greater than myself, and it ignited within me a deep-seated desire to wholeheartedly commit to this transformative journey.
Just as I was ready to take the next steps in my journey of conversion, a dear friend posed a thought-provoking question: Could embracing this conversion also expose me to antisemitism and hatred? This question weighed heavily on my mind, prompting deep conversations with friends and careful consideration of the implications. These discussions ultimately led me to temporarily set aside my pursuit, as the weight of indecision became paralyzing. Pushed aside again and again as COVID-19 swept the globe, my priorities shifted toward survival. Like so many others, I focused on self-preservation and isolation.
However, as the world gradually reopened, I felt an overwhelming desire to reconnect with the community that had breathed life into my journey. In the early months of 2023, I started reestablishing those pre-pandemic relationships. Yet, as I attempted to rebuild these connections, a new challenge arose in the form of the Middle East conflict, particularly Hamas’ invasion of Israel. The news left me glued to the screen, yearning for a resolution and peace. The deep divisions in society became even more apparent on social media, as fake news and the echo-chamber effect exacerbated the situation.
It was during this very moment that I felt an overwhelming compulsion to once more reflect on my path, to discern where my heart truly yearned to belong. And so, I wrote, and kept writing until I had found my answer: I am Jewish, and I am proud of my faith. It is an integral part of who I am, as significant as my race, sexual orientation, or other aspects of my identity.
I am resolute in my commitment to complete my Hebrew studies, to immerse myself in the mikveh and to continue to learn about the rich tapestry of Jewish traditions, culture and history.
In a world often marred by division and fear, it is of paramount importance to embrace our genuine selves and standing unwaveringly in our truth. The path to peace begins with understanding. We must not be held back by fear. In presenting our true selves, we can work collectively towards a more harmonious world where our diverse identities are not a source of division, but rather a reason for celebration. My voyage of self-discovery has brought me to this juncture, and my dedication remains steadfast. I am resolute in my commitment to complete my Hebrew studies, to immerse myself in the mikveh and to continue to learn about the rich tapestry of Jewish traditions, culture, and history, as well as the world around me.
Janine Parkinson is a writer with published works in children’s books and poetry.
