The Miracle of Not Sticking Out
This week, I’m celebrating Hanukkah for the first time at a secular workplace - something I assumed would make me feel alienated and othered.
I felt this way a lot growing up - as a child with very visible symptoms of mental illness, I struggled to fit in no matter where I went. Going to Jewish school didn’t make things any easier over the holidays, but I did at least feel some sort of comfort that the crafts, songs, and foods (the ones I ate, at least) were familiar to me and everyone was celebrating the same thing.
I branched out from Jewish education after eighth grade, but after grad school, I worked exclusively in Jewish places for seven years. And just like in elementary and middle school, it didn’t matter whether or not I fit in socially - I always knew how to participate in everything. I knew the words to the songs, how to spin a dreidel without knocking it off the table, and which brands of gelt are safe for my nut allergy.
And then, I relocated to a secular company with no particular religion at all. Having never worked in the for-profit, corporate sphere before, I didn’t know what to expect except one thing - right away, I thought I was going to be the weird one once again for celebrating a different holiday than other people.
The first cracks in the foundation of this idea came at my first holiday party at the new job, a four-hour adventure at a fancy bowling alley. I wasn’t just stunned that I managed to hit any pins without bumpers; I was also not expecting the party to be entirely secular and not make anyone participate in anything they didn’t want to do. Even though there were cheeseburger sliders, I still felt welcome to talk about Hanukkah just like other people shared their Christmas plans.
Back in the office, the only decorations in our workspace are some silly online snowman name generators (my snowman name would be Berry McSparkle). In the lobby, there are ornate Christmas trees bedecked in blue, purple, and silver ornaments; giant wreaths; and an equally giant menorah prepared for lighting on each day.
Between how my workplace has handled the holidays and the conversations I’ve had with and overheard between coworkers, I feel a lot more comfortable than I thought I would. Instead of feeling like “the different one” or “the weird one,” I felt welcomed and appreciated.
I cherish this safe space especially at a time when antisemitism is running rampant in this country and beyond, and it’s not always easy to find a place to talk openly about Jewish traditions.
Encountering this environment at work emboldened me to reach out to some of my non-Jewish friends to ask them to join me in Hanukkah celebrations this year. Since I know I’ll be missing Nana a lot, I wanted to make sure I would be surrounded with people who love me and adapt my favorite traditions from home to a new phase of life.
Instead of making Trader Joe’s frozen latkes with Nana, I’m going to make fresh latkes with a coworker-slash-friend who loves to cook - and we’ll also make Manischewitz Hanukkah ugly sweater cookies (check Mariano’s for this wonderful product)! We’re going to light my old Three Bears menorah my great-aunt gave me for my first Hanukkah as a baby and play with 20-sided dreidels that bring D&D into one of my favorite holidays.
Blending new traditions with old ones seems to be the theme of my Hanukkah this year, and it’s something I’m excited about. Instead of feeling nervous or wondering if I’m going to fit in, I’m finding ways to celebrate the good new changes in my life while also honoring old times and the people I miss.
Michelle Cohen, a writer in the Chicago area, was diagnosed with OCD at age 3. She hopes to educate others about her condition and end the stigma against mental illness.