#somehowiamdifferent

Me and Naomi post-interview at Blind Barber - Williamsburg.

On the seventeenth day of the SIAD blog tour, I am proud to share an interview with my dear friend, globe-trotting change maker, and fellow social worker, Naomi Rosen. Here’s what Naomi has to say about Somehow I Am Different and her take on my journey to bring the book to life:

Alyssa is a dear friend from Northwestern University. We met as part of the Global Engagement Summit, a student group that organized an international conference every year that engaged with change-makers, providing guidance and training for their organizations and projects. Alyssa has always inspired me and I was an early supporter of her book, which explores Jewish identity in Budapest, Hungary through a series of interviews. Through the narrative, she simultaneously explores her own identity and what it means to feel and experience being “different.” Alyssa and I had a conference, as we usually do, about the book, life, growth, and unexpected lessons and challenges.

I interviewed Alyssa on March 15th, 2016.

Naomi: So just to begin, Alyssa, I know that you went back and forth, and even discussed this in the book, about the decision to highlight people and their stories versus talking about your experience. You went back to sharing more about Jewish Budapest. Can you talk a little bit about that journey for you, what that looked like, and why you came to the decision you did?

Alyssa: So I think the impetus for the book was being inspired by people who I met in Budapest. Learning about them enabled me to explore and learn more about my own story. So I think the grappling was going back and forth between “is the actual story what is happening, was it stories that I was observing and listening to or was it what was happening within that was sparked by the stories that I was observing?” So I think in the end, I wanted to value the stories that I was engaging with and the incredible capacity they had to shed light on the internal experience. I think by sharing my internal experience, I would be discrediting the reader and his or her freedom to have their own response to the individuals’ stories.

Naomi: That’s interesting. Can you talk a little more about how this journey, the interview process, living in Budapest, the creation of the book, affected you, changed you?

Alyssa: It is hilarious actually because in preparing for presenting the book to more formal audiences, a presentation coach assumed that the title Somehow I Am Different was about me personally being different. Her take was an interesting take on the title because that is not exactly where the title came from but it does apply.

I think that the process of being alone in a foreign country without speaking the language, without having social nets to catch me when and if I felt lonely, when and if I needed something or some sort of comfort that I was used to at home, was very transformative. I think in the context of it being a Jewish book, the opportunity was particularly transformative for my own understanding of my spiritual identity.

Being more comfortable with not having all of the answers to that right away was big. But I think on a broader level, being more comfortable with not having all the answers in general, whether it be a professional trajectory or a romantic trajectory. Most importantly, I think it was finding grounding in myself being enough for me all of the time. So even if sometimes it is more comfortable or sometimes more exciting, sometimes less comfortable or a little bit more shaky, I think that was huge and I think that that would be an incredible thing for anyone, whether their time alone was eight months in Hungary or whether it was two weeks on a retreat, or whether it was three months in an Airbnb somewhere, I think the act of being alone is something that is really important and it is something that we do not often have the chance to do.

Naomi: What do you uniquely comes from the experience of being alone? What do you think you can get from that experience that you cannot get from other experiences?

Alyssa: Well I think you are stripped of a lot of the crutches that can almost shield you from the vulnerability of being alone, like movies, which you can still go to and watch alone, but I think there is also an element of trying for other people to fill the voids that you feel within yourself as not good enough and when you take away those emotional and social crutches, I think you either find a way to make those voids okay or you find a way to balance your strengths and your weaknesses to the extent that they are not really voids anymore, they’re just maybe something that you’re less good at than something else or somewhere where you need more practice than somewhere else. But I think that you are able to rely on yourself more and when and if something happens that is unexpected or unpredictable, you don’t necessarily run right away to an external aid or help. Particularly if it’s materialistic or food or some sort of distraction. People can call it a drug of choice. I think that when you’re alone it’s more okay to be vulnerable because no one is watching.

Naomi: And do you think that time of being alone has brought something into your life now that wasn’t there before? Post-experience of working on this book. And not just the experience of being alone, but also hearing all of these stories, grappling with your own questions?

Alyssa: I think I went into the process wanting to answer a lot of questions. I had already come a long way from a place of perfectionism and a black and white mindset, so I think I was already on my way to a grey area. These stories though, painting the vast diversity of Jewish identity in Budapest, a city that has struggled through Jewish traumas and not necessarily fully digested them, showed immense diversity where you would expect most people to not identify. The experience overall made me a lot more comfortable with being different. 

Before, if I were in a formal Jewish setting, I wondered why I did not necessarily understand what was going on or what the next prayer was and everyone else did or if I was in a secular religious setting, I would wonder why I felt like I was searching for more and everyone else seemed okay with what they had, just seemed settled, satisfied, and there was this yearning that I felt alone with. I think that part of this process was actually being alone, so transitioning from feeling emotionally alone to being physically alone and realizing that when you are actually alone, it is not that bad. Like living the “lonely worst case scenario” and not just do it but realize that there are advantages to it. And also realizing that there is no right or wrong way to practice having faith. Or finding yourself. And moving beyond searching for a particular answer and moving more into understanding the various answers that there can be. And trying to find what is fitting at that particular time without judging it, that it should be something else.

Naomi: After hearing about where Jewish Budapest has been, where it is now, where do you think it is going? What do you think are the challenges? I know you talked about this some in the book, but your perspective in being an outside eye through all of this.

Alyssa: It is interesting as an American, because a lot of Americans jump first to “Anti-Semitism is a problem” and I think that what a lot of my interviews were showing is that while anti-Semitism exists and it will be a consistent problem in Hungary, like a wider “fear of other” problem, what they seem to emphasize as a more pressing, severe, highly sensitive issue is funding. I think that a lot of funding for Jewish programming in Hungary happens to come from America and if or when American funders are no longer interested in that, that is potentially life-threatening for Jewish Budapest. I also think that in terms of culturally, many of my interviewees said that institutional Judaism is no longer relevant for the vast majority of Jews in Hungary. So when people go and want to see a synagogue or want to see the historical Jewish icons of Jewish Budapest, they will not necessarily be looking for political rallies or the community centers or the music festivals or the cafes or coffee shops which are actually where a lot of young, Jewish adults are finding community and meaning. So whether or not that means synagogues will disappear, I don’t know because I think it piggybacks on the last point which is that a lot of funding goes into specifically institutional Judaism. But I don’t know if the heart of Jewish Budapest will be synagogues.

Naomi: And what was not in the book?

Alyssa: I think what was not in the book was…that’s a good a question. I think that I hinted that the process was not always amazingly rainbows and easy 1, 2, 3. Really, I faced some really challenging moments of continuing to feel like an outsider and grappling with that and acknowledging that it is normal. So not fitting in and realizing that it would make no sense for me to fit in and realizing how to use that in my work or also how to use that as a learning experience. But I think the emotional challenge of not fitting in was not really in the book, despite the title.

Naomi: Why did you not include it?

Alyssa: It felt like a different book entirely or it just felt like a different process. I really wanted this book to be about the people I was interviewing. I think that they touch on feeling like an outsider as a Jew in Hungary and that part is really real and present in the book, but I think they find their group where they eventually become insiders and not just insiders but they recruit others in and they become leaders and organizers. So for them that narrative is in the past and for me, that narrative was still happening. I think that is an interesting dynamic but I think for me it felt like it would be distracting.

Another thing that isn’t so present in the book that I felt very much in the process was a sort of existential luck and grace that a lot of things for this particular project happened to work out in a way that was on many occasions, outside of my control. As a fairly organized, control-oriented person, to let go of a little bit of control and to have that work out, was a very spiritual experience that also I think ultimately would have been a slightly different thesis so to speak, that’s a different story. But for my personal interaction with the book, it was very present and continues to be, but is different from the interviewees themselves, which is cool.

Naomi: Okay, my last question is if there is to be or would be a part two or a sequel, what would it be about?

Alyssa: I have had mixed feelings about this, partly because my gut reaction right now is to put the stamp of “finished” on book one and I don’t know that there will ever be such a stamp. I also hope to focus on enjoying the accumulation of all of the hard work and just being present with the success, hopefully, of book one. So the simplicity of that and the present-mindedness of that is really hard, because there are so many potential part 2s! 

Naomi: That’s beautiful. Is there anything I haven’t asked you that you think is important for me to know about your book, about you, about the process?

Alyssa: I would say that if there are others considering a similar project that the most important thing for me throughout was to keep an open mind to what might happen or how the project might evolve, regardless of what ideas I had about it or for it going in. So I think the open-mindedness to it taking twists and turns that may not have been on the agenda or learning that actually the idea that you had about something was wrong and adjusting to that and trying to be authentic to the real experience even if that goes in the face a little bit of what you thought you would discover.

Naomi: Thank you so much Alyssa! As always, it was a joy talking with you.

If you aren’t already following Jessica Tamar Deutsch, now is the time. This three-page visual storytelling piece about author Alyssa and her Somehow I Am Different journey touches the surface of the awe-inspiring integration of art and spirituality that fellow writer Jess has developed as her trade. 

My very beautiful friend wrote a very beautiful book titled, “Somehow I Am Different.” And on a very beautiful, rainy Saturday morning I had a chance to sit with her to chat a little bit more about it. The transcript captures her 7.5-month stint in Budapest, Hungary where she interviewed a wide range of modern-day Jewish people living within the city. Through personal stories of family, history, patriotism, culture and conviction, these wonderfully written narratives showcase today's Jewish community in Budapest as being one that is both strong and resilient. 

What was the first thing you thought of when you woke up this morning?

Oh my gosh, I wish I remembered. I probably thought, do I really want to get up or can I sleep a little bit more? Is it raining outside? Do I have to put on pants to go to the bathroom?

Awesome.

And, what did you have for breakfast today?

This is also pretty classic to my personality. I had leftovers. Specifically today, I had sushi.

Now, to the book: Would I be probing to ask you who Rozalia Bermon is, the woman to whom you dedicated this book?

That’s a great question. She’s my grandmother… Was my grandmother. She passed away two falls ago. She immigrated to the U.S. when she was a teenager from Hungary and consistently, my dad tosses into my narrative that I remind him a lot of her, his mother.

I know it's frowned upon within your faith, but if you were to get a tattoo, what would it be? I think this question arose when in the book you were talking about the #7, so I wondered if that would mean anything to you. Not to persuade you!

I think numbers in Judaism are fascinating. For a long time I thought about doing something around the #5 because my family has five members. That doesn't necessarily have Jewish symbolism. But lately, I’ve been thinking of doing something with the alyssum flower. I learned recently that “Alyssa” in German roots means, “Curing Madness”. And that I found myself in social work and it’s this seemingly existential idea of: whoa, I’m finding my path in something that was somewhat prescribed to me, but I didn’t know it, and I found myself in it… So to have a physical reminder of being proud of who I am and learning who I am would be really nice.

And is your spelling of “Alyssa” the German spelling?

Yes, “LYSSA” apparently means “madness” and “A” is a negator, so: without madness, or curing madness, not mad.

As if you weren’t cool already, you just climbed the ladder 15 rungs.

Zsuzsa talks a lot about the sense of community she felt after learning she is Jewish. This strikes a chord because it sets the theme for the book and I think all of us can relate to wanting to feel a sense of belonging. Do you have similar feelings about your own sense of community with your faith here in the States?

I would say it’s not the same feeling that I had there. In a sense I also think it’s huge that a few of the interviewees mentioned they were 16 and looking for community and this happened to be it. And if it wasn’t Judaism, it might have been something else. I think that in the U.S., more often than not, it’s something else. When I went to Budapest and knew no one, Judaism was a community builder for sure. And the friends I made were through Judaism and the social things I did were things like going to Shabbat*. Here, I have the opportunity to do that which I’m so grateful for, especially in NY. However, there’s a balancing act that sometimes I connect around Judaism and those connections are huge, and helpful and nourishing, but other times, I connect around doughnuts or bagels, or social work.

Can we get a mezuzah for our front door?

Oh my gosh, I have some – should we put them up?!

YES! I actually wanted to get you one… but then I didn’t know where to get one so I thought we could go together…

I think I would get "Jelen" for a tattoo. We talked about this – “Jelen” means, “To Remain Present”. Can you remind everybody from the book what that was?

Jelen is an incredible café, restaurant coffee shop, music house, event space, and it’s located in the 8th district of Budapest, which at one point was literally where prostitutes would just circle around the square. In a similar way to gentrification in the US, the 8th district now has a lot of funky art culture. A lot of young people live there, because it’s cheaper and still accessible to places. The café itself also happened to be only steps from my apartment, and it's where I conducted a number of interviews and definitely did a ton of transcribing and editing, and it’s awesome. You can just imagine… everything in Budapest has really high ceilings. It feels artistic lofty with exposed brick and all sorts of random graffiti and just really authentic energy, and grit. It’s a really cool space.

One of the interviews you had was with a man named Mark, who you met at Jelen actually, and he told you a story about his friend who returned from market with Nazi paraphernalia only to find out later that he too is Jewish. This reinforced the idea of the overwhelming lack of understanding of family history amongst many modern day Jewish Hungarians. What did you enjoy learning most about Mark in that regard?

He’s amazing. He’s just an incredibly successful rapper, slam poet, but also super comfortable in his own skin. And he’s really raw, so his whole interview was really about telling you how it was. I liked being in that presence. People kind of judged his group for becoming affiliated with Judaism even though they weren’t actively [trying to identify] with it. My favorite part about Mark was that he kind of stuck up a middle finger and said, we’re Jewish. And he made the logo Jewish, and started working with Jewish organizations, and started including politically charged aspects into his group’s songs.

You mentioned, "anti-Semitism in Hungary never has and never will fully die." Can you explain this a bit more?

Hungary definitely has a history of extremely severe anti-Semitism. There were a lot of Hungarian accomplices in the orchestration of the Holocaust, but even before that - for decades - there was anti-Semitic legislation. Jews didn’t have the same opportunities professionally or socially, and weren’t treated the same. Focusing specifically on the Holocaust doesn't do justice to the mounting culture of anti-Semitism that enabled it to happen [in the first place]. In recent past there has been a lot of attention to it and the media has gone so far as to fear the rising of a second Holocaust. It’s scary. That threatens Jews, but it also threatens everything. That’s a huge message that isn’t as emphasized. It wasn’t like the Holocaust happened and ended, and there was a forgiveness aspect. To this day, there’s resentment against Jewish populations that overall, is resentment towards “the other”. [Budapest is] also anti-Roma**, anti-homosexual, and anti-different. There will always be that, but there are also increasing populations that challenge that. So the big question is whether the challenging populations have enough agencies to actually change the politics and the laws.

How did you find your interviewees? People like Zsuzsa I met through email and stalking – which I’ve honed as a skill. There were a few people that I met via stalking and told them the work they do is really cool and I would love to talk to them more about it. Which people are generally really receptive to, even here, which is really nice. And then whoever I interviewed there was always a question of… now that you know a little bit more about this research, is there anyone else who you think would be interested in this or that I would benefit talking to? So that led to a huge domino effect.

How did you spend your in between time when you weren’t interviewing or actively researching?

Definitely running at Margit-szige. There’s “Buda” and then there’s “Pest”, and between them is the Danube River. And if you go toward the end of the 13th district you can go over Margaret Bridge and there’s this little island that is Margaret Island, and surrounding it is a running track. For me, it was like the Central Park of Budapest. It was just beautiful and really relaxing, and you could sit under the bridge and watch the water.

As I read Tomi's reflection about his dedication to Jewish Agency, I couldn't help but draw parallels between his outreach with that organization and yours with this book, and what both mean for building up the Jewish Budapest community. Reflecting back, do you ever feel that connection to your interviewees?

Looking back I didn’t make the connection because I very much felt like a fly on the wall for this book process. There was a consistent questioning of whether the book would actually be helpful for Jewish Budapest, or whether it was specifically helpful for me. I knew that all this amazing work was happening on the ground so there was always a divide in my mind that I was documenting amazing work and I wasn’t sure that this was inherently “activism”. I can say confidently that exposing these stories to a new audience is helpful, but can I say without doubt that I did their stories justice or that I captured the frontrunners in all departments? I don't think it's the same level of progressive work that someone like Tomi does, who is so in touch with the community. I consistently, with all of the interviewees, put their work more on a pedestal to mine.

Devora makes a powerful statement about how our individuality and vulnerability, in isolation, are the basis for a weak foundation, but when acknowledged and tied to others, are exactly what make us strong. How does this mantra resonate with you personally?

She’s the shit. She is just awesome. The mantra of vulnerability: I think owning our vulnerabilities make us strong and then we can utilize them. Everyone has vulnerabilities. Our instinct as Americans is to put make-up on them… and to put on this performing of self and exerting an image of one’s self that is somehow flawless. Culturally, that is extremely encouraged, and I think that’s where you start to crumble. The vulnerabilities… build and all of a sudden there are these huge monsters in the closet… and they explode at some point. Versus, when one acknowledges them, talks about them, faces them and deals with them, it’s not comfortable, but you learn more about yourself and how you function. You can either work with that and you can arguably relate to others. It becomes less of an issue, and [more of] a uniting factor with other people. You’re so much weaker on your own than with other people.

Keeping Jewish tradition alive in modern day Budapest is a poignant and common theme amongst your Hungarian interviewees. What does keeping this tradition alive mean to you personally?

Hmm… for me, I think it’s asking those bigger questions: Why are we here? What are we doing? How is it contributing to the world? For others, there’s a lot more ritual involved. I love exploring Jewish holidays – Passover, Hanukah, and Rosh Hashanah. Those things will always be a part of my practice and spirituality. I think that the danger is when folks latch on, specifically to either secular or ritual, and are exclusive of people in their own definition of Judaism. I understand that the more accepting you are the less clear the definition of Judaism is, but the more people that can find meaning, the bigger the community - and the bigger the community, the stronger. But that is a very particular opinion to me and there are people that would disagree with that.

You’re going back to Budapest in June…

YAY!

YAY! I’m coming with you…

YAY!

What's the first thing you plan to do when you get there?

I’m going to get a goulash from Paprika. Can’t wait. I’m in the process now of setting up coffees with each of the interviewees, and getting them a copy of the book. And we will celebrate the second weekend I’m back. I’m trying to make few plans to walk around and just reconnect with the city and see how things feel different post-book. It will have been 2 years since I first arrived for the book, so just to see how I feel as a different person.

David says, "I never question anyone else if he or she is religious because that isn't what's important", leaning more heavily on the cultural relevance of Judaism in Hungary. Do you have a POV on the two aspects of Judaism within Budapest, or in general?

Several of the interviewees said that religious Judaism in Budapest is dying so they see less relevance of synagogues and of ritual, and a piquing relevance of culture, food, music and art. A lot of people feel politically charged about their Judaism. Many of them also feel some sort of obligation to speak against wrongs in the country. There’s a social rookie activism aspect of Judaism there. Chabad is an organization that does a lot of outreach and spreading of Judaism, and I think they’re very committed to having Judaism in a ritual sense survive in Budapest. When you’re born into something like that it becomes the norm and it’s very comfortable, and there are people that transition into that practice not having been born into it. So I do still think that will happen, but I don’t think it’s the norm or the majority. This cultural Judaism will be more relevant to Budapest, specifically.

Ritual doesn't necessarily relate to living your life in a particular way, aside from the physical act of that ritual. How does ritual within Judaism sculpt a Jewish person?

It definitely depends on the person. For example, Tzitzit*** are things you could wear that are considered a mitzvah or a good deed, and a lifestyle choice that brings one closer to God or Judaism. For other people, meditating is a way that brings them closer to God or to Judaism… For some people, ritual is a very specific black and white way that you can connect to God and identify as a religious person. One could literally say the words of the prayer of the blessing of bread before eating or one could start every meal with saying they’re grateful. Personally, I think both are very Jewish, but one you’re literally reciting a prayer from a book and for the other you’re spiritually grateful and still connected.

Will you write another book?

Yes. The short answer is yes. The long answer is, I am practicing simplicity at the moment and I’m trying to be mindful and present in my celebration and release of this book. This book is not over yet – there’s still a lot more to do, and outreach to do, and sharing of the message. But I loved the process from start to finish. I really liked the anthropology side of the interviewing and ethnography side of learning about a different culture, but I liked the technical sides of transcribing, writing, editing and marketing. It was a process that for me personally was nourishing. Even after a long day of a completely different job it felt really good to come home to, even though it was more work, it was work I felt excited to do. I would love to write another book.

And with that, we ordered more sushi for lunch. “Somehow I Am Different” – now available everywhere. Congrats, Alyssa : )

----

*Shabbat is a day of rest and celebration that begins on Friday at sunset and ends on the following evening after nightfall. (chabad.org)

**The term “Roma”, first chosen at the inaugural World Romani Congress held in London in 1971, is now widely accepted across the European Union (EU) as a generic and pragmatic term to describe a diverse range of communities, tribes and clans. (New Internationalist, Oct. 2013)

The beautiful Tracy Kopulsky, fellow Northwestern alum and leader of the ASB Budapest trip that led to the making of Somehow I Am Different, shares with the SIAD team today about her connection to Jewish identity:

At this point in my life, as a twenty-three-year-old Jew from Los Angeles, there are two experiences that I consider to be the most formative in shaping my Jewish identity. The first is an experience that has taken place across a decade and a half of my life. This one is close to home, and actually, in many ways, is my greatest home – Camp Hess Kramer. The second took place during my sophomore year of college spring break and is 6,208 miles from home – leading a Northwestern Hillel Alternative Spring Break trip to Budapest. If you asked me what my biggest takeaway from these two experiences is, I would have one word for you – people. People who are some of my greatest loves in life; who I will do Shabbats and Siyums and Havdallahs with for the rest of my life; and people who I’ve known only briefly but whose tenacity have inspired me and who’s stories I will tell for the rest of my life.

Camp people are my daily practice of my Judaism – Budapest people are my daily reminder.

When I set out to start planning the trip to Budapest in the fall of 2012, the main thing I knew about the city was that it sat upon the beautiful and very blue Danube River. The main thing I knew about the relatively small Jewish population there was that they had survived the Holocaust. I was eager to learn more, so I set to work with my co-leader and began recruiting fellow-students for the trip. After hours of interviews in our university coffee shop, we had formed our group of 30 travelers – our people. With all the planning that ensued, time flew by, March 2013 crept up on us, and we were on a plane to that whimsical city of romkocsmas (ruin pubs) and Chicken Paprikash, with the river running through it.

It was Passover, and our group had the privilege of experiencing the first night’s Seder at an underground bar where Jewish Hungarian teens led the way with rhythmic slam poems about Passover’s central theme – freedom – a right that factions of the Hungarian government threaten to jeopardize for the Jews to this day. The passion and poignancy of the teens’ words enveloped me like a warm wave. Their ability to gather and celebrate their Judaism was not something they took for granted – while my entire life it was simply a given that I would go to Jewish camp each summer and have safe place to explore and express my religion and culture and be an active part of a Jewish community.

During our time in Budapest, I experienced the most moving Holocaust memorial I had ever seen – Shoes on the Danube Bank. As we set out in search of this memorial, rain began to pour down in buckets. The map we were using was unclear and we got lost on our journey. However, I’d taken up the back of our trek with two others, and we proceeded to have one of the most meaningful conversations of my entire time in college – I didn’t feel lost at all. I felt such an intense sense of community – one that reminded me of how I’ve felt every summer at camp.

Finally, after winding through construction sites and dilapidated sidewalks, we came upon the shoes. Sixty pairs of iron shoes of men, women, children – the hollow shells of lives taken suddenly and brutally on the banks of the Danube as the Jews were forced to remove their shoes before being shot into the river. I was in awe. A moment before, I had felt the fulfillment that comes from connecting deeply with people, and now I was feeling the tangible void created by the slaughter of these Jewish people and the endeavor to snuff out this Jewish community.

We stood there for a long time, in the rain. I felt a knot in my chest, a lump in my throat. As I stared at the unnaturally empty space above these shoes and pictured the countless human beings who would have walked in them, something big occurred to me. The people of the contemporary, vibrant Jewish community of Budapest that I was experiencing, who had the resilience to survive the Holocaust and the oppression of the Communist regime, were honoring the Jews who perished in the most meaningful way. Every Shabbat, every Seder, every youth gathering – they were living to the fullest the Jewish lives that were cut short for so many.

On our trip, we even met Hungarian Jews who found out about their Jewish heritage after many years – even decades – of being raised otherwise. Their parents or grandparents had hidden their true Jewish identities to survive. And now, these descendants have since become vital, active members of their Hungarian Jewish communities.

As I reflected on this, I thought about my own life and my connection to a Jewish past, present, and future. Through camp and the Jewish people I had connected with at Northwestern, I had found my practice and many of the people with whom I will spend the rest of my life being Jewish. I am now keenly aware of how fortunate I am to be surrounded by these people in my everyday life and to be able to continue to explore my Judaism through my relationships with them.

One of the people who ventured on this trip to Budapest with me was Alyssa Petersel, the author of this compelling book. Alyssa is one of the most soulful people I have ever met. We live on opposite coasts, but I will always consider her one of my people who connects me to my Jewish identity. When our group of travelers asked the Jewish people we met in Budapest how we, as American Jews, could help them, I was struck by how most of them simply said: “Please, tell our story.” I am so thrilled to see how Alyssa made this request a reality with her inspiring book.

Thank you for sharing your light with us, Tracy! Your story sheds light on the varied experiences of Judaism embedded in our generation.

I met Chris and Tamara this year in a mastermind group started by our friend and fellow member, Josh. Each member is building a sort of portfolio career with an entrepreneurial spin. We know each others’ goals, share advice, and keep each other accountable through biweekly phone calls.

Today, I am proud to share Chris and Tamara’s blog post about taking the toad less traveled for day twelve of the Somehow I Am Different tour.

Lily Chang, a dear friend and engineering alum of Northwestern, shares today on the Somehow I Am Different Blog Tour glimpses into her journey toward self-discovery rooted in her struggle to write it. Putting our deepest, most transformative, and most vulnerable experiences into words is no easy task. Thank you, Lily, for mustering the courage and for sharing with us today!

Three months ago, when Alyssa asked me to contribute to the Somehow I am Different book launch blog tour, immediately I knew what I was going to write about: my experience grappling with my Asian-American identity. It felt so obvious and fitting in the context of stories of self-discovery.

Unfortunately, I’ve spent the past five years of my life over indexing on utilization of my left brain, subscribing to and chasing the Asian-American dream my immigrant parents instilled in me at a young age. Studying four years of engineering and transitioning into a management consulting job has made me forget how to form sentences that don’t involve corporate buzzwords like synergy and value-add.

Yet, when Alyssa approached me about writing a blog post, I ignorantly believed that my writing voice would naturally flow from me and I would easily be able to craft a compelling, poignant narrative of lessons learned from my attempts to define who I am in the last 22 years. After all, someone asked me once if my voice emitted at a different decibel level than the normal human because it’s so loud. Misguidedly I believed that my distinct physical voice would easily equate to showcasing my identity in writing form.

Instead, I was paralyzed by this immense self-inflicted pressure to narrow down my life into a couple of memorable stories. Somehow I was supposed to craft my search for selfhood into a succinct blog post, only to hand it over to the darkness of the Internet, allowing friends, family, acquaintances, strangers, truly anyone to read it and pinpoint my individuality and personality.

Four days before this blog post was due, I stared blankly at the computer screen for hours.

In a desperate act of procrastination, I called Alyssa. I figured if she was able to conjure impassioned, powerful unique stories from 21 strangers, she could help sort out the thoughts in my head. As we dove into discussing my story and narrative, it was easy to forget the fact that I’ve known Alyssa less than a year. Brought together by our boyfriends being best friends, originally our friendship relied on jokes of our boyfriends loving each more than us that rung a little too true. Over time, our friendship evolved past just being our boyfriend’s best friend’s girlfriend. While Jake and Max endlessly giggled at their inside jokes together, Alyssa and I quickly leaped from poking fun of the two people we had in common to broader topics like sharing our fears surrounding all the uncertainty in the future.

While discussing this blog post on the phone, I abruptly found myself pouring out shameful memories of my father being devastatingly disappointed in me for abandoning my Taiwanese heritage in pursuit of fitting in with my wealthy white classmates and the twisted sense of joy I’ve felt when friends were startled to find out my family was so Asian, because I didn’t conform to the usual stereotypes. Somehow  Alyssa managed to emit genuine warmth and assurance that made me feel like I could unravel into my most vulnerable self.

When I started writing, I intended this to be a reflection of my journey to self- acceptance of my Asian-American identity. I quickly realized that I felt truly incapable of writing anything that felt authentic.

Alyssa prodded and prompted me to verbally express my journey to self-discovery in a raw, comprehensive manner. Maybe I should have just commissioned her to write my story for this blog post, instead of this rambling nonsense. It’s incredibly important that there are people like Alyssa in this world to depict the human experience when the narrators of the story can’t find the appropriate words. Alyssa has this unique innate quality that allows people to feel instantly comfortable around her, enough to draw out intensely personal stories.

Alyssa’s stories in Somehow I am Different are extensions of her gift to relate to people. In the midst of my writing panic, Alyssa reassured me that “some human experiences are not communicable”, but I firmly believe that with Alyssa at the helm, any story has the potential to be told.

Thank you again, Lily. We will continue to draft your story into words - you’re already off to such an inspiring start.