When I was 26, I sold everything in my East 86th St. studio and moved to Israel with nothing, and nobody, apart from two suitcases.
Yes, that’s right. I gave up a sun-filled, quiet, yard-facing studio in New York City. Just kidding, this story is deeper than that.
I am often asked, WHY? or How on EARTH? You see, I didn’t grow up as Jewish. Not even one tiny twig in my family tree is Jewish. We’re talking zip, nada. Yet, a series of life circumstances had prepared me for the moment I would say goodbye to the word howdy, breakfast tacos and Target (sigh)— and try my luck in the Holy Land.
I attended The New School in New York City for my B.A. (Literary Studies) and M.A. (History). In 1933, the branch of the school that I studied in (New School for Social Research) was founded and called the The University in Exile. It was created in an attempt to provide a haven to Europe’s scholars who had begun to feel the consequences and persecution of Hitler and the Nazi rise to power.
The University in Exile | The New School
Fun fact: Shimon Peres studied at The New School.
My path to the school wasn’t straight. I began my B.A. at Texas A&M University (whoop!- if you know, you know). In my second semester there, I took a course called “The Bible as Literature.” The teacher was an Orthodox Jew- which, for evangelical College Station, TX, was well, not something you see often. The required course materials? Just an English-Hebrew Tanakh. This professor’s course opened my eyes to critical thinking, language, and Judaism.
I loved his Literature courses so much that I brought my father to one when he was visiting. I would continue taking whatever courses he offered until my degree requirements meant I needed to take a Shakespeare class. The course had 500 people and was taught in an actual auditorium. With more mega-classes down the line, I decided this wasn’t the best school for me. I told my professor I wanted to move to New York City, and he recommended The New School saying, “It’s very liberal, but there are some great people there.”
Not long after, my professor would tell me he had been diagnosed with very advanced cancer and would not continue teaching, effective immediately. He was shomer negiah and told me, “Please ask your father to give you a hug from me.” A powerful moment for me that I won’t forget. We parted, and he would never know what influence he would have on my life.
I headed to NYC to check out The New School. After touring the building (the campus, after all, is NYC itself) I stepped outside onto West 11th street. It was Fall, which is probably the most magical time in New York. Something caught my eye across the street, and I walked over. It was a Jewish graveyard nestled in a tiny triangle. All the graves were worn and barely visible. Untouched priceless real estate. Preserved. Small stones were stacked upon the ancient graves. A pang in my gut told me, this is the place.
The West Eleventh Street cemetery, the second historic cemetery of Congregation Shearith Israel | Tablet
I was accepted to the school and swapped my 500-person Shakespeare class for a five-person course on Spinoza’s philosophy. Fast forward through life in NYC, a three-year relationship (and breakup) with an Israeli, and an M.A. degree focused in History and Trauma (specifically the Holocaust), I was still being pulled towards Eretz HaKodesh. I couldn’t reach Israel academically or romantically, so I said yalla, and packed my bags.
Once I was in Israel, I began the conversion process through the Rabbanut— having finally awoken to the numerous obvious clues in my life telling me what to do. In one of my meetings with the Rabbanut to assess my progress and candidacy, a Rabbi asked me what my parents thought of my journey. I relayed the truth- they tell me always how proud they are that I followed my gut, even if it means we’re continents apart. The Rabbi listened and then very gently said, “Please, tell your parents thank you for giving you to us.” After a difficult/beautiful/painful/spiritual 2.5 years— I finished conversion.
So, why am I telling you this?
When I first started out I applied to a job managing the social media accounts for a B2B hospitality company in Brooklyn. The owner turned out to be an Orthodox Jew and happily accepted me, offering me as much work as I needed to help support myself through conversion and beyond.
Today, I am a content writer providing everything from UX writing to long-form articles for companies in Israel looking to reach English-speaking markets. My favorite thing to do is help startups launch their websites.
I attribute my success as a content writer to all of those creative writing, poetry, and history courses at The New School. I recently visited the school to see a professor I had worked with as her research assistant. She invited me to her class (18th-century feminist poetry- how can a girl refuse?) She asked me to introduce myself to her class. As I gazed at the small group, I couldn’t help but think what babies they all were, blinking back at me with big eyes. I tried my best to explain how studying elegiac poetry or taking a semester-long course on Madame Bovary can lead to a sweet freelancing gig with the likes of Vimeo Israel, ironSource, and other incredible tech and start-up companies.
My path in life has required I take some pretty blind leaps. B”H I landed in a warm, loving, and fulfilling environment. I married my sabra husband a year and a half ago in an organic farm in the hills of Jerusalem. Most rabbis won’t let a convert’s biological parents walk them to the chuppah so we compromised- my parents walked me halfway then that Brooklyn boss I told you about along with his wife (yes! they flew in) walked with me the rest of the way. My family came from Texas, including my Episcopalian priest sister and brother-in-law (yes, both priests), danced with great joy with us that day.
My business continues to grow, and I get to work with innovators and movers in fields from video technology to revolutionaries in health tech. Recently, I worked with a scientist who has some mind-blowing innovations in the medical cannabis space. I have the privilege of taking the blood, sweat, and tears of Israelis and communicating their product, services, or otherwise to the world. The startup ecosystem in Israel demands authenticity, determination, and hard work. The companies that make it are grounded firmly in their belief in their products and, importantly, themselves.
To sum it up
This is a post of gratitude, of trusting your gut, of instinct, of listening to what the universe is telling you, and, perhaps most of all, understanding that the path to success (however you may measure it) is not always obvious or easy. But!— it is littered with incredible people if you’ll open your eyes and hearts to them.
May we all find fulfilling and meaningful parnasa, friendship and support this new year. May we trust our gut because in the end, it’s the only way to end up in places you only ever dreamed of.
Have content needs? Just want to talk? Email me:) erin@weneedcontent.co