A displaced Jew

Considering the many misgivings I had of CH while growing up, I have an unusual enthusiasm for returning there these days. I love going home simply because my family and friends reside there. And the absence of the negativity I used to associate with the place of my childhood can be explained by the dissolution of resentment that often occurs when one is no longer a part of the place of objection. Nacha Cattan put it well in an article in Forward:

My views of the community have also changed. Much of the bitterness I felt at being involuntarily caged has melted away; I am now a free agent. I have begun to appreciate the richness of my culture, even if that appreciation borders on a fascination one feels only as an outsider.

Unlike Nacha, I am still holding on to much of the religious practices I’ve grown up with, yet I’m an outsider in Crown Heights. Much like I’m an outsider at MIT. As I was an outsider at Hopkins. In fact, I think I was doomed from day one when I was the only white baby in the hospital nursery surrounded by dozens of African American babies. But what better way to live? As an outsider, I don’t have to conform to the standards of any particular group. I’ve largely freed myself from the clutches of Crown Heights (however, I doubt I’ll ever really be free from of impacts of growing up in such a community). Although I live a religious lifestyle that could easily fall into the category of modern orthodoxy, I don’t identify with the modern orthodox philosophy. I’m an imposter at MIT. I don’t bother to pretend that I fit the role of a mechanical engineer, especially in light of my current dispostion toward structural engineering. And clearly, since I’m pursuing a degree in mechanical engineering, I’m no structural engineer. Forget mechanical or structural, I hardly take myself seriously as an engineer. I could never fully integrate myself into the non-Jewish world, and like IBS, nor would I want to. In general, I don’t really follow much of the standard conventions of the groups of people I tend to associate with, and I suppose at the end of the day, I like to think that, to borrow the words of the Almighty, I am who I am. Whoever the hell that is.