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A Russian Irish Catholic Jew; The Importance of Language in Identity

Sally Rendleman

Department of Writing and Rhetoric, University of Central Florida

ENC 1101: Composition I

Professor Cano Diaz

September 12, 2023

A Russian Irish Catholic Jew; The Importance of Language in Identity

Kathy Simon was born and raised in Edina, Minnesota, a suburb of Minneapolis. She was

raised in a Jewish family, both sides of which came from the area of then Russia that is now

Ukraine. Her father was from the south side of Chicago, while her mother was also born and

raised in Minneapolis. These two people created her language; how she read, wrote, and spoke.

Tyler Rendleman was born in a small town in Mississippi and almost immediately moved

away. His father was in the military, so throughout his childhood, his family moved constantly

around the American South. When Tyler started middle school, the family finally moved to

Edina, Minnesota, and settled there for Tyler and his sister to finish out grade school. Tyler was

raised in a Christian family whose roots came from all over the world, but mostly from Ireland.

His family was never super religious, but Tyler ended up becoming interested in Judaism due to

many of his high school friends being Jewish.

In the year 1996, Tyler and Kathy, high school sweethearts, got married. They had their

first kid a few years later. Then another two years after that, and another two years after that, and

one last one two years after that. That last one is me.

I was born and raised in Edina, Minnesota, a suburb of Minneapolis. I was raised in a

Jewish family, though in my earliest years, we still practiced some Christian traditions such as

having a Christmas tree. My parents are definitely my main sponsors of literacy, meaning they

taught me how to read, write, and speak (Brandt, 1998). In addition to my parents, my siblings

were a huge part of my literary upbringing (Figure 1). As the youngest of four, I idolized my

siblings when we were all very young. Anything they wanted I did too, and anything they did I

wanted to join in. When it came to how I spoke, my siblings were very impactful due to the fact

that I was almost always surrounded by them.

My language has been mixed my whole life. I use words like “spiel” and “y’all” in the

same breath, showing both my Jewish heritage with the use of Yiddish and my father’s influence

from the American South. I pronounce “roof” like “ruff” and say “bags” instead of “cornhole”

due to spending my whole life so far in Minnesota. On top of all of this, I also have a speech

impediment, which I was treated for from preschool all the way through early middle school

(Figure 2). To this day, I still have to think about where to place my mouth when I say any words

with r, s, z, ch, sh, j, or g.

So, my language has no clear roots simply because it has roots growing from so many

different places. When I was really young, I used to view this as something to be proud of; I

loved talking about my heritage, and who cared if I had to repeat a word a few times for people

to understand since I was making a “th” sound instead of “s”? But that outlook changed as soon

as I entered grade school. Although I did not know it then, I started code-switching to assimilate

into the people around me. Meaning that I would change how I spoke to be better understood and

less out of place in a group of people (Young, 2009). I stopped using Yiddish and Hebrew slang.

I started addressing groups as “you guys” instead of “y'all”. In order to be accepted, I had to

adapt.

This code-switching was extremely evident while I was preparing for my Bat-Mitzvah

(Figure 3). Growing up Jewish, my Bat Mitzvah was something I had been looking forward to

for as long as I could remember. This event meant that I would truly be a part of the Jewish

community and would be able to participate in traditions to the fullest. In addition, I had watched

all of my siblings and cousins already go through their B’nai Mitzvot because I am the youngest

of all of us. So, of course, I was anxious to have mine. I took my studies very seriously and

studied hard, learning how to lead an entire Shabbat service, none of which is required to become
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a Bat Mitzvah. But my synagogue offered tutoring to do so, and I wanted to be the best. On top

of this, I was learning how to recite my assigned Torah portion, which is required, and my

Haftorah portion, which was also required. And of course, if that wasn’t enough, a Bar- or Bat-

Mitzvah is a huge social event. So, with the help of my parents, I put together a guest list,

decided on food and festivities, and wrote invitations to all of our friends and family.

During this time, whenever I went to school I would shut the Bat Mitzvah part of my

brain off. I had an app on my phone to practice prayers and my Torah and Haftorah portions, but

I would not open it at school. I chose not to show that part of my life because I felt it would only

set me apart from the majority. This only made the process more taxing because I would have to

wait until after school to do any practicing, which meant I really was only able to practice on the

weekends due to my busy activities schedule. My Bat Mitzvah was an amazing experience, but

looking back, I believe it would have been even better if I had not been pushed to separate that

part of my life from the other parts.

As I got older, I realized how much of an issue this was. Language is a huge part of a

person’s identity, and I find it extremely important to mine. I’m and Russian Jew, but I’m also an

Irish Catholic, at least as far as my history, upbringing, and community go. Showing this through

how I interact with the world around me should not be a problem; it should be what sets me

apart.

I was proved correct in this thought when I started speaking up against anti-semitic

policies and practices in my school district. For instance, although there was a district policy

against scheduling assessments on the High Holy Days of Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur,

many teachers did anyway. As a junior, I chose to speak up about this and ended up getting the

policy more strictly enforced district-wide. But that was only the beginning.
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In the spring of my junior year of high school, a video was posted on social media of

students saying and doing anti-semitic things such as the nazi salute as well as saying an Asian

slur. A student organization at my school set up a walkout to protest against the limited

reprimand these students got. I got asked to speak during the protest because one of the people in

the organization knew I was Jewish, and I took the chance (Figure 4). The walkout made national

news.

After that, the requests came flooding in. Any time the school newspaper wanted to do an

article about anything to do with Judaism, any time a staff member had a question about

scheduling around a Jewish holiday, or any time someone just had a question, I was normally the

first person they were sent to. Although this was not an absolutely ideal situation because I was

pushed into representing all Jews with my one perspective, I was at least grateful that people

were starting to try. Finally, I felt empowered to speak about my heritage and use my

experiences to improve the community around me.

By my senior year of high school, I no longer felt the need to code-switch at school. Sure,

some kids only knew me as the Jewish kid, and some people were still not welcoming towards

me, but I decided not to let that bother me anymore. I believe this is a huge part of why my

senior year of high school is my favorite year of school I’ve experienced so far; I finally felt free

to be myself.

Code-switching as a whole is extremely detrimental to a person’s identity and feeling of

self-worth. Without their language as a way to express themselves, a person’s backstory and

identity will be bottled up inside, which is why society as a whole needs to stop pushing down

“incorrect” language skills and instead lift them up.

References

Brandt, D. (1998, May). Sponsors of Literacy. College Composition and Communication.

https://www.jstor.org/stable/358929?

sid=primo&saml_data=eyJzYW1sVG9rZW4iOiI2MDEyOTAxZi0yYTRmLTQwZTUtO

TkwZi1iNWEwMDhhZTNlNGQiLCJlbWFpbCI6InNhNTkwMTgxQHVjZi5lZHUiLCJp

bnN0aXR1dGlvbklkcyI6WyI5ZGIzN2JiNC1mMzIwLTQ2YTMtODVmMi03ODVhZW

QxOGEzZTMiXX0

Pierre, H. O. (2022, December 19). Jewish students and faculty raise concerns over a

culture of ignorance and exclusion. Edina Zephyrus. https://edinazephyrus.com/jewish-

students-and-faculty-raise-concerns-over-a-culture-of-ignorance-and-exclusion/

Young, V.A. (2009), "Nah, We Straight": An Argument Against Code Switching, JAC: a

journal of composition theory. https://www.jstor.org/stable/20866886?

sid=primo&saml_data=eyJzYW1sVG9rZW4iOiI1ODllY2U5ZC0wMTlmLTQyYzAtY

WYwYy1mNjcyYWRjNmY2YTIiLCJlbWFpbCI6InNhNTkwMTgxQHVjZi5lZHUiLCJ

pbnN0aXR1dGlvbklkcyI6WyI5ZGIzN2JiNC1mMzIwLTQ2YTMtODVmMi03ODVhZ

WQxOGEzZTMiXX0
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Appendix

Figure 1: I stand with my siblings and look up at them.

Figure 2: A picture of me when I was about three years old and a picture of me on the

first day of seventh grade. This is how long I spent in speech therapy.

Figure 3: During preparation for my Bat Mitzvah, I practiced carrying a Torah.

Figure 4: During my junior year of high school, I spoke at a walkout protesting anti-

semitism in my school district. This article was published the next fall when I was a senior.