I found myself debating, back and forth, whether or not to write “convert” on my profile

A good friend of mine encouraged me to register on a frum dating website. Despite the fact that using a shidduch website wasn’t my speed, I checked it out.

There were no public résumés or pictures; it was a database with real human shadchanim making the matches, not a robot. It looked fairly well designed and like it might actually be helpful.

While working on my profile for the site, I found myself debating, back and forth, whether or not to write “convert” on my profile. I couldn’t decide. Eventually, I reached a level of clarity: if someone didn’t like that I was a giyores, then why bother getting started? Why waste emotional energy on something destined to die a premature death? It seemed like an efficient and painless way to weed out people who, in any case, would not be suitable. With a surge of confidence, I typed “convert” and hit send.

Sometime after I submitted my profile, I met with a shadchan in New York. A good friend of my mother’s from the community, Mrs. Shapiro, had recommended her highly and kept promising me, “You’ll see, Vered, Rebbetzin Wilner is amazing. She’s really great.” At this point, I’d already learned not to trust everything everyone says, but I went home cradling hope in my heart anyway. Maybe this Rebbetzin Wilner would really be helpful.

Rebbetzin Wilner was friendly and warm and soon I felt at ease. She looked through my résumé, but then her lips puckered. “I like your profile, Vered,” she said, “but this has got to go.” She tapped the word “convert” with her manicured nail. “It’s only going to hurt you to have this here.”