I could never find a good opportunity to say, “Hey, by the way, I converted to Judaism when I was little”

H

igh school began, and I quickly settled into the rhythm of my new routine and made friends, becoming especially close to one of my classmates, Adina. Well into the school year, I decided that I wanted to tell her that I was a convert. Once again, just like with Hadassah in camp, I was afraid. Afraid Adina would judge me, look at me differently, or no longer want to be my friend. On the other hand, it was a big part of me. I wanted to share. When would be a good time to tell her?

The days turned into weeks and I could never find a good opportunity to say, “Hey, by the way, I converted to Judaism when I was little.” Then, one evening, we were babysitting together. We’d gotten all the kids to bed and the house was quiet. We sat on the sagging couch chatting when I suddenly felt, this is it, it’s the right time.

I felt myself growing emotional, and before I knew it, I was crying. “Adina,” I said.

Adina’s forehead creased and she leaned towards me. “Vered? What’s going on?”

I grabbed her hand. “Adina, please, don’t judge me, and don’t look at me differently. I wanted to tell you that — that — I’m a convert, a giyores.”