“Do you want a learner? An earner? A learner-earner?” Mrs. Shein inquired, as she scribbled my answers in a legal pad in her lap. “It sounds perfect,” she gushed, and asked for my contact info. As the bus neared my stop, I asked if the young man in question was a Kohein.

Mrs. Shein stopped talking and narrowed her eyes. “Why do you ask?” she said.

“Well, I’m a convert,” I explained, “and I can’t marry a Kohein.”

Mrs. Shein fell silent. “Ohh…” she breathed. Then she looked at me for a few long moments. “Well… I have a 31-year-old divorcé, maybe you two can meet.”

I looked up sharply. What? Three seconds ago she was practically marrying me off to her nephew. I was 19 years old, and now she was offering me a 31-year-old divorced man? What had just happened?

The bus pulled up to my stop and I managed to get myself off in one piece, a bitter taste filling my mouth. If I’d thought this kind of attitude toward geirim had gone away, boy, was I wrong.

I walked down the street, swallowing hard. I’d been fully observant since I was eight years old, and in the Bais Yaakov system since my bas mitzvah. Unfortunately, it seemed this made no difference. I was a convert, so I was marked.

It reminded of me, to some degree, of anti-Semitism. There will always been non-Jews who will dislike Jews, no matter how assimilated they are. Disturbingly, it felt too similar. Like, no matter how frum I was, some people were just going to dislike me because of my past. There are anti-converts who will never, ever feel that I’m the same as they are — a Yid who wants to serve Hashem and build a home to honor His name.

And often, you’d never even know it. People can be lovely, kind, thoughtful, welcoming. But then, you, the convert, are suggested as a shidduch for their son. And suddenly… they seem to change, and no longer appear as kind and welcoming.

Girls and women in the shidduch system are under a lot of pressure, and may sometimes feel vulnerable or even desperate. We all know this. But I wished those setting me up would be consistently helpful and respectful. Instead, I often felt like I was seeing things that usually stay hidden — when the thoughtful, kind people morphed into something unrecognizable.

Even though I am a Jew, I wasn’t good enough for them, and they didn’t hesitate to make that clear. Very clear.

to be continued…

(Originally featured in Mishpacha Jr., Issue 948)