When I first met my husband’s parents, I was seen as a tattooed, pierced non-Jew who was not good enough for their son. In the almost ten years we have been together, I’ve gotten more tattoos and converted. I may have started conversion for my husband, but halfway through the process it became something entirely for myself. I’ve been asked why I would want to do this to my body now that I’m a mom, and told that I must not really be Jewish if I continue to get tattoos. It wasn’t until my son started a Jewish preschool that I felt fully accepted as a Jewish woman. Tattoos, crazy hair, and a prosthetic leg do not take away from my badass Jewishness.
I have a young RBG on my left arm—it says, “When there are 9.” When [RBG] was asked how many women would be enough on the Supreme Court she responded with, “When there are 9.” I also have a purple ribbon for my son who was born at 28 weeks. We both survived and he is amazing.