Cultural camouflage
By: Rabbi Dr David Fox
Her name was unusual, not easily identified as to ethnicity or nationality. The first name she left on my voicemail was one of those new-age generic ones that anyone might give to their child or anyone might select for themselves. I will alter the names here but will give a sense of why they confused me. I will refer to her as Whisper Pleba. She wanted an appointment.
Ms Pleba told me she was an aspiring actress. She had moved to Hollywood several years earlier hoping to get a start in the movie industry. She already had had a few minor parts in a few minor films and was waiting for her big break. I had a difficult time trying to place her nationality. She was tall, almost Scandinavian in appearance yet with the nearly olive complexion of the Mediterranean. No accent. Atypical name. She said that she had heard of me by reputation and was seeking some therapy in her own way. That is, she explained that she wanted a single session where she would talk and I would listen, asking no questions and making no “therapeutic remarks.” She just wanted to speak to me. I prepared to listen.
She began with a question, although she had already instructed me not to talk. “Can you guess my ethnic background? Most people assume I am part Thai and part Swedish. Some think I am a mix of Arabian and North African. I have been told that I look exotic.”
She went on. “I want to show you my collection of napkin notes. I have waited tables in many restaurants and when I am given compliments by customers, I ask them to write me a note on the dinner napkin. Here—look at what they write about me!” I glanced through some of her collection and read about how “you are the most pleasant server I have ever met”; “you have such charm and grace”; “you made dining very comfortable with your positive manner.”
“Do you like my name? Find it interesting? It is my professional name because my agent said I am more likely to get acting roles if I have a catchy name. It seems to be working well, slowly. You may have seen me in some recent movies, or maybe you didn’t because you probably do not go to movies.” I was intrigued by her last statement. How did she assume, accurately, that I do not go to movies? I pondered to myself.
“My parents divorced when I was four. I stayed with my mother for years because my father had broken away, moving to some relic of a town to make his fortune. My mother hated him because he had ruined her life and reputation, disconnecting from everything she believed in. My father eventually made contact with me when I turned twelve. He invited me to visit. He was a great success. He virtually owned the town where he had settled and had made a fortune. I was torn. My mother and my relatives led a different lifestyle. They were not rich but we all got along. Now my wealthy father was back in my life and begging me to stay with him. It would mean saying goodbye to my friends and my world but being able to get everything I wanted. I stayed with him.”
“I loved acting. I loved the theatre. My father told me that he had connections in the movie industry and could pull some strings. After graduation he flew with me to California and I entered the world of Hollywood. My father hired an agent for me who said that I needed to repackage myself. I worked out at the gym, I had some cosmetic surgery, I took voice lessons to get over my regional accent, and I then realised that I needed to change my name.”
“I keep trying to please him, I keep trying to blend in.”
“I must tell you that my real name is not Pleba. My legal name is now Whisper but I changed it. My family is full of Orthodox rabbis. Applebaum is the name, and I took the middle letters and created the new surname Pleba. My Hebrew name, it actually is Yiddish, was Shosha. I know that it is short for Shoshana which is a flower but since Shosh also means to quiet down, I changed myself to Whisper. It helps. I no longer look Jewish, I no longer speak with a Brooklyn accent, my name is exotic as are my looks, and my agent believes that I will soon make it big. My mother rejects me, my father’s relatives want nothing to do with me, and my father, well, he is still not proud of me because even with all these changes to hide my past, I have still not broken into high society the way he did. So I keep trying to please him, I keep trying to blend in, and now I will tell you why I wanted to see an Orthodox psychologist.”
I waited. I understood that this woman had developed an identity crisis once she left her safe and familiar Jewish world to venture far from her roots in order to reconnect with her father. She wanted to please this assimilated man who had given up his roots and religion in order to make it big. He wanted her to do the same. She seemed intent on doing so, and did not voice any conflict about this life change. So, I wondered, why did she want to see me? Why was it important to her that I hear her story?
“So doctor, I am sharing this with you because you will understand the significance of what I am about to do. I am marrying a Christian man. He plays the organ in his church and he loves me the way I am. You will understand why I need to do this. My mother will now hate me but my father will feel victorious.”
And after handing me a cheque for the long session, Whisper Pleba, or Shosha Applebaum, vanished from my office and from the Jewish nation.
