My Early Life

My dad recounted that he came from a Jewish family. He told me that when he married my mum, his parents – who had wished him to marry a Jewish woman – wore black for two years and would not speak to us…

Dinner was usually a stressful event, but on one occasion it was worse than normal. All the family took their place at the table, but before anyone could pick up their cutlery to eat, Mum directed her attention to Dad. ‘I want a divorce and I want you to leave, Len. The children will stay with me’. My eyes were immediately on my dad. His face mirrored my own horror and shock. ‘Can we talk about this in private?’ He asked, glancing around the table. Dinner was ruined. I could not eat a mouthful. I later begged to live with my dad, as I felt he was more supportive of me. However, I was not given the option…

I feel the family separation and Jewish ancestry led to my passion for advocating for the rights of those who had survived human rights violations.

One early memory was the excitement of going to my Jewish cousin Kevan’s Bar Mitzvah, to celebrate as he ‘became a man’ in Jewish faith at thirteen years of age. My mother insisted on getting myself and my sister Ruth matching hot pants, which I quite liked. However, she then presented me with a bright pink dress, which I hated with a vengeance. The Bar Mitzvah weekend event was extremely exciting; about one hundred relatives who lived in America arrived, and it took place in a large hall buzzing with interesting characters whom I had never met before.

My cousin Kevan was a similar age to me, and I got on with him well. I was impressed to hear him read in Hebrew at the ceremony in the synagogue. The after party was the best part, with brilliant music, dancing, and enjoyment. At the event, my brother Jonathan – who must have been about six years old – suddenly ran to the front, grabbed the microphone off the presenter, and started singing Show Me the Way to Go Home. Everyone fell about laughing.

I thought he was very brave for doing so in front of so many relative strangers. The whole weekend experience made me wish I was Jewish. I felt so much sympathy for how the Jewish people had suffered during Hitler’s regime and the Holocaust, and I felt a real sense of belonging amongst all the lively relatives I had discovered. However, at the same time, I wondered how I would manage the strictness that Jewish traditions appeared to involve.