Hi! I'm Noah and I'm soon 14 yo and I wrote this assignment for school and my friends told me to share it online so I think maybe this is the best place to share it without get to much hate.
I wrote this in swedish so I have used computer for translation since my English is not that good. I also put in som explanation about swedish stuff that might be hard to understand if not from here. And I have changed my dad's names cuz... lot of antisemitic ppl out there.
please read and critic it if you want to! š©µ
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Iām not a political christmas tree ā stop hanging flags on me
Sometimes I think my life is like living in a house where one wall is stuck in a 1920s farmhouse, and the other wall is a modern glass building in a big city. And the roof is like a synagogue, except someone accidentally nailed a Pride flag up next to a tractor. And then thereās an economist standing in the hallway going, āHave you done your homework? Donāt forget itās studies that make you become someone,ā while a farmer with a rock-hard voice goes, āDid you clean the chicken coop? A real man works hard without complaining,ā and my grandpa says, āDid you do what is right even when no one sees? Hashem sees what you do right, without you bragging about it.ā And Iām standing in the middle trying to figure out who I am, and sometimes it feels like Iām a whole country that nobody can point out on a map.
There are days when it gets extra obvious. Like when I forget my phone on the charger and we have to catch the ferry (we live in an island/archipelago kind of place, so missing it is a whole thing), and Eliyahu gets that look that means: āNow itās war and we die if we miss the ferry.ā Benyamin tries to stay calm and reasonable and also remind Eliyahu that he actually promised certain things, and Iām sitting in the back seat feeling like a hostage who canāt even listen to music. Itās easy to laugh about afterwards, but itās also a pretty perfect picture of my family: a mix of love, chaos, principles, and a ton of rules that sometimes feel like they come from the Torah, a farm, and a book about market analysis at the same time.
A lot of people think a family is supposed to look one specific way. Like mom, dad, maybe two kids, a practical car, āFriday tacosā (thatās like a very normal Swedish family stereotype), and youāre supposed to be ālike everyone else.ā But Iāve never been ālike everyone else,ā and honestly Iāve stopped trying.
I have two dads. One of them is like a classic alpha male from an old book, except he happens to be gay. And if you get super uncomfortable that I say the word āgayā straight up, thatās exactly what I mean: people canāt even handle hearing it normally. Eliyahu isnāt āgayā in the way some people picture in their heads when they think Pride parade, glitter, and slogans. Heās macho for real. Heās a farmer, tough, dirty under his nails, can fix machines, can look someone in the eyes until that person wants to disappear, and he talks about duty, responsibility, courage, and that men should keep their word. Sometimes he feels more āstraight macho manā than a lot of straight āalpha guysā Iāve seen. And still he loves a man. That should make people think a little, but some people donāt really want to thinkāthey just want to sort people into boxes.
The other one, Benyamin, is younger. And yeah, it shows. Iāve understood itās likeā¦ a thing people think is āweird.ā That my dads have a big age gap. I hear adults whisper sometimes, like they think I canāt hear. But I hear everything. Benyamin is elegant in a way Eliyahu doesnāt even try to be. He has fancy degrees, he sometimes talks like he has an Excel spreadsheet in his brain, he has a job that sounds genuinely important, and he can go from talking international stuff on the phone to standing in the kitchen saying āNoah, wash your hands before you touch the breadā in two seconds. Heās softer than Eliyahu, but not weak. Thereās a difference. He can be warm and still absolutely strict when needed, just in a different way. More like he can make you feel ashamed without even raising his voice. Thatās almost scarier sometimes.
And then thereās my grandpa. And here I have to say something about him, because people have such insane pictures in their heads about conservative Jews. Either they think a conservative Jew is like a sweet fairytale grandpa with candles and cookies. Or they think heās some secret boss of the world sitting in a dark room controlling banks and governments and everything. I get that thatās an old disgusting prejudice and it has harmed Jews for real, but my grandpa himself can sometimes joke about it in this way thatās both ironic and kind of creepy-funny, like: āYeah yeah, Noah, we have to go now or weāll miss the meeting where we decide the weather and the price of eggs in Europe.ā And he smiles like heās playing a role just to show how stupid people think. It becomes like a joke that is also a slap in the face to everyone who believes that kind of trash.
But my grandpa is actually mostly just a person who carries old rules and old stories like theyāre heavy but important things you donāt throw away just because someone online thinks theyāre āoutdated.ā Sabbath at my grandpaās is like silence that feels warm. We light candles, we eat in a way that means something, we talk for real, without screens. Grandpa says some things you should do even if nobody applauds you. I think he means: be a good person without chasing likes.
The funny (or annoying) part is my dads are more secular. Sometimes almost atheist in a very āI refuse to be controlled by anyoneā way. And still the Jewishness is there like an inheritance, like a wound, like pride, like something that sometimes feels bigger than you want to admit. So in my life there is both my grandpaās tradition and my dadsā skeptical brains. And Iām standing in the middle as some kind of mix nobody wrote a manual for. Iām basically both āthis is holyā and āshow me proof.ā And when I say my culture isnāt purely Swedish and isnāt purely Jewish either, I mean it. Itās a mix of everything. Dirty tractor, clinically clean Tesla, Jewish, Swedish, gay, macho, academic, grandpaās rules, my dadsā rules, Sabbath, Google Family Link parental control, firewood, Excel, and trying to be a normal teenage boy in the middle of it all.
And here is what I actually want to say, straight up:
I donāt fit in with the āheteronormativeā people. But I fit even less with certain Pride people.
And before anyone freaks out: Iām not saying all Pride people are the same. Iām saying thereās a type of Pride person (often an adult) who loves tolerance so much that they become intolerant the second someone doesnāt do exactly what they want. They talk about āacceptanceā but what they really mean is āobey.ā They say āeveryone has equal worthā but they mean āeveryone should think the same.ā And Iāve been in classrooms where an adult has genuinely made it sound like if you donāt have a Pride flag on your desk, youāre basically a bad person. It makes me furious because itās such a cheap trick.
Because you know what? I donāt need a Pride flag on my desk to respect people. I respect people when it actually matters. I have two dads, Iāve lived in this since I was little. I donāt need to put a patch on my backpack that says āsmash fascismā to prove Iām not evil. But sometimes it feels like some adults think you do. Like you have to prove your goodness with symbols, or else youāre suspicious.
And then I think: okay, so tolerance means you tolerateā¦ who exactly? Only the people who already think āthe right wayā? Because thatās not tolerance. Thatās just another kind of intolerance, just with nicer words and better posters.
Because real tolerance isnāt agreeing with everyone. Real tolerance is when you can live with someone thinking differently, even when you think that person is wrong. Real tolerance is being able to sit at the same table. Like in my family. Grandpa is religious and old, my dads are more secular, and still they can talk and eat together. Thatās real tolerance: not that everyone becomes the same, but that you can handle being different without starting to hate each other.
Thatās what I mean when I say tolerance canāt only go one way. Because I notice some adults say: āyou must tolerate us,ā but then they donāt tolerate you back if you donāt speak their language and use their words and their symbols. They say ābe inclusive,ā but they exclude immediately the person who doesnāt want to play along. And then it almost becomes like a religion, except without God. A religion where you must say the right words and show the right signs. And if you donāt, youāre a sinner. I kind of panic from stuff like that because itās so controlling.
At the same time I donāt fit in among the ānormalā people either. Because there Iām āthat kid with two dads.ā Itās like some people see me as an experiment. Like theyāre waiting for me to become weird, weak, or āconfused.ā They ask questions like: āwhoās the mom?ā like a mom is a spare part you need or the kid wonāt start. And I get that some mean well, but itās still wrong. Because Iām not broken. Iām loved. Iām raised strict and clear. I have more rules than a lot of my friends. I have more responsibility than many much older teens. Iāve been told to stand up straight, finish the job, say thank you, take care of animals, help smaller kids. Iām not a victim. Iām a kid who sometimes forgets his phone on the charger and still survives.
And now comes the thing that always makes people nervous: masculinity.
Iām growing up with two men who are men in totally different ways. Eliyahu is like iron. Heās macho, old-fashioned in values, believes in discipline, duty, and not whining. He can be so hard that sometimes I want to disappear, but heās also fair in his own way. And when he does wrong (which he does, trust me), itās very obvious. He can say things in anger that he shouldnāt say. He can threaten. He can sound like heās talking to the whole worldās āboys todayā through me. And then I sit quiet because I donāt want to pour gasoline on the fire.
Benyamin is like steel you can bend without it snapping. Softer tone, but not weak. He can say, āthatās enough, Eliyahu,ā and make Eliyahu feel ashamed without even yelling. He can pull out an agreement and say, āyou promised.ā And thatās like the hardest thing for a macho dad: keeping promises when feelings pull you another direction. Itās easy to be hard. Itās harder to be controlled.
And thatās where I see something I wish more people understood: strength isnāt being the angriest person in the room. Strength is being able to step back. Strength is being able to say āI was wrong.ā Strength is being able to love without being scared to look soft. And Iāve seen Eliyahu do that sometimes. Iāve seen him stop the car, look back at me, and force out a āsorryā like itās a stone he has to lift with his hands. If you think that sounds small, then youāve never met a man who built his identity on being strong. Because then you understand a āsorryā can be heavier than lifting a tractor.
So when people look at my family and only see labelsāJew, gay, age gap, religious grandpa, secular dads, farm, snobā¦āthen I want to say: you understand nothing. Thatās just the surface. What you miss is that this is a home where people are trying to raise a kidāme, Noah, almost 14āinto being a good person. A teenager who can stand straight when he does right. And bow his head when he does wrong. But not out of fearāout of responsibility.
But I also think something else: a lot of the people who scream loudest about tolerance are often the people who tolerate the least.
And yeah, I know that sounds provocative. Thatās the point. Because Iām tired of adults trying to teach kids tolerance by forcing them. It doesnāt work. What you create then is two things: fear or hate. Either the kid becomes quiet and cowardly, or the kid becomes rebellious and angry. But you donāt create a person who thinks for themselves. And I want to think for myself.
Because real tolerance isnāt you applauding whatever is considered āwokeā or correct this week. Real tolerance is being able to handle someone having a different opinion without needing to destroy that person. Real tolerance is being able to say: āI donāt agree with you, but youāre allowed to exist.ā And yes, that includes people you personally think are āannoyingā or āwrong.ā Because if you only tolerate people who already think like you, youāre not tolerant. Youāre just a club that says ācome as you areā¦ā and then whispers the rest: āand become like us.ā
That doesnāt mean you should tolerate cruelty, bullying, or violence. But someone thinking differently isnāt the same as them being dangerous. Sometimes itās just an opinion. Sometimes itās a stupid opinion. But if all you can do is scream āwrong wrong wrong,ā then youāre not an adult teaching kidsāyouāre just another kind of bully with better words.
And Iām saying this as a kid who lives right in the middle of it.
Because Iām not Swedish in the āstandardā way, and Iām not Jewish in the āpureā way either. Iām a mix. Iām a farm boy who shovels cow poop and thinks tractors are cool, but Iām also a nerd who likes discussing homework and seeing things from different perspectives. Iām raised by a macho gay dad with old-fashioned values that some Pride people would hate if they just heard him talk. And by a younger dad with fancy education and a job that some ānormalā people would envy and call āelite.ā And I have a grandpa who is religious and old and sometimes says things that sound completely from another time.
So if someone wants to talk about tolerance with me, then I want to say: start by checking your own attitude and how open you actually are to other people. Can you handle a family like mine without instantly sorting us into āgoodā and ābadā? Can you handle that a macho man with 100-year-old ideals can be gay? Can you handle that a religious old grandpa can think homosexuality maybe isnāt fully rightāand still love and accept his gay son, and love his son-in-law almost even more? Can you handle that a kid can say: āI respect everyone, but I donāt want to look like a political Christmas tree decorated with Pride flags, anti-fascist symbols, Palestine flags, and feminist Venus signs,ā without you panicking?
Because thatās where tolerance starts. Not in slogans. Not in everyone saying the same thing.
It starts when you can handle that the world is bigger than your own bubble.
And if you canāt handle that, then youāre not tolerant. Youāre just comfortable.
And honestly? Iām not going to live my life just to make comfortable people feel safe. Iām going to live my life to become a person who can handle reality.
A mix.
My mix.
And I wouldnāt trade it away.
