Diversity in the Dakotas

I came back from a painfully boring conference in Lincoln, Nebraska last Saturday. I had spent three and a half long days inside the UNL student union listening to people discuss service-learning. I had not gone outside for most of that time, and my one jaunt outside of the work environment was going to synagogue for Rosh Hashanah with the UNL Hillel kids. I had the bazillionth experience since moving of speaking to someone on the phone, not knowing what they look like, and planning to meet them at a certain location. Luckily, I was correct in assuming that a small group of awkward Jewish college freshmen and sophomores would be easy to spot. Especially because the only other people in the area were the Cornhusker cheerleaders. Anyway, synagogue was nice and all, but two things stuck out to me 1) people are generally incredibly awkward. why is it so hard to make conversation? a few Jews together in the midwest surrounded by football obsessed, corn growing, blonde men and women should be able to have something to talk about. I guess Jewish geography is played less outside of the East Coast. 2) The synagogue had a choir and an organ. Barf. No, really, I almost did, I had to stop myself from shooting the rabbi dirty looks. Whoops.

Coming back to Vermillion after that time in Nebraska, you can see that I was ready to do something interesting. Luckily, this weekend was also the beginning of Navratri, a Hindu festival which is celebrated at the India Siouxland Association in Elk Point, a small town 20 minutes form here. It was nice to be surrounded by Indian families with women wearing saris and children everywhere. There was lots of dancing, but I felt better watching the women's saris spin than actually trying to dance. Especially because I was reminded how bad I am at Indian dancing, and how challenging it is to be graceful. The dancing seemed like it would go on for hours, so I went back to my friend Vani's house where her mom made delicious Indian food that Vani and I ate while watching the movie Hyderabad Blues. Needless to say, I was somewhere close to heaven.

My final foray into doing something different came on Sunday night when I piled into the car with my roommate and her friends and went up to the monthly drag show at the one gay bar in Sioux Falls named Touche'z, but pronounced touch-ies. Unfortunately drag queen shows are generally disappointing and this one was no different. The outfits were scary and each person knew maybe 50% of their song, so the lip synching was weak, and instead of dancing each drag queen just semi-paraded around the bar stopping to pick up dollar bills and pose for the camera. Adding to the bizarre dynamic, the bar was filming the whole show (though god knows who would watch it) so there was a hugely bright light tracking each drag queen around the room.

It turns out that my roommate's boss is from New Rochelle, is around my age and went to CTY (nerd camp for those of you not in the know) at the same site as me, but a few years earlier. We played Jewish geography till we were blue in the face and have plans to go to Kol Nidre together with the other young Jew in Sioux Falls. Randomly, one of the drag queens who was dressed the best, but had no talent, started talking to all of us and mentioned that he was Jewish, then clarified that he was really Norwegian, but Jewish in spirit. Have I mentioned that there aren't a lot of Jewish people here? or that my roommate introduced me as her Jewish roommate who is celebrating the "Jew year." I don't really have the energy to be the one Jew who explains all the holidays and corrects the things that I find frustrating, but I do also find myself talking about being Jewish A LOT and am happy to have found some other "members of the tribe"- a term I would never use, but a Jewish law professor here thinks is great.

Oy.