My family’s surname wasn’t always Bieber. As my great-grandfather entered Ellis Island, Biber became Bieber. This small change: the addition of the letter “e”, fueled my curiosity about the Jewish Diaspora and my family’s history. 

In middle school, I constantly asked my dad where we came from. I wanted to be able to tell my friends, who often shared stories of relatives in Puerto Rico and France. My dad told me his grandparents came from “Eastern Europe”. This broad generalization of our ancestry made me feel disconnected and frustrated. I had a burning passion to learn about my family, and felt like a piece of me was missing.

The Jewish Diaspora is one that has spanned over centuries and continents. From the pogroms in Odessa, or the streets of Crown Heights, it is hard for me to place my background in one place.

I am sure that I’m not alone in this feeling. I feel some sort of comfort knowing that not everyone can trace their lineage to one single place. 

I’m still not sure which country to say when asked where my family comes from. Instead, I proudly say that I’m Jewish. My family’s fragmented history, one that has been tossed and turned by stories of persecution and immigration, continues to inspire me every day.

This holiday season, whether your family comes from the Caribbean, South Asia, or Latin America, I challenge you all to dig deeper into your lineage. The stories that our families pass on to us are more important than you might think.