It was an unexpected moment of Jewish pride sparked by none other than pop icon Pink. Perhaps it sounds dramatic, but as a Jewish mom who embraces every emotion, I can honestly say the joy I felt mirrored the day I watched my daughter read for the very first time. This surge of happiness came from the most surprising source: a Pink song playing on the car radio and the realization that this powerhouse artist shared a deep connection with our Jewish identity.
“Wait, Pink is JEWISH?” my eight-year-old daughter exclaimed from the backseat, her voice filled with disbelief and excitement. She had just learned that Pink, the rock star whose music fills our home, is part of the tribe, just like us. “What?!” she repeated, processing this incredible revelation. Lielle, with her untamed curls and freckled face, beamed with pride. While she enjoys a Taylor Swift song or two, Pink’s rebellious spirit, humor, and undeniably danceable tracks have always resonated more deeply with her. It also made us think about those moments when you just instinctively know who your people are, that unspoken understanding and connection that transcends simple fandom.
This epiphany occurred during our usual Tuesday evening drive home from dance class, soundtracked by our favorite tunes. This time, Pink’s song “I Am Here” filled the car for the first time. As the lyrics washed over me, a warmth spread through my chest, a welcome feeling after a day navigating social media. Earlier that day, I’d encountered the usual online noise – well-meaning but often misinformed opinions from strangers suggesting I needed to educate myself about antisemitism.
May the light be upon me
May I feel in my bones that I am enough
I can make anywhere home
My fingers are clenched, my stomach’s in knots
My heart it is racing, but afraid I am not
(Afraid I am not)
I am here, I am here
I’ve already seen the bottom, so there’s nothing to fear
I know that I’ll be ready when the devil is near
‘Cause I am here, I am here
All of this wrong, but I’m still right here
I don’t have the answers, but the question is clear.
Hearing these powerful words, a profound connection sparked in my mind to the Hebrew word hineni: Here I am. I turned to my daughter and explained that this Pink song felt like it originated from the very soul of a Jewish woman. This wasn’t the casual “ani po,” the Hebrew phrase we use to simply mark our presence when attendance is called in Hebrew school. Pink was singing about being present with her entire being, with every facet of her humanity, embracing vulnerability and strength simultaneously.
Alt text: Pink in concert, showcasing her dynamic stage presence as a Jewish artist.
Hineni is more than just a literal translation of “I am here.” It’s a concept deeply embedded in Jewish tradition, resonating throughout the Torah. It’s a response to a divine call, a declaration made at pivotal moments in our biblical narrative. Think of Abraham, who uttered hineni when God called upon him to face the ultimate test of faith, the sacrifice of his son. Or Moses, who responded with hineni to God’s voice emanating from the burning bush. It’s a full-throated affirmation, a commitment to something larger than oneself – to the divine, to community, and to one’s own purpose. Saying hineni is an act of faith, even when the path ahead is uncertain, when we don’t fully grasp what’s being asked of us or what awaits us.
As Rabbi Jennifer Kaluzny wisely explained to me, hineni is “a way of communicating dedication, readiness, and unwavering faith. It’s acknowledging a moment of profound importance in the present, where the only true response is to rise to meet it. It’s also a recognition of covenant, of the deep relationship between the caller and the responder, built on bond and trust. Hineni is ultimately a potent declaration of standing firmly in a place of love and mutual reliance.”
Pink, as a fellow Jewish mother navigating the complexities of modern life, embodies this hineni spirit when she fearlessly stands up for our community, especially in challenging times. Her Hanukkah message, which bravely confronted antisemitic trolls online, is a testament to this. It’s this intangible yet palpable presence, this unwavering “here I am” attitude, that I believe my daughter instinctively connects with in Pink’s music. In another of our beloved Pink songs, she sings with raw emotion:
If someone told me that the world would end tonight
You could take all that I got, for once I wouldn’t start a fight
You could have my liquor, take my dinner, take my fun
My birthday cake, my soul, my dog, take everything I love
But, oh, one thing I’m never gonna do
Is throw away my dancin’ shoes and
Oh, Lord, don’t try me, really, not tonight
I’ll lay down and die
I’ll scream and I’ll cry
We’ve already wasted enough time
I’m never gonna not dance again.
Now, listening to these lyrics, I can’t help but think of the courageous Mia Schem, who was taken hostage at the Supernova music festival. Upon her release, she chose to get a tattoo that powerfully declared: We will dance again. This echoes the resilience and life-affirming spirit found within Pink’s music.
Since October 7th, I’ve had countless hushed conversations with Jewish American friends, whispering anxieties: “I’m scared. Should we still display a mezuzah on our door?” We grapple with the desire to protect our children, yet we also understand that concealing our Jewish identity, whether possible or not, would mean losing a fundamental part of ourselves.
That night, as I tucked my own little rock star into bed, I breathed in the sweet scent of her hair, held her close, and softly sang the words resonating in my heart: I am here. Hineni. Here I am. Pink’s song, in that moment, became more than just music; it transformed into a Jewish affirmation, a powerful expression of identity and resilience.
