It was a moment of unexpected Jewish joy, the kind that swells your heart and catches you by surprise. Perhaps it sounds exaggerated, but as a Jewish mom who always feels everything deeply, I can only describe it as reminiscent of the day I watched my daughter read for the very first time.
“She’s JEWISH?” my 8-year-old daughter exclaimed, her eyes wide with wonder. She had just learned that Pink, her idol in the world of rock music, shares our Jewish heritage. “What?!” she repeated, disbelief and excitement coloring her voice. Lielle, with her wild curls framing a face sprinkled with freckles, beamed with pride. Unlike many girls at her school who are devoted Swifties, Lielle appreciates a couple of Taylor Swift’s tunes but is truly drawn to Pink’s unique blend of humor, edginess, and infectious dance rhythms. It also sparked a thought – maybe, just maybe, we instinctively recognize “our people.”
This delightful revelation unfolded in our car, during our usual Tuesday and Thursday ritual of listening to favorite songs on the drive home from dance class. That day, a particular Pink song, “I Am Here,” graced our ears for the first time. As the lyrics filled the car, my heart expanded, a welcome sensation after a day navigating Instagram, where well-meaning strangers with names like MollyMama_3littlebears (professing love for kids, pumpkin spice, and hot yoga) suggested 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.
Upon hearing these powerful words, the Hebrew phrase hineni immediately resonated within me: Here I am. I explained to my daughter that this song emanates from the depths of a Jewish woman’s soul. Pink isn’t offering a half-hearted “ani po,” the casual Hebrew for physical presence often mumbled during school attendance. Instead, Pink is singing about being present with her complete, authentic self, embracing her full humanity.
Alt text: Pink performing on stage, highlighting her Jewish identity as a powerful artist.
Hineni transcends a simple English translation; it’s often understood as “I am here” or “Here am I.” It holds significant weight in the Torah, frequently appearing as a response to a divine call or at crucial junctures in our biblical narrative. It’s Abraham’s declaration when God commands him to sacrifice Isaac, a test of faith. It’s Moses’s reply to God’s voice from the burning bush. Hineni is a resounding affirmation, a commitment to others, to ourselves, and to our community. We utter Hineni with faith, even without knowing what awaits us or what is being asked.
Rabbi Jennifer Kaluzny, my insightful rabbi, eloquently described it: “It’s a way to convey dedication, readiness, and unwavering faith. It’s acknowledging a moment of profound importance in the present, demanding an immediate and wholehearted response. It also signifies a covenant, a bond of relationship and trust between the caller and the answerer. Hineni is ultimately a potent declaration of standing firmly rooted in love and mutual dependence.”
Pink, a fellow Jewish mother navigating life’s complexities, embodies Hineni when she fearlessly champions our existence, especially during challenging times. Her Hanukkah message, which directly confronted antisemitic trolls, vibrated with this aliveness. It’s this indefinable presence that deeply resonates with my own daughter. Another favorite Pink song of ours further exemplifies this spirit:
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.
Listening to these lyrics now, my thoughts immediately turn to the courageous Mia Schem, who was taken hostage at the Supernova music festival and, upon her release, chose to get a tattoo that poignantly reads: We will dance again. This powerful statement echoes the unwavering spirit of Pink’s music.
Alt text: Screenshot of Pink’s Hanukkah Instagram post, showcasing her response to antisemitic trolls and celebrating Jewish identity.
Since October 7th, hushed conversations have become common among my Jewish American friends, filled with anxieties: “I’m scared. Should we still display a mezuzah on our door?” We yearn for our children’s safety, yet instinctively know that concealing our identity, regardless of practicality, means sacrificing a core part of ourselves.
As I tucked my own little rock star into bed that evening, I breathed in the sweet scent of her hair and held her close, softly singing, “I am here. Here I am.” These Pink Songs, these anthems of resilience and joy, resonate deeply within us, connecting us to something larger than ourselves, to our heritage, and to the enduring spirit of being Jewish in the world today.
Erika Bocknek
Dr. Erika Bocknek is a family therapist, researcher at Michigan Medicine, and the founder of Convo. Find tips for intentional families who love children too much on IG @DrErikaConvo and @twomamalehs
