Marra B. Gad - The Color of Love: A Story of a Mixed-Race Jewish Girl

THE COLOR OF LOVE

THE COLOR OF LOVE

A STORY OF A MIXED-RACE JEWISH GIRL

MARRA B. GAD

BOLDEN

AN AGATE IMPRINT

CHICAGO

Copyright 2019 by Marra B. Gad

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without express written permission from the publisher.

The events expressed in this book, while true, were drawn from the authors memory. Some of the names and identities of people in this book have been altered or composited for the sake of simplicity and to protect privacy. Any views expressed herein are solely those of the author. This book is in no way authorized, prepared, approved, or endorsed by the organizations or brands mentioned herein.

First printing November 2019

Printed in the United States of America

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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Names: Gad, Marra B., 1970- author.

Title: The color of love : a story of a mixed-race Jewish girl / by Marra B. Gad.

Description: Chicago : Bolden, an Agate imprint, [2019] | A memoir about a mixed-raced Jewish woman who chooses to help her estranged Great-Aunt Nette after she develops Alzheimers, a disease that erases Nettes prejudices, allowing Marra to develop a relationship with the woman who shunned her in youth--Provided by publisher.

Identifiers: LCCN 2019010449 (print) | LCCN 2019012018 (ebook) | ISBN 9781572848344 (ebook) | ISBN 1572848340 (ebook) | ISBN 9781572842755 (pbk. : alk. paper) | ISBN 157284275X (pbk. : alk. paper)

Subjects: LCSH: Gad, Marra B., 1970- | Racially mixed women--United States--Biography. | Racially mixed women--Race identity--United States--Biography. | African American women--Biography. | Jewish women--United States--Biography. | Jewish families--United States--Biography.

Classification: LCC E184.A1 (ebook) | LCC E184.A1 G123 2019 (print) | DDC 306.85/089924--dc23

LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2019010449

Cover design by Morgan Krehbiel

Author photo by Bobby Quillard

Cover artwork elements WeWorkForThem www.youworkforthem.com

Bolden Books is an imprint of Agate Publishing. Agate books are available in bulk at discount prices. For more information, visit agatepublishing.com.

For my mother, Ellie, who always wants me to sing so that people can hear me including this song of myself

Contents

Prologue

MY FRIEND ROSA OFTEN SAYS SHE IS AMAZED THAT I can be loving. Or kind. Or happy. She says that because she knows a fair bit about what some like to call my complicated existence. And Id like to think I am all of those things.

How do you not hate everyone? she frequently asks after I share a story.

Because Im the luckiest girl on earth, I say. Look at my life!

I have incredible, supportive, loving parents. A brother and a sister, each of whom I get to connect with in ways that are authentic and meaningful, even when we want to kill each other. As siblings sometimes do. I have two nieces and a nephew, who could not be more delicious. Wonderful, kind, hilarious, ride-or-die friends. Great skin. An incredible career producing film and television, working with some of the very best in the business. And I have a lens into the world that very few share. I am the luckiest.

I was born in April 1970 to a young, unmarried, white Jewish girl from Manhattan. When she learned that she was pregnant, she went to her rabbi for help, telling him that she could not keep the baby and that her parents would certainly kill her if her pregnancy were to be found out. And so, as he had done many times before with other girls in her condition, he sent her away from the cityupstate to Binghamtonso that she could keep her pregnancy hidden.

A few years prior, my beloved late cousin Adrienne Mae and her husband, Hal, had connected with this same rabbi, despite the fact that they lived in Milwaukee and he was in New York. My cousins were infertile, and this rabbi had made it his mission to make sure that Jewish babies in need of homes were placed with Jewish families. They adopted two children through him. Most rabbis have causes that are dear to them. And this cause was his.

Meanwhile, my parents had been trying to get pregnant for nearly a year before going to a doctor. According to the limited fertility testing available in 1969, my father had a low sperm count, and the doctor suggested my parents use artificial insemination so that the baby would be half theirs. My mother saw the horrified look on my fathers face, and without missing a beat, she informed the doctor that they would be adopting. This way, she told him, the baby would be all theirs.

My mother called Adrienne. Adrienne called the rabbi. And he called my parents, telling them he had a girl who was due in April and that they could have her baby.

Interestingly, they had arranged to adopt a baby prior to being offered me, but the birth mother changed her mind once her baby was born, leaving my parents devastated. It was not through the rabbi who eventually sorted us out, but through a more traditional agency. I thank God every day that this other woman changed her mind, for I believe with every fiber of my being that my parents didnt get the first baby because they were meant to get me.

Infertility is fairly common in the Jewish community. Ive often joked that its because we are inbred, but there is a touch of truth to that. Throughout history, the Jewish people have tended to keep to themselves, often living separately from other people in their geographic homes, with marriages being born within the community. Adoption has always been a solution to that issue, even in the 1960s and 70s, when there was still a fair bit of shame and secrecy around adopting. Couples would go to great lengths to get a child who looked like them so as to avoid questions.

Adrienne and Hal had that luxury. My parents did not.

I was born on my fathers birthday. My parents were out celebrating and received a message that I had arrived and that they should head to New York to pick me up. And so they flew from Chicago to Binghamton and went straight to the hospital.

My mother tells me that my adult lifestyle and colorfuland, at times, dramaticpersonality are not a surprise, given that I was kept in a private nursery surrounded by guards to ensure I did not end up in the wrong hands. When the attorney arrived to hand me off to my parents, he went into the nursery, leaned over to look into the crib, and turned in shock to the neonatal nurse. Are you sure thats the right baby?

Thats the baby, she replied.

I was the color of milk chocolate and had a head full of dark, curly hair. He apparently became even paler than usual, his face having drained of all color.

Today, there would be a bidding war for a baby who looked like me. But that was not the case in 1970. And while it seems my biological mother was a young, unwed, andshall we saypassionate creature, she was also smart and forward-thinking enough to know it was unlikely she would find a family willing to knowingly take a mixed-race baby. And so she did not disclose that her lover had been black and left the rabbi, his attorney, and my parents to sort it all out.

The rabbi apologized to my parents and told them they didnt have to take me. After all, a mixed-race baby wasnt what they had signed up for. But my parents and I had already fallen in love. Returning me was not an option because, to them, no mistake had been made. When they looked into my crib, they didnt see a mixed-race babythey saw their new daughter. And, at three days old, I was taken home to Chicago.