Here we go again. I sit in front of an online form and I don’t know which “race/ethnicity” box to tick. I scroll through the options of acceptable identities, the categories that are meant to define me, and find myself outside of…

When I was a yeshiva student, I remember stumbling around the academy’s dining hall in a drunken stupor. This was not an outrageous crime, I was in good company. The room was filled with hundreds of such students and rabbis, all similarly shikkur (drunk). It was Purim and this was…