the patient went on. I don’t want to be Jewish, but I don’t even know what that means. Like I said, I’ve never even known a Jew—fuck! A Jewish person. Is this going to be some PC thing, like we can’t say gay anymore but only gay-lesbian-bisexual?
I am not familiar with that stricture, said Dr. Schussler, so I cannot reply to your question.
No. Really. Are you going to correct me every time I say Jew?
You can say Jew whenever you like.
All right. Good! There. One thing a little easier. So I’ll say it again: Jew. I’ve never been close to a fucking Jew.
The therapist shifted in her chair, crossed and recrossed her legs.
Well, of course you went to a boarding school, she said finally, but perhaps there were Jewish children in your neighborhood?
Oh, no, said the patient. Our neighborhood had covenants.
Covenants—as in the ark of the?
The patient laughed. Obviously you haven’t lived anywhere with a homeowners’ association. Conditions, covenants, and restrictions—C, C, and Rs. Rules of the association.
I do not—
No Jews.
Ah.
No Jews, no blacks, no Hindus, no Mexicans. Not even Catholics were allowed.
I see.
Even by the time the covenants became illegal—
There was history, supplied the therapist.
Yes. Right. History. People lived where they lived.
A fait accompli, said Dr. Schussler. And what about college? she went on. You went to a big university.
A sorority.
And I might suppose no—
No Jews. Right. Fuck! No Jewish women. It wasn’t a rule—
Just history.
Yes. Right. History.
Then graduate school, said Dr. Schussler. Your Wharton M.B.A.
Many, many, many, many Jews, said the patient. Goldbergs and Cohens and Levines and Steins from here to kingdom come. A sea of men with black hair, big noses, and eyeglasses. I had no idea, when I decided to go into business, that I would be joining a Jewish club.
The doctor gasped.
Something wrong?
Dr. Schussler coughed. No. Something in my throat.
You’re sure?
The doctor coughed again. A little bronchitis, she said.
It’s the “Jewish club” business you’re reacting to, isn’t it? It’s like I said there’s a Jewish cabal, right?
What is your opinion?
Shit! Here we go again!
Dr. Schussler said nothing.
Dammit, won’t you tell me what you think! Well, who gives a shit what you think. Goddamn PC business in the lesbian world about who’s working-class and who’s not. Can’t even say what you think. It was a goddamn club. All that talk of being a mensch, all those holidays they took off, everyone knew all about them but me. High holy days. Passover. The one where they eat outside in a—what? Soo-kah? Those little beanies they wore. Kippah. Yarmulke—do you have any idea what the difference is between a kippah and a yarmulke? I moved out west to get away from it. I may not be in the center of the markets anymore. I may have to get up at five a.m. to watch the tickers. But at least I’m away from all that.
The therapist took a breath, then released it. But did you not tell me, she said, in this very room, that you came out to San Francisco to meet women?
I—
To be part of—
Well—
The sexual revolution, the gay revolution.
Yes, said the patient.
Yes.
So? asked the patient.
So perhaps you are doing a bit of backward revisionism. You are startled by the news your mother gave you. You are having trouble assimilating it. And so you are trying to reject it, in whole cloth, by revising your history, trying to see it as a rejection of Judaism itself.
Humph, the patient said.
Rich Jews, brainy Jews, large noses, eyeglasses, Jews running the business world, said the doctor. These are stereotypes, as I am certain you know. Dangerous stereotypes.
I told you I didn’t really know any Jews. Stereotypes—that’s all I have.
Do you really want to rest with these ideas? asked the doctor. Do you not wish me to challenge them?
And I didn’t like Jewish women any better than I liked the Jewish men of Wall Street. Charlotte used to drag me to all those meetings. Noisy, pushy Jewish girls, shouting slogans.
Noisy, pushy: These are more stereotypes, said Dr. Schussler.
Stereotypes usually exist for a reason, you know.
The doctor sat back and heaved a great, defeated sigh.
But why are you doing this to yourself, dear?
The patient snorted. So what am I supposed to be doing to myself?
Making yourself out to be so hateful.
This gave the patient pause. When she replied, it was with a softened voice:
But I am hateful, don’t you see? I am full of hate. I was brought up to hate Catholics and Jews, and then I find out I may