I Went From Muslim To Jewish For Love

As Told To Marisa Belger

It was during my second month of medical school—as I was cutting anatomy class—that I met Ron. We bonded over our mutual dislike of the subject, and I felt like we had an instant connection.

In the course of that first conversation we also wound up discussing our backgrounds: Ron, I learned, was Israeli-Jewish; I was Iranian-Muslim.

The relationship grew serious quickly. Ron proposed a year and a half in, and we planned a Jewish-Persian wedding, where we drank wine, did readings in Hebrew, and let my relatives grind sugar over us to add sweetness to the marriage, according to Iranian/Persian tradition.

Then, six months after we married, we began discussing the idea of conversion. Ron and I had both been raised in secular homes, and he felt connected to Judaism on a cultural, rather than religious, level.

I, on the other hand, have never really felt tied to Islam. I believe in gay marriage—and I believe that a woman can do anything a man can do. I don’t think there’s a lot of room in Islam for liberal, or even moderate, viewpoints.

With Judaism, I felt like there was still a way for me to be progressive. Though Ron told me early on that he didn’t need me to change religions, I decided I wanted to convert—for love, and for the family we would raise.

Ron and I were going to medical school in New Orleans, so we spoke to a rabbi about the process and began attending services at a Reform temple. At first, I found the commitment tedious. I was in my third (and roughest) year of school, and I had so much work to do. Now I also had to attend conversion classes each evening, and services Friday and Saturday—plus, I was pregnant!

Initially, there were times when I didn’t know if I could handle everything. But as I adjusted to my hectic schedule, my conversion classes became a retreat, in a way, from the day-to-day demands of school and life. They were grounding. And interesting. By the time I was eight months pregnant, I felt ready to convert.