I despise matzah. The classic Passover bread substitute is flat, flavorless, and my mom always manages to buy the unsalted or gluten-free version, which hardly improves its appeal. All this to say, matzah grosses me out, and I don’t care that I am firmly outvoted on this one. Passover is always a struggle, and conversations with my small group of Jewish friends from school usually end in teasing about my un-Jewish appetite when my plate is left matzah-less.  

Coming from a family whose women call themselves the “Starch Queens,” Passover should cause me dread. Its staple is matzah, of all things, and everything about the dull cracker just makes me want to tear into a loaf of challah (which, of course, I can’t do during the holiday). If someone asks me about Passover, I will usually sigh, give them a piece of my mind about my school’s lunch options during non-Christian holidays (because I am my mother’s shit-stirring daughter), and spend the next hour bitterly longing for pancakes. However, I will also smile and tell them proudly that Passover is one of my favorite holidays in the world.  

I tell them about how on Passover, I steal down to the basement and go into our family’s holiday box. I dig into the very bottom and snatch out my favorite pair of pants: a Five Below pair of brown leggings with “Lotza Matza” printed in bold yellow letters down the side, overlapping a pattern of tan crackers. It is embarrassing, but I love it. 

Every Passover, I tout the pants around school, representing my least favorite food. That may seem counterintuitive, but the magic of the matzah pants is their power to bring every Jew in my community out of the woodwork. There is nothing more connective than a bad joke, and every faux-annoyed eye roll or chuckle I get from my leggings is like a confirmation that Passover still binds us together.  

It is hard to become connected to a holiday that is meant to be a trial of endurance; combine that with a school community of few practicing Jews and you get a dangerous combination of stress and loneliness. Passover is structured around a community experience of denying yourself something which you have taken for granted. Without much of a Jewish community, you're left with just denying yourself. Somewhat paradoxically, my most crucial Passover tradition is something I never thought I’d have to go without: the support of a strong Jewish community throughout the week. I switched school systems when I started high school, and coming from a school within walking distance of three synagogues to a school that didn’t excuse my Yom Kippur absence was a cultural learning curve, to put it mildly. My pants, however, have become my saving grace and greeting card, a lighthearted tool to connect with my school’s Jewish community. 

For me, Judaism has often been more about culture than belief, which is not uncommon. I rely on my Jewish culture and community, rather than doctrinal beliefs, to support me. My beliefs feel more meaningful to me when a sense of agency is imbued within them. Especially during more trying holidays such as Passover, feeling culturally isolated makes me feel less empowered in my beliefs, and therefore disengaged from tradition. When I am separated from the people who my faith is built on, I no longer feel spiritual. This Passover-triggered insecurity makes me feel as though I am putting lipstick on a pig, displaying myself as something I have no true resolve to be. 

However, I also believe in the holiness of ritual. A normal day can become sacred, a simple room can become blessed, and a scrap of fabric from a dollar store in Nebraska can become a lifeline to my Jewish pride. My pants have revealed to me the importance of identifying myself as Jewish in a culturally Christian space, and I am proud to say that I’ve accepted the responsibility to call attention to myself in order to connect with my community. 

Matzah (although I stand by its culinary yuckiness), represents a holiday that balances self-denial with an indulgence in community. Matzah represents who I wish to be as a young Jewish woman and how I hope to engage and support the Jewish community around me. When I put on those pants for Passover, I could even, just almost, see myself eating a little matzah.