I spent my childhood in Israel embarrassed by my Romanian roots.
Recently, my book for girls ‘A Diva’s Guide To Getting Your Period’ was translated into Romanian. I have come a full circle, and it’s time to make peace with my past.
I was born in Bucharest and immigrated with my family to Israel when I was 3 years old. My parents paid a heavy price for asking to leave Ceaușescu’s Communist Romania. Both were fired from their jobs as lecturers at the University of Bucharest. My father spent some time in jail, while my mother was re-hired to dust the library book-shelves at the university where she was previously a Linguistic professor.
My parents, Eva and Silviu Leibner, submitted a petition to immigrate to Israel when my mother was pregnant with me. They waited 3 years for a reply to come. During that time my grandmother was granted permission to leave, on her own. We said goodbye to her at the train station, not knowing if we will ever see her again. My toddler’s heart was broken. I begun to refer to her as “Ica Trenu” – “Grandma of the Train” – which is how we called her for the rest of her life.
After 3 years of anxious waiting, my parents received an official letter. It announced they had 1 week to leave, or they will stay in Romania forever. The letter allowed them to pack one trunk for all of us, with personal items and clothing. They were not allowed to take any valuables, jewelry, or official documents (all of our birth certificates had to stay behind).
We embarked on the Theodore Herzl passenger ship on June 1, 1961. I have two very faint memories, like old pages ripped from a dream: I remember a round window, and my mom buttering a piece of bread for me. That’s all.
We sailed to Napoli (Naples), Italy, where we stopped for three days and gathered more passengers for our final destination: Haifa port, Israel.
I disembarked with my family in Haifa, clutching a doll given to me in Napoli by an older Israeli couple, who overheard me begging my mom for it, and being told that we had no money. That doll was my anchor for years. I clung to her as I arrived in a foreign land, whose language I didn’t speak, and where no one understood mine. It felt excruciating. All I wanted was to belong.
My parents enrolled me in an immersion kindergarten in Be’er Sheva, where immigrants’ children were immersed daily with Israeli kids, learning to speak Hebrew by osmosis, while the parents studied daily in an “Ulpan” – a Hebrew language school for new immigrants.
I kept silent for weeks. Concerned, the kindergarten teacher came to speak with my mom, wondering if something was developmentally wrong with me. After 3 months of absorbing all I could, I opened my mouth and begun speaking fluent Hebrew. From that day on – I refused to speak Romanian to my parents ever again!
I wanted to be a “Tzabarit” (an Israeli Native) an expression coined after the “Prickly Pear” – symbolizing outer thorns which cover a sweet fruity interior. I never lied about my place of birth if asked directly, but did all I could to give the impression I was a native like everyone around me. It was difficult to pretend, given my first name, DeAnna, which was clearly a non-Hebrew one.
Years of re-conciliation with my past in various personal growth ventures allowed for a lot of healing. I wasn’t ashamed any more of my Romanian roots, but it wasn’t something I was proud of either. I conveniently ignored this part of my biography.
Until I met Sapir, a new Israeli friend in California, who has similar Romanian roots, and a similar chip on his shoulder. Far away from the Israeli melting pot we compared notes about our childhood embarrassment of being Romanian, and our shared experiences as kids in Israel of the 60’s and 70’s.
Something miraculous begun to happen:
we begun speaking Romanian to each other! Words begun to flood back from years of hearing them spoken around us, in our respective families. Expressions emerged. Full sentences were dredged effortlessly from our depth. We spoke Romanian and burst into laughter each time anew! We phoned each other in delight over a word that came to mind out of the blue. The shared experience made us each relax into this forgotten identity, reclaim it, heal it’s long painful bite marks.
I often wondered what kind of a woman would I have become had I never left Romania. It was impossible to imagine… And then I found Ina Curic: a Romanian woman who is as passionate as I am about empowering women and girls, and it was almost like meeting my Other Self, the woman I might have become had I stayed. This is the woman who translated my book to Romanian!
I am deeply touched by my book reaching Romanian women and girls’ hands! Originally written in English, it was translated into French, Italian, German, Portuguese, Hebrew, Arabic, and now – Romanian!
I was moved to begin my video message (see above) to Romanian sisters — speaking the language of my ancestors. My parents are resting a little more peacefully, a tad more relaxed, in their graves.
I feel my parents and grandparents smiling. Their offspring is returning to the land of their childhood, which persecuted them and spit them out. Their daughter, their granddaughter, is returning with a message of hope — to the land that was cruel to them, which they left willingly, and missed terribly, though never fully admitted it.
As their daughter, granddaughter, great granddaughter — I am weaving back the severed threads, returning to my roots with a peaceful heart.
22 Responses
Me emociona tanto escucharte y conocer tu historia. Cuánta sanación, cuánta integración que nos compartes. Gracias por tu camino, porque inspiras, porque cuando comienza a sanar una estamos sanando todas.
Thank you!
Let me post a translation of your note (might not be perfect, as it’s a google translate :-)
“I am so excited to hear you and know your story. How much healing, how much integration you share with us. Thank you for your journey, because you inspire, because when one begins to heal we are all healing.”
I am so very touched by your personal story, thank you for sharing.
And what a full circle with your published book back to Rumania, your roots.
Thank you, Tamara, for your warm words…
My grandmother’s family came from Romania early last century…a hundred years ago. Blumenfeld. I’ve always been drawn to your work. Respect and blessings…~Angela
Greeting and gratitude, sister!
DeAnna, Thank you for deeply sharing your personal story. It moved me and inspired me to share more of mine in my writings and teaching. I am happy for your completing this part of your circle
Marlise Wabun Wind
Thank you, Marlise, for your support!
Yes, it’s good to become more personally transparent, and I’m delighted you are inspired to do more of that!
Thank you so much for sharing this, DeAnna <3 I feel deeply touched reading your story – so beautiful how you have come full circle – celebrating all of you and your precious work that has inspired me and so many. I bow ???? Much love, Ulrike
Thank you, dear Ulrike. It is wonderful to hear from you, and I am touched so see how you are taking this work out in to the world. Many blessings!
What a beautiful story! I makes me love you and your work even more. Congrats on your new translation!
Thank you, Marce, and blessings to you!
Cada vez que una mujer sana, sanan todas !
Gracias DeAnna por compartir tu viaje hacia la integración más completa de tu Ser ! Qué importante es vivir más integra, completa , sin dejar nada por fuera y estar en paz con todo … Estoy en un trabajo parecido ahora, gracias por la inspiración ! ;-)
Thank you for your words, Katalin Tzila! I still have the beautiful gift you gave me when I was in Costa Rica: the Hungarian midwives’ charm of a baby doll inside a walnut shell! It travels with me to be on the altar of many workshops… Blessings on your path!
I feel very touched by your sharing and How inspiring It is to listem to you! Happy that much more women will have acess to your writings and wisdom.
Thank you for your words, Gislaine!
Thank you for sharing your story and for the wonderful difference you are making to the lives of girls, women and the world.
Bright blessings <3
Inger
Thank you for your words, Inger!
DeAnna, Shalom lach! So happy to hear that your book is reaching far and wide. You have been doing incredible, dedicated work with women and girls for years. ❤️
My grandfather immigrated, with his brothers and sisters, from Iasi, Romania around 1912. I never heard him speak a word of Romanian – only Yiddish. He would tell stories of discrimination and the family being cheated out of land. Even at a very early age, it was clear to me that he never regretted leaving the country of his birth for one minute.
Toda, Talia! Thanks for your kind words, and so glad to hear of your lineage!
Interesting story… I am a Romanian who immigrated in Canada and was attracted to your work. Romanian language has deep roots, that’s why that flood of feelings and emotions. It’s part of the old and peaceful matriarchal culture of Europe, as Maria Ghimbutas described it.
Everybody suffered under the communist regim, everybody had their resources taken away. If you didn’t belong to the communist party (as it was the case of my parents), then you were always singled out and discriminated. In a long run, it made me stronger.
Later in life, before my immigration, I was attracted to the Hebrew letters. I wanted to learn reading them. Which I did. None in my family ever entered into a synagogue. I did. It was Hanukkah and dragged my friend with me. I felt happy.
The voices of the ancestors are whispering in mysterious ways….if we only knew how many threads are spun into our yarn…
As I am in my perimenopausal years, I was attracted to look more and more into the old rites and traditions of the Romanian land. It’s an open file whose codes were not yet properly cracked. It waits for the right touch…
Mă bucur mult ca te-am întâlnit și îți mulțumesc pentru transparenta!
Doina
Doina,
Thanks for your warm words, and for sharing some of your story. I had a beloved aunt named Doina :-)
Cuvintele tele sunt o plăcere