What did she mean by "really Jewish"? Today, almost four years after my formal conversion, I still wonder: How Jewish am I?

My connection with Judaism began when I discovered felt totally at home in Jewish services. This led me to realize how wonderful Jewish scholarship is, and how right this faith of questioning, study, doubt, discipline and service is for me. Yes, I honor and protect Shabbat—and delight in Torah study—but how Jewish am I, with my gentile atheist husband and non-converting children? How Jewish can a middle-aged, Midwestern, Scandinavian semi-agnostic be?

My colleague wasn’t talking about being "officially" Jewish, since she clearly understood that, after rabbinic approval, my examination by a Bet Din and a mikveh dip, I would (at least by Conservative and Reform standards) be officially Jewish. And I don’t think she was questioning my knowledge of or commitment to the Jewish faith. Like many born Jews, she cheerfully told me I already knew more about her faith than she did. She herself is not observant, does not believe in God, and has ambivalent feelings about the Jewish congregations in her community. But she obviously considers herself to be "really" Jewish, no matter how casual her connections to Jewish belief or participation in local Jewish community life.

So then, what makes a real Jew? There’s the shallow definition—"looking Jewish"—but I couldn’t fit that stereotype even if I tried. Sometimes, I feel conspicuously gentile in appearance, and wish I looked less like my Norwegian ancestors. I’m disturbed that my Aryan looks connect me (superficially, at least) to those who persecuted, rather than to those who survived Jewish history.

I suspect that my looks wouldn’t be so problematic if I had solid Jewish genetic connections of some kind, or if my husband or children were "really Jewish." But my family of origin and my husband and children are as un-Jewish as they come. I cannot claim a blood link, so when I pledged with Ruth that "your people will be my people," I acknowledged that I was not born into "our people." My connection with Judaism must always be by choice, not birth.

But still, I think my colleague was referring to something more than looks or genetics, or the comparative weakness of pledged loyalty versus birthright. When Jews talk about "real" Jewishness, I think we are talking about being an insider by virtue of cultural heritage. So, like most converts, I don’t have the Jewish background that would have given me access to this heritage.

Being "not really Jewish" is about summer camps I never went to or even knew existed. It’s about never having argued about Israel with anyone. It’s about growing up and not noticing which names were Jewish in the media, in academic life and in everyday encounters. It’s about not eating blintzes or knowing any more Yiddish than I have picked up from the movies.

Cultural Jewishness spans a continuum from matzah ball soup to bar and bat mitzvahs to exclusion, persecution, survival, and back again. I haven’t traversed that distance, and no conversion ceremony grants me membership among those who have. Yes, I’m Jewish, but not "really Jewish," if this is what it means.

I have to constantly guard against my desire to camouflage my differences, to try to blend in. For me to adopt culturally Jewish ways—to try to "pass"—feels disrespectful, as well as false. So part of the delicate act of being "really Jewish" for me is to be clear about my status as someone who has chosen this membership for complicated, deeply personal, and endlessly scrutinized reasons.

Much has been made about the growing number of converts to Judaism here in the Midwest, and it often startles me to realize that most of the women in my study group are Jews-by-choice, as are many members of our Tulsa Jewish community. Each of us must struggle and experience moments of feeling more or less Jewish. But I’m slowly learning that the same is true for born Jews. Being or not being "really Jewish" seems to be an issue for all of us who identify with it, through whatever combination of blood, choice, knowledge and experience.

I do know lots about Judaism, because I want to know as much as I can about this faith that has captivated me. But to know is not to have experienced, and to choose to be a member is not the same as feeling like a "real" member of the group. It is also not the same as having the group see you as a "real" member.

The current debate about "Who is a Jew?" ignores the complexities of constructing our own identity in relation to a faith that is simultaneously a religion, a bloodline, an ethnicity and a subculture. What I’m realizing is that, at least for me, being "really Jewish" will always be a work in progress.