I am a fourth-generation American, and my ancestors are lost to Jewish history. They authored no books for me to discover; their names are not transcribed among the intellectual Jews of any time. I know, because I keep looking. I found the name Feldstein only once: at Auschwitz, compiled in the book of the dead.

I cannot locate my family origin beyond the broad, ever-shifting borders of “the Russian Empire.” Who were the Feldsteins? How did they think, feel, make a living, express belonging, express dissent? I cannot access the stories of the people that led to me; all I know is that I am an Ashkenazi Jew, and so I inherit the Jewish diaspora even though I cannot find my own ancestors inside of it.

Even my family’s American story evades the stereotypes of success. My mother was a first-generation college graduate, and both my parents were the first in their families to pursue graduate education. It’s the........

© The Times of Israel (Blogs)