ABSTRACT
Picture the expression on the faces of those who accidentally bite into a sour grape. They hardly know how to get rid of the taste quickly enough, especially if they cannot spit it right out again. The lips pucker, the eyes dart around the room, the body language screams: “Yech, this cannot be!” I’ve seen this many times. One typical instance is when a friendly temple-goer, doing “outreach” to welcome me, a stranger, asks my name and immediately follows it up with: “So, are you married?” to which I reply, “No, I am divorced,” and the other comes right back with, “Do you have children?” The answers being negative on both counts, I feel the sour-grapes energy begin to rise. “Oy!” it seems she is thinking. “Now what can we possibly talk about after I proudly show pictures of my own children and grandchildren?” She wants me to know she has lived a respectable life and is a good Jew. Since we are sharing intimate details of our lives, shall I mention now or later that I am a lesbian feminist, too?
