From Spain to El Paso
Blanca Carrasco's Journey to Judaism
By Madison Jackson
This essay draws on a conversation with Blanca Carrasco, as part of my research into the phenomenon of returning to Judaism across different regions, to delve into Carrasco's personal journey of discovering and embracing her Jewish heritage later in life.
As Blanca Carrasco appears on the screen in front of me, I feel as if I have been transported to 11th century Spain. Blanca’s Zoom background is a photo she took at the Real Alcázar de Sevilla, the Royal Palace of Seville, built for a Christian king and combining Spanish Christian and Moorish architecture. There are two brown doors in the photo, surrounded above and around by intricate gold and iron designs. What I am most intrigued by though, is the large Jewish star right behind Blanca’s head. A Star of David is adorned on the iron gates. I learn that Jewish symbols are everywhere in the castle. Jews, Muslims, and Christians built the palace and put their religious signs throughout. It is tangible evidence of a time and space where people of all religions in Spain cooperated peacefully.
“I was born in Torreón, Coahuila, Mexico, and I live in El Paso, Texas, USA,” Blanca says. I watch as she nods, her head moving up and down with each syllable she pronounces. She wears dark rimmed glasses and a black shirt, her dirty-blonde hair tied back in what looks like a tight, professional bun. Her eyebrows crease as she speaks.
“I tend to talk a lot, so you tell me whether you want the short version or the long version,” Blanca says. “I tend to put a lot of little things into the narrative.”
She talks slowly but precisely, and I don’t answer her question. I just want to see where her story heads naturally. She explains how she grew up in a very Catholic family and was involved in the church since she was little. In college, some art classes inspired her to rebel, leave the Catholic church, and attend a Christian evangelical church instead. Eventually, Blanca’s mom told their whole family that a pastor said they needed to love their Jewish brethren because they were the foundation of the Christian faith.
“My mom found out about a rabbi in a messianic congregation in El Paso, and a very famous Jew who converted to Messianism came to speak to this congregation,” Blanca says. “I was invited to listen to his presentation. He told us about Judaism and the Jewish festivals and how Jesus was a Jew. I got hooked because I was always interested in religion and wanted to learn more.”
During a visit to the congregation, Blanca and her family were told that there was a long list of Mexican Spanish Jewish names, and if their last name ended in ez or es, maybe their last name might be Jewish. Since the family, and Blanca’s husband, both found their names on the long list of names, a spark was lit—they wanted to find out if they had any Jewish ancestry. This led to inquiries with the extended family about whether they could recall any Jewish practices past generations might have done, but no one could tell Blanca anything other than that they were very Catholic.
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Names play a very important role within Judaism. Sephardic Jews are often named after living relatives, while most Ashkenazic Jews name their children only after the dead. Many parents hope that in giving their children the name of an admired family member, a child will take on their virtues.
A visit to Blanca’s great-great-aunt, who was 100 years old, began to change things.
“We asked her, do you happen to recall some practices that might have happened where you grew up?” Blanca explains. “She said, the only thing I can remember is that when they would bury family members in the town, they would cover the mirrors and everyone would wear black. And, when your great-grandma didn’t want for our little brothers to understand her, she would speak Ladino.”
Blanca continues. “She had no clue what she was saying, she just said the word Ladino, she didn’t know what that was and that was all she could tell us. That seemed to be the only reference we could find to Judaism in my mom’s family, so I held on to that.”
For many years Blanca and her family kept attending the messianic congregation, until eventually they decided to leave the messianic world. They weren’t messianic; they wanted to leave and go to Judaism. Rabbi Stephen Leon had taught Hebrew to the leader of the messianic congregation. Blanca and her family left the messianic congregation and went to Congregation B’nai Zion, Rabbi Leon’s synagogue. There, after a year of classes, they formally converted to Judaism. They had nothing in writing that said they were crypto-Jews, but they now belonged to the Conservative Jewish movement, mainstream Judaism, and were no longer messianic.
“Rabbi Leon always asked me, someone is interested in an interview, would you be interested in responding?” Blanca says. “I always said, Rabbi I don’t know, we don’t have anything in writing. We knew some people knew they were descendants of crypto-Jews for a fact. They had artifacts or paperwork, and we didn’t.”
“But when we did our group Bar-Mitzvah with another group of people who returned or converted it just felt like this is where we belong, this is our home, this is where we need to be,” Blanca says.
After some time had passed, Rabbi Leon started the Anusim Center, an educational center for and about crypto-Jews. Blanca became a board member, where she created a newsletter, and edited stories of people to feature in the magazine. Garza, Blanca’s father’s name, was mentioned in an article. Never having met her father, Blanca had never used the name Garza as her own. But the Garzas were well known to be descendants of crypto-Jews.
“I got ahold of someone in California who did my genealogy and connected my dad’s side to the Garzas in Monterrey,” Blanca says, her excitement pulpable even years later. “From there my world exploded. Everybody is talking about the Garzas, everybody knows they are Jews, that totally changed the way I saw myself.”
“There’s an understanding that if you ask people, you are Jewish because your mom is Jewish, if not, you aren’t Jewish,” Blanca says. “But for crypto-Jews it’s more like what’s the connection and whether there is something spiritual. We fell in love with Judaism, and after 20 years of us learning about Judaism, we happened to learn about the Jewish family. The passion for Judaism is in our DNA.”
Blanca’s two DNA tests results were even more interesting than she had expected. Although she knew her family had come out of Spain, her results came out as Ashkenazi. She explains that some of the Garzas travelled up north to Poland after the Inquisition and stayed there for a long time. She thinks that DNA has to do with what people ate, the areas where they grew up, and what they used to survive, and feels those things could be contributing factors in her DNA being Ashkenazi. I am reminded of the fact that what Jewish people eat, and what they call their food, can often say something about where a person comes from. For instance, Jews from Lithuania, northeastern Poland or northern Russia make their kugel savory, whereas Jews from southeastern Poland or western Ukraine swear by sweet kugel. Apparently, not only does food say something about where you are from, but it can also reveal surprising DNA test outcomes.
“Ashkenazic DNA results doesn’t take away from me saying I’m a crypto Jew from Spain, or Sephardi, that’s how we relate to the movement,” Blanca says. Her eyebrows curve in, meeting in the middle. “Why does it show up as Ashkenazi when they were expelled as Sephardim? That’s maybe something for your research,” she says smiling, and pointing a finger in my direction.
But, even as members of the Conservative congregation, Blanca still felt alone. Many of the members didn’t treat her well, because she was the descendant of crypto-Jews. It was hard to find a place in the community. In 2020, Blanca took part in the filming of a movie called A Long Journey: The Hidden Jews of the Southwest. She, along with others who had found hidden Jewish roots, spoke about their experiences returning—or not returning—to the Jewish faith. Blanca describes the film as “revolutionary.” After it came out, people were no longer nasty. Instead, everybody in the southwestern parts of the USA welcomed crypto-Jews and wanted to learn more about them.
Mexico though continues to be a different story.
“In Mexico it’s really hard to be part of the Jewish community unless you were born Jewish,” Blanca explains. “There is a silent agreement in Mexico that says nobody else will come into the Jewish faith unless they are marrying someone who is Jewish. Not someone who says they want to convert. We are still fighting for the communities in Mexico to be open to those who are learning about their Jewish ancestors.”
In the meantime, the Anusim Center in El Paso is doing what it can to help crypto-Jews, wherever they live, feel welcome in the Jewish community. In the process of converting to a synagogue, the center holds services both in-person and online for people who want to connect with the community. One of their main goals is to connect with people who otherwise don’t have access to anywhere to go. Situated on the border of two countries and three states, El Paso is a ten-minute drive to New Mexico. The Rio Grande divides Texas from New Mexico. The Anusim Center synagogue is very close to the river.
Services at the Anusim Center Synagogue are further made accessible, by being held in Hebrew, English and Spanish, along with transliteration, and are beginning to include Ladino, starting with Ladino songs.
“The Anusim Center Synagogue has revolutionized El Paso for the mere fact that the rabbi says there are no dues, we just ask you to do mitzvot in the community, donations are welcome, but anybody is welcome, you don’t have to be a crypto-Jew to belong to us.”
Blanca explains how the synagogue can be neither Conservative or Orthodox since they break Jewish law by connecting on Zoom and using technology to connect with people. “But that’s the freedom of the Anusim Center, we are not bound by a specific denomination.”
Each week 50 to 60 people attend the services in person, and in Mexico, 10 to 20 individuals congregate together in a house and join the service via Zoom.
As we reach the end of the interview, I’m thinking about all the important work Blanca is doing to help ensure those who are Jewish can partake in a Jewish life. Yet, amidst reflecting on how fortunate I am to have met someone so inspiring, Blanca smiles and says, “I’m grateful to have met you.”
Madison Jackson lives in Pittsburgh, PA and is the Director of Jewish Student Life at Carnegie Mellon University Hillel. She received her Master of Fine Arts degree in Creative Nonfiction Writing from Chatham University, and her Bachelor of Arts degree in Judaic Studies and English from Binghamton University.