The Moth - Coming Home: The Moth Podcast

Episode Date: September 18, 2026

In this episode, we’ve got two stories all about finding out where you come from - the process of figuring out who you are in relation to your family, your culture, your background, even your language. This episode was hosted by Emily Couch.Storytellers:Gwendolyn Lopez-Cohen tries to convert to Judaism, but discovers that her family already has a connection to the religion.Iris Luz Hernandez takes a trip to Puerto Rico.Podcast # 999

Welcome to The Moth. I'm Emily Couch. In this episode, we've got two stories all about finding out where you come from, the process of figuring out who you are in relation to your family, your culture, your background, even your language. With both the Jewish High Holidays and Hispanic Heritage Month coming up, we wanted to reflect on this journey of discovery and growth, with two stories about tradition and identity, and what comes up when those two things intersect.

First up, we have Gwendolyn Lopez-Cohen. Gwendolyn told this story at a special event that the moth put on with Barnard College at their annual reunion. Here's Gwendolyn, live with the Moth. So it's Martin Luther King weekend in 1992, my senior year of Barnard. And I'm sitting in my room at Hewitt Hall. And there's a knock on my door. It's my friend Rachel from down the hall. And she says, hey, you want to go to Cannons?

And I thought, well, you know, I honestly prefer studying to going out. But it's my senior year. And so it's kind of now or never. So decided to go out. And we went to Cannons, a local dive bar. And that night at the bar, this nerdy-looking guy walks up to me and says, hey, aren't you in my art history class? And I looked at him and was like, no. And it turns out neither one of us was taking an art history class.

But it was an icebreaker. And at the end of the night, he said, you know, would you like to have dinner some time? I said, sure. My name's Gwen Lopez. And I live at Hewitt Hall. and you can look me up. Fast forward four years and we're dating and I'm working as a first grade teacher on the Upper East Side and taking premedical classes at night at Hunter College and we're both pretty busy. So we decided, you know, we made a regular Friday night date of sorts going to the

synagogue, B'nai Jesrin on the Upper West Side. And, you know, my boyfriend was Jewish. It was important for him to go to the synagogue. And I found that, you know, I was really drawn to the singing and the dancing and the Hebrew prayers. And there was this magical feeling at Bona Jashrin, this incredible spirituality. I had grown up Unitarian and, you know, celebrating Christmas and Easter. So I didn't have a strong religious affiliation myself. And I found it at these Friday night, synagogue services that I felt a real connection to God that I'd never experienced before. And it was something about the music and the dancing and Hebrew prayers that really helped me to leave behind all the stress of the work week and start to really feel relaxed and at peace.

Eventually, boyfriend and I had a conversation where he said, you know, I'm Jewish. It's really important for me to have Jewish kids. I thought about it. I thought, well, I feel very connected to Judaism. So I decided that I wanted to convert. So a local rabbi or someone referred me to a conversion rabbi at Yisheba University named Rabbi Bombser. I went to his office at Yashiva University and I sat down with him and I said, you know, I really, I've been going to synagogue on Friday nights and I really feel a strong connection to Judaism, happened to be dating this Jewish guy.

And I really want to become a Jew, make it official and convert. And then I said, you know, and it's not so surprising to me because my grandmother was from a Jewish family in Germany. Maybe that's why. I'm not sure. And he looked at me and he said, well, which grandmother are we talking about? And I said, well, my mother's mother came from Germany in 1938 because of World War II. and she had to leave Frankfurt.

He looked at me and he said, well, chances are you are a Jew. And he recommended that I learn more about my family heritage and look into this. So at that time, you know, I was kind of surprised. I mean, you know, growing up Unitarian, I was taught that religion is, it's a personal belief system. So it was something that an individual would choose. And, you know, my father had grown up Catholic and had come from Puerto Rico to the States and I stopped practicing Catholicism and didn't identify with it anymore. In my mind, just the two things didn't make sense that you could be a religion that you

didn't practice or believe in. So in any case, my mom referred me to my great uncle Henry, my grandmother's younger brother, who was a family historian. And it turns out that he had mapped the. Ameyer family descendants back to the 1500s in Germany. So I made a file of documents that included my birth certificate and a copy of my mother's birth certificate and a copy of my grandmother's birth certificate that actually was stamped, Israelitia, literally Jew, right on her birth certificate. And I brought these documents to the Bate Inn, which was a Jewish court in Brooklyn.

And they reviewed my file and they took a look at it. And they issued a an official letter stating, Gwendolyn Lopez is a Jew. In Hebrew, of course. So in 1996, I was married by an Orthodox rabbi. And my grandmother attended the wedding. And she came up to me afterwards, and she said, you know, I've been to a wedding like this before.

And of course, I wanted to say, yeah, grandma, because you're Jewish. But, you know, out of respect and to be polite, I just nodded and smile. since I keep a kosher home and I make going to synagogue a part of my regular practice. And it's been a real gift to have, and the current, the only female descendant of the Meyer family in my generation. And I've reconnected with our Jewish identity and adopting Jewish practices. So when my fourth son, Joshua was born, he had some motor delays. and I brought him to a neurologist who recommended that we do DNA testing and that we have Joshua's DNA sequenced and his dad's DNA sequenced and my DNA sequenced.

And we learned that both Joshua's dad and I are carriers of a single point mutation, a G2NA at E375K, and Joshua had unfortunately inherited both mutated copies of this recessive gene and had a genetic mitochondrial disease. and it's a known fact that for two individuals to have the exact same point mutation in their DNA, they must share a common ancestor. So somehow, with mixed with Puerto Rican and Anglican and Jewish ancestry, I found my long-lost Ashkenazi Jewish cousin at a bar on the Upper West Side. And, you know, fortunately, my faith and my Judaism,

has helped me to deal with Joshua's diagnosis, and I pray for him every day. I'm grateful to Barnard. It was the first place that I ever had heard that I might be Jewish, and it was where I met both the father of my children and my distant Ashkenazi Jewish cousin. That was Wendellin Lopez-Cohen. Dr. Lopez-Cohen is a child, adolescent, and adult psychiatrist. She has over 20 years of experience working with children and families as a physician, educator, and a parent. We asked her how her son Joshua was doing, and she told us that, Joshua has done better than expected, and while his prognosis is guarded, he is 11 years old and in better health than many children with mitochondrial disease. So bad news is not always as bad as expected.

We are so happy to hear that. Like Gwendolyn, I am ethnically Jewish. Unlike Gwendolyn, I was also raised Jewish. or rather culturally Jewish. I observed the major holidays, understood the broad strokes of Jewish history, and fried a mean Latka. But I had no formal Jewish education.

My family wasn't religious, nor did we attend synagogue. Regardless, I was proudly Jewish, despite having only a cursory understanding of what that even meant. As I witnessed the rise in anti-Semitism over the past several years, I became more committed to educating myself

about Jewish beliefs and history. To my surprise and delight, I found that I already held many Jewish. values. I just hadn't known they were Jewish. The more I learn, the more connected I feel to Judaism, the more it feels like a part of me and I a part of it. It's been inspiring and enlightening to say the least, and I have no intention of stopping. Lifelong learning is, after all, a core Jewish value. After the break, a story about language and coming home. Welcome back. Our next story is from Iris Hernandez, who told this at a Twin Cities story slam.

Here's Iris, live at the mall. So in October of 2019, my parents planned a family trip to Puerto Rico. Now, I was absolutely thrilled for this opportunity. I already loved all of my Puerto Rican family in the States, so for me, the idea of going on a trip with them, plus meeting my extended family that lived on the island was beyond thrilling. At my school, I'm the only Latina in my grade.

have this sort of virtual monopoly on Hispanicness. I can say a few phrases in Spanish and show up at the potluck with some rice and beans, and the kids are like, wow, she's really cool. So this going to Puerto Rico was going to be my opportunity to spread my wings to explore my identity. So fast forward a few months, and it's Christmas Eve, we've just flown in, we're unpacking at my aunt's house, and I hear my parents talking about a Christmas Eve party that's happening that night, or Noche Buena, which if you don't know, is a Puerto Rican festivity that sort of culminates all the hard work of the year into a night of festivity. So as soon as I hear that this party is

happening, I grab my party dress, I grab my makeup, and I run to the bathroom, slam the door, and I start getting ready. Now, I am going the full nine yards. I have penciled in my eyebrows. I am doing dark eye shadow. There is rouge. There is a red lip. The waterline is perfect. And my party dress is this little knee-length, flowy number, covered in huge toucans across the front, which I thought was very apropos for Puerto Rico. So as I'm putting the finishing touches on my look, I hear the doorbell ring, I hear people start to enter,

talking to each other, snatches of conversation, I hear the music start playing, I'm hearing bomba and plena, and I'm just so glad to hear the sounds of what I think is my people. So I open the bathroom door a little bit, and I peer out, and I am bored to see how many people manage to pack themselves into that tiny living room. So I take a deep breath, and I open the door all the way, and I sort of, I strut my way down the hallway, and I'm looking for a particular cousin that I've heard of from my parents. I know that she's around my age, and we both like theater, and I think, great, we're going to hit it off. So I'm sort of squeezing my way between the crowds, and I make eye.

contact with her and I smile and start walking towards her and she smiles back at me and she opens her mouth and starts speaking in rapid fire Spanish. And I just stare at her with my mouth sort of open because somehow throughout the entire process of preparing for this trip I had forgotten the important fact that my family in Puerto Rico would speak Spanish. Like Spanish, Spanish. I mean, I got like Prima and Navidad and Olá, but nothing that was going to give me any actual clue to what she was saying to me. So I kind of collect myself and I go, ay, prima, peroname, I need to do a moment, for favor, and I run back into the hallway. I immediately whirl around

and crash into my mom who's coming out of the back bedroom and when she looks at my face, She can see that something is wrong because the perfect water line from before has migrated to somewhere slightly north of my nostrils. So, of course, you know, she's been speaking Spanish the entire time she's here, so when she goes to ask me how I'm doing, it comes out as, I, ge fu miha, ist das being, and that was the last Spanish straw for me. I start to sob, and I go, much. And then I rush past her back into the bathroom that I was in not five minutes. before. And I sit on the counter and I look at myself in the mirror and all the things I've done to get myself ready feel stupid. I was putting myself together to look the perfect Puerto Rican

daughter, niece, cousin, what have you, and I couldn't even speak the language of my country. I was a poser. So the party continues and eventually I leave the bathroom. I come out, I serve myself some food, I sit in the corner and I listen to my family sing karaoke songs that I don't know the lyrics too. Well, this moment certainly didn't ruin the rest of my trip. I had similar hiccups along the way. For instance, I'd go to a restaurant and I'd try to order in Spanish, but I'd make some mistake that would let the waiter or waitress know that, oh, she doesn't speak Spanish, will speak to her in English.

And I appreciated their empathy, but every time it happened, it was another blow that I couldn't speak my native language enough to even order myself food. I would look around and I would see tourists with their sunburned foreheads, with their tropical shirts, not so unlike my own two-can dress. And I just, every time, it felt like I was defeated yet another time. So when I came back to Minnesota, I decided that that would be no more. I pulled out of Latin four at my school, and I went to Spanish One.

And I worked through that, and I took accelerated courses, and I worked with my dad over the summer, and I took AP Spanish, and while today, I would not say I'm fluent, I'm certainly proficient, and I'm very glad to be here. And while I haven't been back to Puerto Rico since that time four years ago, I hope that soon I can return to the island and I can show my family all the language

that they motivated me to learn for their sake, but mostly for mine. Because now when someone asks me, are you Puerto Rican? I can say, yeah, I am. But there's actually substance to back up that statement. Thank you. That was Iris Hernandez. A curious, driven college junior with a love of learning,

Iris is committed to connection and growth through writing, community service, and stories like these. She's excited to share this close snapshot of her culture and personal vulnerability. Iris's line about being asked if she's Puerto Rican and being able to say yes with, quote, actual substance to back up that statement really resonated with me. because it is also very much how I feel about my relationship to Judaism. Like Iris, I grew up being the only person of a given heritage in so many spaces, so much so that I felt profoundly Jewish. But then, when I started looking to connect to the Jewish community as an adult,

I realized how little I knew about my own culture, which definitely deepened my commitment to educating myself so that I, too, could back up my Judaism with some actual substance. Also, like Iris, that included some language learning. I've been teaching myself a little Hebrew. So on that note, Toda Rabah for listening today, and from all of us here at the Moth, we hope you have a story-worthy week. Emily Couch is a producer on the Moth's artistic team.

She loves to work behind the scenes to spread the beauty of true personal stories to listeners around the world. Iris Hernandez's story was originally developed from the Moth's education program, thanks to unlikely collaborators for their support. Wendellin-Lopez-Cohen's story was directed by Michelle Jolowski. This episode of The Moth podcast was produced by Sarah Austin Janice, Sarah Jane Johnson, and me, Mark Salinger. The rest of the Mawals' leadership team includes Gina Duncan, Marina Clucay, Jennifer Hickson, Jordan Cardonale, Caledonia Cairns, Kate Tellers, Suzanne Rust, and Patricia Orenia. The Moth podcast is presented by Odyssey. Special thanks to their executive producer, Leah Reese Dennis.

All Moth stories are true, as remembered by their storytellers. For more about our podcast, Information on pitching your own story and everything else. Go to our website, the moth.org.