The final hand gesticulation I made was to pull my wallet out with a flourish to pay for my pie. That’s when she leaned toward me, winked and said with a side-to-side sweep of her hand: “All these crusts are kosher, by the way.” For once I didn’t know what to say. I just nodded. Now I knew what being profiled feels like.

America, late 1990s Sonia Honig-Seberg was the visiting professor from Germany one year in the department where I got my master’s degree in German literature. My buddy Berto and I took an immediate liking to her because she was like us. A fish out of water, flopping through the motions, uncertain of why. Unpopular with [...]