The simple reason why I wear a kippah is a three part obligation: an obligation to God, an obligation to community, and an obligation to myself.

Ironically, the obligation to God is the easiest to understand. I believe in God and His Torah, and I display this by wearing a kippah, both as a way of undermining my own potential embarrassment about this in public and as a way of declaring my faith. I do this not as an egotistical and condescending tool of intimidation but as a proud declaration. While God does not need this particularly external symbol, man in his relationship with God certainly does.

The second obligation is the one that I bear, as a Jewish male, toward my community. The Jewish people exist within a communal framework, and much of our actions as Jews take place on a communal level. In a present-day Jewish world that is lacking the unity that would provide for more romantic and powerful outlets for Jewish brotherhood, the kippah remains one of the few symbols that automatically unites me with others. It is an external tool of inclusiveness: for those who understand and identify with it, it is empowering, and for those who do not, it is simply an article of clothing. When I walk around with my kippah, I am both asserting my pride to be publicly a member of the Jewish nation and calling to those Jews who want to associate with me.

The third, perhaps most important level of obligation, is the obligation that I owe to myself. In this respect, the kippah can present any of its wearers with a significant paradox in self-identity. I should hate to be defined and stereotyped by an article of clothing. However, if the kippah is truly a fair representation of my values, then I should proudly display it and challenge anyone to see past those set values and explore me further as a person. If they are unable to get past the kippah on my head and simply stamp me for it, they are no better than a racist who sees people only for the color of their skin. And yet I do hope that they still acknowledge what I wear and demand of me that I live up to the responsibility that I have placed on myself by wearing the kippah. My obligation to myself is that I assert my Jewish identity. My attempt to make myself into a Jewish person is so present in my complete identity that I wear my kippah despite whatever judgments people may make of me. If that means that people change the nature of their conversation when I walk by--as I have seen happen--then while I may lament their unfortunate inability to deal with an observant Jew like any other person, I also celebrate that the observant Jew stands for things greater than foul language, that they see me out of the realm of the depravity of their conversation.

There is a responsibility borne to the wearer of a kippah, one that exceeds that of a non-kippah wearer simply based on the visibility factor. A person wearing a kippah hovers always on the fine line of kiddush and chilul hashem, sanctifying and desecrating the name of God. However a kippah wearer acts, his actions are watched for consistency and honesty. We are reviled by newspaper articles about kippah wearers who are convicted for tax fraud, or closer to home, by people whose kippah seems more important to them than any common decent patterns of behavior. But the remedy to that is not to remove the kippah in disgust, or to distance oneself from the object in question; abandoning the value of the kippah leaves a larger void than can be remedied through words of rebuke. We have to realize that the kippah elevates us as much as we elevate the kippah. We wear the kippah both to justify and improve our actions.

There is no doubt that there is great work to be done in our community and in the world community as a whole. But that work needs to be approached by those who are willing to begin with what the community truly believes in. Abandoning the kippah is not simply an act of distancing oneself from particular people or unfortunate incidents of chilul hashem. It is the abandonment of a carefully crafted relationship with God, with the nation of Israel, and with oneself.

It is then not only logical but appropriate that I wear my kippah proudly around Columbia. It always has interested me how it is more of a public statement and religious assertion to enter an environment and remove one's kippah. That to me is terribly unfortunate, for regardless of color, style, or form, the kippah is the ultimate symbolic embodiment of Jewish pride. And so consciously, regardless of what is swirling around me, I am proud to keep my kippah firmly planted on my head.