I wasn’t looking for a mirror when I sat down to watch the documentary.
I expected history, stories from a world I could only hope to understand in pieces.
But somewhere in the middle of it all, a word slipped out — strange, foreign, alive.

אַפּצילוכעס דיקער

“Aptziloches Diker.”

A Yiddish expression, describing someone who refuses to bow to the norms.
A troublemaker, yes — but not aimless. Someone whose very nature pushes against what’s comfortable or conventional.

At first, I just noted it and moved on.
But it hung there.
It asked me questions I wasn’t expecting.

I thought about my own life — about times I stood my ground when it would have been easier to nod along.
I thought about relationships that frayed, conversations that cracked, because I couldn’t — or maybe wouldn’t — simply conform when something deep inside told me it wasn’t right.

Not out of pride.
Not (I hope) out of rebellion for rebellion’s sake.
But because something about injustice, or falsehood, or pretending, simply feels unbearable to leave alone.

It struck me that maybe being a kind of aptziloches diker is part of who I am.
Maybe it’s woven into the fabric of how I was made — a refusal to just go quietly when something needs to be said or done.

But the thought didn’t end there.
It came with a warning, too.
The same stubbornness that can fight for good can just as easily fight for ego.
The same refusal to bend can either protect truth or destroy peace.

It’s not enough to simply be stubborn.
It’s about where that stubbornness points — what it serves.

So today, I receive this part of me with open hands.
Not with shame, and not with pride.
Just with a prayer:

Let my resistance serve what is good.
Let my fire burn for truth, not for self.
Let my strength be wielded gently, not recklessly.
Let me be willing to stand when it’s right — and just as willing to yield when it’s not.

Maybe the world needs a few aptziloches diker souls after all —
but only if we are willing to be shaped, not just stubborn.