{Guest post by Author Jacqueline Jules} I am always a little uncomfortable when asked to provide information on my ethnicity. My skin is white but the box for “other” feels more emotionally correct. I often wish there was a designation on these forms for religious minorities. I grew up in the 1960s in a small Virginia town. My father was a German-speaking Jewish immigrant named Otto. As someone who did not attend a Christian church, I was never considered a part of the majority in my school or my hometown. And throughout my life, I have been made very well...