I can't be anything else but a tall Jewish girl from Tribeca.

In the words of Jessica Tarlov, there is both confession and revelation: “I can’t be anything else but a tall Jewish girl from Tribeca. But motherhood and parenting has put a new column on the board that has made me see the world completely differently and definitely has not made me more conservative in that view whatsoever.” Her words reveal the eternal truth that identity is both rooted and expanding. We are shaped by the soil of our birth—our culture, our past, our place—but when we take on the mantle of motherhood, an entirely new dimension opens before us. Life, once seen through the narrow lens of the self, suddenly unfolds through the vastness of a child’s eyes.

The ancients often spoke of such transformations. The philosopher Seneca taught that every great life is marked by turning points—moments when the soul shifts its axis, when one’s old view of the world gives way to something larger and more profound. For Tarlov, that axis-shifting moment came not through career or acclaim, but through parenting, the sacred duty of nurturing another life. She tells us that this change did not diminish her individuality, nor alter her essence; instead, it added a new “column on the board,” a new depth, a new perspective that forever alters how the world is seen and lived.

History bears witness to similar transformations. Consider the life of Eleanor Roosevelt. Born into privilege, she once saw the world narrowly, through the confines of her station. But through motherhood, hardship, and service, her eyes opened to the suffering of others. She became one of the greatest advocates for human dignity in the modern age, helping to shape the Universal Declaration of Human Rights. Just as Tarlov suggests, the new column added by parenting expands the soul’s vision—it does not erase identity, but deepens it, allowing one to see beyond the self to the shared destiny of humankind.

Tarlov’s words also confront a common assumption—that motherhood makes people more cautious, fearful, or conservative. She denies this, proclaiming that her expanded vision has not pulled her back into fear but propelled her outward into empathy, justice, and connection. This is a vital lesson: parenting does not have to narrow one’s world to the safety of the home; it can widen the world, awakening a greater desire for fairness, compassion, and courage, for the sake of the generations to come.

The meaning of her reflection is deeply emotional. To be rooted in one’s identity—“a tall Jewish girl from Tribeca”—and yet to find it expanded through motherhood is to embrace the paradox of growth. It is to realize that life does not replace who we are, but continually adds to it, layer upon layer, until our vision becomes both deeply personal and universally human. To parent is not to abandon the self, but to magnify it through love.

The lesson for us is clear. First, let us honor the roots of our identity, for they ground us in history and tradition. Second, let us embrace the transformations that parenting brings, for they open new horizons of empathy and vision. Third, let us resist the temptation to grow smaller in fear, and instead allow the perspective of our children to make us larger in compassion. For every child added to the world is also a mirror held up to us, showing us how we must live not just for ourselves, but for others.

O seekers of truth, remember this: life is not a single column, but a board on which many are written. Identity begins with birth, but it is expanded by love, by hardship, by duty, and by the children who awaken in us new ways of seeing. Do not cling only to who you were; embrace who you are becoming. For every act of parenting is both a gift to the child and a rebirth of the parent.

Thus, Jessica Tarlov’s words endure as testimony. We are who we are, shaped by origin and heritage, but through motherhood and parenting we are given the chance to see the world anew—not smaller, but greater, not narrower, but wider, filled with empathy and possibility. Let us, then, live not only in the old columns of our identity, but also in the new ones carved by love, so that our vision may embrace both our own story and the shared story of humanity.