Day of Reckoning
Thanksgiving is a very special time for me. I’m not sure why, but there’s something about Thanksgiving that I enjoy more than any other holiday. Truth is, it’s the only holiday that I celebrate that doesn’t have any real distinct Jewish character to it, and I sometimes feel guilty describing how much I actually love it despite that fact. While for every holiday my family goes through the same routine, there’s something about Thanksgiving that’s just not there with the others. And I think it’s something more than just the TV being on or the phones ringing. But I just can’t quite put my finger on it. It’s just different.
The last two Thanksgiving holidays weren’t so sweet for me; in fact, they each marked the beginning of brutally intense life-altering chapters. Each powerful emotional rollercoaster began around this time and ironically enough, both leveled out somewhere near the second week of January. All this probably explains my subconscious contemplative mood lately. Oddly enough, I’ve been walking around all day thinking that tomorrow is Yom Kippur.
A joint result of both of these experiences is that I’ve mellowed and relaxed a bit, and also have become more confident in myself and my actions. But no matter how confident I am, one thing that still causes a great deal of grief is returning home to NY. It’s not the returning home that causes this grief, but the returning home to NY. There’s something about the Judaism, Orthodox Judaism to be exact, that just isn’t right there.
(OK, taking deep breath now.)
Not so long ago, I decided to start wearing pants. (There, I did it. I said it in public and I'm not hiding. Wow, and I haven't yet gotten struck with lightening.) Why is this such a big deal? Well, without going into the detailed halachic issues involved, it’s fair to say that most common interpretation of the law is that women are not allowed to wear pants, even in today’s world. (Note that I wrote “most common interpretation” and not “the most halachically true.” There’s a difference.) When I decided to start living my life according to an Orthodox lifestyle (now 10 years ago), I threw out my pants and started wearing only skirts. This served me well through high school, my year in Israel, and even college and graduate school. And I felt fine about it. I really didn’t think twice about it- that’s just what good Orthodox girls do.
Then I moved to DC. And I noticed that women who considered themselves to be Orthodox (and who I would definitely consider to be halachically observant, Orthodox, whatever you want to call it) wore pants. Still, nothing bothered me much, per se, but I was curious to know how they interpreted the halacha and on what, if any, halachic grounds they stood. And after two and half years of new experiences and a lot of soul searching on many different levels and for many different things, I finally pursued the answer. I talked to a few people about this (including my LORAHW [local Orthodox rabbi and his wife]), and learned that a very prominent Rav ruled a while ago that in today’s society, one of the two major halachic topics involved, begged ish, doesn’t apply. And the issues involved with the second topic isn’t as clear cut as I was originally taught. Imagine my surprise.
So how does this tie in with the anxiety I feel going to NY? I’ve never felt comfortable in the majority of Jewish communities in NY. For years, I had always felt like I was being judged on what I wore, how I looked, and how I practiced my Judaism. If I did x or y, would they still want to be friends with me? Would that guy want to date me if he knew? Would I fit in with these communities if I didn’t conform or do things exactly like they did? Am I really a rebel in disguise? And so on.
And in truth, no matter how confident I feel in myself, I can’t get over this fear. I secretly wonder to myself, What will they think when they see me in pants? If I bump into former friends from high school or college, how will they react? What will they think of me? What will they think of the community in which I live now? And so on.
Maybe it’s not really a problem with the Judaism of NY, but a problem with me. Maybe I shouldn’t really care or worry about what they think. But I can’t help feeling this way. It’s just one of my many complexities and blemishes.
I haven’t done justice to the halachic issues involved with women wearing pants- there’s obviously more involved in it and in my ultimate decision to do what I’m doing today. And of course, its very much alive in me- it’s something I’m struggling with, and who knows. I may just decide to cross back over.
Looking back over the last two years, I’m strangely thankful for those rollercoaster rides, because in the end, they’ve turned some of my weaknesses into strengths. And, have no fear. I’m still working on the rest.
The last two Thanksgiving holidays weren’t so sweet for me; in fact, they each marked the beginning of brutally intense life-altering chapters. Each powerful emotional rollercoaster began around this time and ironically enough, both leveled out somewhere near the second week of January. All this probably explains my subconscious contemplative mood lately. Oddly enough, I’ve been walking around all day thinking that tomorrow is Yom Kippur.
A joint result of both of these experiences is that I’ve mellowed and relaxed a bit, and also have become more confident in myself and my actions. But no matter how confident I am, one thing that still causes a great deal of grief is returning home to NY. It’s not the returning home that causes this grief, but the returning home to NY. There’s something about the Judaism, Orthodox Judaism to be exact, that just isn’t right there.
(OK, taking deep breath now.)
Not so long ago, I decided to start wearing pants. (There, I did it. I said it in public and I'm not hiding. Wow, and I haven't yet gotten struck with lightening.) Why is this such a big deal? Well, without going into the detailed halachic issues involved, it’s fair to say that most common interpretation of the law is that women are not allowed to wear pants, even in today’s world. (Note that I wrote “most common interpretation” and not “the most halachically true.” There’s a difference.) When I decided to start living my life according to an Orthodox lifestyle (now 10 years ago), I threw out my pants and started wearing only skirts. This served me well through high school, my year in Israel, and even college and graduate school. And I felt fine about it. I really didn’t think twice about it- that’s just what good Orthodox girls do.
Then I moved to DC. And I noticed that women who considered themselves to be Orthodox (and who I would definitely consider to be halachically observant, Orthodox, whatever you want to call it) wore pants. Still, nothing bothered me much, per se, but I was curious to know how they interpreted the halacha and on what, if any, halachic grounds they stood. And after two and half years of new experiences and a lot of soul searching on many different levels and for many different things, I finally pursued the answer. I talked to a few people about this (including my LORAHW [local Orthodox rabbi and his wife]), and learned that a very prominent Rav ruled a while ago that in today’s society, one of the two major halachic topics involved, begged ish, doesn’t apply. And the issues involved with the second topic isn’t as clear cut as I was originally taught. Imagine my surprise.
So how does this tie in with the anxiety I feel going to NY? I’ve never felt comfortable in the majority of Jewish communities in NY. For years, I had always felt like I was being judged on what I wore, how I looked, and how I practiced my Judaism. If I did x or y, would they still want to be friends with me? Would that guy want to date me if he knew? Would I fit in with these communities if I didn’t conform or do things exactly like they did? Am I really a rebel in disguise? And so on.
And in truth, no matter how confident I feel in myself, I can’t get over this fear. I secretly wonder to myself, What will they think when they see me in pants? If I bump into former friends from high school or college, how will they react? What will they think of me? What will they think of the community in which I live now? And so on.
Maybe it’s not really a problem with the Judaism of NY, but a problem with me. Maybe I shouldn’t really care or worry about what they think. But I can’t help feeling this way. It’s just one of my many complexities and blemishes.
I haven’t done justice to the halachic issues involved with women wearing pants- there’s obviously more involved in it and in my ultimate decision to do what I’m doing today. And of course, its very much alive in me- it’s something I’m struggling with, and who knows. I may just decide to cross back over.
Looking back over the last two years, I’m strangely thankful for those rollercoaster rides, because in the end, they’ve turned some of my weaknesses into strengths. And, have no fear. I’m still working on the rest.
posted by elanit | 9:18 AM
3 Comments:
EZ - wherever your heart and soul lead you, I will support you, your strength and your determination to live this life conscientiously and intentionally.
It absolutely is a problem with Judaism as found in New York and New Jersey. I'm glad to hear that you came to the (IMO) halakhikhly right position - it can be easy to get offended by stringencies in this as well as other areas, and I've seen people get turned off of Judaism alltogether because of it.
Here's something you might appreciate: The Sefer Hasidim says "If you demand too much strictness in the observence of mitzvot, you deter people from keeping mitzvot altogether." (362).
Don't be hard on yourself about caring what other people think. We all do, to some extent or another. It gets pathalogical when it starts to dictate our behavior excessively or take over our brains.
I was in Suburban Hell, N.J., last week. I found myself running an errand in a very right-wing shul. I was wearing jeans and had my glorious hair out for all to see. To my revulsion, I actually found myself trying to "hint" to these other women that I actually am frum. I don't like it, but I have to acknowledge that I do that kind of thing. I know that my wardrobe doesn't indicate my committment, but somewhere I'm not trusting that they know that.
I went through a real religious revolution. To an outside observer, they might think that I went from being more religious (I had the whole uniform down pat, skirts, hats, and all) to less so. In reality, I was coming to terms with my own religiosity and finding a good "fit" for me.
I did not feel closer to God when I only wore skirts. I felt much further from God when I wore hats all the time. I'm glad that you have arrived at a place where you can feel free to be you and be confident in your religious identity.
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