I plug her name into the Facebook search engine and there she is: my former friend, Bea. The years have been kind to her: She’s not looking too much older, I see essentially the same face that was smiling next to me in my wedding photos when she served in the role of unofficial maid of honor. We were that close — until we weren’t. I remember the fateful phone call more than a decade, ago, when she was disappointed and angry that I wasn’t willing to leave my two small children and drive more than an hour to visit her. She told me angrily that if I wasn’t willing to make that much of an effort to see her, she wasn’t interested in being my friend anymore.
It was traumatic — the first, and only, time a close female friend had formally “broken up” with me. I was shocked and hurt. I called her and apologized for my behavior. I became upset that she was willing to let our friendship end over what seemed to be such a trivial matter. But she wasn’t interested. I grew tired of reaching out to her, and stopped. We haven’t spoken since. I look at her picture on my computer screen and wonder: Is she still angry with me? Should I still be angry with her? Or is it time to try again?
Yom Kippur is about reconciliation and forgiveness of past transgressions. We’re supposed to not only ask forgiveness from God for our sins, but also apologize and reconcile with those who have sinned against us, or those to whom we have done wrong. I believe that in our new wired age, we now have vastly increased opportunities to do this. And no, I’m not simply using religion as an excuse to spend more time on Facebook.
“Modesty” is again holding back women in the Haredi community. Although I don’t agree with it, I can sort of understand how the prohibition against women sitting in the front of a bus, walking on a certain side of the street or talking on cell phones in public can relate to tsnius, or modesty, and guard against the mixing of the sexes. But now comes a case where I just cannot see the logic, no matter how hard I try.
The New York Post recently reported that dozens of Orthodox women trained as emergency medical technicians are asking to join Hatzalah, the all-Jewish, Brooklyn-based volunteer ambulance corps.
The women are being represented by lawyer and community activist Ruchie Freier, who says she has the endorsement of prominent rabbis in Brooklyn and New Square (where Orthodox women reportedly serve as EMTs). She also claims that Assemblyman Dov Hikind, who represents Boro Park, thinks that having women join Hatzalah is an idea worth considering.
Are the practice of forcing young girls to walk around draped in black sheets, denying them formal education and coercing them into early marriage the markings of a cult? Should such communities that do these things be illegal, and should girls whose parents join such a community be removed from their custody?
Israelis are now waiting to hear a Jerusalem family court’s decision on the matter. The ruling is expected to come next week, when the court must determine the fate of two girls whose parents joined the Israeli branch of a Haredi sect called Lev Tahor (Pure Heart). Israelis have taken to calling the group part of the “Jewish Taliban” trend, because women and girls in the group have adopted the custom of wearing burkalike veils covering their faces, and multiple layers of clothing on their bodies.
The girls in the midst of the firestorm, ages 13 and 15, are the daughters of two secular Israelis who became ultra-Orthodox and joined the sect. Their grandmother and great-uncle, concerned for the girls’ well-being, petitioned the court after the girls’ parents put them on a plane headed to Canada, to an isolated village outside Montreal that comprises 45 families from Lev Tahor.
A few weeks before Rosh Hashanah, my older sister invited me to join her family and our mother in New Jersey for the holiday. “Is it a three day Yom Tov?” I asked, referring to when a holiday is followed immediately by Shabbat. “I don’t think I can handle that,” I said. My sister, though she feels the same way, would observe regardless of holiday fatigue. She couldn’t entertain a different possibility.
But for me, “can’t” is no longer a four-letter word. Sometimes Orthodox Jews appear to be only what they can’t do. They can’t eat pork and they can’t go to the movies on the Sabbath.
As a Jewish woman, there seemed to be even more Thou Shalt Nots than there were for my male counterparts. The guys were ordered to actually do things — whether it was to lead services or study Torah — while the girls were constantly warned away from things, like immodest dress and participation in communal life. If only I had lived in the Temple times then I at least could’ve brought a sacrifice to at the altar after giving birth. That would’ve been one for the “can” column.
Hanne Blank’s books include the forthcoming “Straight: The Surprisingly Short History of Heterosexuality” (Beacon Press, 2012) and “Virgin: The Untouched History” (Bloomsbury, 2007).
She has been an advisor and editor at Scarleteen, a sexuality education and support organization and website, where she offered advice on kosher sex.
Blank’s classic sex and body-acceptance book, ”Big Big Love: A Sex and Relationships Guide for People of Size (and Those Who Love Them)” (Celestial Arts, 2011), originally began as a now-defunct ‘zine called “Zaftig,” a collaboration between Blank and illustrator Liz Tammy.
On Rosh Hashanah, Jewish liturgy tells us that we can avert the evil decree in the coming year through tefillah, teshuvah u’tzedakah (prayer, repentance and charity). However, after reading a recent article in the New York Post, I was left to wonder how some Orthodox women have any money left for tzedakah after they spend up to $1,600 a pop to have their wigs cut and styled.
The story, “Wigging Out,” is an account of how several of New York’s biggest name hair stylists are increasingly catering to sheitel-wearers.
I have never completely understood the whole business of married Jewish women wearing wigs to cover their natural hair, especially when the wigs far more attractive than one’s own hair. And now I understand it even less, as I am learning how expensive the whole business is. And it is indeed a business.
What if Jewish women behaved as badly as their XY chromosomal counterparts?
What if we were to flip the genders of Eliot Spitzer, Bernie Madoff, Anthony Weiner and Dominique Strauss-Kahn so that it was a Jewish woman who paid for sex, who swindled billions, who sent nudie pics via Twitter and who assaulted a hotel worker?
The New York Times recently confirmed what I had been starting to suspect. Marilyn is back.
In “A Marilyn Obsession,” Austin Considine writes about Marilyn Monroe’s new ubiquity, and points to a new movie, book, television shows and clothing lines that all revolve around the actress in time for the 50th anniversary of her death.
Despite the steady current of gorgeous and sultry actresses over the years, not one has yet to dethrone Monroe in popular culture as the sexiest of them all.
Her ditsy blonde persona continues to inspire and charm us, and young actresses still pay homage to her on the red carpet and in photo spreads. And I totally get it. Monroe’s allure is as powerful as it is ineffable, so much so that even I start to view her sad beginning and even sadder end as something otherworldly rather than gritty and tragic. Her fate easily becomes elevated above cause and effect, and she morphs into a saint of her own circumstances. Or, in short, an icon.
It looked, this week, like there might be progress for women in Saudi Arabia.
King Abdullah granted women the right to vote, and to run for election to municipal councils and be appointed full voting members of the Majlis Al-Shura, a government advisory group. According to a New York Times editorial this week, however, women will still need the approval of a male family member.
And of course women are forbidden to drive in Saudi Arabia. As the Times opined:
The list of fundamental rights still denied to Saudi women is long and shameful. Men — their fathers or husbands — control whether they can travel, work, receive health care, attend school or start a business.
The studio that made the movie “I Don’t Know How She Does It” knew they could bank on women like me to buy a ticket. When I read the novel after it first came out in 2002, I confess that I could relate: as the working mom, I chuckled in recognition at the heroine, Kate Reddy, in her kitchen exhausted late at night, busy “distressing” a pie so that it would look homemade at the school bake sale the next day.
And as a member of the “Sex in the City” generation, I just couldn’t resist the opportunity to view Sarah Jessica Parker no longer playing a young and single and carefree urbanite, but a middle-aged and harried suburban mom balancing career and family, just like me (only skinnier.) So despite the decidedly lukewarm reviews, I dutifully went to the theater like a predictable member of my demographic, grabbed my bucket of popcorn, and settled in.
As I walked out, all I could think about was how dated the film felt. Could so much have changed in the decade since between the book and the movie? Apparently it could.
“Has your weight changed in the last six months? If so, please explain.” Oh life insurance companies, how I long to answer your intrusive questions as I apply for your services.
But since I would like life insurance to protect my daughter should the worst ever happen (puh, puh, Evil Eye!), yes, my weight has changed significantly over the past six months. I gained 36 pounds while pregnant, and since giving birth several months ago, I’ve been shedding them. Slooowly.
Before I became pregnant I don’t recall anyone telling me that losing baby weight would be so sluggish. Funny, that.
Summer is hard to take seriously with nobody in the office, and everybody running around half-dressed. No wonder High Holidays fall when school resumes and the air grows brisk — when life starts taking itself seriously again.
In the 29-day lead up to cracking open the book of life for the first time this year, we Jews are commanded to study, to reflect, to repair. This focused period, called yeraḥ kallah — which can translate to “bridal month,” the bride being the object of study, the Torah — has spurred a modern response in the vein of story and self-help.
Enter the Jewels of Elul, in its seventh and possibly final year. Musician Craig Taubman, whose projects have ranged in subject from Jewish to Disney, created the website, which features a daily snippet of wisdom throughout the study month.
Patti Stanger should take her own advice.
The “Millionaire Matchmaker” was on Bravo TV’s “Watch What Happens Live” Sunday night (unfortunately I can’t find a video version to share with you), talking with host Andy Cohen, who seemed by turns disgusted and perplexed by what Stanger had to say.
Now, unlike Ilana Angel from the Jewish Journal of Los Angeles, I like watching “Millionaire Matchmaker.”
The language of soap operas is universal: vexing vixens, meddling matriachs and busy men with even busier zippers. When All My Children joined numerous cancelled soaps with its final episode on September 23, it prompted me to reflect on how the voices gone silent did more than entertain; they helped teach me Yiddish.
Like monarchies before a revolution, the kingdoms of daytime television ruled when coffee klatches and occasional babysitters had yet to be overthrown by power lunches and 24/7 nannies.
The demise of soaps draws the curtain on not just a fading era of pre-feminist entertainment, but what women now consider appropriate to do with their days, or at least their afternoons. Which brings me to my maternal grandmother, a woman who survived an immigrant’s ocean trek, a working mother who raised three sets of twins in the Depression.
As someone whose patient base includes a not-insignificant number of ultra-Orthodox Jews (I don’t particularly like that title for the right wing of the Orthodox community, but it’s a shorthand I can live with so let’s just go with it), I am thrilled that someone created a clear, concise and accurate book on sex for this population.
Mind you, sex for this population is not fundamentally different from sex with any other population. Slightly more limited, perhaps, but the fundamental principals remain the same for most of us.
It seemed as though Rachel Azaria, then a 30-year-old mother of two, came out of nowhere to run on a grassroots, independent party ticket and win a seat on the 31-member Jerusalem City Council in 2008.
Although this was her first foray into politics, she was already a recognized figure in the world of Israeli social change organizations. For the decade prior to her election, she had worked for environmental causes, and then as the director of Mavoi Satum, an organization that works on behalf of women whose husbands refuse to grant them a Jewish divorce.
Since joining Jerusalem’s City Council, Azaria has assumed the Early Childhood and Community Councils portfolios, helped establish the new civic non-profit organization called Yerushalmim (Jerusalemites), and given birth to a third child.
“Shelly Yachimovich is the woman for this Israeli moment. Yachimovich is the one and only promise of contemporary politics,” wrote Ari Shavit in Haaretz earlier this month. Not everyone agrees with Shavit, but we all get to see just how Yachimovich will do now that she has been elected leader of Israel’s Labor Party.
Yachimovich, 51, represents a more moderate Labor outlook, one looking a return to the ideals of the welfare state while at the same time not disavowing the party’s historical role in the establishment and proliferation of the settlements. “I certainly do not see the settlement project as a sin and a crime,” she said in an interview published in Haaretz Magazine,” outraging Laborites further to the left, who accuse her of being a sell out to the right when it comes to peace with the Palestinians.
I, for one, am relieved to hear an Israeli politician who doesn’t speak in absolutes.
For Huda Naccache, Israel’s 2011 representative in the Miss Earth beauty pageant, wearing a bikini is important for career advancement.
The 21-year old Christian Arab from Haifa has modeling ambitions, and in order to get noticed, she posed in a bikini for the cover of the Arab Israeli women’s magazine Lilac.
This may not sound like a big deal in a world where everyone from rock stars to child television icons seems to be willing to pose nearly nude for some photo or another. But in Huda’s community, such exposure for women is still taboo.
This kittel explores leadership. Specifically, the responsiblity of leading, and the leaders’ complex relationships to followers and to themselves. On Rosh Hashana our prayer leaders stand before God and together we crown God as King.
There are three different leadership archetypes in the Tanach: kings, prophets and priests. It is interesting to note that clothing plays an important symbolic role in each of their narratives, and thus clothing seems to be inherently connected with the concept of leadership.
Myriam Halberstam had very personal reasons for establishing Ariella Books, the first post-Holocaust Jewish children’s book publishing company in Germany, in the spring of 2010. The German-American documentary filmmaker and children’s book author and editor simply could not find any decent German-language Jewish children’s books for her two young daughters, who are growing up in Berlin.
Written by Halberstam and illustrated by American book artist Nancy Cote, it is a story about a girl who wants a horse for Hanukkah but comes to regret her wish when the Hebrew-speaking horse creates havoc during her family’s holiday celebrations. The book will be available this fall in both Germany and the U.S. A second title, a German translation of Leah Goldberg’s Israeli children’s classic “Dirah L’haskir” (Apartment For Rent) is due out in October in time for the 100th anniversary of the author’s birth.