I am a Chassidic woman. And I love going to Mikva. Oh, and I also hate going to Mikva.
Can all the "Chayas" and "Deborahs" get together and talk about that?
What I Want From the "Chayas" and "Deborahs" Talking About Orthodox Judaism in the Media
By Mimi Hecht
Yesterday, the Orthodox Jewish community proved it was just dying for some good PR.
Chaya Kurtz, a not-so-well-known author, wrote an article on a not-so-well-known site about, well, the certainly not-so-well-known side of being an Orthodox Jewess. It was packed with attitude and confidence— a positive tell-all about how being a Chassidic woman is, in fact, nothing like the quiet or oppressed women that Oprah, Dr. Phil and seemingly all of mainstream media wants people to believe is real. With lines like "We have been happily shagging for a millennia" and referring to her black-hatted and black-suited husband as "hot," she struck a chord with the Orthodox community who, within the hour, turned her into a mini-celebrity for becoming a voice that is finally showing the world that we're not imprisoned, not unhappy and not...so weird. In short, Chaya's article said simply: We have great sex. Mikva is a spa. Being orthodox is cool, man.
Speaking out from the other end of the spectrum is Deborah Feldman, famous for her book "Unorthodox: The Scandalous Rejection of my Hasidic Roots" in which she exposes the ills and shackles of the Chassidic community from which she ultimately freed herself. Feldman has become a strong voice in the "unpious" community, sharing the details of her own marriage to a Chassidic man, and attacking the myriads of Jewish law and thought that she says caused her tremendous pain and suffering. Feldman's attack put simply: Chassidim have sex just to reproduce. Laws of Mikvah are a violation. Women are victims that don't know any better. Being Chassidic is oppressive.
Although much can be said about the tremendous differences in Chaya and Deborah's communities and backgrounds, the debate exploded. Deborah responded to Chaya's article via comment, with a detailed, harsh attack on Chaya personally, her choices, her community. A blood-boiling, determined vendetta against everything Chaya proudly represented, telling her in conclusion "Please refrain from making claims on behalf of Hasidic women you have never met and know nothing about."
Ouch.
What is going on and will there be an end to this circular back-and-forth?
You see, where Chaya may be whitewashing, Feldman is also painting her own negative veneer. At the same time, where Feldman addresses real issues, Chaya comes across naive. Chaya's issue is that she's so happy with her life that she's glossing over potential issues. Deborah's issue is that she's incapable of understanding how someone wouldn't have these issues.
Both of these attitudes are dangerous. Being proud and happy with our Chassidic lot to the point of denial is a crime to those among us that may feel aspects of Judaism causes them discomfort or pain. And being outspoken about stories of oppression and abuse in the religious community and insisting that Jewish law itself is inhumane is a crime to those who genuinely and proudly and consciously ascribe to the lifestyle.
There are plenty of proud Orthodox Jewish women who know that Chaya ignored the complexities and ultimate humaneness inherent in issues in our community related to marriage, sex and Mikvah. Let's talk about me...
I grew up religious. I am darn proud of being a Chassidic Chabad woman. I feel respected, and empowered. I love my husband, whom I chose to marry without a single dose of pressure. I have never felt disrespected or oppressed by the laws mandating our intimate life. And yet, I know that Mikvah is a pain in the you-know-what sometimes. And I know that our community puts severe and harmful pressure on girls to marry. And I know that our lifestyle doesn't honor the colorful personality types and ambitions of all my amazing girlfriends. I know that my community is living in the dark ages when it comes to understanding homosexuality. I know this...and more.
I grew up religious. I am darn proud of being a Chassidic Chabad woman. I feel respected, and empowered. I love my husband, whom I chose to marry without a single dose of pressure. I have never felt disrespected or oppressed by the laws mandating our intimate life. And yet, I know that Mikvah is a pain in the you-know-what sometimes. And I know that our community puts severe and harmful pressure on girls to marry. And I know that our lifestyle doesn't honor the colorful personality types and ambitions of all my amazing girlfriends. I know that my community is living in the dark ages when it comes to understanding homosexuality. I know this...and more.
The thing is, I'm not so insecure that I worship a "Chaya" who loves her beautiful, simple Chassidic life. And I'm also not so fragile that I'll break because Deborah Feldman thinks that my underwear being checked by a Rabbi is a violation of my privacy. I represent the masses that are not being addressed—Orthodox and/or Chassidic women who can have a mature discussion on both the beauty and the ills of our lifestyle.
So what about me? I am proud of my Chassidic life, but am also interested in and open to discussing areas that need reform. Get this: I love going to Mikva. Oh, and I also hate going to Mikva. This duality exists, probably far more than the extremes these two beautiful women feel they represent.
Can all the "Chayas" and "Deborahs" get together and talk about that?
Can all the "Chayas" and "Deborahs" get together and talk about that?
The Orthodox world might feel empowered to hear a Chassidic women get all riled up in defense of her weird but beautiful life, but is our fleeting feeling of "You go girl!" really important to the conversation? What our tiny little majority is learning is that—lo and behold!—we're interesting to the outside world! People want to know what we have, and what we don't. They want to understand (and yes praise and ridicule) our ever-so-private life. Wow, look at all those laws. Does Mikvah work? Do we have passionate sex? Is that allowed? Is it okay for us to speak our mind? Even to our husbands? Can we make choices about reproduction? THIS. IS. INTERESTING. STUFF. PEOPLE. Especially in an age where the world is finally seeing that resolving women's issues is central to a healthy and just society.
But how are we aiding the conversation and educating those within and without our community that want and need to hear more? As long as massive statements on both ends are blanketing the entire topic, who is benefiting?
But how are we aiding the conversation and educating those within and without our community that want and need to hear more? As long as massive statements on both ends are blanketing the entire topic, who is benefiting?
It's the responsibility of both the happy/proud and the pained/disturbed Jewish woman to find a way to have this conversation with respect, a genuine desire to undersand, and most importantly, and end to whitewashing and die-hard conclusiveness. We need to speak, but not just from personal, but our collective experience.
Deborah, are you capable of speaking not only from pain, but from heart and mind, to for a moment consider truths in Chassidic Jewish life? That perhaps not every Chassidic woman is blindly obedient to an oppressive regime? And Chaya, do you think you can put aside your sincere pride just for a moment, to consider that the same Jewish lifestyle you adore can often feel burdensome to some? That perhaps we need to recognize cultural and community flaws?
Now that you've spoken up, how will you both lead the camps you represent to approach these vital issues with intellectual and emotional honesty?
Now that you've spoken up, how will you both lead the camps you represent to approach these vital issues with intellectual and emotional honesty?
Both the "Chaya" and the 'Deborah" experience represent truths and thereby deserve to have a voice. And that is the way we need to approach this conversation. This is what I will be working towards in my own responsibility as a writer. Until we generate an honest conversation devoid of all sensationalism, we'll all just keep spinning our wheels. Either our proud-Chassidic or our anti-Chassidic, but certainly loud-and-powerful, womanly wheels. And if we can actually get somewhere—if we can grow up and stop being either defensive and out to prove or attacking and out to prove—we might just be able to capitalize on this great conversation.

