Ask Chaviva Anything: Parenting and Jewish Divorce

Some great questions rolling in, and I'm so glad I get to answer them. Let's start with what might seem like a tough question, but one that actually has a pretty simple answer.

Hi Chaviva! My question is how would you handle a situation where Ash decides to be less religious or non-religious? I wonder because you fought so hard to become Jewish, so I can imagine that it would be a really sensitive situation for you. Would you accept him if he was not religious? Or mourn him? How would you try to bring him back to Judaism?

Once upon a time, after a very difficult marriage and divorce, I was left spinning, unsure who I was or what life was meant to look like. During that time, I made some questionable choices and ended up dating someone who was not Jewish (this was a few years after my Orthodox conversion, so I was, for all intents and purposes, a Jew). When it was revealed that I was dating a non-Jew (while still keeping kosher and Shabbat), I received hate mail, calls for my conversion to be revoked, comments on blog posts saying that I was the "worst thing to happen to Judaism," and harassment from people who had once been friends (mostly other converts, too). I was being pushed and shoved away from the Judaism that had so nurtured my soul and given me a home. I was being told I was not a Jew, I was being distanced from my family. 

But there were, during this time, a few (religious) friends who pulled me close. They sent me notes, they checked in on me, they reminded me that I had a home, that I was loved and that Judaism was not rejecting me. They gave me the nurturing and love that I needed to make the right decisions at the right time, and they allowed me to return. I really learned who my real friends and family were in Judaism, and I learned who was toxic and insincere. 

What this taught me, this entire experience that still hurts and stings to this day, is that Judaism teaches us that when someone strays or makes choices that don't necessarily jibe with Torah Judaism, we pull them close, we give them a space. If you push them away, they'll just move farther and farther away until they're lost in the crowd. The often-quoted adage is "hate the sin, not the sinner," and those who truly understand Judaism and HaShem hold tightly to that dictum. 

So, long story short ... I grew up not Jewish and found my way here. Mr. T grew up fairly Jewish, attending a Jewish day school and then a boys school and then had some wild and crazy teen years before returning in his early 20s. We've both lived our lives and experienced things that those who are FFB (frum from birth) perhaps not, and that gives us a unique perspective. Sure, I'd love for all of my kids to be as religious as us, but there's always the possibility that they'll be more or less observant than us, and I'm okay with that. Judaism is a journey, and as long as I do my job and give my kids a healthy view of Judaism and the outside world, they'll choose what is right for them and I'll respect that. I'll hold them close, give them a nurturing environment where they know that they are loved for who they are, no matter the choices they make. They will always have a home. 

Next question!

Thank you for admitting that you seeked marriage counseling! Did you and your ex-husband ever go through counseling? How was that experience different? I've been reading for years but I guess I still don't understand why you got divorced. It worked out for the best obviously but I can't help but be curious since it seems rarely discussed in the Orthodox world.

I've actually written about it before, I'm pretty sure. I was much less open during my last marriage. All of our struggles and trials were kept quiet and out of the public eye, contrary to how I live much of my life. My in-laws were shocked, absolutely no one knew it was coming because darn if we weren't good at putting up appearances. I was depressed, anxious, and embarrassed that it wasn't working, but I managed a smile when I needed to. Of the 16 months we were married, we spent a year of that in couples counseling, with me in additional counseling on the side. Despite that, it just wasn't meant to be. It took a meeting with a rabbi, who posed an ultimatum to my ex. When he responded with "I'd like to think I'd choose my marriage," I knew it was done. I had to make the decision, and I did. 

Believe it or not, divorce is actively encouraged in the Jewish community (in the Orthodox world anyway), because if things aren't working out (for any number of reasons), both individuals have the right to move on and give it another go. There are even discussions about how one merits a series of partners (read about it: A Zivug or Bashert?). 

Hope this provides some semblance of clarity!

Have a question? Just ask: http://bit.ly/AskChavivaAnything

The Colorado Life

Sitting in a lounge chair watching Maury.

This is the American side of the Asher Yitzhak. :)

There are two things I can say outright now about being back in Colorado. One positive, one negative. Whether one outweighs the other is yet to be seen.

Awesome thing: Customer service here is amazing. I call and things are handled immediately. I need to return something, and it's not at all a problem. Used a couple of nappies in the wrong size? Take 'em back to Target and return them. Money back? No problem. Gift card form? Not an issue. Mr. T was absolutely baffled by the interaction.

Bummer thing: Shabbat is tough because our walk to the synagogue is along one of the busy drags in town, with cars flying by day and night. It doesn't feel like Shabbat. It's not quiet and relaxing and peaceful; it's loud and noisy and stressed.

There's more, of course. I like being able to walk into a store and get exactly what I need and not pay five million shekels for it. Being able to buy a shirt for $5 and knowing that it isn't going to fall apart is a blessing. Being able to buy the right things I need for Ash is brilliant. Finding inexpensive, delicious gluten-free food is wonderful.

Going places and everyone not being Jewish?

It's interesting. It's a weird adjustment. Even in Israel where not everyone is Jewish, you don't really feel like you're living in a non-Jewish country. Here, I get excited when I see another women in a head covering or sheitel (wig) in Target or King Soopers or at the Starbucks. But having people look at my name and say CHA-viva (like in cheese) is interesting and amusing. It's nice in a way. I get to share a little piece of information: "It's Hebrew," I say.

There's a delicate balance when it comes to living outside of the "Jewish state" of Israel. I find it both easy and hard. It's easy in the sense that it's more obvious here that I'm Jewish. I have to try harder. I have to think about things. I can't just buy things without thinking about it. Keeping kosher becomes more conscious than passive. And you get the opportunity to explain Judaism and its quirks to others when people ask you, curiously, what life is like in Israel.

On the other hand, it's hard because you can't just go anywhere and eat, you can't assume someone knows what you mean when you use certain words. Someone sneezes, you have to consider whether saying "l'vrioot" (lee-vree-oot) makes sense or a "bless you" will suffice. You can't go to all of your friends' homes for dinner, either, making building relationships something of a challenge sometimes.

But there we are. More reflections forthcoming, of course. This life is interesting, as it always has been. I'm just glad you're all coming along for the ride.

Invitation to a Bris

Recently, Mr. T was sent a Facebook "invite" to a brit milah (ritual circumcision of an 8-day-old baby boy also called a bris), which set of an interesting discussion and a bit of research about something that I hadn't heard of before and that Mr. T didn't completely have aligned in his head.

There's a common belief in Judaism that you shouldn't formally invite someone to a bris because it obligates them to perform a mitzvah, and -- if they can't come -- you're basically setting them up to fail at performing a mitzvah.

After a bit of crazy Googling and asking around, I ended up arriving at the source of the minhag, which is the Rema, also known as Rabbi Moses Isserles who lived in the 16th century and who is known for his inline commentary on the Shulchan Aruch. I listened to a very informative podcast by YU on the topic, and it seems that our minhag derives from a misunderstanding of the text.

The Rema writes (Yoreh De’ah 265:12) that anyone who does not participate in the festive meal that accompanies a bris is viewed as if he is “excommunicated from Heaven," adding that if offensive people are participating in such a meal, one is not obligated to join them.

A basic reading of this suggests that if you go to a bris and decide to scoot out before the festive meal or attend the festive meal and don't eat anything, that you're a pretty rotten person. There are thus two aspects to the bris that play into this minhag -- the attendance of the mitzvah of bris and the festive meal that accompanies it. It's the latter that seems to be the point of contention for the Rema, not the bris itself, and not the invitation itself. 

At the same time, there's an opinion that if there is already 10 adult Jewish men at the meal, the guest is not obligated to take part because the commandment will be fulfilled without him (Otzar Ha-Bris, p. 163).

So I can understand why people think that outright inviting someone to a bris would automatically obligate them to come and attend the festive meal, but ultimately it's about the decision someone makes once they're at the bris/festive meal, not before hand. 

Do you hold to this minhag? 

The Second-Time Single Trend

I didn't know there was a name or a category for what I am, but someone sent over a Tablet article today that gives me one of those fancy ways to describe myself: "Second-Time Single."

Now, I know that I'm not technically single because I'm currently in a very happy relationship with Taylor, but for the greater Jewish and Orthodox world, what I'm doing isn't dating, it isn't serious, it isn't real in a sense. "She'll come around!" they say. "She's divorced and acting out!" they say. "Let us know when you're ready to date a Jew again!" they say.

At any rate, the article is quite interesting. I don't know that if any of these kinds of Second-Time Singles events would have "saved" me from my current situation as I don't think I was ready to date when I met Taylor. Sometimes, life just happens. I am glad, I will say, that the Jewish community is attempting to do something for the demographic of 20s, 30s, and 40s who are divorced or widowed -- it's a lonely, confusing road.

Statistics about the number of Orthodox second-time singles are hard to come by. Dr. David Pelcovitz, professor of psychology and education at Yeshiva University, said that while there is no “reliable, solid, empirical source” for such information, “there’s a sense that there are more divorces. It’s incredibly unscientific but, for example, when I give talks at rabbinical conferences, I ask, ‘How many of you have experienced a divorce in your community in the past few years?’ You get more people raising their hands. When I ask the people who are doing work in Jewish divorce courts, they tell me that they seem to be busier.”

I think a lot of people fall into bad relationships after divorces just to continue fitting the mold of their community. It's as if there's a conveyor belt of spouses ready to go just so everyone can fit that perfect get married, move to a newly marrieds community, have a baby, buy a house, move to a family community kind of plan. I worry about a lot of people I know who get back into it too quickly.

Also, I have to say -- not unpredictably I might add -- that (in the article) the shadchanim (matchmakers) that set up Second-Time Singles often set them up with other Second-Time Singles, and that grates my cheese. I think it's one thing that will never fade in the Orthodox community: Once you get divorced, you're damaged goods so you get married off to another divorced individual or an older individual. It's the same with converts, as matchmakers often try to pair them with other converts. I understand the sentiment -- oh, we've been through something similar, right? -- but no two people go through an experience and come out on the other side the same, so why try making that connection?

Maybe I'm just grumpy today. Anyway, let me know what you think about the article.

Gam Zu L'Tovah: I No Longer Am Consistent

I thought about making a podcast. I thought about writing a cryptic slam poem. I thought about just saying that this blog has taken too much out of me and I've passed up on many a chance to focus on me, to be and live for me. But this blog has been my baby, my internal dialogue, my therapy. You guys are the flies on the wall of my mental canvas. You get to see the inner workings of a stranger. The world gets to see the inner workings of a stranger. So what would be stranger than me simply disappearing from the blog, citing stress, questioning everything I know about myself, family drama that cannot even be described, and new people in my life?

The weirdest thing about being divorced is feeling like I was never married. Is that normal? Is it normal to look back and think, where did the past three years go? Who was I? Was that even me? Don't misunderstand: I got married because everything seemed to fall into place. I sought the physical and emotional comforts that marriage and relationships provide. But looking back and reflecting on it all, I did myself a great disservice denying my own feelings about the whole thing. To put it more simply: I have no clue who that woman was over the past three years.

There are clear moments: Graduate school, my Orthodox conversion, Israel. But all of the things that should matter, that should stick with me are as if a fog. Like watching a tragic movie with a tragic woman who wants nothing more than to be that image of the Orthodox woman living the Orthodox life with her Orthodox husband in an Orthodox world. And I got that. I dressed the part, I spoke the part, I ate the part, I lived the part. I was that person that people strive to be, and for those who read this blog and look for guidance on conversion to Orthodoxy, I was that example to follow.

And all of the important stuff was honest. It's the superficial stuff that I'm starting to wonder whether it was real. I believe everything -- I believe and have a firm conviction in all that Orthodox Judaism provides and demands, but I've hit this point where, because I'm unraveling who I was for three years, I don't know that I am capable of following through as that person. Not right now.

Man. I sound like I'm being cryptic. Like what I should say, what I want to say is so obvious. But, you see, I've placed myself under the microscope of so many people, at least 55,000 a month. And as you start to question yourself and where you're going, it's like the sun is shining so bright you're on the verge of combustion. In the Jewish community, for me at least, the fear of retribution, exclusion, denial are beyond words. The fear that, if I decide that eating out at a vegetarian restaurant is something in which I want to dabble that I will be rejected wholly by those around me. That if I decide that I'm interested in someone who isn't Jewish that my readers and friends will look at me with judgment and horror.

Oh how the mighty might fall.

In one of the segments of Ask Chaviva Anything! someone asked whether I put too much emphasis on being a convert, and I said that it's impossible, because being a ger is the very fabric of who I am. It defines my social life, my diet, my clothing, my approach to everything in life. A Jew can go "off the derech," and we scoff and laugh and pray that they come back into the fold, no matter how nominally affiliated he or she is. But no matter how not Jewish he or she chooses to date, he or she will always be Jewish. An ancestor's ketubah or picture of a grandparent's grave, and matters are solidified. A convert? Well, I have a folder that holds both my Reform and my Orthodox conversion certificates. Pieces of paper signed by modern rabbis in a modern rabbinical court in an environment installed with processes and circumstance. But those papers can disappear, they can be questioned, they can be enough to cast away someone indefinitely.

I sound dramatic, I know. But this is a glimpse into my head, my life, my world right now. People tell me that HaShem never gives us something that we can not handle, and others say gam zu l'tovah (this, too, is for good). And that makes me wonder why I currently find myself in the circumstances that I do. The more difficult thing, however, is that I feel good. I feel right. I feel happy. For the first time in a long time, I feel like me.

People are fluid. Our experiences are fluid. From one moment to the next, we cannot expect consistency from either ourselves or others. We're impacted by our environments, our emotions, our genetics, resulting in an ever-changing sense of self that should never stand still. Drastic changes, we assume, must be attributed to some life-altering event or emotion. However, in truth, it seems to make sense that we would be constantly in flux, changing, inconsistent. After all, that's why Judaism has so many installed proscriptions of how to live -- consistency. Everyone works better on a schedule. Or do we? I guess what I'm saying is that we expect too much from ourselves, from others, in the way of consistency. We expect people to have patterns, and when the pattern is thrown, we assume the worst.

Don't assume the worst, please.

Also: As an aside, if you didn't see Mitch Albom's "Have a Little Faith" on TV the other night, then you need to find it and you need to watch it. It had me in tears at the end, and I don't cry easily. The only movie I ever cried during was "My Best Friend's Wedding." But in the movie, the rabbi (played by Martin Landau) poses the following (and I'm paraphrasing) Why didn't G-d create one perfect tree? Why did he create multiple trees, spruces, pines, oaks? It's the same with man and our beliefs. There are many ways to G-d, not just one. (And this, folks, is my comfort.)

A Response: Conversion's a Racket

Okay. Let's try this again.

My last post created a huge ruckus in my community -- such is the drama of being a very public blogger in a new community. I don't blog anonymously, and I don't have any misconceptions about my Twitter feed and blog being accessible by anyone, anywhere. That's part of what I love about what I write, it's open access. So the blog post was commented on by a community member, then it made it to one rabbi, then another, then community members and so on. The offense taken, I think, regarded the tone of the blog post as well as the misunderstanding that I was calling out or bashing the Denver community in particular, which I wasn't.

I had wanted to wait to post on the topic until I felt like I was in a calm, even place where I would be eloquent (as I'm known) but also pointed and direct, saying "this is what's going on, and this is what needs to change." However, it didn't come out that way. Why? After speaking with a rabbi friend on Twitter very briefly about the problems in the community with conversion and what I consider (after all, this is my blog and it is full of my opinions) extortion, he said the following:

Well, you don't have to go through it!

That simple quote, which horrified me -- should I not care about those who do have to suffer financial loss or a lost neshama? -- paired with the constantly echoing in my mind words of Rav Tarfon

"It is not your responsibility to finish the work [of perfecting the world], but you are not free to desist from it either" (Pirkei Avot 2:16).

said one thing to me: you must speak now, it is your duty, it is your mission, it is your work. I get emails daily from people in-process, done with the process, leaving the process, and so on who have stories about acceptance, the process, and more that would make most people's skin crawl. An oft-said thing to me by born Jews is, "If I hadn't been born Jewish, I don't know if I would choose it." 

Because of the hoops you must jump through? The pressure? The issues of acceptance? The costs? The oppression? The bullying by other converts? 

My passion and fervor for this issue of extortion in conversion -- no matter what branch, no matter where you are geographically -- is my work. It's my responsibility when it comes to repairing the Jewish world. Someone has to stand up, someone has to say something, to do something. 

My biggest beef with the Denver process is the cost. Plain and simple. Why fly in a rabbi from Queens and make the candidates foot that bill? Why not use a more local rabbi? Classes are necessary for studying and conversion to Orthodox Judaism, and I'll be honest -- I'm more than happy to devote two to three hours a week to teaching and training converts in the basics of Judaism and conversion; after all, I've been there, I've done that, and I can lay things out from a perspective of the convert and what you need to know before the formal process. I also think I can give something a book-learning class can't -- personal perspective, stories, passion, fervor, dedication, devotion. The heart of Judaism, not just the facts and the "you must be able to say and do this when you convert." But I'm not a rabbi. Does that change things? Can an Orthodox convert to Judaism properly train converts? I think so, yes. But when one system has a monopoly on the process, saying "you must do x, y, z, and you must do it with this person," that does not provide options, it provides a monopoly. 

Because I know, at the very depths of my soul, what Orthodox converts go through before, during, and after their conversions, I know that this is my place. I counsel, I help, I calm the fears of those who have no one else to turn to, and for that, I feel like HaShem has granted me great patience, understanding, and love. 

Converts are coming home. They're bringing their neshamot home, finally. They should be overwhelmed by the weight of the mitzvot, not the costs to let their neshamot onto the front stoop of Judaism. 

Yes, There Are Jews in Omaha

I spent a Shabbat in Omaha, Nebraska, recently and really enjoyed my time. If you ever wondered what the community there is like, read on. Was I asked to write this? No. I did it because I think it's a community worth looking at if you're considering a move out of the city life or the typical NJ/NY experience. Also: Nebraska's unemployment is the second-lowest in the nation and Warren Buffett lives there, so ... that's awesome, right? 

Do you even know where Omaha is? Most people know Omaha and only Omaha when I mention that I'm from Nebraska. We landed in Nebraska in 1996 and I left there after graduating college in 2006, but there are moments of longing for the simple, easy life that it provides. Luckily, Denver gives that same kind of chill living, almost to a second degree.

My only pre-recent experience with the Omaha Jewish community: a Shabbat visit to the Chabad there where they let me light Shabbat candles despite not being converted yet (which made me feel awesome and special and Jewish) and Passover at the big Conservative synagogue there. Both experiences I had with the University of Nebraska-Lincoln Hillel as we attempted to broaden our Jewish life in Lincoln.

So when I was planning my most-of-the-way-cross-country trip, I knew that I needed to stop somewhere for Shabbat, and my options were Chicago, Des Moines, and Omaha, and because I was trying to stay on I-80 for the trek, I opted for Omaha because, well, it's my home state and I'd read in the OU magazine once that the community there was booming with young adults and a happenin' Jewish experience. I mean, they had a kosher bagel shop that burned down and was immediately rebuilt because of its importance to the community.

So I looked up the rabbi at Beth Israel (Orthodox) -- Rabbi Gross -- and sent an email out into the abyss hoping for a Shabbat hookup. He responded quickly with a place for me to stay and meals, too! (Truth time: I actually wrote to him on Shabbat.com and email and Facebook ... I was anxious.)

I arrived just in time to my hosts' house to find out there was another Shabbat guest who currently is United States trotting (her story is fascinating), and at dinner discovered there was another stopperby on his way to Arizona. It was an impromptu Shabbaton, and we were all welcomed with the openest of arms by the rabbi and community.

The shul is very new and modern, which some like and some don't. I'm one of those traditionalists who really likes the old-school, old-world shuls with lots of character and history, but for an Orthodox shul, it had beautiful artwork and stained glass and quite the nice mechitzah, too, which, let's be honest, can make or break the experience of davening. (Wait, am I the only one who thinks this?)

I really enjoyed the rabbi's d'rash, if only because for the first time in a long time, I watched an Orthodox rabbi interact with his audience! He asked questions, took answers, and made it more of an interactive learning experience then a soapbox pulpit presentation, which I really enjoyed. Next time I'll have to study the parsha to make sure I'm prepared for the Q&A.

The community is diverse -- black hats to women without covering -- but it seems that everyone jibes well with one another, and that's the sign of a very powerful dynamic. And rumor has it that the eruv is going up soon, which will be the first time there's been one in Omaha ever!

As the community grows, so too will its infrastructure. I have no doubt in my mind that with Rabbi Gross's leadership the community will be rocking out plenty of Jewish amenities in the future that will make Omaha a more tantalizing location. But if you want out of the NY/NJ scene and want to buy a house for what you'll get a shoebox apartment in the City? Then consider Omaha. A community can only grow and become awesome if people go there.

Believe me, if I weren't in Denver right now, I might very well be in Omaha. My friends are there, the congregation is growing, the amount of children running around is enough to put a smile on your face, and there's a bagel joint. What more could you ask for?

PS: Check out the rabbi's blog here. 

Mikvah Gone Bingo

I'd really wanted to make this a vlog, but as the fates would have it, my beloved camera is in the shop somewhere in Virginia. Yes, I know, I could record this on my computer, but for some reason the quality just isn't where I want it, so I'd rather write it all down. The topic?

Why, mikvah -- aka the ritual bath that Jewish women visit once a month after their niddah period -- of course! The mikvah is sort of like a spa these days, with many of them being done up in marble or faux Jerusalem stone. You get a robe, some nice towels, makeup remover, nail polish remover, and everything else you need to beautify yourself before dipping thrice in a well-heated pool of all-natural water under the watchful eye of the mikvah lady. I've written about it before -- give it a read.

I thought I'd make some observations/questions that are, for the most part, unconnected, but relevant.

Mikvahs should be more like Bingo Parlors than they are. You know what I mean, right? Okay, so at Bingo Parlors enthusiasts bring all their little toys and lucky items with them. When I walk into the mikvah prep room where the tub and sink and toilet and all the fixins to beauty are, I feel like I should have a little altar set up with all of the things that I need/want to feel at home at the mikvah. It made me wonder: Are there women who bring in a bottle of wine and some candles and set them up for a relaxing prep experience? Because, to be completely honest, I'm considering it.

People should leave their cellphones at home, in the car, or at least in the "silent" position while in the mikvah prep room. I mean, as much as I like hearing your creative ringtone while I'm trying to center myself for the big dip, I'm really not so interested in the interruption.

Question: Can I hit the "Ready" button before zman? Explanation: So the mikvah opens about 30 minutes or so before you actually can dip, so people show up early, get ready, so that the moment it's kosher to dip you can do it and get out of there. I realized the last time I was at the mikvah that I was the last person to go in, despite hitting the button at zman time. Should I hit it whenever I'm ready to dip, even if it's loads of time pre-zman?

I've realized that going as early as possible and taking my time with a bath is more rewarding personally than going in for a quick shower and zooming my way back home. Why? Well, how often do you get to take a nice bath in a nice, clean facility at your own pace? This plays back to my first comment. Picture it: bath, wine, candles ... oh wait, you can't dim the lights. Scratch that.

I wonder what old-world mikva'ot looked like. I'm talking shtetl-style digs. Clearly they're not like the ancient mikva'ot we uncover, but they're nothing like what we have now. I'd love to see a mikvah circa 1700 in the middle of nowhere Eastern Europe.

How do I convince my husband to do all sorts of fun prep and stuff like I must on mikvah night? Bribery? Food?

And, lastly, would it be wrong for me to bring some goods to tovel into the mikvah when I go in for the big dip? I mean, I don't think I'd really ever do it, but ... I'm intrigued at the thought.

Have questions about the mikvah? Funny experiences? Hit me up!

The Tzniut Project 23: A Walking Art Gallery

This is the 23rd in a multi-part series called The Tzniut Project. Women from a variety of backgrounds with a variety of observances have volunteered to anonymously answer questions that I have written about their practices, people's assumptions, and more. For more information on origins the project, click here. Please continue to check back with The Tzniut Project to read more stories and comment abundantly!

Note: This post is contributed by a reader.

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1. How do you affiliate Jewishly? Feel free to elaborate on the words people use to describe you and the words you use to describe yourself.I describe myself as Yeshivish to Yeshivish lite. Meaning, I definitely fit in the Yeshivish box, but I also surf the 'net (obviously), watch a little Hulu, Netflix, whatever, read secular books. Basically, I'm open to secular culture, but I wouldn't say I'm Modern Orthodox.

2. Growing up, did your mother or grandmother dress modestly in any way? Do you think modesty was something instilled in you by your family? Did you dress modestly growing up?Modesty was definitely NOT something I grew up with. My mom (who is great, for the record) would walk around with nothing on. At all. Thankfully, she no longer does that. I did happen to wear a lot of skirts growing up, but that's just because I liked them. I also liked tube tops and strapless dresses, so there you go.

3. Are you married? How does your spouse feel about your choices for modest dress? Is it a dialogue or does your partner leave the mitzvah to you?I'm married. My husband likes it when I dress all "shtarked up," with a button-up blouse or blazer. Thankfully, he also likes it when I wear trendier outfits, but I think I get more compliments from him when my clothes are more tznuah, less form-fitting. He doesn't put any pressure on me one way or another. [Shtark = looking very religious]

4. What would you wear on a typical day? On Shabbos? If you dress differently on weekdays and Shabbos, why do you make this distinction and how?Weekdays I typically wear comfortable, casual but fashionable clothes. T-shirts, some button-ups (never tucked in though, it never looks right on me), sweaters in the winter, and I basically alternate between five or six skirts, all comfortable. That's a big thing for me, to find clothes which look stylish but that I can move around freely in, and that I don't worry about the kids getting them messy.

I do dress up more for Shabbos, with fancier button-ups, blazers, skirts and shoes. I reserve these clothes only for Shabbos, Yom Tov and Rosh Chodesh. For me, not wearing them during the week gives them a reserved status, so even if the actual article of clothing isn't so fancy, it still feels special when I wear it. When they start getting worn out, I "demote" them to weekday.

5. What do you think other people infer from your clothing and hair covering choices? Has anyone ever said anything to you outright that expresses a judgment based on your appearance? (Ex: “You don’t cover your hair or wear skirts, so why do you keep kosher?”)From the way I dress, people usually assume that I grew up frum. During one of my sheva brachos, one of the guests asked if I went to Bais Yaakov in NY [a schol for girls]. Also, friends have told me that some of my clothing choices are a little farfrumpt [very, very frum].

6. Have you ever surprised someone by dressing more or less modestly and making them rethink their stereotypes about what it means to be an observant Jew?Well, after I started wearing modest clothes, my mother's aunt, a staunch Catholic, told me that I reminded her of a nun. I think that was probably a new association for both of us.

7. When you see someone who observes tzniut differently than you, what are your initial thoughts? How do you deal with them?On seeing someone with a different level of tznius, I'd say that I used to try and categorize them. I guess I was trying to decide where they would be coming from, what they "stand" for, etc. That was when I had just become frum and was probably a wee bit judgmental and zealous. Now, when I'm talking to a woman who, say, is wearing shorter sleeves than I would, or showing more hair than I do, I actually listen to what she's saying instead of pigeonholing her. I guess I've mellowed, and I've seen that where someone is holding on the tznius spectrum really has little to do with who they are as a person. This isn't to say that I don't categorize at all (I wish I was holding there), just not as much as before.

8. I say modesty or tzniut … what does that mean to you?Tznius to me means a way of being. It applies to how much we expose to the world in both an external and internal sense. How much we want to put out there and how much we keep for ourselves, our family, Hashem.

9. Anything else you’d like to add about your choices, experiences, and more!After I started dressing more tznuah, I did notice a marked difference in how strangers treated me. I definitely felt an increase in level of respect (though considering how I dressed before, it's not so surprising). I think that having to dress so utterly differently than I did before, and to be so much more, well, dressed, caused me to introspect a good deal. It made me think about how I used to use clothing as artistic expression. Like, my body was my palette, or I was a walking art gallery. After donning the frum "uniform," I had to re-assess who I was internally if I wasn't just a walking statement-maker. Or, to ask myself what statement I was making now, with the frumiform. It was an interesting transition.

The Tzniut Project 22: Part of a Chain

This is the 22nd in a multi-part series called The Tzniut Project. Women from a variety of backgrounds with a variety of observances have volunteered to anonymously answer questions that I have written about their practices, people's assumptions, and more. For more information on origins the project, click here. Please continue to check back with The Tzniut Project to read more stories and comment abundantly!

Note: This post is contributed by a reader.

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1. How do you affiliate Jewishly? Feel free to elaborate on the words people use to describe you and the words you use to describe yourself.
I do not like denominations or boxes. I identify as a Jewish woman who is doing her best to live a halachicly observant life in 2011. If you asked my friends and family you would hear the following descriptors though: Conservative, Conservadox, Traditional, Orthoprax, Modern Orthodox, Orthodox, or just simply frum.

For your box placing ease, here is what I can briefly share. I am shomer Shabbat, shomer Kashrut, observe taharat hamishpaca, wear skirts and sleeves and cover my hair at all times in the presence of anyone other than my husband or parents (I don’t have kids yet, don’t know what I’ll do then!). I also believe in learning with a critical eye and the need to question and understand our religious obligations. I am comfortable davening with or without a mechitza, but I will always respond aloud and will sing along aloud as well. Oh, and I only wear stockings in the winter (for warmth) and live in open-toed shoes all summer long.

2. Growing up, did your mother or grandmother dress modestly in any way? Do you think modesty was something instilled in you by your family? Did you dress modestly growing up?
I did not grow up religious, so although my mother and grandmother both dressed modestly, it was not a religious choice, but rather just a personal one. They were comfortable with themselves, but also dressed in a way which was always appropriate for any setting. I on the other hand, did not. Everything I wore was too short, too low, or too big. I had no sense of dressing in a way which honored my body. However, opting into modest dressing (a la tzniut) as an adult makes it a conscious and continual choice that I am proud of now.

3. Are you married? How does your spouse feel about your choices for modest dress? Is it a dialogue or does your partner leave the mitzvah to you?
I am indeed married. My husband appreciates that I dress modestly, however he respects that is my choice. If I were to decide to wear pants again, he would be fine with it. Lucky for him, he also knows that I fully believe in this mitzvah and will not take backward steps in its observance.

The only thing he has a vocal opinion on is not wearing a sheitel, and 95% of the time I agree with him about that.

4. What would you wear on a typical day? On Shabbos? If you dress differently on weekdays and Shabbos, why do you make this distinction and how?
I wear skirts past my knees and sleeves over my elbows, and something on my head. On a typical day, it is an a-line or jean skirt with a shell and a cute cardigan/wrapigan/blazer or a cute top over a long sleeve shell with a coordinated head covering. Over Shabbat it is similar, only the skirt and hat selection is specifically different. When I began only wearing skirts, I knew I had to somehow make Shabbat clothing special. So I have weekday skirts and Shabbat skirts (and hats) and they are separate in my closet. Oh, and always with fun accessories and shoes – tzniut does not mean boring!

5. What do you think other people infer from your clothing and hair covering choices? Has anyone ever said anything to you outright that expresses a judgment based on your appearance? (Ex: “You don’t cover your hair or wear skirts, so why do you keep kosher?”)
The bulk of the judgment I receive comes from people who can’t understand that just because something looks like a duck, and quacks like a duck – it isn’t always a duck. (And by duck, I mean a certain kind of Jew.)

However, the one that affects me more profoundly is that when I made the shift to dressing tzniut, it was difficult for many people in my life to handle, largely because I was known for wearing low slung jeans and tank tops. How was it possible to choose to wear shirts with sleeves to the elbow all the time, and later to only wear skirts past the knee and a neckline close to the collar bone? Clearly it was being forced upon me! How shocked they were to learn I had really come to think about how I dress in a different way. I found it empowering to take control of my body and how I presented it to the world in a positive way, and I make the choice every day when I get dressed. It has been years now, and I still have friends and family members who cannot accept that this is my choice, let alone one that I am happy with and intend to opt into every day of my life.

6. Have you ever surprised someone by dressing more or less modestly and making them rethink their stereotypes about what it means to be an observant Jew?
All the time! I do not live in a city or community where tzniut is common. I know very few women who wear skirts and sleeves, fewer who always cover their hair, and even fewer who do not wear sheitels. So being someone who does all that, but is also an educated career woman who is engaged in the broader (read: secular) Jewish community – often makes people stop and think. It is a proud moment for me whenever I can make someone rethink their stereotypes, and gain a broader sense of all the different types of religious Jews out there.

7. When you see someone who observes tzniut differently than you, what are your initial thoughts? How do you deal with them?
I believe that it is a journey and I am always happy to see people on the path. I do not think I have room to judge anyone, as I would not want to be judged by others.

My favorite thing about seeing someone out and about who observes tzniut differently, is when we can look at each other and know we are sisters on the journey, and give each other a knowing nod or smile. My friends who do not dress tzniut don’t understand those moments, but I do. It makes my heart happy.

8. I say modesty or tzniut … what does that mean to you?
Tzniut tends to be most commonly translated about modesty in reference to clothing. I think defining it down on this level does an injustice to tzniut and people who uphold the ideal of modesty. Personally, I believe that the most important component of tzniut is how we carry ourselves, not how we dress ourselves. Holding your head high with confidence, without boasting. Being a good person and friend, without advertising that you feel you are such. Lending a hand when needed, without making a big show about how helpful you are. That is the inner-modesty which is so much more valuable in today’s society. While how we dress should reflect the person we are on the inside, should a woman’s skirt length be more important than living a modest life?

9. Anything else you’d like to add about your choices, experiences, and more!
In the end of my copy of Naomi Ragan’s Sotah, she writes a bit about a conference she was at where she spoke on the topic of women’s rights in Judaism, entitled “A Letter to My Sisters.” When I read the following response she had to an attendee who asked how a modern woman in the free world would “choose to wear the chains imposed on [her] by religion and the narrow minded, backward men who are religious leaders,” it resonated with me. This is what Ms. Ragen had to say to this woman:

I am a part of a chain that reaches back for thousands of years. There is a great joy in knowing who you are, and where you come from; in cherishing and preserving those cultural and religious treasures which are your heritage and which make you unique. Why should I allow these men to push me out, deny me that place? No, I prefer to fight them, to make them live up to the goodness and justice of the authentic religion that belongs to me, not just to them. I prefer to have them thrown out, rather than for me to leave.

This response captures my sentiment on embracing modest dress more eloquently than I could have realized.

The Tzniut Project 21: "I'm a Conservative Jew who covers her head."

This is the 21st in a multi-part series called The Tzniut Project. Women from a variety of backgrounds with a variety of observances have volunteered to anonymously answer questions that I have written about their practices, people's assumptions, and more. For more information on origins the project, click here. Please continue to check back with The Tzniut Project to read more stories and comment abundantly!


Note: This post is contributed by a reader.

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1. How do you affiliate Jewishly? Feel free to elaborate on the words people use to describe you and the words you use to describe yourself.

I am a proud member of the Conservative Movement and affiliate at medium sized (400 family) Conservative synagogue. My husband is an employee of the congregation, and we live in walking distance of the synagogue. We are Shomer Shabbat and keep a completely kosher home. Since we live in a town with no kosher restaurants besides the JCC café, I do eat vegetarian food out at non-kosher restaurants. My husband does not, although on rare occasion in the interest of shalom bayit, he will have a cheese-less salad at a non-kosher restaurant (think anniversary dinners, etc).

2. Growing up, did your mother or grandmother dress modestly in any way? Do you think modesty was something instilled in you by your family? Did you dress modestly growing up?
I did not grow up in an observantly Jewish home, so I cannot say my mother or grandmother dressed in a modestly-aware style. That said, there was always a sense of appropriate dress that was expected for me. One thing I will definitely emphasize one day when I have children is that they dress like children. Today, one thing that really bothers me about dress is how adult, sexually-charged, and inappropriate little girls’ clothing can be. Little girls do not need bikinis, spaghetti strap tank tops, or tee shirts with suggestive statements on them.

I didn’t dress modestly by tzniut standards growing up, but I was never a tank top wearer (perhaps mainly because my mother didn’t buy use clothing like that!). Since I was always one of the tallest girls in my class, short skirts were unacceptable in my family because they were REALLY short on me.

3. Are you married? How does your spouse feel about your choices for modest dress? Is it a dialogue or does your partner leave the mitzvah to you?
I am (happily) married for just over a year. I was never planning on covering my hair after marriage although my husband did ask me about it when we were first engaged. His words were, “I’d rather you not cover your hair, but it would be completely fine with me if you did. It’s your decision.” I appreciated his respect of that, and I’m not sure if one day I will take on that mitzvah. My husband does not have any real opinions regarding my clothing choices and has told me he likes no matter what I wear (I sure am lucky!).

4. What would you wear on a typical day? On Shabbos? If you dress differently on weekdays and Shabbos, why do you make this distinction and how?
My style of tzniut is a modified version with which I feel very comfortable. I would say I wear skirts about 75% of the time. I went through two year-long periods in college and in my first year of marriage where I wore almost exclusively skirts reaching the knee. I do wear pants, although I do not wear tight jeans or dress pants – usually I prefer more, full trouser-style. I do wear short sleeves, however I am no longer comfortable wearing tank tops in public. I do not cover my hair.

On Shabbat and teaching religious school, I always wear skirts and sleeves at least to the elbow if not longer. I always wear a kippah in the synagogue (even if not davening or teaching) and wear a tallit at all morning services. For me, my Shabbat clothes are truly separated out from my weekday work and after work clothes. Even my style choice is slightly different – on weekdays, I wear more business professional style with pencil skirts and blazers and on Shabbat, I tend to wear more mid-calf, flowy skirts with cardigans and brighter colors. I occasionally wear hats on Shabbat to services instead of a kippah.

5. What do you think other people infer from your clothing and hair covering choices? Has anyone ever said anything to you outright that expresses a judgment based on your appearance? (Ex: “You don’t cover your hair or wear skirts, so why do you keep kosher?”)
Since many people from my synagogue only see me in skirts, for a while many assumed that I only wore skirts. Surprisingly, many women actually appreciated and seemed to admire this choice. Conversely, when I have worn a hat to services, I have often gained questions like, “Oh, are you frum now?” I foresee if the future that one day I will wear hats all the time in services. The answer will then be, “No, I’m a Conservative Jew who covers her head.”

6. Have you ever surprised someone by dressing more or less modestly and making them rethink their stereotypes about what it means to be an observant Jew?
Yes! This is perhaps the most frustrating thing to me. For a while, when I was wearing more skirts, I felt a little bit more recognized as observant within my city’s broader Jewish community. Now, when I’ve been at our JCC in pants, I often feel like people are shocked to find out that my husband and I are Shomer Shabbat or keep kosher. It goes to show how appearances can cause assumptions. That said, the people who matter most to me (both in the liberal and Orthodox communities), recognize the strong Jewish life that I (and my husband) live. That’s what really matters.

7. When you see someone who observes tzniut differently than you, what are your initial thoughts? How do you deal with them?
When a friend of mine started covering her hair about a year into her marriage, it caused a bit of a stir at our synagogue where there were no women who did that and barely any women who wear a hat on Shabbat (most are bare-headed or wear kippot). For me, I wondered if she was becoming too immersed in the Orthodox community in which she was volunteering. Now, she has a young son and has brought him every Shabbat since he was born to our Conservative synagogue and has continued to read Torah and wear a tallit along with a tichel. I admire her for staying strong in her decision, despite what others thought.

8. I say modesty or tzniut … what does that mean to you?
Many things. On the surface and if I look at my earliest understanding of the term, it means the way “observant” Jews dress and behave. I see myself as an observant Jew and certainly more traditional than most members of Conservative Judaism. Today, I see tzniut as an important element that enlightens how I dress and how I behave. Certain things are kept for myself and my husband. I don’t need to put my body (or for that matter, my thoughts) all “out there” in order to put portray my personality and my character. This is perhaps the most important lesson tzniut has taught me.

9. Anything else you’d like to add about your choices, experiences, and more!
Thank you so much for doing this project and for including people of all segments of the Jewish community.

The Tzniut Project 20: A Critical Approach to Fashion

After a brief hiatus, we have a few more in the series!


This is the twentieth in a multi-part series called The Tzniut Project. Women from a variety of backgrounds with a variety of observances have volunteered to anonymously answer questions that I have written about their practices, people's assumptions, and more. For more information on origins the project, click here. Please continue to check back with The Tzniut Project to read more stories and comment abundantly!

Note: This post is contributed by a reader.

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1. How do you affiliate Jewishly? Feel free to elaborate on the words people use to describe you and the words you use to describe yourself. 

I consider myself a 'traditional egalitarian' Jew with a progressive bent and a universalist ethos.

2. Growing up, did your mother or grandmother dress modestly in any way? Do you think modesty was something instilled in you by your family? Did you dress modestly growing up? 

I did not grow up with a concept of modesty in a religious sense but was raised with a concept of propriety. My mother taught me that clothing is contextual. If I would visit a place of worship, I was expected to cover my shoulders because it was considered the decent thing to do. If I was engaging with elders or in a situation that required social decorum, I was taught to dress the part. But it was also considered perfectly fine for me (as a teenager) to wear a strappy top when going to the disco. Hence, a certain mild form of modesty was instilled but since we were secular, it was detached from any religious ideology. It was also gender-neutral: my mother expected the same conduct from boys as she did from girls.

3. Are you married? How does your spouse feel about your choices for modest dress? Is it a dialogue or does your partner leave the mitzvah to you? 

My spouse and I are both modest dressers. He is fully egalitarian so 'modesty' to him is not connected to gender but is connected to dignity, bodily integrity and a sense of sexual exclusivity -- and this applies to us both. He considers the more modest, classical fashions more pleasing so he tends to gravitate to those naturally. He does feel that modesty can help protect me (and perhaps other women) from the pressures of the beauty ideal. Yes, it is a dialogue between us. He respects my autonomy and would never legislate, boycott or disapprove of my choices.

4. What would you wear on a typical day? On Shabbos? If you dress differently on weekdays and Shabbos, why do you make this distinction and how? 

On a regular weekday, I wear knee-length skirts or pants and cap-sleeved shirts. My rule of thumb is that I want my knees and shoulders to be covered and I try to avoid plunging necklines. I am fine with collarbones and elbows showing and I do wear form-fitting but not skintight clothing. Modesty to me is not only about 'covering up' but also investing my dress with dignity and beauty. I try and 'dress up' even on weekdays. On Shabbos I consider it lichvod Shabbat (in honor of Shabbat) to do so and it gives me tremendous pleasure. It is also a way for me to assert the hevdel (the difference) between Shabbat and weekdays. So I wear skirts exclusively and either a kippah or a hat/scarf when I go to shul (depending on context). I love wearing a suit or a silk dress or skirt on Shabbos, paired with my pearls, make-up and French perfume. I guess I am a little old-fashioned!

5. What do you think other people infer from your clothing and hair covering choices? Has anyone ever said anything to you outright that expresses a judgment based on your appearance? (Ex: “You don’t cover your hair or wear skirts, so why do you keep kosher?”) 

I tend to be a bit more modest than my 'denominational surroundings' but I am fine with that. For me, it's a personal choice and as long as I adhere to a benchmark that feels authentic to me, I am happy. When I started practicing tzniut, people had to get used to it but now it's become part of me. Because I try to look 'stylish' and because I am 'lenient' about necklines and elbows (when seen from a traditional Orthodox vantage point), I don't think people really notice. I do get compliments on my personal style (which make me very happy!). 

My relationship with headcovering is a bit more complex: I used to cover my head continuously before marriage as an egalitarian practice of devotion (I would wear a scarf or a beanie as an alternative to a kippah) and continued this practice for a number of years after marriage. But I did get problematic responses to my headcovering from time to time and I also felt it didn't align with my need for a professional look. After much contemplation about where I stand on kisui rosh (headcovering), I discontinued it. Not covering my head has felt lonely in the beginning. But also strangely empowering because to me, 'modesty' is a total concept and not just contingent on headcovering. I feel I can still be modest with an uncovered head, and it's been an interesting journey.

6. Have you ever surprised someone by dressing more or less modestly and making them rethink their stereotypes about what it means to be an observant Jew? 

Yes. Especially when I still covered my head, people would assume I was an Orthodox Jew, which I am not. I am fully egalitarian in my practice (including the timebound mitzvot), so this would surprise people. People also assumed that I was somehow less humorous and less worldly because of my long skirts and modest dress. Engaging with them in conversation would soon change their minds :)

7. When you see someone who observes tzniut differently than you, what are your initial thoughts? How do you deal with them? 

I believe in human diversity so I embrace people's different choices. My only criterion is that they are actual choices. I support women's (and men's) right to claim their sexuality and bodily integrity so I have no judgement about that in general. I do worry, however, about the disproportionate sexualization of women's fashions and women's bodies and as a 'feminist', I would like to see (young) women challenge this objectification. It saddens me that many young women take an uncritical approach toward fashion, compromising their dignity and undermining their self-worth. But in the end, it is a very individual path and I adhere to tzniut for myself first and foremost. Part of the concept of tzniut is also refraining from immodestly imposing your will on others, I think!

8. I say modesty or tzniut … what does that mean to you? 

I say tzniut because 'modesty' conjures up a set of associations that don't really fit me. I am not demure or quiet, ultra-feminine or morally conservative although I respect people who are! I am an active, emancipated, egalitarian woman who wants to reclaim tzniut in a socially progressive and spiritually relevant way. Also, tzniut not just about dress but also about attitude. I am fully committed to my monogamous, marital relationship and so tzniut encompasses sexual restraint. It's about keeping private what is internal and sacred. As a gender-egalitarian, tzniut actually helps take gender out of the equation somewhat when it comes to my social interactions. I want to be judged on my soul, not on my body or gender.

9. Anything else you’d like to add about your choices, experiences, and more! 

I wish there was more of a consciousness in the Western world about how dress impacts our sense of self and our relationship with the world at large, including the beauty standard, self-image, ethical consumerism and garment workers' rights. Tzniut can be such an empowering and liberating practice. I have come to love and respect my body so much more through covering up. It allowed me to relax about my alleged physical imperfections and allowed me to extract myself from an industry that objectifies women (and men). I took back the power over my body and feel more dignified than ever. Try it -- you might like it!

The Tzniut Project 19: Keeping My Thoughts Modest

This is the nineteenth in a multi-part series called The Tzniut Project. Women from a variety of backgrounds with a variety of observances have volunteered to anonymously answer questions that I have written about their practices, people's assumptions, and more. For more information on origins the project, click here. Please continue to check back with The Tzniut Project to read more stories and comment abundantly!

Note: This post is contributed by a reader.

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1. How do you affiliate Jewishly? Feel free to elaborate on the words people use to describe you and the words you use to describe yourself.

Most of my family is Conservative and Orthodox, but I was brought up Reform. However, I have been attending Conservative and Orthodox shuls for about three years now, and based on my observance and beliefs, most would probably say I’m Conservadox. I feel like I have all of the major Jewish affiliations somewhere in my beliefs: I love the progressiveness of Reform, the Torah interpretation of Conservative, and the traditions of Orthodox. I’m also very interested in Kabbalah, but I wouldn’t identify myself as Kabbalistic.

2. Growing up, did your mother or grandmother dress modestly in any way? Do you think modesty was something instilled in you by your family? Did you dress modestly growing up?
I suppose I’m still “growing up” -- I’m only 18. My immediate family never put a huge emphasis on modesty for religious purposes. My mother dresses extremely immodest by any standards, especially for her age. I think that has had an influence on me to dress even more modest. I have extended family who dress very traditionally Jewish modest: no pants, hair coverings, no collarbones, etc.

3. Are you married? How does your spouse feel about your choices for modest dress? Is it a dialogue or does your partner leave the mitzvah to you?
I am not married. I plan to cover my hair when I get married. I haven’t been in a relationship where I’ve been pressured to dress more modestly; in fact, it has been quite the opposite!

4. What would you wear on a typical day? On Shabbos? If you dress differently on weekdays and Shabbos, why do you make this distinction and how?
I do not live in a very Jewish area, I actually live in what they call the “Bible Belt” of my state. My shul is an hour-and-a-half away, and although there are many Jewish areas around there, I live in what is essentially a farm town, and I attended a Catholic high school up until recently. This definitely has influenced what I wear day-to-day.

To school, I would usually wear our uniform polos and a knee-length skirt. Where I live it gets extremely cold in the winter, and because we weren’t allowed to wear leggings under our skirts, I’d wear slacks or harem pants in the winter to school. I would wear a cardigan over my polo at school. At home, I usually wear a t-shirt and comfortable (loose-fitting) pants. There are no men present in my household so it gives my mom, sisters and I some more choices. Outside of the home, on weekends, I usually wear dresses (I love them!) that are knee-length and if they aren’t elbow length, I wear a cardigan. In the winter, I wear loose-fitting jeans or harem pants or leggings under my dress/skirt. My job doesn’t allow us to wear skirts or dresses (I work in retail, and our uniform is a certain color top with khaki or black pants), but I can usually get away with harem pants or very loose pants. My employers don’t really understand my modesty beliefs, but I have to put up with it for the time being in order to pay for college next year.

On Shabbos, I definitely love to dress up! I feel since that Shabbos is such a holy day, we should honor it as such. I don’t think it’s vital to dress up for Shabbos, since some people do not have the means to do so, and Shabbos is really all about G-d when it comes down to it. But given the chance, I take it! I usually wear a skirt, a nice blouse and a cardigan. I absolutely love fashion, so putting together a nice outfit for Shabbos is actually one of the highlights of my week! :)

5. What do you think other people infer from your clothing and hair covering choices? Has anyone ever said anything to you outright that expresses a judgment based on your appearance? (Ex: “You don’t cover your hair or wear skirts, so why do you keep kosher?”)
People who don’t know that I’m Jewish have probably given me the most judgment (i.e., “You’re crazy for wearing such long sleeves in the summer!”). Like I said, the area I live in is far from Jewish, but aside from long sleeves and high necklines, I don’t think I stick out too much. My town is very Christian, so most people here dress pretty conservatively anyways. The hardest thing has probably been during summer when I go swimming or tanning with friends. I normally wear a swimdress that exposes zero cleavage and is just about mid-thigh. Since my non-Jewish friends (and even many of my Jewish friends) usually wear skimpy bikinis, I have gotten some weird looks from people. My best friend is a non-Jewish boy, and for the longest time he just didn’t understand why I wouldn’t want to wear jeans, or why I didn’t wear low-cut tops like all of my peers. However, most people that know me, just know that I dress modestly.

6. Have you ever surprised someone by dressing more or less modestly and making them rethink their stereotypes about what it means to be an observant Jew?
My mother does not dress/act tznius in the least, and I think that sometimes I surprise her with the modesty of my own clothing and actions.

7. When you see someone who observes tzniut differently than you, what are your initial thoughts? How do you deal with them?
All people judge. I do my best not to :) Going to a non-Jewish, or even non-secular, high school and having family members who do not dress modestly has made me never really take a second glance at someone dressed immodestly. Of course, when people are baring all with cleavage, midriffs, and legs, don’t we all judge a little? When I see someone that observes tznius more traditionally than I, it inspires me to further my observance and practice of tznius.

8. I say modesty or tzniut … what does that mean to you?
Tzniut is more than just covering your body parts. I practice tzniut in my everyday actions and words. A quote that really helps me remember my tznius values is: “Watch your thoughts, for they become words. Watch your words, for they become actions. Watch your actions, for they become habits. Watch your habits, for they become character. Watch your character, for it becomes your destiny.” Long story short, I feel that if I keep my thoughts modest, my character and destiny will keep modest. Modest actions and words to me mean following The Golden Rule, remembering “If you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say anything at all,” and realizing how lucky I am to have everything that I do, and taking none of it for granted.

9. Anything else you’d like to add about your choices, experiences, and more!
As with the halacha in general, I think that tznius, not just in dress but in words and actions, is part of G-d’s mission for us to live in His image. I believe that tznius should also be a person’s choice: find what calls to you. That isn’t to say that if you find/like an outfit that bares all to wear it, but if a woman finds that she doesn’t like the way covering her hair makes her feel, then I think she should forgo the hair covering. I wish that everyone got to experience the great blessings I have received from dressing and acting modestly.

The Tzniut Project 18: "Refined Character Clothed Accordingly"

This is the eighteenth in a multi-part series called The Tzniut Project. Women from a variety of backgrounds with a variety of observances have volunteered to anonymously answer questions that I have written about their practices, people's assumptions, and more. For more information on origins the project, click here. Please continue to check back with The Tzniut Project to read more stories and comment abundantly!


Note: This post is contributed by a reader. I did include a comment, if only for posterity's sake!

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1. How do you affiliate Jewishly? Feel free to elaborate on the words people use to describe you and the words you use to describe yourself.
Traditional Orthodox. If forced to pinpoint it further, Litvish/Yeshivish.

2. Growing up, did your mother or grandmother dress modestly in any way? Do you think modesty was something instilled in you by your family? Did you dress modestly growing up?
My mother grew up Conservative and dressed modestly to a degree while married to my father who grew up orthodox. When they divorced, her adherence to the laws of modesty pretty much went out the window. I went to Jewish day school and always dressed modestly, but I would wear a bikini at the beach. This is why it's important for parents to be on the same page. It's confusing for the kids. I have two brothers who are also religious and our mother looks at it as the ultimate in rebellion.

3. Are you married? How does your spouse feel about your choices for modest dress? Is it a dialogue or does your partner leave the mitzvah to you? 

I am married and my current husband has a stricter standard for modest dress than my former one. I knew this when we met based on where he's from. My ex-husband is more a Yeshiva University (modern orthodox) flavor and refused to let me cover my hair with a wig. He felt very strongly about this. Not wishing to rock the boat of shalom bayis, I went along but was never comfortable with it. I'd approach the topic occasionally, but he never relented. That's not why we divorced, but it didn't help much. When I started looking for a shidduch again, I knew the standard I'd want to keep. I live in a very yeshivish environment so there have been some adjustments to my dress since I got here. Out-of-town tznius is not the same as in-town tznius.

4. What would you wear on a typical day? On Shabbos? If you dress differently on weekdays and Shabbos, why do you make this distinction and how? 

On a typical day I wear some sort of black skirt or dark denim with a modest top and or shell. Always tasteful, nothing really out there. I have special clothes to wear to honor the Shabbos -- suits, separates, shoes. During the week I wear my wedding rings and a watch. On Shabbos I add accessories. I will run errands in a tichel during the week. On Shabbos it's always a sheitel. It's not uncommon for women in these parts to have a sheitel just for Shabbos.

5. What do you think other people infer from your clothing and hair covering choices? Has anyone ever said anything to you outright that expresses a judgment based on your appearance? (Ex: “You don’t cover your hair or wear skirts, so why do you keep kosher?”) 

I think my exterior adheres to the local standard but I'm sure I am very different from most of the women dressed like me. I am not from Brooklyn -- I would likely be more relaxed if not for the peer pressure and wanting to keep my son in good standing at his school. I also raised my level of tznius a notch to honor my husband. He finds me most attractive when I am totally tzniufied.

6. Have you ever surprised someone by dressing more or less modestly and making them rethink their stereotypes about what it means to be an observant Jew? 

I bumped into someone I knew from my old neighborhood (out of town) who I have not seen since my remarriage. She had never seen me in a sheitel and did not recognize me at all.

7. When you see someone who observes tzniut differently than you, what are your initial thoughts? How do you deal with them? 

I come from a town where not everyone covers there hair, and there are members of my husband's family who fall into this category as well. I *try* not to judge a book by its cover. My only concern is sending a consistent message of what the standard is to our child. He has observed, "That person is a yid (Jew) but doesn't know the rules about ladies not wearing pants," which is an acceptable answer to me.

8. I say modesty or tzniut … what does that mean to you? 

Refined character clothed accordingly. Honoring Hakadosh Baruch Hu by using proper speech and carrying myself as one who takes his laws seriously.

9. Anything else you’d like to add about your choices, experiences, and more!

N/A

The Tzniut Project 17: The Push-Pull of the Left and Frum Worlds

This is the seventeenth in a multi-part series called The Tzniut Project. Women from a variety of backgrounds with a variety of observances have volunteered to anonymously answer questions that I have written about their practices, people's assumptions, and more. For more information on origins the project, click here. Please continue to check back with The Tzniut Project to read more stories and comment abundantly!


Note: This post is contributed by a reader. I did include a comment, if only for posterity's sake!

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1. How do you affiliate Jewishly? Feel free to elaborate on the words people use to describe you and the words you use to describe yourself.

I consider myself centrist Orthodox. I disagree with certain aspects of the chareidi hashkafa, like the push for all men to learn in kollel and the suspicion of science and secular learning in general, so intellectually I identify with modern Orthodoxy. However, practically speaking, I don't feel that I fit in the modern Orthodox community because of what I'll call the Big Three Syndrome: there's a disproportionate emphasis on keeping Shabbos, kosher, and mikvah. I don't like the attitude that if you're keeping those mitzvos, you're all set. I'm also uncomfortable with the way many modern Orthodox folks compartmentalize their lives: over here I'm keeping Torah, and over here I'm working at my secular job, and over here I'm spending time with my family and friends ... To me, centrist Orthodoxy means acknowledging that we can learn from the secular world, while still being committed to full halachic observance at all times and in all places.

2. Growing up, did your mother or grandmother dress modestly in any way? Do you think modesty was something instilled in you by your family? Did you dress modestly growing up?
My grandmothers both dress very modestly by secular standards (loose-fitting slacks, long sleeves, high necklines). My mother does not dress particularly modestly -- lower necklines, sleeveless tops -- but she was always adamant that I not wear miniskirts. I did not dress b'tznius growing up, but I dressed more modestly than my peers. No one told me to -- I was simply uncomfortable with revealing as much skin as was cool in my circles.

3. Are you married? How does your spouse feel about your choices for modest dress? Is it a dialogue or does your partner leave the mitzvah to you?
I am not yet married. I hope that my future husband will like to see me looking and acting tzanua, including covering my hair. I plan to cover my hair with a scarf or snood, partially since it seems the most true to the spirit of the halacha, and partially since it identifies me with my ideological community.

It's true that tznius of dress is more personal than some other mitzvos. For example, the standards of kashrus I maintain in my kitchen will affect my husband and children, but only I have to wear the clothes I pick out for myself. However, my observance of hilchos tznius is part of my overall spiritual identity, which can have a huge impact on my family. If my husband went without a kippa, I would feel that this affects me and that I am entitled to comment on it. Similarly, I feel that a husband is entitled to have a say in the tznius standards of his family members, including his wife.

4. What would you wear on a typical day? On Shabbos? If you dress differently on weekdays and Shabbos, why do you make this distinction and how?
On a typical weekday, I wear a casual skirt below the knee (corduroy, khaki, denim) with a plain T-shirt (covering my collarbone) and a long-sleeve cardigan. I usually wear sneakers or clogs and wear my hair pulled back out of my face. I do not usually wear jewelry during the week (unless I'm going to a fancy event or a simcha). When we talk about tznius of dress, people think of skirt and sleeve length, but things like long, loose hair, big earrings, and even perfume are also discussed in halacha.

My Shabbos clothing is very different from my weekday clothing. On a typical Shabbos, I wear a dress or a fancy skirt and top with nice black flats. I wear my hair pulled back, but I try to make it slightly fancier than a regular weekday ponytail. I usually wear small pearl earrings and sometimes a pearl necklace. I try to dress for Shabbos like I would for a fancy event, because that is part of giving kavod to Shabbos. I also try to keep my Shabbos clothes special for Shabbos and not wear them for weekday activities, although I would wear them to a simcha on a weekday.

One subtle but significant difference between my weekday clothes and my Shabbos/Yom Tov clothes is that I always wear stockings or socks on Shabbos, while on weekdays I often don't, especially with ankle-length skirts. I wear stockings on Shabbos not because I want to be more tzanua on Shabbos, but because for me, wearing stockings is part of feeling dressed up. I agree with the opinion that the halacha regarding stockings varies from one community to another. B'ezras Hashem I'll be in Israel for a few months in the near future, and while I'm living in Jerusalem I plan to wear stockings or socks all the time, because that seems to be the minhag hamakom. Wearing stockings is something I'd like to take on full-time eventually, because I think it looks refined and classy, which is a big part of tznius for me.

5. What do you think other people infer from your clothing and hair covering choices? Has anyone ever said anything to you outright that expresses a judgment based on your appearance? (Ex: “You don’t cover your hair or wear skirts, so why do you keep kosher?”)
As someone who identifies with neither the left nor the right wing of Orthodoxy, it's funny (and sometimes frustrating) to see how people on either end of the spectrum make different assumptions about me based on my dress. I just graduated college, and on my campus, though there were quite a few Orthodox students, I was the only full-time skirt-wearer. In that environment, I seem a lot more right-wing than I really am, just by comparison. On the other hand, when I daven at the charedi shul in town, people assume I am more left-wing than I really am, probably because of how my tan stockings and colored tops stand out in that environment. In that setting, people are surprised that I really do keep Shabbos, that I really don't eat out dairy in treif restaurants, that I really do keep hilchos tznius...

6. Have you ever surprised someone by dressing more or less modestly and making them rethink their stereotypes about what it means to be an observant Jew?
My standards of tznius don't exactly match my hashkafa in other areas. I think I keep more machmir standards of tznius than other women who are ideologically similar to me -- I don't wear "the uniform" but I do look more yeshivish than the other women in my modern, liberal shul. It seems that tznius has become optional in the more modern sectors of the Orthodox community. I know many women who are fully, deeply committed to keeping Shabbos, but who see no problem wearing pants or tank tops. I think this stems from the compartmentalization I mentioned above. When one sees Torah as a set of ritual and spiritual practices rather than as a comprehensive lifestyle, it's easier to disregard certain mitzvos as outdated or less important. I hope that by dressing according to halacha and simultaneously being open-minded and more modern, I can show that tznius is not just a mitzvah for chareidi women, but for all Jewish women.

7. When you see someone who observes tzniut differently than you, what are your initial thoughts? How do you deal with them?
This is a sensitive issue. I admit to judging other women based on the way they dress and act. It's not that I would see an otherwise frum woman in pants and think, "She's a bad Jew." I might, however, make assumptions about how she's keeping other mitzvos based on how she's keeping tznius. In one woman's response [here on The Tzniut Project], she noted that she doesn't think it's reasonable to judge someone's kashrus, for example, based on her tznius. I disagree with this, because I see halacha as a comprehensive system. That doesn't mean it's all or nothing -- no one is perfect, and keeping some halachos is certainly better than keeping no halachos. But when an otherwise frum woman who has been well educated in the Orthodox system decides that keeping hilchos tznius is not important, that says something about her overall commitment to halacha. Tznius is no less a halachic requirement than Shabbos or kashrus or mikvah. If a woman gives me a reason to doubt her commitment to halacha, then I may very well be uncomfortable eating in her house.

I admire women who keep stricter standards of tznius than I do, although I don't think halacha requires it. One thing I do have a problem with is the new phenomenon of chareidi women covering their faces with a burka-like garment. There is a world of difference between trying in earnest to live a mehadrin life, and creating entirely new issurim. "Lo sosef alav, v'lo sigra mimenu" -- don't add onto the Torah, or take away from it (Devarim 13:1). There is such a thing as being too machmir.

8. I say modesty or tzniut … what does that mean to you?
At the pshat level, "tznius" refers to a set of halachos governing dress and behavior. The halachos cover, in no particular order, skirt length (or pants length, for men), sleeve length, appropriate necklines, stockings, clothing colors, clothing tightness, jewelry, hairstyles, perfume/cologne, public conduct, appropriate speech, behavior in mixed company...

On a deeper level, the concept of tznius comes from the pasuk in Micha (6:8), which says, "hatznea leches im Hashem Elokecha" -- walk modestly with Hashem your God. This is often taken out of context, though -- the whole pasuk actually says, "You have been told what's good, what Hashem demands of you -- asos mishpat (do justice), v'ahavas chesed (and love kindness), v'hatznea leches im Hashem Elokecha (and walk modestly with Hashem your God)." [Hey! This is exactly what I wrote in my post, too! Great minds think alike ... - Chaviva]


Tznius isn't just an outfit -- it's a midah, like justice or chesed. To me, tznius means striving to be the kind of person who walks with Hashem, and the clothes I wear are just one part of that -- it's also about being humble, speaking in a refined way, being sensitive to my own privacy and the privacy of others, and knowing the appropriate time and place for everything. It's about protecting my dignity as a daughter of the highest King.

9. Anything else you’d like to add about your choices, experiences, and more!
In the chareidi world, I've noticed the prevalence of the idea that just as Torah learning is the one central mitzvah for men, tznius is the one central mitzvah for women. I really disagree with this. The obsession with women's dress in some chareidi circles seems very unhealthy to me, especially since it's obvious that in the early sources, the subject of tznius didn't get nearly as much air time it gets today.

I think this is most likely an expression of the ever-widening gap between the frum world and the secular world. Until relatively recently, there wasn't so much difference between secular women's clothing and Jewish women's clothing. Now that the secular world is pushing further and further left, and very revealing clothing and undignified behavior has become acceptable, the frum world feels, perhaps subconsciously, that it needs to push further right to insulate and differentiate itself. The irony, of course, is that the harder they try NOT to be influenced by the secular world, by taking on more machmir standards and putting more and more emphasis on the importance of women's clothing, the more they are admitting that they HAVE been influenced by the secular world.

I think it's commendable if one individual wants to take on a chumra that's meaningful to her. What's problematic is making a chumra the baseline standard for an entire community.

I also want to add that some people argue that tznius is not "as required" as Shabbos or kashrus, for example, because the halacha is of a different nature -- it's mid'rabanan rather than mid'oraisa, or it's das yehudis rather than das Moshe, etc. I am certainly not an expert on this issue, so I'll just say that in my very humble opinion, according to what I was taught, distinctions like das yehudis/das Moshe speak only to the nature and the source of the halacha, not to the importance or required-ness of the content of the halacha. The label "das yehudis" does not mean, "this halacha is more optional than those explicitly mentioned in Chumash."

The Tzniut Project 16: It's a Very Personal Mitzvah

This is the sixteenth in a multi-part series called The Tzniut Project. Women from a variety of backgrounds with a variety of observances have volunteered to anonymously answer questions that I have written about their practices, people's assumptions, and more. For more information on the project, click here. Please continue to check back with The Tzniut Project to read more stories and comment abundantly!

Note: This post is contributed by a reader

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1. How do you affiliate Jewishly? Feel free to elaborate on the words people use to describe you and the words you use to describe yourself.

I would label myself as left-wing yeshivish. I believe strongly in following halacha even when I don't always understand it or even like it. I agree with a lot of charedi concepts but ultimately there are some aspects of the charedi community that I can't agree with.

2. Growing up, did your mother or grandmother dress modestly in any way? Do you think modesty was something instilled in you by your family? Did you dress modestly growing up?

I am a BT so there was no real standard. My mom and grandmothers wore pants, short sleeves, etc. My maternal grandmother always wears pants. Personally I always was more conservative in my choices. If I wore shorts they were loose. I never owned a tube top or short shorts. My skirts were always on the longer side. We were also taught the concept that there were times and places for different types of clothing.

3. Are you married? How does your spouse feel about your choices for modest dress? Is it a dialogue or does your partner leave the mitzvah to you?

I am married. Tznius is an ongoing conversation. When we were dating we were on the same page for the most part. There are small differences in taste and style but nothing major. He has encouraged
me to take on new things that I thought were harder then they actually were.

4. What would you wear on a typical day? On Shabbos? If you dress differently on weekdays and Shabbos, why do you make this distinction and how?

Normal weekday clothes are either a black or denim skirt that covers my knees a shirt that covers my collarbone and elbows and some type of tights or socks depending on the weather. I love all hair coverings especially pretied tichels and snoods but there are days when my sheital is more appropriate. Pregnancy and nursing have also influenced my clothing choices in the past year.

On shabbos I have a bunch of comfy dresses that I love for Friday night and shabbos day is usually a dress or skirt and top. Shabbos is a holy day deserving of my best clothes. I think getting dressed in my
nicest clothes despite the fact that its often just my husband and me sets the tone for the day.

5. What do you think other people infer from your clothing and hair covering choices? Has anyone ever said anything to you outright that expresses a judgment based on your appearance? (Ex: “You don’t cover your hair or wear skirts, so why do you keep kosher?”)

I think I come off as being more modern then I actually am. I don't dress in a bais yaakov manner even though I have a lot of the same beliefs. I asked someone I'm friendly with about a specific book
about women in Judaisim that had come out recently and she strongly emphasized how intense it is. People are surprised that I don't use the eruv, don't have a TV, keep pas yisroel, and try to eat chalav
yisroel.

6. Have you ever surprised someone by dressing more or less modestly and making them rethink their stereotypes about what it means to be an observant Jew?

No.

7. When you see someone who observes tzniut differently than you, what are your initial thoughts? How do you deal with them?

I'm human and sometimes I judge, but at the end of the day I know that it's a very personal mitzvah. If people are at the very least being sincere in trying to keep a normative standard of tznius in accordance with halacha then kol hakavod! If their tznius is not in keeping with normative halacha and they purport to be a Orthodox/frum person I get irritated sometimes because proper tznius (in dress and mind) is ultimately no less halachic than being shomer shabbos.

8. I say modesty or tzniut … what does that mean to you? 

When it comes to tznius its as much of an attitude as it is a way of dress. I am a loud outgoing person so the little voice in the back of my head is always there reminding me to tone it down a little.

9. Anything else you’d like to add about your choices, experiences, and more!

Ultimately tznius is about being a bas melech (daughter of the King of Kings). Every day I ask myself how should I dress and how should I behave when continuously standing before our Creator (infinitely greater than any human king)! He set certain standards for us as Jews and we should do our utmost to adhere to them.