Starbucks Dilemma

Moral (sort of) dilemma: I was in Starbucks today getting a beverage and a man in a kippah with a beard walked in with his son, who was probably 8 or 9.

Father: What is that thing that you want?
Son: A double chocolatey chip thing.
Starbucks Girl: Oh! A double chocolate chip frappuccino.
Son: Yeah, that!
Starbucks Girl: Whipped cream?
Son: Yeah!

The man proceeded to order an ice tea (which is fine), but I was perplexed. Didn't he know the frappuccino stopped being kosher last year? When they went from a coffee base to a cream base?

I was tormented. I really wanted to tell him. The guy clearly had zero clue what a frappuccino even was, let alone its kashrut status.

Should I have said something? Or would it have been out of line? Does it not matter because it was a kid?

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.

---

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 Timeline Shifts: When Did I Know?

At the beginning of 2011, I started analyzing my journey to Judaism in this post, trying to figure out exactly when I knew. People ask me that all the time: How did you know? When did you know? As if you can pinpoint a moment in time when it suddenly arrived: My neshama is Jewish!

Alas, it isn't that easy. It's steady, gradual, and after years, it becomes a haze of memory. I always feel like it was Spring semester of 2003 that I began my foray into Judaism, with an Intro to Judaism course, but clearly it came before that. How do I know? I just found this in a journal from 2003:

Weird, right? Super weird. January 2, 2003, I knew something. Clearly, the talk I remember having with my friend that made me go out and buy Anita Diamant's "Choosing a Jewish Life" must have happened in Fall semester 2002.

Can you pinpoint the moment you knew?

Missing Boy: Please Help!

Please take a moment to pray for the quick and safe return home of Leiby Kletzky (Yehuda ben Itta Esther), a 9-year-old boy from Boro Park who has been missing since yesterday evening.

Leiby was last seen leaving Nechmod Day Camp located on 44th St. between12th and 13thAve.,wearing glasses, a green/white/blue striped shirt, navy pants, black sneakers, and a Nechmod Day Camp knapsack.

If you have any information of his whereabouts, please call the Command Center that has been set up for this purpose at 917-755-3982 or the Police Desk at 718-851-5641 or Shomrim at 718-871-6666

Please stop what you are doing and say Tehillim chapters 130 and 142 for Yehuda ben Itta Esther, and pass on this email to as many people as possible!

Membership in the Community: Invading Your Territory

It was recently brought to my attention that some Orthodox synagogues ask on their membership forms whether you or your spouse have converted.

I'm not going to lie -- I find this incredibly invasive, unnecessary, and upsetting. It goes beyond the "once you convert you're as a Jew always." I might be willing to waiver if I knew that the only person seeing the application was the rabbi, but the membership committee of most synagogues gets the form first, and why does the membership chair need to know that I or my spouse converted? Whose right is it?

I understand that it is problematic for Jewish organizations that provide Torah education to individuals and that typically they need to know if the individual they are providing funding for is a halachic Jew (e.g., Partners in Torah), but someone who is willing to pay dues at your synagogue who says they are Jewish, why do you need their certificate of proof? Why do you need to know every last detail of their personal history?

What do you guys think?

The Roadtrip in a Nutshell

I'm back in New Jersey after a whirlwind week-long schlep to Nebraska and back. Our trip included some interesting stop-offs like Antique Archaeology (a.k.a. the home of TV's "American Pickers"), the World's Largest Wooden Nickel, a former bank robbed by Bonnie and Clyde, Freedom Rock, and, of course, Ken's Diner in Skokie, Ill., for a bit of kosher nosh. We visited the Omaha Zoo, which was amazing and included the Skyfari -- a ski-lift style ride over the expanse of the zoo, and we spent a bucketload of time hanging out with my nephews Oliver and Owynn. I made my parents dinner, and I got to spend some time with a few of my best friends from high school. And I can't forget to mention the beautiful sunsets and the 360-degree view of fireworks on the Fourth of July.

For oodles of photos from my trip, check out my Facebook Album! And check out this very brief video of the sleepy ones in action!

I have a lot to say about the trip, especially how it made me feel. I can't lie: the trip left me feeling kind of sad, but not in a nostalgic way. More like, why haven't I tried harder to keep in touch with people and keep up on their lives? When did I stop being a friend to my friends?

Book Review Times Two

Over Shabbos, instead of napping, I opted to read a few books and allow Tuvia to destroy me at various games, including Othello. (Note: I kicked his tush at Bananagrams and Trivial Pursuit). You see, we were leaving on Sunday morning at 7 a.m. in order to begin the Great Roadtrip of 2011 to Nebraska to pick up some historic relics of my childhood (i.e., yearbooks, binders full of notes, and more) from my parents house as they attempt to downsize, so I decided -- at Tuvia’s suggestion -- not to do the usual Shabbat shluff thing. I amazed myself by staying away all day Saturday, and then angered myself at 2 o’clock in the morning when I was still awake. Let this be a lesson to all: Always, I repeat always, take a Shabbos nap.

The two books I spent my Shabbos reading were The Sonderberg Case by Elie Wiesel, the famed Nobel laureate and author of Night, and The Oriental Wife by Evelyn Toynton, which actually doesn’t come out until July 19 (mad props to the folks at Other Press for sending me a review copy). Both books connected in some way to the Holocaust, it was a pretty dismal Shabbos.

Wiesel’s book details the experience of a theater-lover turned theater-critic who is forced into covering a trial because, well, if modern trials prove anything, it’s that they’re quite theatrical in their nature. The book takes place during the 1950s or 1960s during a time rife with trials bringing former Nazis to justice (think: the Eichmann Trial of 1961), but unlike what you might expect, the trial doesn’t put a former Nazi on the stand. Rather, the defendant is accused of killing his German “uncle” on U.S. soil. The book is far less about the trial itself than it is about the reporter, Yedidyah, and his inner dialogue with his supposed grandfather and the people he thinks are his relatives who perished in the Holocaust. His inner dialogue ends up revealing some fascinating tidbits about the life he’s led and what he thought he knew, and so as to not spoil it, I won’t spoil it. The book ends with an awkward dialogue between Yedidyah and the accused many years after the trial takes place, and the accused comes clean about what really happened. It’s not exactly what you would have suspected, or maybe it was more predictable than Wiesel would have wanted.

The book was difficult to point down, if only because you want to know exactly who Yedidyah really is and what exactly happened between the accused and his German “uncle,” but the book often loses itself by switching back and forth between first and third person, which I found quite bothersome. Likewise, the inner dialogues that Yedidyah has are beyond what I would call stream-of-consciousness. In fact, they dabble in the completely random and out-of-nowhere stream of thought. He quotes French thinkers and great rabbis and the Talmud and the works of great authors long dead, and sometimes, it feels forced and confusing. However, perhaps that’s just part of who Yedidyah is -- confused, profound, and brilliant. The book was translated from the original French, which makes me wonder whether something was lost in translation. Overall, it was an excellent read, if you can get past the jumps in the storyline, the out-of-the-blue quotes, and random thought narratives.

The Oriental Wife, on the other hand, didn’t quite have the nice ribbon-and-bow ending that Wiesel’s seemed to give the reader. In fact, after reading this book I put it down and said to Tuvia, “Well, that was depressing.” I’ll admit that I only spent about two hours reading the 304-page book -- it’s that quick of a read, thanks to a well-written (for the most part) narrative that is fluid and functional. But I have a few major gripes. The story focuses on three assimilated Jewish kids in Nuremberg in the pre-war years. The back cover of the book says it focuses on two of the kids, but in reality, Rolf, Otto, and Louisa are the main focus of the narrative. Louisa goes off to school, falls in love with a British fellow, moves to England, becomes broke, falls in love with another British fellow, ends up in the U.S., and ends up at the doorstep of Rolf and Otto, both who had moved to the U.S. several years prior. All of their family members are stuck in Europe, and they work effortlessly to bring them to the U.S. Rolf and Louisa fall in love, have a baby, and in the process something horrible happens to Louisa (the "freakish accident" that the book jacket mentions? I think not; more like medical woe). Rolf proves to be a jerk, too, Louisa leaves, and their daughter Emma grows up -- really fast, as the book skips about 20 years of their lives for the sake of what, I’m not sure. Rolf becomes ill, and everyone pretty much lives a miserable, confusing end to their life. Did I give away too much?

The way that Louisa is presented after she becomes brushed with English charm seems trite and forced, and later in the book it’s almost as if she’s a completely different person. Yes, she goes through a bevy of shocking and life-altering changes, but the character shouldn’t stray that much from who she begins the book as. It put me off, unfortunately, and I felt no sympathy for the character as the book went on, despite what I can only assume was the author’s point of having the reader see a variety of tragedies -- those before, during, and after the Holocaust, many that were completely unrelated to the Holocaust. I was left wondering whether the author was trying to minimize suffering of the Holocaust, as if to say, “There are many modes of suffering for the Jews, the Holocaust was just one drop in a bucket.” Similarly, I grew annoyed with Otto, Louisa’s and Rolf’s good-natured friend, and Rolf was, to me, the most cold and inconsiderate of characters, despite his work to bring refugees to the U.S. The characters in The Oriental Wife seemed an anomoly to me -- I just don’t get them. Even the daughter, Emma, confused me. Her character development was weak and her relations with a Cambodian seemed almost unnecessary and forced (as I’m sure me mentioning it now feels to you). Only Sophie, the doctor's kind and considerate wife seemed remotely normal.

Oh! And I must mention that the emphasis on "assimilated" seems beyond forced on many occasions, as if the author insists that we understand these aren't your typical Jews. No, they're from Germany, and they go out for BLTs and stir cream into their coffee (violation times two!) on page 194. On another occasion, the live-in nanny insists on making bacon for Rolf for breakfast, that he must it it! Ugh. We get it, okay?

Should you read The Oriental Wife? Yes and no. If you believe in the importance of character development and consistency, the book might drive you nuts. If you’re up for a fairly fluid narrative that has you wondering what will befall the storyline next, then perhaps it’s worth your time. As for the title? Well, it's a dead giveaway in the beginning of the book -- don't worry, you won't be led on.

Stay tuned for more book reviews and video blogs and a Sabra giveaway. I know, I know ... I put you guys on hold on so many things, but I'm on the road! Need anything from Nebraska? Let me know. 

Yes, There is Life Without Eyeliner

As I was driving in my uber-cute Yaris today, I was thinking: Geepers, I didn't put any eyeliner on! With a gasp and a giggle, I realized I hadn't put any makeup on. Not a single dash of eyeshadow or a puff of face powder. Nothing. I shocked myself. 

I remember a day when I couldn't imagine leaving home without makeup, let alone eyeliner. Dark, black, top-and-bottom eyeliner. It's always been my signature, and despite having glasses, I never really considered that maybe people never noticed my signature eyeliner.

When I started observing Shabbos, I'll admit -- eyeliner was one of the things I couldn't give up. Despite the melacha (prohibition) of tzovaya (coloring) and possibly schita (squeezing) and memarevach (smoothing or smearing), I just couldn't walk away from it. When the conversion hit, I learned to give up face powder, blush, eyeshadow, the works. Even eyeliner went bye-bye on Shabbos.

Want the halachos of eye makeup? (For the halachos of all makeup.)

There are four areas of the eye to which women apply cosmetics to highlight and enhance the appearance of the eye: the eyebrow, eyelid, eyeline, and eyelash. Applying eye makeup in the form of cosmetic creams, regular non-Shabbos powders, cake (powder that one mixes with water), pencils, and liquid eyeliners, is strictly forbidden on Shabbos. 

Besides the normal conditions of Shabbos makeup, according to some opinions, eye makeup poses additional concerns regarding blending colors (tzovaya). The following are halachic guidelines when using eye makeup.

HOWEVER!

Women typically use cosmetic pencil/liquid eyeliner on these areas. As indicated previously, these may not be used on Shabbos. However, there are Shabbos makeup powdered eyeliners available that are not long-lasting and may be used according to Rav Moshe zt"l, under the conditions listed above (section IV).

Unfortunately, those powders cost a million dollars and aren't worth it. (If you're interested, check out ShainDee Cosmetics -- they have just about everything and are certified kosher l'Shabbos.) A lot of posters in The Tzniut Project mentioned getting gussied up for Shabbos, which is great on Friday night but then you have the problem of cleaning all of that makeup off before you go to sleep. Can it be done? Within the bounds of what's good and right for Shabbos? That's a question I don't have the answer to.

Thus, I've learned to live without it. And the fact that it's spread to weekdays has me, well, marveling at my own ability to embrace the way I look and love it. 

Question: What's the one thing that you've been unable to or struggled to give up on Shabbos despite the melachos? Feel free to answer anonymously, but I'm talking anything from a cigarette (quit! it's a bad habit that's going to kill you!) to your favorite lipstick to that vintage wind-up watch you love. 

The Huff Post and Beyond

Dr. Ruth is so tiny! So cute! So ... adorable! 

I am super happy to announce that my first piece for The Huffington Post is live: Jewish Identity (Un)defined at the 2011 Israeli Presidential Conference

In the lineup for the coming week you'll find a Sabra-sponsored kiddush write-up (yes, we invited friends over to celebrate our one-year anniversary and down some dips) and giveaway, as well as a review of the HydroChic line of swimwear.

I'm also working on a video about the nifty mitpachot that I purchased in Israel and how exactly they work.

Stay tuned!

Zip Your Lip, Please

There are a lot of things that I go through In Real Life ("IRL") that I never blog about here. Most of the time, these things will either embarrass me or get me into a lot of trouble with claims of lashon hara and "Is it good for the Jews?" junk. Those things are, usually, the things that I really, really want to write about, because I know we all have those moments where things happen or someone says something and you just have to tell someone, the world even.

For example, something that happened that I'd feel comfortable writing about despite it's assumptions about my character is at the Israeli Presidential Conference when I reached back to grab my chair back and instead grabbed the leg of the man behind the seat. What can I say? I overreached and had an unfortunate encounter that left me red, laughing, snicker to @EstherK and wondering what the shomer negiah me would say. Simple, ridiculous, slip-up.

But then there are places I go and people I meet and things I want to write about but can't. But one thing I've learned during my many treks to many communities in many different parts of the East Coast, it's that people who feel like they know you will say just about anything to you, without any commitment to modesty or, oh, I don't know, civil discourse and restraint.

What I mean by this is ... you know how sometimes you meet someone, and you say something like "Oh, I love blah blah blah" and they respond, "Ohmygosh! Me, too! That's so weird!" and then all of a sudden it's like they know you. Like, they were standing behind you in the water fountain line in second grade and shared your locker with you in middle school and were sitting on AOL the moment you got home from your freshman dance. People who suddenly feel like you're besties, so all restraint flies and anything goes.

Conversations can go anywhere. And I mean anywhere. And if I shared the details of the particular conversation that occurred sometime in the past four months, you guys would be shocked and probably disgusted.

This happens to me more often than I'd like. I appreciate people who want to feel close and intimate with me and Tuvia and our life, but there are times and places. Making pervy jokes? Bashing Orthodox Judaism? Talking about how you don't buy Orthodoxy but love the idea of community and family so you'd never even think of going anywhere else? Sharing innermost thoughts and details about your life? Telling us how you really feel about the community in which you live?

I'm all for honesty, but on first encounter, my advice, to everyone, is to chill the you-know-what out. Restrain yourself. I'd like to know you at least a year before you feel comfortable telling me about your sex life or how much you really hate Orthodox Jews (especially when the person sharing these innermost feelings is, in fact, an Orthodox Jew).

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.

---

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.

A Brief Intermission to Recover

After three weeks in Israel, I arrived safe and sound this morning at Newark at the bright and sunshiney hour of 4:30 a.m. Luckily, we were one of the first flights, so I got to zip through security -- a first, and a huge contrast to my experience at Ben-Gurion which took 2.5 hours, which was longer than any experience ever. Reasons not to fly the Red Eye? At any rate, I'm just glad I flew Continental and not Delta (who appears to not be fond of Jews these days).

I came home to a dinosaur in my bed, a to-go Smoothie Maker, and visions of Chinese food dancing in my head. My copy of 1,001 Foods You Must Taste Before You Die (referenced on my other blog because of the gluten-free foods) arrived, and so did a huge stack of mail (mostly junk but some good photos from a sweet Snapfish deal). My dear husband hauled himself out of bed at the wee hours to pick me up, and then shuffled off to work, while I went home and cleaned out my inbox and ran errands.

Walking out of Target, all I could think was: I want to sleep, for days ... nay! Weeks!

It's the typical thing, you know, where you need a vacation from your vacation. Luckily, the next week is going to be nothing but writing a few articles on the Israeli Presidential Conference, decide whether to pursue my idea for a website called Gerim Online where converts and converts-to-be can speak and consult and counsel each other anonymously and publicly, and to sleep. Sleep my brains out. And eat food my body knows. And to miss Israel, of course.

Oh, and, I can't not mention spend time with my dear Tuvia, who put up with me jet-setting for three weeks without him. Let's just say I won't be doing any lengthy trips without him in the future. I plan on visiting my Little Bro Joe in South Carolina this summer, but those trips are short -- three to four days at most.

So, with an exhausted and stressed nod of my head, I must make a carrot cake, clean the entire apartment from top to bottom because my dear husband said he was going to and didn't (men, sigh), and prepare for our Happy-One-Year-Anniversary Kiddush we're hosting tomorrow (why? why did we choose this weekend?!), and then? Shabbat candles, Chinese food, and at least 14 hours of sleep.

Shabbat Shalom everyone!

A Pork Memoir

Mad props to Jeffrey Yoskowitz, a fellow 2011 ROIer for his project Pork Memoirs. They are some seriously funny and interesting reads.

And yes, even I have a Pork Memoir (mentioned ever-so-briefly in my own answers to the Tzniut Project).

Read the memoir -- Wearing Swine on My Sleeve --  here. And be sure to submit your own!

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!

---

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

Shabbat: What Can't You Live Without?

This entire post is based on a single question with two variations.

If you do observe Shabbat, 

what is the one thing you wish was permitted?

If you don't observe Shabbat, what is the one thing you couldn't live without being able to do over the 25-hour period?

Now for a bit of background. I recently was thinking about this question -- for me the former -- and I didn't even have to debate. It's easy: Shower. As someone who loathes sweating and suffers from the worst of allergies (two different meds and I still needed some Benadryl on Shabbos in Neve Daniel!), I crave a late-night Friday shower and a pre-shul shower on Saturdays.

I wrote last year a post about a major decision circa 2008 in which I had to choose between Shabbos or a $20 Bill, and during my summer in Chicago that same year I blogged a lot about my struggles to take on the mitzvah of Shabbos observance. I got a lot of flack, but I also got a lot of support. It's not like deciding to stop drinking soda or coffee, no, it's more than that. But do any of us really understand why we observe Shabbos? Do any of us really see how black and white it is? Or is it just a day of rest, a day where we don't work, a day where we spend the time as we see fit?

Ultimately, Shabbos is easily defined: In Hebrew, Shabbat means resting. At the beginning of Genesis, HaShem created the world in six days and rested on the seventh, refraining from creating. It's easy to say that we were commanded by a divine power to rest according to the Decalogue (aka 10 Commandments), so we should stop what we're doing and rest because the Man Upstairs said so. But what does resting mean? And, more importantly, what does "creating" entail?

I remember, once upon a time, asking a friend what Shabbat meant to them. This friend responded that it was a day of rest from the week's work, just as G-d commanded, so they spent their time at the movies, shopping, playing guitar, and doing all of the things that made them feel rested. It makes sense; even I'll admit that. We've rolled into this world where Shabbat is more about resting from work than resting from creating, and we often lose sight of what it means to create. Hence, this is why we have the 39 Melachot, or forms of creative activity, from which we abstain (found in Talmud Tractate Shabbat).

Again, we don't rest from work or that unfun stuff we do 24/5 -- we rest from creation.

I won't go into every last detail of the 39 Melachot, because to be honest, it takes people a lifetime to get everything down pat, but you can find a list of them here. As the world evolves and changes, we have to figure out how our new-fangled lifestyles fit into the idea of "creation." It's never the other way around -- we don't bend creation for our access to life, we bend our lives to rest from creation.

But let's be honest, from a practical point of view, even if you don't buy into the divinity of the 10 Commandments or the command to rest from creation on Shabbat, it makes lots of sense to just take a day off from creating -- whether that, for you, is writing, moving furniture, baking, cooking, flipping on your laptop, refreshing Twitter a dozen times an hour, and so on.

So, have you thought of your answer? Sock it to me.

Note: I just realized that I flip between Shabbat and Shabbos more than anyone I know. The only difference is sort of the Hebrew (Shabbos) and Modern Hebrew (Shabbat) pronunciation of the word שבת.

Cherry Picking My Way to Calm

Last night, after returning from an exciting weekend at the Cherry Festival in Gush Etzion and a Shabbos in Neve Daniel with @tripnmommy and her band of merry munchkins, I wrote a really long and, what I thought, emotional post about the weekend. And then? Well, my computer went wonky and the app quit and my work was lost to the annals of time. So here we are, again. Let me try this one more time.

The great thing about Israel -- or maybe the Jewish community in general -- is that in an instant everything can change. I'm not talking anything philosophical here, but merely the fact that what I had planned for Shabbos fell through and I ended up opting (at the advice of a few folks) to go to the Gush for the Cherry Festival and then staying in the environs for Shabbos.

@freeves and I schlepped out to the Gush together, and when we got there we made a b-line for the Chocoholique booth so I could drop my Shabbos bags and to meet my meal hosts. Yes, I managed to land meals with the folks behind probably the most delicious chocolate liqueur on the planet. The funny thing is that I knew about this liqueur before going to Israel. See, when we were in Linden, NJ, for a Shabbaton, the rabbi there filled us in on the glory of spicy chocolate liqueur and said that he'd hook us up when I went to Israel. Of course, that conversation happened and was forgotten, so imagine my surprise when realizing that not only were my meals by the makers of Chocoholique, but that their next-door neighbors were related to the rabbi back in New Jersey. (Cue "It's a Small World After All ...)

You can only buy this in Israel, but it's worth having someone schlep back. Any distributors in the house?

After dropping my things, we traversed the booths, which carried every ware from falafel (if that's a ware) to tableclothes to mitpachot (head coverings) and more. It reminded me of everything I love about Middle America, actually, in that it felt very small town and quaint. Families sat around under gigantic shade tarps and ate lunch, kids crawled around and devoured gigantic cones of cotton candy. And the cherry picking itself? Wow. Now that was quaint. It reminded me of apple picking in Connecticut, but to a much more awesome level. Children and adults alike were up in the cherry trees dropping down handfulls to passersby, and babies were covered in cherry juice. People plopped down under the shade of the cherry trees and simply relished in the communal experience of harvesting cherries.

I walked away from the festival with some mitpachot, some of the delicious Espresso and Coconut @Chocoholique, as well as some Honey Liqueur (sorry Gottliebs!), which I had never before seen. I had about a pint of cherries in my possession, not to mention the countless cherries I ate while scrambling around the grove, and I was prepared to do something that I had never had the chance to do before: separating terumah and ma'aser.

Halachah requires the separation of terumah and ma’ aser from Israeli produce. When the Temple was extant, these separated portions were distributed in a specified manner to the Kohanim (Priests), Leviim (Levites) and the poor, or eaten in Jerusalem. While terumah and ma’ aser are no longer distributed or eaten in Jerusalem, the requirement to separate and designate them is still in effect. 

After the festival, we rushed back to Neve Daniel to prepare for Shabbos. All I can say about the experience of Shabbos with the @tripnmommy family is that it was outstanding. The kids treated me like a big sister and the peace the hovers over the community could be felt at all times. And the view? Well, the view was killer. 

There's something about Israel that I can't really explain to those who haven't spent a good deal of time here, and maybe even Israelis will think I'm nuts, but it's what I love most about this country: an overarching sense of chaos that breaks down at ground-level into complete peace. While standing outside in Neve Daniel, looking out over the communities in the distance, I felt calm. The kind of calm that makes you want to cry (and even as I write this, I feel surprisingly emotional) because you've reached this point of happiness, as if HaShem is walking with you, near you, around you. I felt this more on the mountainous Yishuv of Neve Daniel than I often do in many places in Israel, so maybe that is saying something. I really think that the location seems perfect for Tuvia -- him being a "country mouse" and all.

Residence in Israel is equivalent to the observance of all the biblical precepts.                           

Elazar ben Shammua, Sifre #80 to Deuteronomy 13:29

More photos? Of course!



And, don't forget, I'm in Jerusalem until late Thursday night, so if you want to grab a nosh or coffee, just let me know!

Note: If you haven't already considered it, think about donating to the Barry Shuter Family Trust, which I blogged about recently. If you hadn't put two-and-two together yet, Amy (aka @tripnmommy) is Barry's wife. Their kids, I can tell you from first-hand experience that hold a powerful light within themselves, and they should know only happiness and success in this world. My own father lost both of his parents before the age of 12, and he struggled with the help of those around him. Losing a parent and a husband is impossibly difficult, but there is so much that we can do to make life easier for the family. 

Update From Israel: Innovation to Innovation

What a whirlwind week. It was the kind of week where you blink and people, places, feelings, smells, everything just flies by. And, before you know it, you're hugging new friends and saying "good luck" on upcoming projects. The reality, of course, of the 2011 ROI Summit ending, is that we all know that this is merely the beginning, and goodbyes were almost, if I can be so bold, unnecessary.

And now? Well, now I'm prepping for the Israel Presidential Conference! The conference runs from Tuesday to Thursday (after which I'll be whisked away to Ben-Gurion International Airport for an overnight flight next week), and it's appropriately called "Facing Tomorrow." This is the third conference of its kind, and it will attract more than 4,000 people from around the globe dedicated to "designing a better tomorrow."

Having spent the past week with the ROIers, this is an appropriate followup. The ROI Summit included the most diverse group of people I've ever encountered in my entire life. There were people from Colombia, England, Belarus, Israel, the U.S., and, well, you get the idea. The interests of the participants were even more diverse than the people were.

TSome of the talent included the minds behind Sharsheret (the breast cancer initiative for Jewish women), PunkTorah, Jewish Farm School, Meet Gilad, the director of the film Orthodox Stance (about an Orthodox Jewish boxer),  Jewish Robot/Shabot6000 (ohmygosh this guy is amazing) and ... well, you get the idea. Diversity, genius, the whole crackerjack box of talent and innovation. There were 150 of us there, and if you're interested in really exploring the minds behind some innovative projects on Jewish dance, music, art, Ethiopian Jews, Russian Jews, volunteerism, just head over to the ROI Summit participant website. Don't be upset if you can't look at everyone because, to be completely honest, I didn't manage to meet everyone, and I was in the same space (virtual and otherwise) with them for five days!

I have a lot to say, a lot to write, and a lot of ideas that I really want to put out there and grow, including a project based on my Facebook group for converts called "Gerim Online." I should probably trademark that or something, right? I'm hoping to get a grant, a web developer, and some awesome minds to help me make something amazing happen.

And? Well, I'm hoping that maybe some of the great minds I'll be interviewing at the Presidential Conference can help me get this launched and going. If anything, I just want a pat on the back (of the shomer negiah variety, of course) and a "yes, this is an amazing idea that is going to move mountains."

Stay tuned, friends. Innovation is coming out my ears. At least, it feels like it is. I'm on "conference fatigue," so the next four days are time to recharge, and I'll be spending Shabbat down in the Gush if you need to track me down.

Oh! And, I forgot to mention, I finally met Benji Lovitt, @Jewlicious, and more! Check me out with Benji -- the man, the myth, the comedian. 

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!

---

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."

News for Orthodox Converts!

Okay folks, huge, huge news just passed on to me. I'm pulling the text from eJewishPhilanthropy, because it's up there already. But, well, this is just gigantic, amazing news for converts!

Shas and Jewish Agency Reach Agreement on Orthodox Conversion Aliyah 

via Dan Brown

In a letter dated yesterday, the Interior Ministry of the State of Israel notified the Knesset of a change of policy as to procedures for granting Oleh status to Orthodox converts. Instead of turning to the Chief Rabbinate for eligibility approval, it will now turn to the Jewish Agency for Israel.

According to sources close to the issue, Chief Rabbi Amar supports the move which also had to gain approval of [Shas] Interior Minister Eli Yishai.

This agreement represents the first real compromise between the Shas led Interior Ministry and Jewish Agency Chair Natan Sharansky on a question of Jewish identity.

Many conversion questions are up in the air and the only forum actually dealing with the issue is the conversion roundtable chaired by Sharansky. This is only one of many issues, but it represents the first real agreement to come from the process.

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

---

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.