The Lilith Blog

February 2, 2009 by Mel Weiss

Tav HaYosher for Republican Women Senators (Really)

There’s so much to say about what’s going on in the world of politics right now—the stimulus package is headed to the Senate, where it may or may not have some of its stripped provisions reinstated (um…family planning, anyone?) and also may or may not face a shutout by the Republicans there, not to mention Tzipi Livni backing away from her promises to remove settlers and Iraq holding fairly peaceful elections. Whew!

However, I’d like to take a moment to savor the Lilly Ledbetter Fair Pay Act. (One of my political gurus—the one I happen to live with—says she plans to never call it anything but the Lilly Ledbetter Act. The woman deserves that much!) I am, of course, thrilled that the legislation passed, and thrilled that, to put it less delicately, hardworking Americans aren’t going to be continually screwed based on the ridiculous and discriminatory whims of their bosses. I was also thrilled by a trend in how the votes went—because despite an otherwise predictable partisan split over this legislation, all of the women in the Senate, including four Republicans, voted yea. Given the awesome and utterly asinine showing of partisan lowballing that came with the House Republicans’ decision (after the stimulus package had been hung with tax cuts like a Hanukkah bush, of course) to take their toys and go home, this display by the Senate’s Republican women is pretty impressive.

It’s not like I now support everything these women want (although I have always, always had a soft spot for Maine’s Olympia Snowe, the woman who should have been John McCain’s knee-jerk female pick for a running mate). There’s still plenty left to disagree about. But I did feel a little flash of pride that the people out there supporting the “post-partisan” message President Obama embodies for so many—the idea that things are so messed up that maybe fixing them is more important than hitting each other over the head—were, by and large, women. (And Arlen Specter. But you get my point.)

There is so, so much work to do, and I don’t think hysterical liberals can be blamed for feeling like we need to get as much done at once as we can. (By the way, PLEASE call your senator and tell him or her to support the stimulus plan—with the family planning provisions reinstated!) In that spirit, a moment of applause for the Republican women of the Senate, who have, in their long and illustrious careers, probably wondered about their salaries more than we’d believe. They get this week’s Tav HaYosher (Ethical Seal).

And then, after a moment of applause, it’s back to rebuilding the U. S. of A.

–Mel Weiss

The Lilith Blog

February 2, 2009 by Modesty Blasé

The Tehillim Tipping Point

In the latest attempt to resolve the ‘shidduch crisis,’ women across the religious globe have been scuttling to each other’s homes to huddle and recite Tehillim (Psalms), entreating God’s kindness for a good shidduch [match] for all the single people in their community. In London, one matchmaking organization, Made in Heaven, offers regular classes for women on Shmiras Ha Loshon [not speaking slander] as a means of mystically helping single people.

Women are the corrections of a community: when disasters strike, the rabbis often blame the women for gossiping or immodest dress (gossiping while dressed immodestly is a double whammy). As if women don’t have enough to do, now they are responsible for the marital and spiritual well-being of a whole community and have been instructed to say Tehillim to avert further disasters. What was the Tehillim tipping point? How did these verses come to substitute serious learning and empowerment for women? Isn’t it strange that while women’s voices are accorded tremendous power to change the divinely ordained course of events, they have virtually no voice in the decision-making process of a religious community?

However, when it comes to shidduchim, a person needs more than Tehillim – they need yichus [status] – about the only thing that e-Bay doesn’t sell. Yichus is the delicate tissue paper and silk bows used to wrap up a very ordinary gift. Once the fancy packaging is stripped away, all you’ve got is the very ordinary, and often very disappointing, gift. A distinguished lineage and respectable breeding can make a difference to one’s social standing, and so yichus is touted by the matchmakers when the boy or girl in question doesn’t have very much to offer themselves. For example, the son of well-known Rosh Yeshiva has excellent yichus while the daughter of a Latvian convert to Judaism would have very little yichus.

Where serious yichus is at stake, marriages are often about forging dynasties, establishing power bases and consolidating the number of loyal followers. While many parents regard good yichus of their prospective son or daughter-in-law as a drawcard, it hides the very real failings of some people. Paralysed by their yichus, a young person living in the shadow of their ancestors’ achievements may never amount to much. While they may get the proverbial ‘foot through the front door,’ their accomplishments are often mimized precisely because of the head start granted by their yichus.

Occasionally, a lack of yichus can be compensated by other factors. For example, potential brides are also gauged by their beauty and despite all exhortations that a girl’s kindness, modest demeanour and homemaking skills are highly valued, the fact is that unless she is pretty and skinny, her chances of finding a ‘good boy’ are severely curtailed. Unless, of course, she has a rich father – in which case, she can eat as much as she wants.

Traditionally, young men were measured according to their learning prowess. I have always found it strange that the young women only willing to go out with boys who excel ‘in learning’ are actually unable to understand what these potential husbands are actually learning because the women are barred from Talmud study. They can of course continue to say Tehillim, but how sad that they must rely on other men for an evaluation of their potential spouse’s intellectual capacities.

The contemporary Ba’al Teshuvah [return to (religious) Judaism] movement has impacted on the traditional notions of yichus, given that many young Jews who become observant have actively chosen a life path that is radically different from their parents. The family reputation and lineage of a ba’al teshuvah, although there may have a smattering of rabbis from the shetetls of Eastern Europe, has been ravaged by assimilation and mothers who probably did not attend the mikvah. These blemishes continue to punish the struggling ba’alei teshuvah and often hinder their ability to marry into some of the most prestigious religious families.

However, one constant remains – the young pretty woman who becomes religious, and has a wealthy father, will always have less trouble finding a husband than her poorer, plumper sister.

–Modesty Blasé

Cross-posted to the Jerusalem Post blog.

The Lilith Blog

January 27, 2009 by Maya Bernstein

Getting Into Med School

From time to time, I tutor girls for their Bat Mitzvahs. The other night, I had a first session with a new student, and, as I always do, rather than jumping right into trope, I talked with her. We discovered that we both love to swim. I swim twice a week, if I’m lucky, and am inordinately proud of my forty minute mile. She swims every day, for an hour and a half – about 2-3 miles each practice. She’s eleven. I changed the topic. “What other things do you like to do when you have free time?” She became serious and said that she doesn’t have free time – school and swimming takes it all up. I guess it’s not just a mommy problem.

And it’s not new, either. My mom often mentions that in order to get into medical school, she had to prove that she had diverse interests and activities. This was not hard for her; she is multi-talented and multi-faceted, and she gladly listed her “extra-curriculars” in her application. She got in – but then realized that she had not one iota of free time to pursue these diverse interests. How cruel, she has always said, to create a process that identifies and selects those with varied interests and talents, and then forces those people to turn their attention away from everything but one pursuit.

This past week, I attended an event called “Jewish Women, Making it Work” – discussing how 21st century Jewish women “redefine the paradigm of what it means to work and ‘make it work.’” The moderator asked the panel a question about self-nourishment – what do you do for yourself? All of the women on the panel shared that this was the most difficult aspect of mommying – finding, and allowing, time for themselves. One panelist shared that she had recently joined a book-group. Why? She felt too guilty reading for pleasure. Plus, if her husband found her reading, he was jealous that she was spending time with a book, rather than with him.

Now – in the spirit of making it work – you’ve got to do what you’ve got to do. And I’m all for book groups. But must we have an underlying structure to everything we pursue? Can’t we allow ourselve to carve out time for ourselves, time to pursue the things we love, and proudly stand and say – I am taking time for me? Have we all spent our lives trying to get into med school, and then, once admitted, wiggling desperately for a way out?

Those tunnels of time are my life-line. Without them, the sand-castle of structure upon which my life is built would collapse. Yesterday, my husband and I took turns. When he returned from his run, he handed me the baton, and I got on my bike and started pedaling into the wind. At one point, I made a turn and realized I was on a path I’d never been on before. It was wet, and I had to stand to pedal. My tires were thick with mud. The path twisted and turned and I felt my brain change; I was suddenly completely unaware of where I was going. On my right there were clouds, huddling; on my left soft grass, green; in front of me, and behind, mud flying off the tires; and above, the dome of the unknown. I moved amidst the shafts of sunlight, breathing. The path eventually ended, and I came to a road I recognized. I rode downhill, arms dangling by my side, and remembered, suddenly, the first time I’d biked with no hands, when I was ten years old.

When I got home, I lay on the floor with my three year old, building a zoo with primary colored blocks. It was intricate. There was a police-man to deal with the misbehaving dinosaurs, and a zoo-keeper who was attempting to quench the relentless thirst of the baby panda.

Often, when I’m with my kids, I’m not quite with my kids; I’m with the supper that’s not yet made, the laundry that’s piling up, my work to-do list, glaring at me from a pink post-it on the computer, and the phone calls I need to return. I’ve learned that I need to be a kid to be a mom. I need to have me time, unstructured, unfettered, directionless and open. Otherwise, I find that my inner self huddles by the door, sneakers on, knees flexed, ready to flee. And I prefer to have her inside of me.

–Maya Bernstein

The Lilith Blog

January 26, 2009 by Mel Weiss

Harmonic Convergence

If you’ve read, well, anything I’ve written here on this blog, you have probably inferred that rarely do I feel particularly in step with the larger world, let alone with the government. So it’s kind of weird for me to walk around feeling in touch with, not so much (or not just) a cultural moment, but a political one. I start mainlining political blogs during the 2007 phase of the 2008 election, my apolitical friends start quoting polls to me within months. I develop a little election-season crush on that brilliant butch Air America host who keeps popping up on MSNBC, and everyone from New York magazine to my considerably-to-the-right-of-me family in Texas starts to sing her praises—and maybe even her way-left politics. We all start praying that the remarkable Jewish-progressive cultural moment that exploded digitally during the Bush years takes on a political side in this new world, and Jstreet comes a-callin’. I think I’m going to start meditating on the words “infrastructure” and “two-state solution” for maybe an hour every day.

All this by way of saying that we at the Lilith blog—by which I mean I—messed up a little bit: I missed this year’s annual Blog for Choice Day. (You can, of course, peruse our post from last year.) Tons of amazing blogs participated, and you can see them all at NARAL’s website. I feel bad, but to be totally honest…I guess I just wasn’t so motivated by fear this year. We all know the story of how George Bush reinstituted the Gag Rule on Jan. 22, 2001—but did you know that President Obama (still getting the shivers over that one) reversed it?

It’s not like we don’t have plenty to worry about—we’ve still got a court that could make you rip your own hair out. (By the way, Mr. Chief Justice, we all hope you read the Constitution a little more carefully on the bench itself.) But with (say it with me!) President Obama up in charge, I can wear my very Jewish guilt about missing this year’s blog-for-choice day a little more lightly. But to make me feel better, go give a read anyway.

–Mel Weiss

The Lilith Blog

January 19, 2009 by Maya Bernstein

Mommy Wars

When I decided to work part-time, I was convinced I was doing it for my kids. Isn’t it best for young children to have at least one parent present in their lives at least half of the time?

But let’s be honest. I wasn’t thinking only about my kids. (Let’s put the financial issues at play aside for this one – though they are critical). I was thinking about myself, torn in two, wanting everything. Wanting to be the kind of mother Marilyn Robinson describes in the first, breathless chapter of her first novel, “Housekeeping,” a mother whose bread is “tender and her jelly tart, and on rainy days [makes] cookies and applesauce…[and] in the summer [keeps] roses in a vase on the piano, huge, pungent roses, and when the blooms ripen and the petals fall, [puts them] in a tall Chinese jar, with cloves and thyme and sticks of cinnamon.” AND wanting to be the kind of woman who changes the world, makes a difference outside the home, pursues her dreams and realizes her potential. I’m trying keep up both fronts. And I’m exhausted.

“There now exists a nationwide ‘mommy war,’” writes Caitlin Flanagan, in her book “To Hell with All That,” “…between the working and nonworking mothers of the middle and upper classes.”

The people raising their eyebrows and analyzing my decision, judging it, are not my kids. They’re other moms; and we’re all judging each other: How can she work full time? Doesn’t she ever see her kids? And how can she stay at home all day? Doesn’t she go mad? And her. She’s stuck at “intermediate.” One foot here, one foot there – but never totally present in anything, never excellent.

Flanagan writes: “For many women the decision to abandon – to some extent – either their children or their work will always be the stuff of grinding anxiety and uncertainty, of indecision and regret.”

One of my colleagues at work, who has built her own successful consulting business and who has twin boys, now in their early twenties, never took any time off at all. She told me that she carries constantly an indelible, heart-braking image of her twins when they were young, their noses pressed against the window pane, watching her leave the house.

My mother, who completed med-school in three years at a time when women, and especially observant Jewish women, didn’t go into medicine, and who has worked as a physician all her life, says that she’s ready to retire into grandma-hood. Bring on the ballet lessons, finger painting, and cookie baking. And her friends, who stayed at home to raise their kids, driving them to ballet lessons and baking cookies, are now completing Ph.Ds and going back to law school.

Maybe it’s time for us women to celebrate the kaleidoscope of our choices. This may help the broader world do so. And let’s remember that our children, with their wide eyes and generous smiles, admire us, respect us, celebrate us, and love us, no matter what, and, especially, when we are fulfilled and happy. Let’s be as kind to one another, and, dare I suggest it, to ourselves.

–Maya Bernstein

The Lilith Blog

January 19, 2009 by Mel Weiss

Small Reasons for Hope

Around this time of year, some combination of the weather and too much time spent reading the New York Times gets me down—it’s just a depressing time. So, on the off chance that there are Lilith blog readers who also experience the same seasonal malaise, a brief list of things about which we can have some hope.

1. The inauguration. While kind of a “duh,” it’s worth going the nearest mirror and saying to yourself, “Barack Obama is my president.” If that doesn’t work, switch it up to “George W. Bush is no longer president.” You may feel yourself strangely compelled to whistle, click your heels together and greet strangers on the street warmly. Do not be alarmed.

(Going to the inauguration? Leave your “I was a Jewish feminist at the Obama inauguration story on the wall of Lilith’s Facebook page, for the rest of us—or at least me—to peruse enviously.)

2. Ceasefire in Gaza. Unfortunately unilateral? Yes—although now that it’s underway, Hamas and others have agreed to cease hostilities. Nothing’s been solved, but a ceasefire is without a doubt the first step towards a slightly more lasting solution. Furthermore, Egypt and Turkey seem particularly interested in being involved in the process from this point forward, which is fantastic. I’m a big believer in the concept that peace negotiations (or more permanent ceasefire ones, for that matter) have a better chance of success when they’re negotiated in as multi-lateral a way as possible.

3. SCHIP. Arisen from the oldies-but-goodies graveyard, this important piece of legislation, passed by the House and vetoed by Bush not once but twice, will improve health care for American children. It passed 289-139 in the House on Wednesday, and there’s just about no more Bush administration to shoot it down again. The incomparable and much-lauded Nate Silver notes that the numbers this round reflect not only the Dem’s amazing job in the 2008 elections, but a general change of heart in our capital. I’m for it.

4. Heartwarming Plane Crash and Rescue in the Hudson. Maybe it’s just local news, but when a plane full of people crash lands in the river a few blocks from your office and everybody is fine…well, it’s another reason to get out of bed in the morning.

5. Global Warming Has Not Yet Won. For those of us in the parts of the country getting some grossly cold weather recently, it’s, well, cold comfort, but it gives me hope that the fight against global warming and our imminent self-destruction might yet be won. Now is a good time to start reading up on the stimulus package we’ve all been dreaming of; it’s got a lot of provisions for renewable energy, and we all owe it to ourselves and the next generations to work for even more.

What have I left off of this list? Fill us in on your own additions.

–Mel Weiss.

The Lilith Blog

January 13, 2009 by Maya Bernstein

Jet Lag

Each Wednesday evening, after my kids are in bed, I switch bags.

I take my wallet, cell phone, and keys out of my work bag, the bag with my business cards and train pass that I use during the beginning of the week, when I commute an hour each way to and from my office. I drop them ceremoniously into the bag I use the rest of the week, the one with the crumpled diapers and wipes, old pretzel crumbs, crayons, and teething toys, my “mommy” bag.

This ritual marks my transition from professional to mother, from one time zone to another, and sometimes, at random moments during my week, I suffer from jet lag. Which time zone am I in today? Staff meeting at 10? Or morning nap at 9:30? Lunch meeting at 12:30? But aren’t I picking up carpool at 1?

Jennifer Murphy, in an article for the National Post on how to beat jet lag, writes: “Despite opinions to the contrary, the biggest cause of jet lag is not the number of hours traveled, but the time zones. Experts say that changing time zones throws off the body’s circadian rhythms.”

I live in two radically different time zones, between which I commute on a regular basis. Help! Does anyone have a top ten list for curing the working mother’s jet lag???

In a piece about Caroline Kennedy in last week’s New York Times Magazine, Lisa Belkin, the author of the Times’ “Motherlode” blog, writes about how our society’s expected work trajectory is not conducive to mothers, many of whom jump off the fast-track and then have trouble getting back on. “Someday, perhaps” she speculates, “work will become more a lattice than a ladder – a path that allows for moving up, stepping down a notch or two, taking a few large sideways strides, making your way upward but not necessarily at a sprint.”
She got me thinking. Maybe this working mother’s jet lag is actually enriching. Maybe our lattices ARE our ladders, and, no matter how we decide to juggle our lives as mothers, we never “get off the ladder,” or even step down a notch or two. We’re always sprinting forward. It’s just that our ladders have different dimensions. They’re broader, wider, stretching, like Jacob’s, from earth to sky – and it’s hard to adjust their margins to fit them onto a resume.
The distinction between the time zones of “mother” and “professional” is, to some extent, artificial. Okay – so I sometimes show up at work with a coloring book instead of a notebook. But I bring the innumerable skills that I’m developing as a mother into my work life. And my life as a professional, similarly, impacts my experience as a mother.

So forget the melatonin. Bring on the jet lag.

–Maya Bernstein

The Lilith Blog

January 12, 2009 by Modesty Blasé

God Save the Queen and Hatikvah

It was God Save the Queen that made me giggle. It was Hatikvah that made me glow. But actually, in those few moments between the two national anthems, sung by thousands of Jews at the conclusion of the rally for peace in London’s Trafalgar Square, I realized the magic and the madness of Anglo-Jewry. Older British Jews just love being British and they proudly identify with its pomp and circumstance. Singing the anthem was, of course, the right thing to do, expressing our civic duty to show gratitude and appreciation for the fact that Jews have, on the whole, prospered throughout the United Kingdom.

More telling however, was the fact that most of the teenagers standing around me, did not actually know the words to God Save the Queen. Younger Jewish people have a more ambivalent relationship with their British identity – in such a multi-cultural, multi-opportunity land, being British is just one of the many ‘Windows’ that are open while surfing the net for something else.

When the crowd moved onto Hatikvah, the same teenagers articulated each word loudly and clearly. I smiled to myself – unashamed to declare their Jewish identity, unafraid to sing Hatikvah in London’s most public space, these young people are the future of the community. Perhaps they will be able to transfer the unity demonstrated at Trafalgar Square to the breakfast tables of communal organizations, facilitating much more dialogue and understanding between different parts of the community.

So, while the rally ended with a tribute to the dual loyalties felt by British Jews, it started with an announcement that any lost children
should be taken to a special meeting place. Such a Jewish rally – all that was missing was another announcement that food was to be available throughout the speeches.

Come to think of it – all that was missing throughout the speeches was a woman. The cast of characters was predictable – leaders of communal bodies, government representatives, religious leaders of other faiths – and not one woman. Is there not one woman in Anglo-Jewry able to represent the community at such an event? It is a shocking indictment of the community and does not bode well for young women who are currently involved in the community as they are more likely to forgo any future communal activities if they cannot see any role models.

This was not a religious event, so not even halacha could be hijacked to excuse the absence of women. So the question remains – is there not one woman in Anglo-Jewry considered worthy enough by her male peers to be asked to speak on behalf of the community? Perhaps some women had been asked, but modestly declined, so excuse me if I have been unfair. However, next time, if you hear they are looking for a woman speaker, send them my details – I would be not be too modest to accept.

–Modesty Blasé

Cross-posted to the Jerusalem Post blog.

The Lilith Blog

January 5, 2009 by Maya Bernstein

When I Grow Up

I was a Russian Language and Literature Major in college. When I look back at the arc of my life, it makes sense, but at the time, it felt random, different, and, therefore, cool. It had more of an effect on me than I anticipated; I started spending all of my breaks – long winters and summers – in the former Soviet country of Belarus, working for Jewish camps sponsored by the Ronald S. Lauder Foundation, which seeks to reestablish and reinvigorate Jewish life in central and eastern Europe.

This was in the mid 1990s, and one winter, all of the stores were out of eggs. Another winter, on New Year’s Eve, it was brought to my attention as camp director that that the coal-shovelers, upon whom we were dependent for heat, were drunk. We didn’t have heat for two days. The American counselors zipped up their polar-fleeces; the Russian kids wore their woolen gloves inside the dining room, the smell of fresh-baked bulochki and the steam from the tea warming our cold noses and red cheeks.

One summer, somehow, I met my husband; we fell in love picking little red berries in the forests outside Minsk, widening our eyes at the swans in the lakes, which we half-joked were radioactive, and stealing glances at each other one late-afternoon, on the back of a horse-drawn wagon, the horse a new mother who’s foal trotted by her side. Then we had to bump along the dusty road of translating our love from Russian to English.

People would ask my mother what I was up to. “What’s her major,” they’d ask. “Russian,” my mother would answer. “Hmm.” Pause. “What does she want to be when she grows up?” “An immigrant,” my mom would answer.

Well, here I am, all grown up, a mother myself with two daughters. My Russian comes in very handy with my Russian-speaking babysitter. And I still haven’t figured out what I want to be when I grow up, or how all my pieces fit together. But, immigrant-like, I am engaged daily in a constant dance of navigation, translation, and interpretation. Defining myself over and over. In this sphere – a mother. In that – a professional. In the other – a wife. But always – an independent woman, riding her bike, wind in her face. Speaker of different tongues. Changing, constantly, sometimes elegantly, sometimes clumsily, my accents, and, with them, my very self.

The Lilith Blog

January 5, 2009 by Mel Weiss

Gaza

If there’s one thing Americans can now do, a particular skill that the vast majority of this large nation has learned, it’s that it is possible to hate a war without hating the country that, while provoked, is responsible for the violence. It is possible to understand how the war begins and hate the war. It’s possible to empathize, to be angry at wrongdoing, and oppose a war. It’s possible to change your mind about the effectiveness of violence and political cycles based upon it. So let’s do that.

Let’s say, together, that we want for Israel a just and lasting peace. Safety. A place in the world. That we will defend their right to exist, that Israel is not alone. And let’s add that when we refuse to condone the kind of violence that uses cluster bombs in highly populated civilian areas (especially when an estimated third of cluster bomb casualties are children), we see ourselves engaged in a battle for Israel, too–for its soul. This is not moral solipsism; this is love. And more than that, this is practicality. This is understanding that there may be a time for armed conflict, but armed conflict should not be our first and only approach to diplomacy. The kind of military engagement Israel uses to deal with the essentially political question of Palestine has ceased working. That’s not me speaking, that’s many other people, much smarter than I. As they say, the definition of insanity is doing the same thing again and again and expecting different results. So let’s refuse to do that thing again.

I signed the Jstreet petition and then heard the Executive Director, Jeremy Ben-Ami, on Rachel Maddow’s radio show, pitching the idea that a progressive, pro-Israel community exists out there, and that we can make a difference. It looks like a ceasefire is off the table for now, but if we keep the pressure on, who knows?

So read the talking points, consider signing the petition, and don’t let anyone tell you that violence is the only answer worth considering. My mother taught me to use my words, and when I couldn’t, to take a time-out in a quiet corner. We could all use a dose of that right now.

–Mel Weiss