My sexual assault, and yours: Every woman’s story
I remember staring at his scotch glass.
I remember staring at his scotch glass.
Last Thursday night, about 100 well-heeled Jewish philanthropists milled about the airy Venice studio of architect Frank Gehry. They posed for selfies beside models of buildings soon to go up in Asia and studied his newest plans — for the World’s Jewish Museum in Tel Aviv.
When I first saw the synagogue letterhead, I was consumed by curiosity.
It is hard to think of anything that has altered Jewish life more radically than the inclusion of women in the rabbinate.
When “Transparent” creator Jill Soloway ascended to the stage at the Emmys last Sunday to accept her award for directing, she seized the opportunity to make a statement.
I remember driving home from a high school party one night during junior year while my best friend vomited in the back seat.
Our group’s infatuation with Michael Bauer began in a small conference room at Tel Aviv\’s Carlton Hotel, where he stood at the front of the room armed with a set of maps and taught the history of Israel — from Abraham to Operation Protective Edge, the most recent Gaza war — in 45 minutes.
Erev Shabbat brings a beautiful chaos to the Kotel, a swaying sea of souls, singing, screaming, offering up their spirits, just to be a speck beneath a tower of history.
I love that her superhero costume was bridal white, the eternal symbol of her gender; recalling both the fight for women’s suffrage and the institution of marriage, that for too long was the only way to lift women out of obscurity and into society.
After two weeks of traveling through Mexico, I feel a duty to report that I did not encounter a single rapist.\n\n