December 10, 2018

The Lipstick Proviso and The New Double Standard

Every day when I pick up my 9-year-old son from school, I face the reality that the #MeToo movement is operating in overcorrection mode. The moment we’re off the school premises, Alexander and his friends offer up a litany of injustices.

What are they griping about? Girls.

“They get away with everything!” “The teachers never criticize them!” “If we even ask the girls to stop annoying us, we immediately get screamed at!” 

I’ve been hearing these gripes for the past couple of years, but this year they’ve gotten far worse. It seems the younger assistant teachers have it in their heads that boys are inherently bad and girls are inherently good. So, even if a girl misbehaves, it must be a boy’s fault. 

This year, the boys started using a new phrase: reverse sexism. (Actually, it first came home as “reverse sex,” and then I figured out what they meant.) 

Ballroom dancing class also started this year. At this age, the boys find the girls icky beyond belief, yet they are hyper intrigued with “sexual relations,” as my son puts it. Forcing them “to have physical contact” would probably be the last thing I would add to the mix.

Not surprisingly, many of the boys flat out don’t want to do it. More than anything, they feel resentful: It’s another way the schools are favoring girls. 

Given where the national conversation is, one might wonder: Is this really a rational way to improve relations between the sexes? Shouldn’t the idea be to teach respect, not instill resentment?

I suppose one could say it’s a positive that we moved from “girls and boys are exactly the same” to “girls are better than boys,” but in reality, it’s far worse. “Better” was an argument used to deny women rights for hundreds of years.

It’s sad that so few women understand the true meaning of feminism. Democratic Senate candidate Kyrsten Sinema of Arizona in 2006 described stay-at home moms as not just unfeminist but as “leeching off their husbands.”

As a stay-at-home mom who has actually studied feminism, I can confidently tell Sinema that early feminists had no issue with stay-at-home moms — but her own condescension about another woman’s choice is what’s unfeminist.

I’m especially happy to be a stay-at-home mom when my son’s masculinity is being dragged through the mud on a daily basis. Part of the reason the boys complain to me is because I’m there to listen to their complaints. If I had a daughter, I would be there to listen to hers.

The irony is that the true definition of feminism could not be more basic: Feminism means freedom. That’s it. Freedom to choose. A century ago, women could not choose. Now, we can.

But those choices may be different from males’ — what I call the lipstick proviso. Women are different from men — not better, different. In democratic societies, these differences stem from biology (not “the patriarchy”) and reside on a bell curve, meaning some women overlap with some men. Because of these innate biological differences, any numerical mandate, like a recent California law regarding female representation on the boards of publicly- held companies, is ridiculous.  

As I write this, I’m on a train to Philadelphia to help my 88-year-old father move to an assisted-living facility. I don’t need to be there; I want to be there. I couldn’t possibly not be there. 

I was never taught that this is what daughters do, just as I was never taught to stay home with my son. And contrary to Sinema’s clueless assertion, going to an office would have been much easier in both cases. Other women make different choices. It’s not for me to judge. 

Indeed, demeaning my choices — or demeaning the masculinity of my son — is not what real feminists do. I get that many women have had bad experiences with men. But it doesn’t help anyone to globalize that bad experience, to condemn all masculinity as toxic, and to raise a generation of resentful boys. 

My dad’s lifelong resilience is part of what I see as the beauty of masculinity. Until women and men fully understand what femininity and masculinity positively bring to the table, we’re not going to fix any problems. In fact, we’re in the process of making them far worse.

Karen Lehrman Bloch is an author and cultural critic living in New York City.

Feminist #MeToo Needed

Nature evolves. Evolution is, in fact, Nature’s defining characteristic. Change that is lasting and meaningful is slow and wise. 

The same goes, not coincidentally, for cultural mores. Sometimes — like the abolishment of slavery — a bombshell change is needed to crack the ice. With time, progress and evolution take over.

Sexual mores needed to evolve. #MeToo cracked the ice. For the first time, survivors of sexual assault felt they could be heard. It has been a triumph for feminism. Soon, though, #MeToo showed signs of straying from sincerely helping to evolve sexual mores to becoming an opportunity to blast men in power. 

The Kavanaugh allegations brought #MeToo to peak overcorrection mode. I think everyone can agree that, in this case, #MeToo became a politicized tool. Indeed, Sen. Dianne Feinstein (D-Calif.) made it into a political AK-47.

Whether Judge Kavanaugh is confirmed or not, women have lost. The real victims of sexual assault have lost. Politicians have exploited one of the most evil acts imaginable for political gain. No one will look back on this proudly.

Photo by iStock

So, can we please start over? I offer up these eight feminist correctives:

Listen to all women. Every woman deserves to be listened to. Only through facts, evidence and due process should a woman be believed. Why? Because some women lie — just like some men lie. The ethos of #MeToo was built on the regressive notion that women are perfect — pristine, infallible. We’re not. Feminism freed women from the false veneer of perfection. We have no need to go back there.

An allegation is just an allegation. It is not the truth until it is proven to be the truth. Early feminists fought primarily for one thing: the same legal standards for women as for men. Bring back the presumption of innocence; the burden of proof must remain on the accuser; end trial by Twitter. Just 50 years ago, Black men were still being lynched over false accusations of rape. Is that really where we want to go with this?

Be objective. Not partisan or subjective. We know that many Democrats are unable to look at Kavanaugh fairly because he is white or preppy or whatever. As well, the hearing triggered a lot of survivors of rape. Understandably so. The problem is, these survivors then lost objectivity: They saw their case in this and couldn’t separate the two. In the 19th century, men believed women weren’t able to be objective — that women could view the world only through their subjective experiences. For the past 100 years, we’ve proven men wrong. Let’s not regress.

• Flirting is not sexual harassment. Do we really want to live in a world without flirting? Some of the best relationships and then marriages stem from workplace flirtations. We’re not in kindergarten. We can make these distinctions. And the men (and women) who can’t should be appropriately penalized.

Include abuse. Both emotional and physical. Also include abuse from other women. The stuff women do to one another can be dreadful — and no, it’s not because a “patriarchy” made them do it.

Go to the police. Rape used to be considered a heinous crime. In early American courts, it was punishable by death. Ironically, as sexual assault became more widely discussed, institutions responded by essentially decriminalizing it. Women, especially on college campuses,  have been urged to avoid the law and allow alternative “adjudication” to handle it. The result has been a nightmare, where consequences have often been imposed without due process.

Take responsibility. Leave a situation that’s going sour. Don’t stay to further your career and then shout #MeToo a year later. The personal is not political: being a feminist means being strong and responsible, not weak and victimized.

Choose decency. Using the law to fight sexual crime is decent. Using only the media to “out” men is not; neither is outing men for political reasons. Fabricating stories is the height of indecency. Our feminist forebearers fought for our right to be treated equally by the law, not to be given special privileges. Sexual mores surely needed to change, but as our forebearers intended — through strength, responsibility and decency. We’ve done a great job cracking the ice. Let’s reclaim our values and begin anew.

Karen Lehrman Bloch is the author of “The Lipstick Proviso: Women, Sex & Power in the Real World” (Doubleday).

I’m a Teenager Who Craves Conversation

Photo from Pinterest

Before Americans became divided, people turned to advice columns or blog posts for conversation starters. These days, people seem to be looking for conversation stoppers. Expressions such as “bias” and “offense” infiltrate our conversations as vague statements that serve to dissuade discourse.

At a summer program on international relations, I asked a Lebanese participant about the Israeli-Palestinian conflict. I was caught off guard when he told me that my argument was shaped by “media bias.”

The conversation shifted away from what was going on in the region and into an argument about whether Western media favors Israel. He used millennials’ hyperawareness of “media bias” to evade uncomfortable dialogue.

He continued arguing that Israel is committing genocide against Palestinians and others, including “his people.” He also called the conflict a “tragedy of white supremacy.” 

White supremacy? That’s a real conversation stopper. King Leopold of Belgium was seen as an example of white supremacy during the “Scramble for Africa.” He monopolized the Congo and ordered his men to tie natives to trees and slash them so that they bled to death in front of their children. Recently, violent white nationalists protesting in Charlottesville, Va., displayed a horrid modern-day example of white supremacy. 

But a democracy trying to survive in a region surrounded by oppressive governments? I don’t think so. 

Nuance hardly seems to matter anymore. Instead, it is OK to trivialize terms with profound significance if it means halting uncomfortable dialogue. 

One example is the misuse of words such as “misogynist” and “sexist.” Sexism describes discrimination based on gender. Misogyny is contempt for women, and the attempt to prevent them from succeeding in roles traditionally attributed to men. 

Journal columnist Karen Lehrman Bloch addressed this issue in her Aug. 17 column, “Dear Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez.” In response to Ben Shapiro’s request for a debate, Ocasio-Cortez tweeted, “Just like catcalling, I don’t owe a response to unsolicited requests from men with bad intentions.”

Bloch wrote, “You and your millennial cohort were never taught real feminism. … You were taught to see anything you don’t like as sexist.”

I see no similarity between a man calling after my friends and me and a political pundit seeking to hear ideas from all parts of the political spectrum. Shapiro complimented her as the “future of the Democratic Party.” A man giving credit to a female minority candidate and suggesting a debate is not the same thing as a man hollering objectifying catcalls at women. 

Clearly, Ocasio-Cortez has ideological disagreements with Shapiro. But rather than expressing those disagreements, she halted the conversation by accusing him of sexist catcalling.

As a feminist, I am humiliated on behalf of the feminist movement. We were given the opportunity to engage and be heard by those with different views. Our response? The distorted use of the word “sexist” that exploits its validity. 

Here’s a potential conversation stopper: If a man says something to me such as, “Don’t wear that, you’ll distract boys,” I could raise my voice and call him sexist. If I want him to understand why I should be able to dress how I want without comment, I would formulate sentences in a calm manner and express my views. 

I adore my generation. Some of the most passionate people I’ve met are teens fighting for causes they believe in. I hope our interest in global politics emboldens us to seek a deeper understanding of what we argue. I hope we avoid using ambiguous terms as arguments. If we want to articulate our opinions, I hope we will learn to justify the narratives we use and modify our approach to create productive discourse.

Our beliefs and views should be used as conversation starters, not conversation stoppers.

Charlotte Kramon was a Jewish Journal intern this past summer.

Responding to Anti-Semitism: Revisiting Old Assumptions, Understanding the New Threats

REUTERS/Jonathan Ernst

A renewed assault on Jews is now underway. The incidents of anti-Semitism are again on the increase. The forces that today are driving hatred in America, and more directly, contemporary anti-Semitism and racism appear to be fundamentally different and the responses will likewise need to incorporate alternative approaches if we are to effectively succeed in minimizing religious bigotry and ethnic and racial prejudice.

There exists a growing consensus that the political landscape in America is poisoned by the deep fissures found within the political culture. According to the U.S. Census Bureau, by 2043, white Americans will cease to comprise this nation’s majority. This factor, among others, is contributing to a backlash among certain sectors of this nation that are fearful of a fundamentally different type of society. In response to these demographic shifts and changing economic conditions, there has been a significant growth in hate-based organizations, conspiracy-driven websites and media personalities expressing hostile views toward such ideas as pluralism, multiculturalism and globalism. This renewed focus on nationalism and race has given license to attacks on religious constituencies, ethnic groups and immigrant communities. The rise of factionalism and the politics of blame represent today the new political mindset requiring a Jewish response.

Indeed, the data revealing the growth in anti-Semitism must be seen as disturbing. The 2017 Anti-Defamation League (ADL) Audit on Anti-Semitism identifies a 57 percent increase, representing the largest single jump on record. The 1,986 incidents comprise cases of harassment (1,015 cases), vandalism (221) and assaults (36). These figures account only for specific actions but do not reflect the hostile messages delivered on social media. Yet, just a few weeks ago, the ADL released a study identifying some 4.2 million anti-Semitic tweets that have been posted this year.

Jonathan Weisman in his new book, “(((Semitism))): Being Jewish in America in the Age of Trump,” suggests that the 2016 campaign would bring to the surface the alt-right with its conspiracy theories and hate messaging. But the assault is evident as well on the left, as we observed leaders associated with the Women’s March and the Chicago Gay Pride Parade making statements and taking actions that must be seen as unwelcoming to Jews and hostile toward Israel. Case in point, Linda Sarsour, one of the organizers of the Women’s March, who suggested that one cannot be a Zionist and a feminist.

The initial question we should be asking when it comes to anti-Semitism, “Why now, and why here?”

To be certain anti-Semitism is not pervasive, but there are most certainly changes occurring within the fabric of American culture and intergroup relations. While we are reminded by opinion surveys that most Americans hold favorable attitudes toward Jews and Israel, the tenor of social interaction has become far more challenging and uncertain. Elsewhere, I have written about the toxic political climate as a contributing factor to religious and racial hatred. “As factionalism and the politics of blame have increased in this country, some Americans are fearful of the future, triggering their fury and anger against the current state of this society.”

The Cycle of Hate: Historian Jonathan Sarna reminds us that in fact this nation has experienced various periods of social unrest, when anti-Semitism and other forms of prejudicial behaviors were present. Sarna noted in particular that with the election of Warren G. Harding in 1920, the country would experience a period of heightened anti-immigrant responses and a spike in anti-Semitism. Social and political conditions promote the repetition of prior forms of racial and religious expressions of hate.

Responding to Anti-Semitism: For more than 100 years, the American-Jewish community has been managing its response against anti-Semitism by employing a set of accepted community relations tactics. In examining some of the core assumptions that defined the community’s understanding of anti-Semitic behavior and its “treatment,” is it possible that these strategies may no longer be effective?

The policy of “isolation” that defined Jewish practice for much of the 20th century no longer works. Historically, Jewish institutions opted to embrace this strategy of systematically “isolating” bigots and anti-Semites. Today, with the presence of social media and other vehicles of open communication, it is no longer possible to contain such voices of hate.

The motivation for minority political organizing was based on the collective proposition that these groups endured a shared sense of powerlessness. In this current environment, these “traditional” minority communities are no longer necessarily seen as marginalized or without power. As Jews, for example, became “white folks” or were seen by some to be part of the established order, their case for victimhood was diminished, just as certain enemies of our community now define American Jews as operating outside the boundaries of an oppressed peoples. Indeed, some have described the contemporary position of Jews in America as the new “WASPS” (White Anglo-Saxon Protestants). The current rhetoric critiques Jews as power brokers who are seen as part of the existing political elite class. By adopting this new definition, it is then possible to assign blame to the Jews for the problems that confront our society. If, in the past, Jews were defined by their enemies as the subversive outsider, today we are described as the “oppressive insider.”

In modern times, anti-Semitism has metastasized to encompass anti-Israelism and other manifestations of political and religious hate. Rather than containing anti-Judaism as a religious expression, the community has experienced an increase in the different forms and varieties of anti-Jewish sentiment. In the past, the national defense agencies have treated all varieties of anti-Semitism through the same lens; this proposition no longer has merit.

If anti-Semitism was at one time seen as either being generated by the “right” or from the “left,” today there is a simultaneous assault on Jewish interests by groups on both edges of the political spectrum, creating new challenges to our community.

One of the propositions adopted by the Jewish community relations enterprise contended that history must be seen as linear, implying that past injustices and prejudices will give way over time to a more enlightened understanding of the human condition. Under this notion, anti-Semitic behavior and other forms of social hatred will dissipate as individuals are exposed to the shared story of all peoples. Education would free folks from their prejudicial past, empowering them to better manage ethnic and racial differences. This supposition has not proven to be correct.

If, in the past, Jews were defined by their enemies as the subversive outsider, today we are described as the “oppressive insider.”

The promise of 20th century nationalism and the founding of the Zionist movement held out the mistaken assumption that creating a “nation state” for the Jewish people would forever end anti-Semitism. If Jews had their own national identity, they would be seen and treated “like other peoples,” removing the seeds of anti-Jewish rhetoric and behavior.

At one point, Israel was seen as vulnerable, making its case more appealing to potential allies. Today, Israel has become the lynchpin for the new anti-Semitism. The enemies of the Jewish state, for example, have craftily employed Nazi symbols and terms, applying these images to Israel’s conduct. The Jewish community viewed the Nazi experience as unique to a particular ideology and political culture. Jews would contend that any cross-reference to Nazism is inappropriate and has no comparative basis. Many of Israel’s enemies reject this argument, as they move forward to impose Nazi labels on the Jewish state and introduce their Boycott, Divestment and Sanctions (BDS) proposals. Today, anti-Israel sentiment is one of the major challenges in our fight to push back against anti-Semitism. Clearly, we need to separate out those who express particular criticism of Israel in connection with specific policy matters from the opponents of the Jewish state who seek to challenge its very existence.

Anti-Semitism is driven by the un-educated and uninformed. For the past 100 years, the community relations establishment held to the position that in order to “defeat” anti-Semitism, educational initiatives would need to be employed to offset misunderstandings, ignorance and prejudicial judgments about Jews and Judaism. Indeed, for decades our national agencies launched a series of informational programs designed to dispel myths that were fostered about Jews. Today, however, the new reality suggests that well-educated individuals know very well their case against Jews and Israel is designed to influence public opinion and to seed doubt about the role of Jews in our society. Today, we face a highly sophisticated strategy directed against Judaism and the Jewish community.

In the early decades of the 20th century, the model of Jewish organizing was constructed around the proposition that other like-minded communities will want to coalesce with Jewish organizations and leaders in opposing hate-based activities. This assumption was based on the common plight of prejudice endured by minority constituencies. Today, there are significantly different and individualized approaches employed by groups in responding to hate-directed attacks. There appears to be no longer a shared strategy for opposing prejudice and racial hatred, nor are some communities necessarily interested in being identified with the Jewish community.

Social elites were seen as the essential civic glue necessary to build public support in opposition to anti-Semitism. For decades, the Jewish “defense” strategy was directed toward mobilizing these elites as a wedge in condemning anti-Semitic rhetoric and behavior. As societies have radically changed, these leadership elites in such disciplines as government, business, the arts and religion no longer carry the same credibility or leverage that they once held, minimizing their impact on social behaviors.

For much of Western history, Jews contended with Christian theological anti-Judaism. Over the course of the 20th century, Christian-Jewish encounters would significantly alter the negative historic patterns associated with Christian religious views on Jews and Judaism. In the Western experience, Jews never formally had to deal with Islam. This is no longer the reality. As Islam has become an integral part of Western political culture and as Muslim influence has expanded, at this point in time, Jews are bereft of a strategy in managing Jewish-Muslim connections on a broad scale.

As anti-Semitism reasserts its presence on the political stage, these new assaults present significant yet different challenges to the Jewish community relations enterprise. Traditional responses appear to be no longer appropriate. The historic practice of “containment,” as an example, does not represent a viable strategy, but neither are the existing operational principles. The Jewish communal system will require a different framework for political and religious engagement in managing these contemporary threats against Judaism, Israel and the Jewish people.

Steven Windmueller is the Rabbi Alfred Gottschalk Emeritus Professor of Jewish Communal Studies at the Jack H. Skirball Campus, Hebrew Union College-Jewish Institute of Religion, Los Angeles. A version of this article appeared on His writing can be found on his website,

This Girl Is On Fire

Israel's Netta poses during the news conference after winning the Grand Final of Eurovision Song Contest 2018 at the Altice Arena hall in Lisbon, Portugal, May 13, 2018. REUTERS/Rafael Marchante

The evening that Israeli singer Netta Barzilai won Eurovision 2018, my son and I began to watch the biopic “Pelé: Birth of a Legend,” the early life of the renowned African-Brazilian soccer player.

Pelé grew up poor in 1950s Brazil and faced continual racism from Europeans and lighter-skinned Brazilians. But from an early age, his parents taught him to face life with dignity: “Don’t feel doubt or shame,” his father tells him in the film. “Have the courage to embrace who you really are.”

Pelé revolutionized soccer for Brazilians — inspiring a pride in the country’s uniqueness. “We don’t all play the same,” says a coach in the film, “but that’s what makes us who we are.”

A similar message of embracing both excellence and difference can be felt in a video that my son, Alexander, and I stumbled upon a few weeks ago. Angelica Hale, 9, won the “Golden Buzzer” on NBC’s “America’s Got Talent” last year for her magnificent rendition of Alicia Keys’ “Girl on Fire.”

I must confess: I’m not a watcher of talent shows. But I have personally found this video deeply inspiring, even more so after reading that Angelica, who is part Filipino, had to undergo a life-saving kidney transplant at age 4. Fearless and resolute, she both belted out and personified the lyrics:

“She’s got both feet on the ground;

And she’s burning it down.”

This is feminism, I told Alexander. A young girl can get up on stage and make a song even more layered and soulful than the original recording (sorry, Alicia). Moreover, achieving something great is far more empowering than playing the victim. Angelica, like Pelé, has no interest in being a victim. Both don’t want the world to feel sorry for them: They want the world to love them for their unique, outstanding gifts.

“I love my country,” she told an audience that has been taught to hate her country.

Somehow, 25-year-old Netta was able to combine all of these sentiments into a magical song, “Toy,” and performance that, despite itself, took Europe’s breath away.

“Look at me, I’m a beautiful creature;

I don’t care about your modern-day preachers.”

“Toy” is also a song about female empowerment, but perhaps even more, it’s about owning your individuality. “Thank you for choosing different, for accepting differences between us, for celebrating diversity,” Netta told the massive Eurovision audience in her acceptance speech.

But Netta clearly has no patience for the victimhood part of today’s #MeToo politics: “I’m not your toy, you stupid boy.” Nor does she have time for an identity politics that has no space for Jews. “I love my country,” she told an audience that has been taught to hate her country. “Next time, in Jerusalem.”

Whether the Europeans who voted for her got the deeper message is less important than the fact that they voted for Israel, despite every effort made by BDSers to prevent this. And Israel won by doing what Israel does best: bringing light into the world. Teaching the politically correct that individuality, creativity — inspiration — is not politically incorrect. That in fact, not becoming what others want us to be is our greatest strength.

Netta, like Pelé and Angelica, doesn’t want the world’s pity — or the world’s harassment. In fact, she included what could be construed as a word of warning for haters: “Wonder woman, don’t you ever forget; You’re divine and he’s about to regret.”

In the Pelé film, a Swedish coach calls the darker-skinned Brazilians “abnormal.” Israelis — Jews — have been called that and much worse. We don’t need to fabricate victimhood — but we also have no desire to wallow in it.

The Jewish people are not the world’s toy, to be taken out and abused when it’s having a bad day. “Have the courage to embrace who you really are,” Pelé’s father tells him in the film. It’s well past time that Jews did precisely that. Enough begging the left’s “social justice warriors” to include us.

Not surprisingly, these tolerant, compassionate folks were quick to try to shame Netta after she won, bizarrely calling her performance “cultural appropriation.” And some of Europe’s leftist pols saw Netta’s victory as a great opportunity to call for renewed boycotts against Israel. (So is “justice” their motivation — or jealousy? I get so confused with these compassionate types.)

Netta is not responding to the haters.  And why should she? She’s too busy “lighting up the night.” World, get used to it.

Karen Lehrman Bloch is an author and cultural critic.

An Ode to Motherhood

Photo from PxHere.

When I was in my early 20s, I gently placed motherhood into the realm of: There is no question I want to do this, but later, much later. First, I need to explore and change the world. Oh, and I also need to prove beyond a shadow of a doubt that I am equal to men.

This was part of the message I was ingesting from feminist leaders at the time, and it felt OK because I was nowhere near ready to “settle down.” There was another part to the message, though, that didn’t feel right: Women shouldn’t value motherhood as our mothers and grandmothers had. Bearing children “reduces women to their wombs.” Motherhood, we were told, was “unfeminist.”

Compared with the intersectional mess that feminism has now become, this theoretical gobbledygook — which was not even remotely part of original feminism — almost seems quaint. The problem is, it affected a generation of women. Women who put off child-rearing until it was too late; women who had children, but then spent too much time away from them; women who would preach to other women that motherhood “destroys one’s identity.”

Perhaps because I, too, waited until it was almost too late, perhaps because I had a wonderful career before I had my son, I think I am able to look at all of this with some objectivity. And I would like to send to women in their 20s today a very different message: Motherhood — in all of its beauty, glory, wonder and exhaustion — will compare with nothing else you will ever do in your life. But it is not for every woman. It doesn’t make a woman a woman, but precisely because it is a role, a responsibility that is so profound, only each woman can know if it is right for her.

What is unfeminist? The devaluation of motherhood and, as a result, children. One of the saddest sights I see every year in New York City: A beautiful day at the park, strollers are lined up one after the other — with kids old enough to walk unhappily strapped in. A bevy of nannies sit and chat, seemingly unbothered by the miserable state of their charges.

Motherhood — in all of its beauty, glory, wonder and exhaustion — will compare with nothing else you will ever do in your life.

There are, of course, wonderful nannies who love the children they care for as their own. But let’s be honest here: They typically work for women who don’t “privilege” their careers over their kids.

It’s true: motherhood, especially in the early years, wears you out in ways you never thought possible. (I remember evenings of binge watching “The Good Wife,” not because I loved it but because I literally didn’t have the energy to find a better show.) But if you make it central to your identity, you will experience levels of joy and fulfillment that no job or no career can possibly touch.

And the effects of good mothering on children are profound. Can a father make up for a deficit of good mothering? Sometimes. I have met extraordinary fathers. But, in general, mothers and fathers bring different, often overlapping skills to the parenting table.

When I see a great mother, I don’t care what career she had before or will have after her kids are grown. (Motherhood is a lifetime role, but the in-house years are roughly 10 to 15.) When I see a great mother, I am in awe of her ability to tap into layers of patience, compassion and empathy that other women just shout about. I am in awe of the magnitude of her emotional capacity, an emotional intelligence that can understand the 1,500 different types of crying.

Yes, we can all laugh at overprotective Jewish mothers. But perhaps it’s not a coincidence that there’s a surfeit of Yiddish proverbs on the subject: “Mothers understand what their children cannot say.” “One mother achieves more than a hundred teachers.” “God could not be everywhere so he created mothers.”

I remain in awe of my own mother, who provided me with an ability to see every moment of motherhood — the good, the boring, the sleep deprived — as precious, as a gift from God. And although she was able to experience only the first two years of my son’s life, I believe I am honoring her memory by trying, each day, to reach for the highest ground that she herself provided.

Happy Mother’s Day.

Karen Lehrman Bloch is an author, cultural critic and mother living in New York City.

Women, Sex and Power

This address was delivered by Karen Lehrman Bloch at the Cedars-Sinai Women’s Guild Symposium 2018: “21st Century Woman.”

So who is the “21st Century woman”? I think she’s strong, independent and spirited; unafraid of both her femininity and her sexuality; fiercely brave, confident and, of course, feminist.

But wait, how can she be both feminine and brave? Sexual and remain a feminist?

The truth is, those words were never meant to be contradictory. They became contradictory because of an essential misunderstanding of the original meaning of feminism.

What I’d like to do today is briefly touch on this misunderstanding and offer a vision for a deeper, more authentic feminism — a feminism that honors the original meaning.

I also think women will be a lot happier when we begin to understand that we don’t have to give up parts of ourselves for feminism. That, in fact, those parts are what make us stronger.

So let’s start over. Let’s talk about what feminism really is and how it was supposed to empower women. And let’s deal in the realms of facts and reality.

Feminism is not about following a set of rules or politics imposed by other women.

Feminism is not about voting for a woman just because she’s a woman.

Feminism is not about legislating equal numbers of judges or CEOs.

Feminism is not about exploiting your sexuality when it’s useful.

Feminism is not about destroying a man’s career because of a compliment.

Feminism is not about empowering women through victimhood — or shutting down voices of disagreement.

What is feminism?

I. Feminism can be summed up in three words: freedom, responsibility and individuality.

Freedom for women to vote, be educated, have careers — or stay home with our children. Freedom for women to wear miniskirts if we want, freedom to flirt, both in the office and out, to get involved with a co-worker — or to abstain from all sexual relations until marriage.

Freedom for women to become the unique individuals that we are.

Third Wave feminism, which began in the ’80s, was, in my opinion, a huge setback for women. Third Wave feminists actually restricted women’s freedom by adding onto feminism a set of politics, a list of behaviors, even fashion choices. Third Wave feminist leaders attempted to tell women what to think, how to behave, who to vote for.

None of this was part of the original meaning of feminism.

Now we have a Fourth Wave of feminism. Intersectional feminists are adding onto feminism another layer of do’s and don’ts.

Women, say intersectional feminists, must hate masculinity, privilege victimhood and, most important for many, continuously attack Israel. How interesting that a movement that started out 100 years ago as a way to free women from societal restrictions became a movement that urges women to hate Israel, one of the most feminist countries in the world.

II. Feminism also means personal responsibility — taking control of your life.

For feminist leaders in the past three decades, “personal responsibility” were dirty words. Why? Because focusing on a woman’s responsibility, they said, would take the focus off “the patriarchy.”

But just like with true liberalism, you can’t have freedom without responsibility. Why? Well, who else should take responsibility for our lives? The government? Our husbands? Our dates?

I think we’ve had some rather bizarre #MeToo moments precisely because of the lack of emphasis on women’s responsibility. Like “Grace,” the young woman who publicly humiliated Aziz Ansari because … why? She didn’t like the way the date was going but made no effort to tell him that? Or to simply go home?

In fact, the underlying premise of many of the non-assault #MeToo cases is actually quite unfeminist: It is based on the false notion that all women become helpless in difficult situations.

Sadly, many women do. But that’s not the fault of “the patriarchy.” It is largely the fault of the feminist establishment for, essentially, ignoring women’s personal growth.

Real assault cases are, of course, horrific, and right now we’re watching one of the worst: Dr. Larry Nassar, the doctor to the young gymnasts. This is a case of complete institutional failure and, as a result, at least 265 victims were subjected to pure evil.

But denying that sexual tension, even in the workplace, is not complex, that women don’t have responsibilities — that life isn’t perfect — doesn’t serve anyone’s interests.

Right now, any woman can destroy a man within seconds by merely describing an awkward pass. Is this empowerment  or is it the same passive-aggressiveness we’ve spent a half-century trying to overcome?

III. We don’t live in a patriarchy.

Anyone who seriously thinks we still live in a patriarchy — where men control and oppress us — needs to visit countries like Iran or Saudi Arabia.

Indeed, this is another great irony of today’s feminist leaders: They have virtually ignored the women in Iran who have been protesting the wearing of compulsory hijab.

So far, 30 Iranian women have been arrested and tortured for this. This should be at the top of Western feminists’ priority list. Instead, it hardly gets mentioned.

But we do have oppressors here — what I have come to call the Gender Industrial Complex. The Gender Industrial Complex tells women who to vote for, which careers are preferable, who to like, who to hate, which ideas to regurgitate, what color to wear, which pronouns to use, which films to see, which films not to see — and most important of all: how to shut down anyone who disagrees with you.

The Gender Industrial Complex is our new oppressor. And if you call yourself a feminist, you need to fight back against it, just as our grandmothers fought against the patriarchy.

Real feminists don’t follow orders — even from other women.

IV. Women are different from men.

Contrary to “gender theory,” this stems mostly from biology, not culture. More important, it’s actually a positive, producing things like babies and making life much more fun and interesting.

Women and men are not the same, and we also don’t exist along a gender spectrum. Social scientists use bell curves to show our biologically based differences. Take aggression. The bell curves for males and females look very different. But there will always be a small group of women who are naturally more aggressive than a small group of men.

What else does this mean? It should be assumed that women think about sex differently from men. This doesn’t mean that women don’t think about sex. This doesn’t mean that women don’t love sex as much as men do. What it means is that women are evolutionarily built to connect our emotions to sex.

Probably the worst thing that feminist academics did in the past three decades was to make women feel ashamed of our femininity and sexuality.

So, while many women have no problem with today’s hook-up culture — where sex is typically expected — many other women, as hard as they try, can’t do it without feeling lousy afterward. Instead of seeing this as a special aspect of being a woman, feminists today blame this lousy feeling on men — either on a particular man or again on “the patriarchy.”

Many of today’s non-assault #MeToo cases could have been avoided, in fact, if feminists had explained all of this to women. If they had taught women that we each need to know what works for us and act accordingly.

V. Femininity and sexuality.

Probably the worst thing that feminist academics did in the past three decades was to make women feel ashamed of our femininity and sexuality — to neuter women. Leaving aside the fact that feminism had no interest in neutering women, a neutered woman is by definition a less empowered woman.

Being at one with our femininity and sexuality is an integral aspect of our strength and self-esteem. Just look at Gal Gadot.

Gal is so unabashedly feminine and sexy that when “Wonder Woman” first came out, some feminists went ballistic. They had been taught that showing our femininity or sexuality was a sign of weakness.

A hundred years ago, that was true. But we went through this thing called the sexual revolution in the ’60s, and one of the positives was that women took ownership of their sexuality.

And by taking ownership — by feeling it and knowing that it doesn’t undermine our ability to run a company or fly a plane — women were made whole in a way that we hadn’t been since hunter-gatherer times.

But it’s a responsible sexuality: It’s not about sleeping our way to the top; going to a man’s hotel room and then claiming victimhood; wearing scanty clothes at inappropriate times.

Sexuality, true sexuality, comes from within.

VI. Beauty.

Being at one with our femininity and sexuality also helps with the other issue Third Wave feminists got wrong: beauty. Beauty is not a myth; it’s not a cultural construct. It’s a harsh reality that only gets harsher with age. But as French and Israeli women know better than anyone: When you’re feeling at one with your sexuality, when you truly own it, it doesn’t matter how old you are.

VII. What about men?

Don’t men have any responsibility here?

Of course. Just because we don’t live in a patriarchy doesn’t mean that men, as individuals, don’t have a lot of work to do. I’m always amused when I read conservatives talk about returning to the ’50s and the Era of the Gentleman.

Sure, many men in the ’50s had good manners in public, and I would love to see those manners return. But we are all too aware of what often went on inside the home or inside the office.

We want men to treat women with respect — not just to keep up appearances. We want men to treat women with respect because it’s the right thing to do.

But here’s the thing: We don’t need to dump masculinity to make this happen. Masculinity is not toxic. Uncivilized masculinity is toxic. Civilized masculinity ends wars. Civilized masculinity moves mountains. Civilized masculinity is, well, sexy.

Another great irony of today’s feminism: the effort to defeminize women and feminize men. So that we’re all gender-neutral robots. No thanks, and again, this was never the intent of the original feminists.

But how do we make sure masculinity is civilized? Parents, especially fathers, need to teach their sons to be proud of their strengths and abilities — but to always have manners and respect. It’s not easy (I have a high-testosterone 8-year-old son; I am well aware). But it’s doable. All of us know men who are both gentlemen and quite masculine.

But also, women — as friends, girlfriends and wives — have a role here. We have the not particularly fun job of helping to civilize men. Actually, I take that back. Imagine how Gal had civilized her early boyfriends. I have no doubt she had a great deal of fun and success — or they were out the door very quickly.

VIII. So what’s the bottom line?

The goal of feminism was to unshackle women, to be able to engage in the world as strong, fully formed adults who know what works for us and what doesn’t.

It’s time to teach women again that we are fully in control of our bodies and our destinies — to reach deep inside of ourselves to find our unique identities.

And so I propose the beginning of a new, Fifth Wave of feminism. We can call it rational feminism or independent feminism or noncomformist feminism. Or, we can just call it feminism, because it would be bringing feminism back to its original meaning.

The key components again would be freedom, personal responsibility and individuality. Taking back our lives from those who wish to control us, both women and men.

That, and only that, is the true meaning of feminism and empowerment. That is the 21st century woman.

Karen Lehrman Bloch is a cultural critic and author of “The Lipstick Proviso: Women, Sex & Power in the Real World” (Doubleday). Her writing has appeared in The New York Times, The New Republic, The Wall Street Journal and Metropolis, among others.

The Golda Meir exchange, part 2: “a female leader in a world run by men”

Francine Logan

Francine Klagsbrun is the author of more than a dozen books, including The Fourth Commandment: Remember the Sabbath Day and Married People: Staying Together in the Age of Divorce. She was the editor of the best-selling Free to Be . . . You and Me and is a regular columnist for The Jewish Week, a contributing editor to Lilith, and on the editorial board of Hadassah magazine. Her writing has also appeared in The New York Times, The Boston Globe, Newsweek, and Ms. Magazine. She lives in New York City.

This is the second part of our exchange that focuses on her new book, Lioness: Golda Meir and the Nation of Israel (Schoken, 2017). The first part, Has Israel been unfair to its first female prime minister? is here.

Dear Francine,

Golda Meir has always been a controversial figure when it comes to the feminist cause and her attitude to the feminist movement. On the one hand, she is a global icon of female leadership – an elected female head of state in the 70s, who reached this position in a very masculine (and militaristic) political culture. On the other hand, she publicly mocked feminists and distanced herself from their cause. Your book tackles this issue:
Why then define herself in opposition to feminists? The answer lies in Golda’s personal goals. The women’s organizations—the Women Workers’ Council and the Pioneer Women—had served as her entrée into the political life of the Yishuv, the only avenues available to a woman taking her first large steps toward leadership. Rejecting feminism by ridiculing its extremes, as she did, was Golda’s way of securing the next steps as she prepared to advance in the male-dominated world of Labor politics. In this world, feminism carried little weight; even concentrating primarily on women’s concerns could be a barrier to moving ahead Golda had different objectives for her future. She aimed to be at the center of her country’s life and not in its margins, at the heart of Labor Zionism and not on the periphery. From her perspective, she could achieve her goals by sharply differentiating herself from other strong women while taking on the wider interests of the party and the movement. 
My question: What kind of insights do this book and this story ultimately present about the problems, compromises and complexities facing women in public leadership roles? Where does your narrative leave Golda as an example of female leadership?


One of the most puzzling aspects of Golda Meir’s life was why she rejected the woman’s movement of the 1970s.  She had rejected feminism earlier on her way up the ladder as she struggled to make her mark in a strongly male dominated world.  But why, once she reached the pinnacle of success by becoming prime minister of Israel, did she continue to oppose the feminist movement?

The question is particularly relevant because of the life she had led. In so many ways she seemed the most modern of women. She’d had an illegal abortion in the early years of her marriage. Later she permanently separated from her husband and became a single mother, maintaining responsibility for her son and daughter. She’d had lovers. Moreover, as Labor Minister in the 1940s and 1950s she pushed through progressive legislation that protected working women, giving them paid hospitalization when they gave birth and paid maternity leave afterward. Beyond that, she spoke often about how much more capable a woman had to be than a man in order to succeed. And she was especially fond of a story she told frequently: In the early years of the state, there had been a spate of sexual assaults and violent rapes in some of the larger cities. To counter that, the legislature planned to enact a curfew on women that would keep them home at night and thus out of danger. Said Golda: “It is the men who are doing the raping. Let them have the curfew!”

To feminists of the 1960s and 1970s, Golda Meir so appeared to represent what women were struggling to achieve that an iconic poster of her hung in many offices and homes. Below the image of a softly smiling Golda were the words, “But Can She Type?” In those days, most working women were relegated to the secretarial pool.

Golda enjoyed the poster, yet continued to reject the women’s movement behind it. There are a number of reasons for that. For one thing, she didn’t understand that the goals of the movement jibed in many ways with her own goals for women: to provide them with day care for their children, for example, so they might be freed to work outside their homes if they wished. Another source of her opposition to organized feminism was her socialist viewpoint. She aimed for a socialist society in which the needs of all people would be handled as required. Individual movements served no purpose in that vision; when collective goals were achieved they would benefit everyone, and everyone would enjoy equality.

But, although she might not admit it, overriding all other factors in her opposition to organized feminism was the simple fact that—still—she was a female leader in a world run by men. Yes, she had achieved a great deal of power as prime minister, and yes, there were male ministers who felt intimidated by that power. Yet most Israeli ministers were men (and still are) and most other world leaders were men (and still are). “She is a great woman,” Ben-Gurion once said of her, “but she is a woman.” As a woman she was “other,” no matter how high her position. Ignoring feminism, or deriding it, then, helped downplay the otherness assigned her. Even today, women leaders do not identify themselves as feminists. They may be more sympathetic to women’s movements than Golda was, but they want it made clear that they are leaders of all the people and not of any one group.

Golda had her own style of leadership. She hated the belief, repeated often, that Ben-Gurion called her the “only man in the cabinet.” She doubted he had said that, but even if he had, “what does it mean,” she asked, “that it is better to be a man than a woman?” She rejected that notion and fully accepted her womanhood. Although as a good socialist she wore no makeup, she had her nails done regularly. She cared about her appearance, choosing simple clothes that she felt appropriate to her leadership role. She also took great pride in her long hair, which she washed and brushed over and over, contemplating world problems as she did so.

She liked playing a maternal, role—if Ben-Gurion was the father of the country, she was its mother. She agonized over every military death, visiting families of the fallen regularly. She talked about her chicken soup and gefilte fish recipes at news conferences, and personally served tea and cookies to the most eminent statesmen who visited her home. She cried easily, sometimes out of emotion, sometimes to get what she wanted. And she was almost never seen without her capacious handbag hanging from her arm, whether at the opera or on the battlefield in the aftermaths of a war.

But she also projected strength, with a will of steel. She held firm on matters of Israel’s security, refusing to budge if she felt the nation threatened in any way. She turned the symbol of a kitchen—associated with women and cooking—into a symbol of power, convening her closest cabinet members into what became known as “Golda’s kitchen.” During the Yom Kippur War, she was a pillar of strength and courage, while her popular general, Moshe Dayan, fell apart.

Golda Meir refused to be identified as a “woman leader.” Like any man, she regarded herself simply as a leader, and she carried out her mission with integrity, unceasing  work, and devotion to Israel and the Jewish people everywhere, goals that  guided her all her life.





A Deeper Feminism

Photo from Pexels.

When I lived in Washington, D.C., in my 20s, I often wore miniskirts. The prim and proper ladies there used to stare at me. This didn’t make me stop, but it did make me feel self-conscious until a friend said, “You know, it’s not that they disapprove; it’s that they wish they could wear them, too.”

I never wore miniskirts to work. I could have — there wasn’t much of a dress code — but I was eager to be taken seriously as a writer. You could say that’s a double standard, but perhaps it isn’t. I’m not sure if a guy who wore his shirt unbuttoned to his navel would have been taken seriously, either.

Once or twice I put myself in situations that could have led to unfortunate outcomes. In retrospect, I shouldn’t have done that. The one time something icky — but not scarring — happened was on a high school ski trip. I never told anyone afterward; at the time, I thought these types of things just happened.

Like many women, these past couple of weeks have made me think about various experiences I had in my late teens and into my 20s, and how I handled them. Feminism freed young women to wear miniskirts, go unchaperoned on high school ski trips, go to the apartments of older colleagues to watch movies.

Sometimes we make these choices to experiment; sometimes we make them to help us define our identities; sometimes we make them just for fun. Sometimes they end badly.

Nevertheless, the freedom to make these choices is an essential part of feminism. But there is another essential part that hasn’t gotten much attention. Along with freedom comes a need for thoughtfulness, a need to recognize reality and human nature.

We have an opportunity to deepen feminism with wisdom and even joy.

For me, that begins with facing reality. Take beauty. Contrary to Naomi Wolf’s infamous “beauty myth,” beauty is not a social construct forced upon women to keep them in the bathrooms and out of the boardrooms. Evolutionary psychology has explained why men are attracted to youth and beauty (the instinct to father healthy children), and no amount of social engineering is going to change that fact.

What can be changed is our attitudes toward beauty. When I write about art and design, I use the term “deep beauty” to describe a layered, soulful, imperfect beauty that stems from nature. Women (and men) also can strive for a deeper beauty — a beauty that resonates with soulfulness, intelligence and confidence. A beauty that doesn’t fade.

Sexuality, both male and female, also exists.

Last month, my 8-year-old son and his friend were tossing a football in Central Park when we happened upon some young women who were topless. Not surprisingly, the boys started to stare and giggle. The women scowled at me: How dare I raise a son who hasn’t been taught that this is normal and natural!

Actually, the boys’ response was normal and natural — hormones begin to kick in well before puberty. Sure, you have every right to go topless in Central Park. But don’t expect human nature to look away.

Women are equal to men but we are different. This is a reality that we should not just accept, but embrace. We should take pleasure in the differences. Do we really want to live in a sanitized world devoid of any flirting or sexual tension? Or worse, do we want to live in a world where we become so paranoid that men and women in professional situations are afraid to shake hands, let alone hug?

Yes, we need to teach males of all ages that being a respectful gentleman is a prerequisite to 21st-century masculinity. But we also need to teach females that being a strong, responsible woman is a prerequisite to 21st-century femininity and feminism.

The fact is, women who are truly in touch with their sexuality tend to be the strongest women. I’m not talking about flaunting one’s sexuality; I’m talking about a deep sexuality that comes from being comfortable with yourself.

I know a 40-ish woman in New York who runs a multinational company. She started it from scratch and never changed any aspect of herself in the process. With her infectious laugh, inspiring charm, and sensually appropriate attire, she walks into a room like a boss — but also as a woman.

That’s deep feminism.

Karen Lehrman Bloch is a cultural critic and the author of “The Lipstick Proviso: Women, Sex & Power in the Real World” (Doubleday).Her writings have appeared in The New York Times, The New Republic, The Wall Street Journal and Metropolis, among others.

Fixing Hollywood’s Shameful Culture

FILE PHOTO: Harvey Weinstein arrives at the 89th Academy Awards in Hollywood, California, U.S. on February 26, 2017. REUTERS/Mike Blake/File Photo

The past month has seen the near implosion of Hollywood. That’s because of the revelations about mega-powerhouse Harvey Weinstein’s regular habit of allegedly sexually assaulting and harassing women, and the apparent industry-wide willingness to look the other way.

Many on the right have correctly condemned the left’s reticence to talk about such issues when applied to heroes of the left (see, e.g., former President Bill Clinton and the late Sen. Ted Kennedy); in response, many on the left have rightly condemned the right’s newfound willingness to look the other way when its own oxen are gored (see, e.g., then-candidate Donald Trump’s “Access Hollywood” tape, the late Fox News Chairman Roger Ailes).

We all should be on the same side regarding sexual harassment and sexual assault. That doesn’t mean that we have to agree to avoid voting for those who engage in such activities (although I have done so and think doing so would be a good rule of thumb); it’s quite possible to openly admit the evils of a candidate and still feel that the candidate would be a better legislative alternative than his or her opponent. It does mean, however, that “whataboutism” is perhaps the worst response to stories of sexual harassment and assault: Just because Clinton did it doesn’t mean that Trump’s behavior is acceptable, and vice versa.

Putting partisanship aside, the question next becomes how to curb such behavior. In this arena, there’s truly only one solution: changing the prevailing societal standards, and naming individuals. The latter is easier than the former, of course — it’s a tragedy that major stars and starlets who knew about Weinstein’s reputed predations did nothing for years. It’s difficult to expect young, up-and-coming actors and actresses to speak out when victimized: Few will believe them, their careers will be ruined and they are eminently replaceable in a city where every barista has a script and every waitress wants an audition. But those who already have established themselves do have an obligation to protect those aspiring actors and actresses from predators.

Why hasn’t that happened?

This raises institutional issues in Hollywood, and the requirement that societal standards change. Hollywood has been replete with sexual assault and harassment from the very beginning. Despite its supposedly feminist credentials, Hollywood has made the general choice to favor a libertine version of feminism — with consent as the only important value — over the stricter version of feminism that decries power relationships driving sexual relationships.

Unfortunately, the first version of feminism hasn’t just won out in Hollywood, it’s won out in society more broadly, pressed forward by Hollywood. Society now condemns any limits on sexual relationships, and sees “consent” as a binary value; transactional sex is just fine, in this view, and cannot be condemned. This makes it incredibly difficult to police both sexual assault and harassment because the same set of facts can be seen as either people doing what they want to do to get ahead, or sexual exploitation. Removing meaning from sex means treating it as a purely physical act, degrading both sex and those who participate in it.

The result: more sexual confusion and less willingness to step forward and condemn egregious conduct.

Hollywood has made the general choice to favor a libertine version of feminism – with consent the only important value.

Here’s what we need, then: some rules. We need to know about — and uniformly condemn — exploitation of women by powerful men. We need to know about — and uniformly condemn — the Hollywood casting couch, which has been joked about for decades and treated as a way of life for that same amount of time. And we, as a society, have to let Hollywood know that if it doesn’t change its ways, we will take action: We will stop seeing their movies, stop watching their television shows. We will not participate in making people wealthy and famous so that they can abuse others, or watch silently as that abuse takes place.

We should listen to and respect women who tell their stories of sexual harassment and assault. But this can’t be just another hashtag campaign. We must have hard conversations because sexual dynamics are fluid and difficult to police. If we don’t, Weinstein will be just a blip — and then things will go back to business as usual until the next Weinstein crops up.

Ben Shapiro is a best-selling author, editor-in-chief at The Daily Wire and host of the conservative podcast “The Ben Shapiro Show.”

As a Woman

Photo from Pixabay.

As a woman, I don’t vote for women just because they’re women.
As a feminist, I don’t vote for women just because they’re women.

As a woman, I don’t march just because something is called a “women’s march.”
As a feminist, I don’t march just because something is called a “women’s march.”

As a woman, I am offended when other women claim to speak for me.
As a feminist, I am offended when leftist feminists try to tell me what to think.

As a woman, I chose to stay home and care for my son when he was young.
As a feminist, I knew that this was my choice, that feminism means freedom for women to make these choices.

As a woman, I would never do anything to advance my career that undermines my self-respect.
As a feminist, I know that feminism is not a free ride: along with rights comes personal responsibility, including the responsibility to say no in difficult situations.

As a woman, I don’t keep silent about immoral behavior, no matter what the consequences.
As a feminist, I know that silence equals complicity.

As a woman, I love being a woman. I am offended by theorists who claim that we are all gender-fluid, that my femininity is a social construct.
As a feminist, I believe in biology, not trendy theories.

As a woman, I am against all restrictions on women that are not personal choices.
As a feminist, I find it hypocritical that leftist feminists never speak out against the restrictions on Muslim women that often are very much not personal choices.

As a woman, I don’t feel oppressed living in the United States.
As a feminist, I know that oppression and patriarchy exist in other countries, countries often ignored by leftist feminists because those nations don’t fit their political narrative.

As a woman and a writer, I have been bullied by both the left and the right, by women as well as men.
As a feminist, I know that bullying is a sign of weakness and insecurity. I have taught my son that no level of bullying is acceptable, and that the only way to respond to bullies is to walk away.

As a woman, I am inspired by strong, sexy women like Gal Gadot.
As a feminist, I know that being comfortable with my sexuality fuels my strength as a woman.

As a woman, I know that Israel is one of the most feminist countries on earth: Israeli women rise to incomparable positions of power in every field.
As a feminist, I know that Zionism and feminism have historically been prominent pillars of liberalism: efforts to demonize Zionism stem from bigotry, not liberalism or feminism.

As a Jewish woman, I love the ritual of lighting candles every Shabbat, of bringing the light into my heart and releasing it into the world through singing the blessing.
As a Jewish feminist, I may not support some of the restrictions placed on women in Judaism, but I respect a woman’s right to choose, as long as it is a choice.

As a woman, I think it’s well past time to take back the word feminist from people on both the right and the left who don’t understand what it means.
As a feminist, I know that if you don’t think women should be controlled — by either the left or the right, by men or other women — then you are indeed a feminist.

As a woman, as a feminist, as an individual, I think for myself, thank you.

Karen Lehrman Bloch is a cultural critic and curator. Author of “The Lipstick Proviso: Women, Sex & Power in the Real World” (Doubleday), her writings have appeared in The New York Times, The New Republic, The Wall Street Journal and Metropolis, among others.

The Jewish feminists who are rocking the cannabis world

From left: Cannabis Feminist co-founders Jackie Mostny, Galia Benarzi and Jessica Assaf. Photo courtesy Cannabis Feminist

On a recent Sunday afternoon in Venice, yoga-toned locals sipped cucumber lemon water and perused an assortment of cannabis wellness products arranged on silver platters in a private backyard. Freshly cut sunflowers decorated the display tables, where female representatives from organic brands like The Budhive, which makes THC-infused honey drops, talked to potential customers about the calming effects of their microdosed hard candies.

If this sounds radically different from the experience of stepping into an L.A. medical marijuana dispensary — where products can be locked behind glass display cases, and male budtenders might not know what to recommend for, say, menstrual cramps — that’s because Jessica Assaf, the half-Israeli co-founder and CEO of Cannabis Feminist, has made it her mission to bring an ethos of health, wellness and, most of all, femininity to her year-old collective.

At community events like the one in Venice, called “bake sales,” Assaf, 27, and her co-founder, Jackie Mostny, a veteran of the Tel Aviv startup scene, serve as informal cannabis ambassadors, educating new users — women, in particular — about the physical and mental health benefits of the plant. Bake sale goers can trade in pink tickets for products, all selected and tested by Cannabis Feminist. They range from a Medicine Box dark chocolate truffle designed as a sleep aid, which sells for $20, to Assaf’s $40 private label facial oil made with rosehip extracts and cannabis oil sourced from Humboldt County.

“We’re not promoting psychoactivity,” said Assaf, who began her career as an activist for toxin-free beauty products. “We’re promoting cannabis as a powerful plant compound for the skin.”

What sets Assaf apart from other “ganjapreneurs,” thousands of whom have flocked to Los Angeles in recent years to get in on the so-called “Green Rush,” is her sales model. Taking a page from Tupperware parties, Assaf, a Harvard Business School graduate who credits cannabis use with improving her self-esteem, is pairing cannabis products with the peer-to-peer, in-home sales approach that enabled American housewives to earn their own money.

In 2016, legal sales of cannabis products in North America reached $6.7 billion, with California accounting for 27 percent, according to a report by Arcview Market Research, a leading publisher of cannabis industry data. By 2021, sales are expected to top $22 billion.

The budding industry also claims the highest number of female bosses of any U.S. business sector. A recent survey by Marijuana Business Daily found that 27 percent of executive-level jobs in cannabis businesses are occupied by women, down from the previous two years, but still higher than the 23 percent in American businesses as a whole. That gives Assaf, and many others of her ilk, reason to believe that by getting in on the ground floor and helping to shape their industry — never mind the local government policies that guide its development — they are building what could become the first multibillion-dollar industry run by women.

What’s also possible? Cannabis could become the first multibillion-dollar industry run by Jewish women.

It’s no secret that Jews have long played an outsized role in the cannabis sector, starting with the fact that tetrahydrocannabinol (THC), the plant’s psychoactive compound, was first identified in 1964 by Israeli scientist Raphael Mechoulam who, along with his team at Hebrew University in Jerusalem, went on to discover the human endocannabinoid system.

In recent years, Israel has emerged as a global leader in medical cannabis research, filling a void created by U.S. law that classifies cannabis as a Schedule 1 drug — the same category assigned to heroin and LSD — that makes research exceedingly difficult to conduct.

While no data is available to indicate how much of the cannabis industry is made up of Jews, it’s clear that, as with the garment business of the early 20th century, Jews comprise such a significant proportion of the industry that it has become closely identified with the tribe.

“The cannabis industry as a whole is so welcoming, and it’s been phenomenal to find all these badass Jewish women who are so cool, smart and driven. It’s all about collaboration.” — Molly peckler

Given the prevalence of Jews and women in weed, it’s no surprise that, in Los Angeles, poised to become the largest legal cannabis market in the world, Jewish women are staking their claim — and in the process, forming a kind of sisterhood of mutual support and cooperation.

Like Assaf, Catherine Goldberg, 28, a cannabis events producer and social media marketer based in West Hollywood, moved to Los Angeles from the East Coast in the last year to work in cannabis, as did Molly Peckler, a professional matchmaker who came here with her husband from Chicago to grow her cannabis matchmaking service, Highly Devoted. “The cannabis industry as a whole is so welcoming, and it’s been phenomenal to find all these badass Jewish women who are so cool, smart and driven,” Peckler said. “It’s all about collaboration.”

Indeed, collaboration is Assaf’s guiding principle with Cannabis Feminist, which grew out of a Women’s Circle she hosted at her home last fall. New to L.A., the Bay Area native put out a call on Instagram for women to gather in her Venice Beach living room to discuss their relationship to cannabis. Forty people showed up.

Assaf recently trained her first two Cannabis Feminist consultants, both culled from her monthly Women’s Circle, to sell the collective’s selection of products to their friends in exchange for a percentage of sales. Down the line, Assaf envisions an all-female team of cannabis wellness consultants who not only will recommend medicinal products, but also deliver them on demand.

To enact her vision for a women-run cannabis empire, Assaf has been pursuing outside investment. Cannabis Feminist’s first angel investor was co-founder Galia Benarzi, a Tel Aviv-based tech entrepreneur who recently orchestrated the largest crowd-sale of a virtual currency to date.

“One of the coolest things about Cannabis Feminist is that it actually has a feminine work culture,” said Benarzi, who mentors Assaf and Mostny from Tel Aviv. “This can mean the way we talk about conflicts when they arise, how we hold space for each other’s ideas, or the way we think about revenue shares.

“For me, coming from such a male-oriented work life, it’s really been a breath of fresh air.”

Is this Orthodox rabbi a feminist?

When word got out that Rabbi Simcha Krauss was coming to Los Angeles to teach a series of lessons on how to resolve the problem of agunot — women “chained” to their marriages because their husbands refuse to give them a get, or religious divorce — the Rabbinical Council of California (RCC) sent a letter to the Orthodox community discouraging attendance.

Signed by the president of the RCC, the letter called into doubt the legitimacy of the International Beit Din (IBD) Krauss founded in 2014, in Riverdale, N.Y., calling the court’s decisions on agunot “non-halachic” and “invalid.” 

 “Rabbanim are advised to warn prospective applicants to this ‘International Beit Din’ that recognized Batei Din throughout the United States do not accept the IBD piskei din and the gravity of what that implies,” the RCC’s letter stated, referring to judgments of a religious court.

The campaign against Krauss and his Beit Din has played out both in the press and behind closed doors since the court’s inception, and reveals a larger power struggle within the Orthodox community between the prevailing establishment and the emergence of progressive voices and practices. Although not openly stated, the hushed subtext of this internecine conflict has everything to do with the rights and roles of women in Orthodox Judaism.  

Just over two years ago, with the backing of Charedi rabbis in Israel and Orthodox supporters in the U.S., Krauss founded the International Beit Din in order to help women circumvent a legal system in which only men have the power to grant a divorce. 

“The way Jewish law is established, because the husband is the one who creates the marriage, he is the one who has the final word about giving a get. And that can lead to a terrible misuse of Jewish law, because the get can sometimes become a whip that the husband uses over his wife,” Krauss, 79, said when I met him last week at Kehillat Yitzchak on Beverly Boulevard.

According to halachah, if a husband refuses to give a get, his wife remains anchored to the marriage and cannot remarry or have legitimate Jewish children. This imbalance of power has led to legal manipulations on the part of the husband that Krauss plainly calls “extortion” — situations in which husbands demand lump sums of money from their wives, or pressure them to surrender spousal support and/or parental rights, in exchange for a get.

 “Extortion is a falsification, a frustration, a corruption of Jewish law,” Krauss said. 

For the past 40 years, Krauss has served as a pulpit rabbi, a Religious Zionists of America leader and taught at a Jerusalem yeshiva during a decadelong stint in Israel. He speaks with the courage of his convictions, but in person has the presence of a kindly Jewish grandfather — he wears smudged spectacles and has gentle eyes. Born in Romania in the late 1930s, Krauss claims to hail from 17 generations of rabbis, which makes his progressivism even more surprising. But he insists his methods are not modern and that there are ample precedents in the Torah for helping agunot.  

 “The Gemara is full of quotations that, because of the severity of agunot, the rabbis were meikel (“lenient”) so much so with women that they put it in the category of ‘anybody who saves an agunah is involved in pikuach nefesh — saving a life.’ Which means, if I know I can help save a woman from being an agunah, by even desecrating the Shabbat, I am allowed to do it. And rabbis are on record saying that.”

In Krauss’ view, Jewish courts have failed to fairly address divorce cases in which women are held captive by their husbands — sometimes for decades. “Therefore, we came up with an idea that if you look into the history of this marriage, you can sometimes find a few entry points to find a way of permitting the woman to remarry even if [her husband] doesn’t give a get.”

The concept proposed by Krauss’ IBD essentially is the practice of annulment, which is not common in Jewish courts. The IBD will undertake a review of the circumstances of the marriage in order to determine if it is valid or invalid. Perhaps the witnesses at the wedding were not kosher, or the husband deceived his wife during courtship, failing to disclose mental illness, impotence or homosexuality.  

 “I’m not speaking to you of cases that may happen once in a million years,” Krauss said. “I’m speaking about things that are known in the literature, with precedent, that other rabbis have done — the g’dolim, the greats of the generations have done — for hundreds, perhaps thousands, of years.” 

So why is Krauss being treated as some rogue rabbi, out to upend Jewish tradition? Though he has the endorsement of some prominent rabbis in Israel, not a single Orthodox rabbi in the U.S. has supported him publicly. And even when he “frees” an agunah, not every rabbi will accept his decision and remarry her.

 “Generally, I think that when there is a move to change the status quo, there is always pushback,” said attorney Esther Macner, founder of the nonprofit Get Jewish Divorce. Macner helped coordinate Krauss’ five appearances in L.A. last week. “I think there’s a natural desire on the part of the established batei din to centralize and preserve their power.”

But preserving their power is linked inextricably to limiting the power of women. 

I asked Krauss if he considers himself a feminist.  

 “Would I consider myself a feminist?” he mused, a little off guard. “I don’t know. But I think that feminism has a legitimate message. I don’t think that femininsm is treif. And I don’t think that if you brush me as a feminist, I would get insulted. We have a lot to learn from all kinds of people.”

Danielle Berrin is a senior writer and columnist at the Jewish Journal.

Ultra-Orthodox feminism: Not a contradiction in terms

I am an ultra-Orthodox feminist. And no, that’s not a contradiction in terms. Furthermore, my identity and the social processes that my colleagues and I are leading, aren’t merely personal journeys and struggles: We may just hold the key to the future of Israeli society.

The Israeli ultra-Orthodox (Charedi) community is changing. These changes are mostly happening under the radar, away from the shrill headlines. A new generation of Charedi social activists is slowly emerging, inspired not only by the beauty of Jewish tradition, but also by values of individualism and equality. Charedi feminism is part of this trend, which also embraces integrating Charedi men into the Israeli workforce and society.

Charedi feminism is mostly focused on gaining equality of opportunities, opinions and representation. In this sense, it plays out quite differently from religious Zionist feminism, which is rooted in Rav Kook’s approach that, “The old will be renewed and the new will be sanctified” — in other words, recognizing the authenticity of modernity and the need for religion to be integrated into every layer of life. On the other hand, the Charedi world is built on the Chatam Sofer’s famous line that, “Anything new is forbidden by the Torah” and its consequent opposition to anything that smacks of change.

Ironically, this enables, rather than prevents, Charedi feminism. One of the central tenets of Charedi life is separatism. That separatism plays out not just as a physical separation of Charedi communities from the outside world, but also through internal cultural mechanisms of separation between religious values and other values. Torah study, the joy of the Charedi lifestyle, the value of learning without concern for material gain — these and other Charedi values are considered pure and separate from the outside world, with no attempt to integrate them. While that sounds draconian, the advantage of this system is that it leaves vast areas that can be considered simply “secular” or “mundane” — like getting a secular education or going out to work. These areas can be separated from Charedi values, without the baggage of needing to integrate them into one synthesized worldview.

So this mechanism of separation is actually what has opened the window for these groundbreaking recent developments. If you make a total separation between the value of Torah study and its communities of dedicated scholars on the one hand, and the harsh reality of poverty and the economic necessity of earning a living on the other, then it becomes acceptable to encourage Charedi women to go out to work. We just compartmentalize: When we need to, we close off our “holy” compartment, and open up the one marked “secular,” where there’s room for earning a living and even enjoying it. This philosophical understanding has created a new generation of middle-class Charedim whose members use it to take part in Israeli society without feeling that they are compromising their values.

These so called “New Charedim” thus effectively live in two worlds simultaneously. One is value-laden and spiritual, full of beauty and daily wonders but also cloistered and isolationist; the other is pragmatic, anchored in Western values, and collaborates with the rest of Israeli society.

Things aren’t perfect. In the areas where people fear that the secular can blur with the holy, there are still barriers. A Charedi woman can talk about earning a living, but not about a career; a Charedi man can go to college to learn a profession, but to study Torah through the prism of academic scholarship is still utter heresy.

What about the New Charedim’s attitude to Zionism? Charedi society has in recent years developed an Israeli and even a Zionist identity. Charedi Zionism isn’t the same as classical religious Zionism, and doesn’t talk in terms of the holiness of Israel or messianic redemption. Charedim are voting in greater numbers in the elections, and though Charedi members of the Knesset play increasingly active roles in government, they still mostly avoid taking on full ministerial appointments. You see Charedi families having barbecues on Yom HaAtzmaut, but you won’t find Charedi synagogues where they sing Hallel thanking God for the State of Israel. The Zionism that the Charedi community has adopted is, ironically, a secular Zionism of symbols and cultural identity.

And the same goes for Charedi feminism. It’s a secular feminism. It’s focused on secular areas such as representation and equal opportunities. The hot potato issues of mainstream religious feminism, like the equality of women in prayer, aren’t even on the radar screen of Charedi feminism.

I pay a price for my split existence. It’s not easy — sometimes even impossible — when the gaps between the isolationist Charedi worldview and modern society get bigger and bigger. But there are more and more people like me in the Charedi world. You won’t believe what kind of magic has been brewing there recently. You won’t believe how honestly we want to be an inseparable part of this people. There are more and more seeds of hope.

My colleagues and I are paving a critical path for Israeli society. The Charedi communities aren’t going away. If Israel is to survive, then we all need to find a way to enable us to participate in Israeli society.

Racheli Ibenboim is a leading Charedi feminist activist and heads Shaharit’s Charedi programs. She is the founder and director of Movilot, a program that places Charedi women in high-quality jobs through internships.

This is the first in a series of essays by writers connected to Shaharit (, an Israeli nonprofit that brings together activists to re-imagine local and national politics. Shaharit’s leaders come from across the religious, political and ethnic spectrum of Israeli society, and work together to create policy and strategy built on open hearts, forward thinking and shared vision. 

Where have you gone, Betty Friedan?

Betty Friedan was a twentieth-century American revolutionary who, in word and deed helped empower women everywhere. She was author of The Feminine Mystique (1963), founded the National Organization of Women (NOW), and “mother” of Second Wave Feminism that transformed the U.S.

What would have this feminist leader thought of the recent 653 to 80 vote by the  National Women’s Studies Association to join the Boycott, Divestment, and Sanctions (BDS) movement? The resolution condemned Israel for “injustice and violence, including sexual and gender-based violence, perpetrated against Palestinians and other Arabs in the West Bank, Gaza Strip, within Israel and in the Golan Heights.”

The resolution contained nary a word about the Palestinians’ current “stabbing Intifada,” most of whose victims have been Jewish women and children. Nor was there a single whereas about last summer’s unprovoked massive rocket onslaught launched from Gaza’s Hamastan using or about terror tunnels burrowed into Israel proper. Not a syllable about Palestinian curriculum and media, including cartoon anti-Semitism, venerating suicide bombers and enlisting youngsters into a culture of death.

What would Betty Friedan, that spunky Jewish housewife and mother who devoted her book and life to fighting what she called in the 1950s “the problem without a name,” have thought about American feminists who “include out” Israeli women targeted by terrorists from their movement?

Gil Troy’s book, Moynihan’s Moment—about how then U.S Ambassador, Daniel Patrick Moynihan spearheaded the fight against the adoption of the infamous 1975 UN “Zionism Equals Racism” resolution—contains a chapter focusing on Friedan’s realization that her fight for the feminist cause and commitment to Zionism were “indivisible.”

She was not an outspoken Zionist until 1975 when she attended the International Women’s Year World Congress in Mexico City, where she was shocked by the unholy trinity of “anti-Americanism, anti-Semitism, and anti-Zionism” among the delegates. In her article, “Scary Times in Mexico City,” Friedan recounted how dissenting voices among American delegates had their microphones turned off and their speeches shouted down. Israeli prime minister’s wife, Leah Rabin, was booed and boycotted, as the “Declaration on the Equality of Women” became one of the first international documents to label Zionism as a form of racism. For those of us who later experienced the same tactics at the UN’s Anti-Racism Conference in Durban in 2001, just days before 9/11, Friedan’s account reads like a piece of our own history.

Friedan declared that there a “larger never-ending battle for human freedom and evolution. Women as Jews, Jews as women, have learned in their gut, ‘if I am not for myself, who will be for me (and who can I truly be for). If I am only for myself, who am I?’” Back in New York, she formed an Ad Hoc Committee of Women for Human Rights in which Margaret Mead, Nora Ephron, Lauren Bacall, Beverly Sills, and Gloria Steinem, among others, joined her battle against the the odious “Zionism Equals Racism” resolution which the UN finally repealed in 1991.

The anti-Israel, anti-Jewish forces prevailed again at the 1980 International Women’s Conference in Copenhagen—where delegates met in a hall festooned with a larger-than-life portrait of Ayatollah Khomeini! —but at Nairobi in 1985 Friedan and her allies succeeded in ensuring “every reference to Zionism was gone.”

Later as the head of delegation of American Jewish women who participated in a US/Israel dialogue, entitled “Women as Jews, Jews as Women,” organized by the American Jewish Congress, Friedan inspired the founding of the Israel Women’s Network.

Friedan never wavered in her commitment to the welfare and rights of Jewish and Israeli women, though of course she also wanted justice for Palestinians in their own state, living side-by-side in peace with Israel.

In 2015, the landscape has changed. The remarkable thing is not that American feminists are passionate in their commitment to justice for Palestinian women and men. We all should be. What’s extraordinary is their blindness to the rights of Jewish women in Israel to live free from terror in their own nation.

Such moral blindness has consequence beyond the Israel/Palestinian divide. Missing is the outrage when dealing with Muslim arranged marriages, “honor” killings, and other forms of misogyny and discrimination.  Where are the resolutions for courageous Arab and Muslim women fighting for a new day for their daughters and sisters when they are threatened by repressive regimes and oppressive mullahs?

There is nothing feminist about the National Women’s Studies Association embrace of the anti-peace and morally bankrupt BDS campaign. That narrative was forged by some of the most reactionary, anti-democratic and male-dominated regimes.

It’s hard to say whether the outcome of that vote would have been different if feminist giants like Betty Friedan and Bella Abzug were around today. But one thing is certain. They would not have allowed the hypocrisy to hide behind the mask of Feminism.

Rabbi Abraham Cooper is Associate Dean of the Simon Wiesenthal Center. Historian Dr. Harold Brackman is a consultant for theSimon Wiesenthal Center

Feminism isn’t kosher

Fierce debates this month over women clergy represent the most fractious internecine conflict in the Orthodox Jewish community in a generation. After the progressive movement known as Open Orthodoxy ordained its first women, denunciations by centrist and right-of-center Orthodox rabbis alike were inevitable.

Written and verbal critiques of the ordination of women have largely focused on its propriety in the halachic (Jewish legal) system. But the halachic arguments miss the most important reason advocacy of women’s ordination smells treyf (not kosher): Open Orthodoxy seems largely motivated by the ideology of a certain f-word.

And feminism is not Jewish. 

Feminism has a well-developed set of beliefs, the most important of which run counter to our tradition. It’s not sufficient to bandy about platitudes like “feminism simply means women are fully human” or “anyone who thinks women are equal is a feminist.” Doing so grossly oversimplifies a sophisticated Weltanschauung by defining it as something with which nearly everyone – including Crown Heights Hasidim – would agree. If everyone is a feminist, then feminism is meaningless.

Here, I will not address specific practices and ideas by Orthodox Jews who identify as feminists, like prayers purged of supposedly sexist language and the mantra “if there’s a rabbinic will, there’s a halachic way.” Writers before me have demonstrated well why those are bogus. Instead, I will show how three core feminist beliefs are incompatible with the Torah’s worldview: 

• Gender is a construct. Feminists have long embraced Simone de Beauvoir’s radical idea that “one is not born, but rather becomes, a woman.” Women and men, they believe, are socialized from infancy into preconceived, arbitrary, hierarchical, pernicious roles. Gender differences don’t exist; they are learned. With enough educational, social, and political effort, our sexist society can let go of its gendered baggage. 

Yet in Judaism maleness and femaleness are real, and men and women are not interchangeable. The rights, responsibilities, expectations, and roles assigned to each are different, though the sexes are equally valuable. Contemporary Jews who complain of “unfair” Jewish laws (broadly speaking, only men can be witnesses and only men can initiate a divorce) must understand that such halachic differences are hardwired into the system, and cannot be overcome by declaring that gender is only in our heads.

• Women control their own bodies. “Reproductive rights” dominate today’s feminist agenda. Women supposedly must be the sole decision-makers regarding contraception and abortion because they are the ones who undergo the ordeal of pregnancy. No man – and certainly no law – may overrule a woman who feels contraception or abortion is best for her.

Nobody has reproductive rights in Judaism, though. To delay or cease procreation, a couple must ask a rabbi for permission. He considers the circumstances of both the wife and the husband and consults the sometimes-complicated Jewish laws on the subject. If he determines that halacha forbids contraception in their individual case, the woman cannot veto her rabbi’s ruling. Similarly, Jewish law is not “pro-choice.” There are times when abortion is prohibited (a pregnancy whose existence threatens no one) and times when it is required (to protect the life of the mother). Here again, couples approach rabbis. The woman may not simply choose to terminate a pregnancy.

• Heterosexuality and homosexuality are equivalent. As early as 1971, the National Organization for Women declared “a woman’s right to her own person includes the right to define and express her own sexuality and to choose her own lifestyle.” Since then, the feminist embrace of LGBT rights has only accelerated, with special emphasis on “marriage equality.” 

But Judaism’s prescription for opposite-sex bedroom and family life is consistent, running from the second chapter of the Torah (“A man shall leave his father and his mother, and cleave to his wife, and they shall become one flesh”) through Leviticus, the Talmud, the rishonim (earlier halachists), and the acharonim (later halachists). Our faith tradition cannot abide any change to the Torah’s demand for heterosexual behavior.

If you doubt that those three beliefs are central to feminism, ask any feminist outside of the Orthodox world whether a movement rejecting even one of them, much less all of them, could legitimately be called feminist. Or try asking a ”Jewish Orthodox Feminist” to denounce all three. Good luck.

Nobody should be blamed for trying to harmonize powerful ideologies which speak to them. For those who grew up in or chose traditional Judaism, the beauty and power of that lifestyle is difficult to drop. And for citizens of the modern West, no good person could dispute women’s basic equality and reproductive and sexual autonomy. But given the vital feminist planks listed above, anyone who insists they can articulate a formula that makes Judaism feminist – and feminism Jewish – doesn’t really understand either.

None of this means women’s roles in Judaism cannot expand. Perhaps the greatest Jewish innovator of the early 20th century was Sara Schenirer (), who founded the Bais Yaakov network of schools educating Jewish girls in Tanach (Hebrew Bible), halacha, Jewish history, and Hebrew, and well as secular subjects. Though pioneered by Schenirer’s insight, dedication, and perseverance, the change operated with the blessing of the greatest rabbis of her day. Feminism had nothing to do with it.

Some Open Orthodox Jews have argued, implausibly, that their ordination of women isn’t actually about feminist ideology. But feminism has been the engine driving their movement’s approach to women’s issues. Most of the women clergy associated with the Open Orthodox Yeshivat Maharat seminary explicitly identify as feminists. Its dean, Rabba Sara Hurwitz, told Buzzfeed last year she “embraces” the term. Others, like Maharat Rori Picker Neiss list “Orthodox feminist” on their Twitter profiles. The seminary’s scholar in residence, Rabba Anat Sharbat, says the school’s leadership program is “halachic but also social and emotional and feminist.” 

I don’t know if Orthodoxy will ever ordain women rabbis. But if it does, the change will to develop organically – explored and embraced by the generation’s leading rabbinic authorities as an expression of precepts ensconced in the Torah all along. If Judaism wishes to continue providing authentic responses to the needs of today’s women, it needs feminism like a fish needs a bicycle.

The essential lesson of Chanukah is to shield Judaism from foreign contamination. Change within Orthodoxy regarding women’s learning and leadership must come from within, based on values and texts and ideas with ancient pedigrees. We needn’t rush to accommodate a value system that’s only a few decades old in which the dirtiest word is literally “patriarchy.” 

Abraham was a patriarch. So were Isaac and Jacob.

I’m sticking with them, thank you very much.

David Benkof is Senior Political Analyst at the Daily Caller, where this essay first appeared. Follow him on Twitter or E-mail him at

Why does a shul need a Maharat?

A recent opinion piece in the Washington Jewish Week by Barbara Zakheim praised her Orthodox congregation (the National Synagogue in Washington, DC) for hiring a Maharat, a female spiritual leader. She describes herself as “ECSTATIC!!” (formatting hers) about the role the Maharat, Ruth Balinsky Friedman, has been playing in her shul.

The reasons Zakheim gives: Maharat Friedman is knowledgeable and humble. She shows female Jewish leadership, shares words of Torah, and answers religious questions – especially those relating to family purity. She leads women-only discussions, and helps comfort female mourners.

And, Zakheim is quick to add, she is “delighted” that she doesn’t “ever feel that our Maharat is a feminist or leading a feminist movement.” She’s just an example of how the existence of increasingly educated Jewish women “warrants female leadership along with that of men.”

If all of that is true, why does the shul need a Maharat in the first place?

All the roles Zakheim describes have been played by Jewish women for centuries – by rebbetzins,mikvah ladies, and older relatives. Despite Zakheim’s protestations, the reasons the title Maharat exists in the first place are explicitly feminist.

The Open Orthodox segment of the Jewish community that has been pushing for women’s ordination (at first with the title Rabba, then Maharat) is not interested purely in having women answer halachic questions and comfort mourners. That’s nothing new. Even roles that have not been consistently played by women – such as giving divrei Torah to mixed groups – do not require any change in the nature of ordination.

Incidentally, Zakheim is wrong about whether Maharat Friedman is a feminist. In a 2013 interview with the Web site, she said, “I would assume people classify [me and my classmates] as feminists. I would infer that people believe that we are the next step in putting [Orthodox] women in the public sphere and encouraging women to take positions of spiritual leadership within the community. I absolutely identify as a feminist.”

Supporters of the Maharat movement want to demonstrate to the world that Judaism ascribes equal (not equally valuable – equal) status to women and men. As Zakheim put it, Maharat Friedman is “a shining example of overall female leadership for my granddaughters, who also attend my synagogue. They are growing up witnessing that female spiritual leadership is normal… This also applies to the male children in our community, for whom a Maharat is now the norm.”

That represents, precisely, a feminist agenda – and one that is alien to traditional halachic Judaism. Showing young boys that a woman can not only play a feminine leadership role, but also be just as “official” as a male clergyman is not a goal contained in any of our religious texts. It is simply Western political feminism grafted onto traditional Judaism, and does not deserve to be called Orthodox.

Zakheim concludes that she looks forward to “the time when every modern Orthodox community hires a Maharat or the equivalent and reaps the benefits of their leadership as the National Synagogue does today.”

Anyone who supports an Orthodoxy wedded to our tradition rather than infused with foreign and possibly ephemeral value systems should be anything but ECSTATIC!! should her wish come true.

David Benkof is a freelance writer based in St. Louis. Follow him on Facebook or Twitter (@DavidBenkof); or E-mail him at

Torah portion: Remembering the journey

Many in the latest generation of women rabbis don’t think of themselves as feminists. For them, being a rabbi is a birthright; they grew up with women rabbis. They have little sense of what it took to get to this point. For those of us in the first generation, that is a bit frustrating. 

Moses had the same problem, as can be seen in this week’s Torah portion. The second generation of Israelites is camped on the plains of Jericho, overlooking the Promised Land. Moses tells them about the great exodus, the miracle at the sea, the epiphany at Mount Sinai. 

Moses wants to provide a little historical perspective. They weren’t at Sinai. They don’t remember much of the journey. Moses knows that for them to succeed in the Promised Land, they need to remember what it was like in the past. 

I am particularly attuned to this sort of disconnect, having just returned from an extraordinary trip organized by the American Jewish Archives (AJA) and the Jewish Women’s Archives (JWA) to honor the memory of Rabbi Regina Jonas, the first woman to be ordained a rabbi. She was born in Berlin in 1902 and independently ordained in Germany in 1935. Called Frau Rabbinerin Jonas (Miss Rabbi Jonas), she struggled to be accepted.  She worked as a community rabbi, teacher and pastor, and, as the situation in her country began to worsen, she was called upon by Jewish communities to fill in for their rabbis who had emigrated. In 1942, she was deported to Terezin, where she worked with Viktor Frankl to bring comfort to fellow prisoners. In October 1944, she was murdered in Auschwitz.

Although some survivors of the Holocaust, including important rabbis and leaders, knew her, they didn’t talk about her. It wasn’t until the Berlin Wall fell and her papers were discovered in an East Berlin archive that her story began to emerge. 

A highlight of our very emotional trip was a panel in the social hall of the Centrum Judaicum in Berlin’s New Synagogue, the first major synagogue to house a liberal congregation there and to have mixed choir and organ. This was the spiritual home of the famous composer Louis Lewandowski and where Albert Einstein played his violin. The small congregation is led by Rabbi Gesa Ederberg, who was ordained in 2003 at the Schechter Institute in Jerusalem. 

On the panel were the first women ordained as rabbis by their respective movements. Rabbi Sandy Sasso, ordained in 1974 in the Reconstructionist movement, quoted a Mary Oliver poem: “Pay attention. Be astonished. Tell the story.” She was joined by Rabbi Sally Priesand, ordained in 1972 by Hebrew Union College-Institute of Religion (HUC-JIR); Rabbi Amy Eilberg, ordained in 1985 by Jewish Theological Seminary; Rabbi Jacqueline Tabick, ordained in 1975 by Leo Baeck College; Rabbi Alina Treiger, Germany’s first modern woman rabbi, ordained at Abraham Geiger College in Berlin in 2010, on the 75th anniversary of Jonas’ ordination; and Rabbi Sara Hurwitz — who connected remotely from Jerusalem because Ben- Gurion Airport was closed briefly as a result of escalating conflict with Gaza — was ordained in 2009, the first woman ordained by an Orthodox institution. Each told her story. Also present were other European women rabbis serving in Germany and Poland, as well as the first woman rabbi in Israel, Rabbi Kinneret Shiryon. I was part of the delegation of women and men from the United States — rabbis, Jewish scholars, lay leaders.

The next day we traveled to Terezin, where we dedicated a plaque to the memory of Rabbi Jonas as part of the U.S. Commission for the Preservation of America’s Heritage Abroad and HUC-JIR.   

Why didn’t those survivors who knew her tell her story? Were they ambivalent about her because she was a woman? Were they just so focused on surviving the trauma of the Shoah that her story didn’t matter? We’ll never know. Her story came to light only after the fall of the Berlin Wall, when her papers were discovered in an East German archive. We saw those papers. There are just a few, really, with a handful of pictures and a copy of her thesis, titled  “Can a Woman Be a Rabbi According to Halachic Sources?” The papers include an ordination document written on behalf of the Liberal Rabbinic Association by its leader, Rabbi Max Dienemann. Terezin has a few of her papers as well, including a handwritten list of topics she lectured on in Terezin, such as women in the Bible, women in the Talmud, and Jewish holidays and beliefs.  

Each of us women rabbis has given talks with those same titles … under such different circumstances.

Not just the pioneers, but also each successive generation of women rabbis stand today on her shoulders. She was totally alone, independently ordained, unsupported by most of the Jews around her. But we have one another, and the support of our movements and so many women and men. Women have come from the margins into the center and have transformed the Jewish world. We must urge our successors to preserve the story of our journey. 

Meanwhile, the AJA and the JWA are trying to determine the date of Jonas’ death so we can say Kaddish for her. It is most likely the day she arrived at Auschwitz, or the day after. At Temple Emanuel of Beverly Hills, we will read her name every year on her yahrzeit

Pay attention. Be astonished. Tell the story.  

It was true for Moses. It is still true for us.

A version of this piece appeared first in the Times of Israel. 

Artist Siona Benjamin brings Hindu and Muslim motifs to portrayals of biblical outcasts

In the space of a single painting, Siona Benjamin juxtaposes feminism, Indian mythology and Jewish imagery.

On a three-foot canvas, she’ll paint a portrait of a blue-skinned figure, usually a character from the Bible, with nods to Persian miniatures, Talmudic fables and Vishnu gods. Often there's a message in Arabic.

“I want people to realize there can be a universal message in Jewish art,” Benjamin told JTA. “I didn’t want to just be a Jewish artist, explaining my culture in my paintings, because it’s deeper than that. I’m a Jewish woman of color and a feminist with Islamic and Hindu influences, and they are all a part of me.”

Benjamin, 52, was born in Mumbai and her artwork combines the various influences in her life. Her favored subjects are biblical outcasts, and she aims to redeem them by presenting an alternative narrative.

In her home studio in this northern New Jersey township some 15 miles west of mid-Manhattan, Benjamin is wearing a modern version of a shalwar kameez, the traditional Indian dress of blossomy pants and tunic top. Her shelves are lined with books about Islamic leaders, Asian art and Jewish sacred texts. Doodles of Bollywood pop art and Buddhist statues serve as inspiration. But it has taken Benjamin years to grow comfortable with all the diverse elements of her art.

“I’m trying to use my Jewish heritage as a vehicle to create a universal message for their stories,” Benjamin said. “People think they know a full story, just like they see me as an Indian Jew and believe stereotypes. But there is so much more to these characters.

“If you look at biblical characters, there are deeper stories than what meets the eye. And I paint them blue because I’m redeeming myself through them, too.”

Benjamin grew up in the suburb of Bandra, the product of a wealthy family who enjoyed a comfortable and privileged life with cooks, servants and chauffeurs. As a child, she was envious of Indian friends who had large, boisterous families. Benjamin was an only child whose family lived mostly in Israel and the United States.

A ninth-generation Indian Jew, Benjamin's parents sent her to Catholic and Zoroastrian schools. Surrounded by this multireligious influence, Benjamin often found herself wrestling with questions of self-identity. Her mother lit an oil lamp every Friday for Shabbat, but she also believed in the Zoroastrian God Ahura Mazda and practiced Buddhist meditation.

At 24, Benjamin left India for America to pursue an education in fine arts, but found herself feeling even more lost and lonely.

“At that point, I was ashamed of being so different, of fitting into so many categories,” Benjamin said. “I spent so many years wondering what I was going to paint: Jewish themes of my ancestors or Buddhist ideas from my childhood? Where was home? Was India home to me? Or Israel? Or America? I think the estranged characters in the Bible felt just as confused as I was because I belong nowhere.”

Benjamin eventually drew comfort from her embrace of the Bible's lost characters. She paints characters such as Lilith, the mythological first wife of Adam, or Vashti, the dethroned queen from the Book of Esther. Benjamin often uses their stories to highlight feminist themes. Their faces are presented usually in blue in a nod to Benjamin's Indian heritage, which typically presents its gods in blue hues.

In one painting, Benjamin paints Sarah hugging Abraham's handmaiden Hagar as a suicide bomb explodes behind them. In another, Benjamin portrays Lilith wearing a prayer shawl and worshiping God as she catches fire.

Benjamin’s artwork has exhibited in museums across the United States, Europe and Asia, but she is most excited about an upcoming project featuring the Indian Jewish community, which she fears is slowly disappearing as its members immigrate to Israel.

Following the 2008 terrorist attack in Mumbai, in which a Chabad rabbi and his wife were among the murdered, Benjamin said many people approached her with questions about the city's Jews and what they looked like. In the course of several trips, Benjamin took photographs. Her project, a photo collage of Indian Jews titled “Faces: Weaving Indian Jewish Narratives,” will go on display at the Prince Wales Museum in Mumbai in September.

“Siona’s work has been recognized as extraordinary in the contemporary art world, in that she combines Judaism with a Persian-Muslim stylistic departure,” said Matthew Baigell, an emeritus art history professor at Rutgers University who has authored several books on American Jewish art.

Baigell has written that contemporary Jewish art is experiencing a “golden age,” and he points to Benjamin's interpretive paintings as one example.

“She’s provided one-of-a-kind perspective on female characters from the Bible,” he said, “and is part of a group of artists who are not afraid to expose their Judaism in a creative way.”

Leading feminist theologian to be ordained … at last

In the first few weeks of Rachel Adler’s rabbinic internship at Beth Chayim Chadashim (BCC), Rabbi Lisa Edwards had a hard time introducing Adler. For decades, Edwards had quoted Adler; she had taken classes with Adler and had been deeply influenced by Adler’s acclaimed works on Jewish feminism and feminist theology.

“It felt ridiculous to be introducing Rachel as a ‘student’ rabbi,” Edwards said. “I couldn’t do it without laughing, and I would have to explain why I was laughing. So, somewhere along the way, ‘scholar-in-residence’ evolved as a secondary title.”

Adler, who is 68 and a professor of Jewish religious thought and feminist studies at Hebrew Union College-Jewish Institute of Religion (HUC-JIR), will be ordained as a Reform rabbi at the college on May 13.

David Ellenson, president of HUC-JIR who served as Adler’s advisor when she earned a doctorate in religion in 1997, calls Adler “arguably the leading feminist theologian in the entire world.”

“She has taught the Jewish community in virtually an unparalleled way for almost 40 years, from the time of her earliest writings in the 1970s to the present day. … Many of the changes that have occurred in Jewish life that have allowed the community to be inclusive of women have been a result of Rachel Adler’s efforts,” he said.

“Rachel will now officially become what she has been and was destined to be — a rabbi among the Jewish people,” Ellenson said.

Adler has no plans to change her career path once she earns the title of rabbi. But she said that becoming a rabbi finally closes a circle that began for her at Jewish summer camp in Wisconsin in 1960, when a visiting scholar told her the Reform movement would soon begin ordaining women and he thought she would make a good rabbi (HUC admitted the first female rabbinic students in 1968). Adler liked the idea, but by the time she graduated from Northwestern University in 1965 with a degree in English literature, she had become more observant and was married to an Orthodox rabbi.

“I just kind of put that to the side and said, ‘well, that is something you don’t get to do,’ ” Adler said in an interview recently at her Pico-Robertson-area apartment.

But she continued to study Jewish thought, and she evolved as an important Jewish feminist thinker, gaining international attention with her 1971 publication of “The Jew Who Wasn’t There: Halakhah and the Jewish Woman,” in Davka magazine, as well as her 1972 publication for “The Jewish Catalog” of “Tum’ah and Taharah: Ends and Beginnings,” a treatise on family purity laws that she later recanted.

While Adler began her critical studies from within an Orthodox framework, she soon moved leftward and outside of Orthodoxy, though she has always maintained that halachah, Jewish law, could not be ignored.

Adler divorced in 1984, and in 1986 she enrolled at HUC-JIR to work on a doctorate.

“I thought about becoming a rabbi, but I decided the Jewish people needed me to become a theologian and didn’t really need me to become a rabbi,” she said. Her book, “Engendering Judaism: An Inclusive Theology and Ethics” (Jewish Publication Society, 1998) based on her doctoral thesis, won the 1998 National Jewish Book award in Jewish thought.

Over the years Adler has taught countless students in both formal and informal settings, with Talmud classes still taking place at the dining room table where she now sits, stroking her cat, a blue tabby named Dagesh.

“For a while I’ve been kind of a half-rabbi — a shadow rabbi — and I thought it would be a nice completion to become a rabbi for real,” Adler said.

Tall with multihued gray hair swept back from her face and large silver earrings, Adler appears to be by nature shy and introverted, and she answers questions about herself haltingly. But she takes any opening to digress into tales of midrash, Talmud or Jewish thought, becoming engaged and amused with the sources as they unfold into the conversation.

Her son, a Conservative rabbi in Chicago, is married to a Reform rabbi, and Adler plans to help her daughter-in-law, who is pregnant, lead services over the High Holy Days. Adler remarried in 1987 and divorced in 2005.

She was raised in Chicago and has master’s degrees in English literature and social work, which fulfilled her chaplaincy requirements as she studied for ordination.

The fact that she has long taught many of the classes rabbis are required to take to complete ordination helped her complete her coursework in two years, rather than five. She also completed a number of classes through independent study and continued to teach for most of that time, with one semester off as a sabbatical.

For her required internship, Adler chose to work at BCC, a congregation of 225 members located on Pico Boulevard near Fairfax Avenue that serves the gay, lesbian, bisexual and transgender communities.

“It was one of those experiences that makes you less arrogant, because you realize that everyone has a story and a set of experiences, and everyone has a portion of Torah to teach,” Adler said. “I learned that there are so many different lives and so many different contexts, that I can’t just take out a premade set of expectations and lay stuff on people. I have to think about how people can learn something, and what is something that is crying out to be learned by those particular people.”

Edwards admits that, at first, she wondered how much time Adler would be able to offer to the congregation, but she said she was quickly amazed at how invested Adler became in synagogue life, teaching classes, but also leading services and delivering sermons that were both deep and peppered with humor.

Since her internship began last May, Adler has been attending Shabbat services at BCC nearly every week so she could get to know congregants.

In turn, the congregants soon learned that beyond being a formidable intellect, Adler is approachable and cares deeply about them. Edwards said Adler often picked up on needs or nuances that she had missed, and she empowered congregants to develop religiously.

“People are often struggling with the existence of God, or at least with their own relationship with God, and Rachel makes that very approachable. She gives you permission to struggle, and yet you have this sense that she is strong in her belief,” Edwards said.

On a recent Monday afternoon, Adler taught a Talmud class at BCC to about a dozen students. They studied a text that dealt with demons, doves, Elijah, and the purpose and context of prayer. As they studied together, Adler adeptly elicited questions on the text and honored the students’ thoughts by citing rabbinic sources that echoed their ideas.

Her strength as a teacher flows not from charisma or animation — she speaks slowly and evenly, carefully choosing each word and taking time to respond — but rather from her vast knowledge, which she employs to make points that touch on her students’ lives. The discussion turned to questions of who has been demonized, and who is to say who may pray where, questions pertinent to LGBT Jews.

“I think dealing with an LGBT congregation, there is an immense need for hopefulness, and there is an immense need for teaching people the possibility of redemption, because for some people the world has been very evil indeed,” Adler said.

It is that sort of insight, and the ability to connect traditional sources to contemporary needs, that has given Adler the power to influence so many. Tamara Cohn Eskenazi, a professor of Bible at HUC-JIR in Los Angeles and editor of “The Torah: A Women’s Commentary” (URJ Press: 2007), said she came to HUC in Los Angeles in part because she knew Adler was here. A talk by Adler in the early 1980s in Denver was the first to awaken Eskenazi to the idea of revealing women’s voices in Jewish texts.

“Women moved from being absent to be being empowered to find our voices. We discovered that in rabbinic literature we do have a voice, and in the Bible we do have a voice. People were not paying attention to it, but Rachel was paying attention, and she got all of us to pay attention.”

Eskenazi, who is older than Adler, is also working toward ordination.

“When you are an academic, the expectation is that you are intellectually and scholarly savvy, and an expert in your field,” Eskenazi said. “But I feel that teaching Torah or teaching Tanach [Bible] is part of living a certain kind of life and needs to be part of a larger sphere of application, and the role of a rabbi really speaks to that integration.”

Dvora Weisberg, director of HUC-JIR’s rabbinical school in Los Angeles and an associate professor of rabbinic literature, was ordained last year. She said she had wanted to be a rabbi since she was a teen, but at the time the Conservative movement was not yet ordaining women. She instead got her doctorate in Talmud and rabbinics, and, like Adler, now felt ready to be a rabbi.

“For a long time, for women like us, there were issues that were beyond our control — such as which schools were ordaining women — and then family issues, responsibility to children. Or you have career issues, like trying to get tenure and the need to be publishing,” Weisberg said.

“I think Rachel and Tamar and I have come to a place in our lives where we want to do this, and we don’t want to wait any longer.”

Opinion: Hadassah feminists

Amid all the boozing, smoking and jumping from bed to bed in “Mad Men,” there’s a certain 1960s persona that’s missing from the popular TV show — and that’s the sort of dedicated young woman who devoted herself not just to her husband and family, or even to her work, but to causes.

The type who may have been a stay-at-home mom, but nevertheless spent virtually all her time working — in service to her community. In Judy Wilkin’s case, that cause was Israel, and Hadassah. That’s who Wilkin was and still is — a Beverly Hills champion of Hadassah for 50 years, a member of a group dubbed Elana, originally just 12 women who met in 1962, all of them legacies of their mothers’ involvement in the volunteer Women’s Zionist Organization of America.

I caught up with Wilkin last Friday morning; she was baking for a family wedding coming up but answered her phone to tell me, “This is a good day!” Not because it was about to be Shabbat, or in view of the upcoming nuptials, but because it was, in fact, the day of the 100th birthday of Hadassah’s founding in New York by a small group of women led by Henrietta Szold. And there’s another anniversary celebration coming up, too, Wilkin noted — the 50th for Elana, scheduled for March 4, this Sunday afternoon, at the Culver Hotel in Culver City.

It’s clear, even after her five decades of active involvement, how much joy Wilkin derives from Hadassah; her words spill out fast and furious as she remembers the day when a group of about 12 newlywed women in their 20s met and were told they would be founding a new Beverly Hills Hadassah chapter. Some, unbeknownst to them, were already members — signed up as lifetimers by their mothers, sometimes almost at birth. The idea, initially, was to create a social group, but with a purpose. One early charge was to sell $1 tickets to a Hadassah luncheon — and anyone who sold 18 tickets got a free lunch for herself. “Some of us could afford the full $18, others just $10 or had to raise it all,” she said. And it was a foray into fundraising that would pay forward.

There were lessons that came with their charge, an education in what Hadassah did — and still does to this day. “We learned about youth in need, because we sold our tickets through our knowledge,” Wilkin told me. In the early years, one focus was on teen survivors of the Holocaust living in Israel; later they worked to help Ethiopian refugee children there, and now they’re helping a wide range of Israeli at-risk teens. Over the years, they also learned to raise money for Hadassah’s extraordinary medical services, both at Hadassah-Hebrew University Medical Center at Ein Kerem and the Hadassah University Hospital at Mount Scopus. And they learned how to be community leaders.

Being part of Elana, Wilkin said, “taught us how to speak up — how to speak in public, how to chair committees.” In addition to her work for Hadassah, Wilkin became a PTA president at her children’s schools and a board member of the academic decathlon, while others have served as docents at the Skirball Cultural Center and the Hammer Museum, among many local organizations and cultural institutions.

I asked Wilkin how her membership in Hadassah differed from, say, involvement in a synagogue, and she explained that Hadassah involves a great deal of exposure to people who, while all Jewish women, nevertheless can represent great diversity. “It’s interdenominational — we have Democrats, Republicans, observant and non-observant,” she said. But one thing they make sure of: “We are non-political.”

Starting with those $1 donations, the Elana group has gone on to raise more than $4 million over the years, and today about 300 women are on the books as Elana members, Wilkin told me, with many offshoots into other groups for different ages, including younger women. It’s just one of a variety of Hadassah groups that exist locally. There are currently 7,300 members of Hadassah in the greater Los Angeles region, and 300,000 nationally, a number that gives the organization considerable clout in its advocacy on Capitol Hill in Washington, D.C.

I asked Wilkin what Hadassah is doing to enlist those younger women, at a time when so many work full time, whether mothers or not. She said that Hadassah has formed groups specific to the interests and needs of many particular cadres, including for young professionals, such as a nurses council, where lectures offer continuing education hours, and a medical professionals council. There are also very active groups specifically for Iranian women, and a new group is forming for Iraqis.

“I always say that Hadassah members were the first feminists,” Wilkin said, and she calls herself a “professional volunteer.”

“We were a feminist organization before the word was invented.”

I have to admit, I was a bit in the dark about Hadassah — not its good deeds, but about what might be in it for me. But hearing Wilkin talk about the friendships she’s formed over the years, the book groups, movie groups and other social activities that have developed out of that first involvement, I felt a little jealous. So I went to the Web site to look into what it costs. It’s very reasonable, only $212 for a lifetime membership; I signed up.

If it sounds like I’m won over, it’s because of Wilkin’s subtle salesmanship — all learned through Hadassah. It’s also been her ticket to witness history. In 1959, Wilkin’s Hadassah-member mother brought her to Israel to look at a hole in the ground that would become the world-renowned medical center. Now, she said, she’s looking at a huge new tower, the Sarah Wetsman Davidson Hospital Tower at Hadassah Medical Center, opening as part of the centenary celebration this year, and Sunday’s event will benefit the mother-child center there.

Hers is a story with none of the “Mad Men” decadence, but it’s a pretty good yarn, never-

Elizabeth Taylor as feminist

M. G. Lord is a cultural critic with a sharp eye for the hidden meanings in American pop culture.  Two of her previous books, for example, considered the enduring influence of the best-selling doll in the world (“Forever Barbie”) and the semiotics of rocket science (“Astro Turf”). 

Now Lord has turned her attention to yet another iconic figure in “The Accidental Feminist: How Elizabeth Taylor Raised Our Consciousness and We Were Too Distracted by Her Beauty to Notice” by M. G. Lord (Walker & Company, $23). 

The book raises Taylor from the realm of parody — remember John Belushi in drag choking on a chicken bone? — and seeks to install her in the pantheon of groundbreaking feminist heroines. “Feminism may not be the first thing that comes to mind when you hear the name Elizabeth Taylor,” Lord allows. “But it might if you share your definition with writer Rebecca West: ‘I myself have never been able to find out precisely what feminism is. I only know that people call me a feminist when I express sentiments that differentiate me from a doormat.’”  By that standard, Lord points out, Elizabeth Taylor deserves a badge of honor: “[She] has been called many things, but never a doormat — not in life and not on the screen.”

Thus does Lord announce the goal of her winning new book — she invites us to ponder the sometimes sensational details of Taylor’s real life, but she also offers a deep reading of Taylor’s film roles, which Lord calls an “under-the-radar challenge” to the assumptions and conventions about women in the 50s and 60s. “[M]any of her roles — the great and the not-so-great — surreptitiously brought feminist issues to American audiences held captive by those violet eyes and that epic beauty,” Lord argues.

“The Accidental Feminist,” like all good film history and film criticism, will send the reader back to Netflix or TCM for a fresh viewing of some old favorites. “ ‘National Velvet’ is a sly critique of gender discrimination in sports,” Lord points out. “A Place in the Sun” “is hard to view as anything other than an abortion-rights movie.” “Suddenly, Last Summer” “portrays the callousness of the male medical establishment toward women patients.” And “The Sandpiper” “pits goddess-centered paganism against patriarchal monotheism.”

Lord concedes that actors inhabit characters that are created and shaped by screenwriters and directors, but she insists that Taylor herself was the source of something crucial that can be seen and heard in the finished work. “Taylor spoke directly to our ancient aft-brain — our amygdala — the repository of love, hate, fear, and lust,” she argues. The way Taylor delivers a line written by someone else “hones in on that aft-brain,” Lord insists, “[l]ike a heat-seeking missile.”

Indeed, Lord is fascinated by what she calls “a vast disconnect between [Taylor’s] shallow tabloid persona and the seeming depths of her real-life self.” Even if the book is not a biography, the flesh-and-blood Elizabeth Taylor can be glimpsed in these pages. But Lord’s admiration for Taylor does not blunt her critical tools: “[Midcentury fans required stars to be moody, unreliable, and petulant,” she writes. “During the making of ‘Cleopatra,’ Taylor worked hard to satisfy them.”

More than once, in fact, Taylor’s own life was the occasion for melodrama or hilarity or both. When Taylor converted to Judaism after marrying Eddie Fisher, the crooner’s former wife, Debbie Reynolds, pointedly “flaunted her Christianity” and penned a book that advised young girls “how to be thin, popular, and keep a boy’s mind off kissing.” One of her tips: “[G]irls should talk to Jesus.” Before he fell in love with her, Richard Burton was contemptuous of his co-star — he dubbed her “MGM’s Little Miss Mammary” — and admired only the salary that she commanded.

“The Accidental Feminist” is built around Elizabeth Taylor’s filmography, and so the account of her life after retirement from the screen is brief and bittersweet.  “When I look back on the last decades of Taylor life, I cannot help but think of Virginia Woolf — not just Taylor’s 1966 movie but to the writer to whom its title alludes,” concludes Lord. Woolf called on women “to stand apart, in a Society of Outsiders, daring to oppose the majority for justice’s sake,” according to Lord.  “In 1985, when Taylor joined the fight against AIDS, she entered into a true Society of Outsiders.”

At one point in “The Accidental Feminist,” Lord considers the brief and troubled marriage of Elizabeth Taylor and Nicky Hilton in 1950.  It’s just a passing reference, but it reminded me that Taylor prefigures the cult of celebrity that is now hard-wired into American pop culture. The whole point of Lord’s book, however, is that Taylor can and must be distinguished from Paris Hilton and Kim Kardashian precisely because she possessed much more than celebrity and sex appeal, and her life adds up to much more than fifteen minutes of fame.

Jonathan Kirsch, author and publishing attorney, is the book editor of The Jewish Journal. He blogs at and can be reached at

Feminism, revisited: Gloria Steinem meets Mona Eltahawy

When an e-mail arrived in my inbox recently announcing a public conversation between Gloria Steinem and Mona Eltahawy, I knew I had to be there, even though it was scheduled for midday on a Thursday across town at UCLA’s Hammer Museum. The juxtaposition of these two women was irresistible — the iconic Steinem, who at 76 has become a seasoned philosopher while remaining as vital as when she helped launch the feminist movement some 40 years ago, and the much younger but equally brave Egyptian-born Eltahawy, whose daring in challenging the Muslim Brotherhood got her ousted from the Saudi-owned newspaper Asharq Al-Awsat.

Eltahawy, 44, lives in New York and continues to write for many esteemed publications worldwide; her work has also appeared on this newspaper’s op-ed pages as a voice for progressive feminism in the Arab world.

Two generations, two worlds, both persevering in a fight for women’s rights that, despite some progress, seems never-ending.

An overflow crowd greeted the pair like rock stars as they walked onto the Hammer’s stage. And for 90 minutes the two conducted a wide-ranging conversation about work, life, sexuality and oppression that was filled with equal parts optimism, humor and anger. Steinem’s advocacy began in the 1970s, notably when, as a journalist, she went undercover to expose the life of Playboy Bunnies. She went on, among her many accomplishments, to co-found Ms. Magazine, which was initially widely dismissed, including by TV anchor Harry Reasoner, who predicted it wouldn’t last for five issues. Ms. is now nearing its 40th anniversary.

“I’m in feminist heaven,” Eltahawy proclaimed at the start, as she questioned Steinem on how she remains optimistic over the long run. “Optimism is not associated enough with feminism,” Eltahawy said.

“I’m a hope-aholic,” Steinem responded. “Hope is very precious because it leads to action.”

In Steinem’s long career, action has meant standing at the front lines of protests, acting as a spokeswoman and standing up to insults from men and women alike who don’t agree with her, even those abroad who call feminism an “American export.” For Eltahawy, action has meant promoting the notion that one can be both Muslim and a feminist, including by publicly leading Muslim prayers, an act traditionally forbidden to women.

They talked about the changing world, how the success of the revolution in Cairo’s Tahrir Square has inspired similar protests around the world, from Libya to Wall Street, and now in cities and towns throughout the United States.

Eltahawy, who identifies as a progressive Muslim, said Egypt’s revolution went beyond what was visible to all. “It wasn’t just a revolution in Tahrir Square,” she said. “It was a revolution in all homes, against the patriarchal system.” She told a story of a young Nubian woman whose parents tried to forbid her from going to the protests: “You are not a man,” they told their daughter. “But she went anyway,” Eltahawy said.

“As progressive Muslims, at the core of our beliefs is equality,” she said, describing how she is baffled by Muslim women who support fundamentalist Islamic laws. “I believe the face veil should be banned,” she said. “They don’t believe in women’s rights, except the right to cover their faces.”

Steinem responded with moderation: “It’s possible,” she said, “that without the veil, the women couldn’t go to school at all.”

Eltahawy’s family lived in England for most of her childhood, until her parents moved to Saudi Arabia when she was a teenager. She said she was raised Muslim, but not strictly traditionally, adding that she is now much more liberal than her parents and that her feminism was formed, in large part, in response to the restrictions on women in Saudi Arabia. Steinem’s father was Jewish, her mother was not, and she was raised without religion. She now calls herself a “pagan,” inspired by a trip down the Nile, where she witnessed how the ancient Egyptians incorporated nature into their worship.

The pair enthused over the Occupy Wall Street movement, dismissing pundits who say it has no center and applauding the members’ efforts to give voice to the disenfranchised. Steinem spoke of her admiration for the method the New York protesters have developed to get around rules against amplified sound by repeating, as a group, anything a single speaker says. “It’s poetry,” Steinem said. “It brings tears to my eyes.”

Added Eltahawy: “As an Egyptian, I just wanted to say, ‘Here’s pizza for everyone, on me.’ ”

Both women’s message is of assuming one’s own power, and that can come from many sources: “The power to make people laugh is power,” said Steinem, who once was the only female writer on the news-comedy show “That Was the Week That Was.” “Laughter is the only free emotion,” she added. “You can compel fear, but you can’t compel laughter.”

Eltahawy’s strongest message came when she remarked, “Challenging the traditional notion of masculinity and femininity is better for both genders,” explaining her belief that feminism can also be liberating for men, freeing them from stereotyping along with women.

Steinem’s profound grace and stature came through when, in response to a young woman in the audience, she said, “My really big advice for a young feminist is not to listen to me, but to listen to yourself. Do what you love. I’m just here to support you and not to dictate in any way.

“Just make sure you have company,” she added. “Human beings are communal creatures; you need people around you who make you feel smart, not dumb, and who support you.”

So what does all this mean for the Jewish community? Well, despite Jewish women’s progress over the past 40 years, along with the rest of the Western world, a recent study by The Forward showed that among Jews, women are still underrepresented at the top level of communal leadership and those who are heading large organizations tend to be less well-paid than their male counterparts.

Next weekend, on Oct. 30, the National Council of Jewish Women/Los Angeles (NCJW/LA), along with Hadassah Southern California and NA’AMAT USA/Western Area, will present the first of what is hoped will be an annual Jewish Women’s Conference for Southern California, at the NCJW/LA offices on Fairfax Avenue. The day’s events will include workshops and panels, and I’ve been invited to moderate one of them. I hope you’ll join in this effort to evaluate and learn about how today’s women are leading and aspiring within our community, both here and in Israel.

Jewish Women’s Conference, Southern California, Oct. 30, 8:30 a.m.-2:30 p.m., NCJA/LA Council House, 543 N. Fairfax Ave., Los Angeles. Tickets: $36, students $18. For more information or to become a sponsor, call (855) 592-7218 or e-mail

Feminist writer E.M. Broner dies at 83

Jewish feminist writer E.M. Broner, perhaps best known as the co-author of “The Women’s Haggadah,” has died.

Broner, a longtime professor of English at Wayne State University, Sarah Lawrence College and other schools, died June 21 in New York at 83. The cause of death was multiple organ failure, her daughter Nahama told the Times.

“The Women’s Haggadah,” first published in Ms. magazine in 1977, was an early feminist interpretation of the Passover seder. It has been used by numerous women’s weders and inspired similar re-imaginings of other Jewish rituals.

Broner hosted women’s seders at her Manhattan home starting in 1976, The New York Times reported. Among the well-known Jewish feminists and writers who attended were Grace Paley, Gloria Steinem, Bella Abzug and Letty Cottin Pogrebin.

In 1994, Broner published “Mornings and Mournings: A Kaddish Journal,” a chronicle of the year she spent trying to say Kaddish for her father in an Orthodox synagogue in New York.

Broner also was a prolific writer of spiritually infused, Jewish-themed fiction. One of her most popular books was “A Weave of Women,” released in 1978, which told the tale of abused women living together in Jerusalem in the early 1970s and creating new feminist rituals.

Rabbis launch campaign for Women of the Wall

A group of North American rabbis has launched an online campaign to support women who want to pray at the Western Wall with Torahs and prayer shawls.

The 28 rabbis, calling themselves Rabbis for Women of the Wall, sent a letter Monday morning to seven Israeli leaders urging protection for those women.

The letter, signed by the presidents of the Reform, Conservative, Renewal and Reconstructionist rabbinical associations, was sent to Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu, Knesset Speaker Reuven Rivlin, opposition leader and Kadima Party head Tzipi Livini, Jewish Agency Chairman Natan Sharansky and Rabbi Shmuel Rabinowitz, rabbi of the Western Wall and Holy Sites.

It calls upon the officials, as well as Jerusalem’s mayor and police chief, to “provide protection to Women of the Wall as they pray at the Kotel … rather than harassing them.”

The letter also calls on the Israeli officials to “find appropriate and safe venues at the Kotel for Jews who are not comfortable with women leading worship or holding the Torah or reading from it to enjoy their practice of Judaism unhindered, and physically separated from other designated portions of the Kotel where women are allowed to lead worship, wear a tallit, wear tefillin, hold the Torah and read from the Torah.”

For more than 20 years, members of Women of the Wall have fought, and lost, legal battles in Israeli courts seeking the right to pray with Torahs and prayer shawls at the Western Wall. They have faced physical and verbal attacks from haredi Orthodox men and women at the site.

The group has been permitted to pray at an alternate site, Robinson’s Arch, at the southern end of the wall.

Q&A With Gloria Steinem

Gloria Steinem, founder of Ms. Magazine, is a social and political activist and among the foremost leaders of the women’s rights movement in America. In town recently to honor the retirement of Rabbi Sheryl Lewart from Kehillat Israel, Steinem spoke about the feminist myth of Superwoman, why men should take on equal parenting responsibilities and why reproductive freedom should be a fundamental human right.

Jewish Journal
: Besides being a forerunner of the feminist movement, are you aware Wikipedia has given you the distinction of being ‘one of American history’s most important women’?

Gloria Steinem: That’s very impressive. I looked up affirmative action once in Wikipedia, and it said, ‘a measure by which white men are discriminated against,’ and I got so mad.

JJ: You first made a name for yourself as a journalist by going undercover as a Playboy bunny. Does it bother you that your beauty has played a role in your success?

GS: First of all, the basic problem is that women are assessed by how we look, whether we look conventionally pretty or conventionally not pretty. The problem for all women is we’re identified by how we look instead of by our heads and our hearts.

JJ: Would you deny that physical beauty has qualities that have helped you?

GS: It has inherent qualities, but some of them are bad and some of them are good. And incidentally, I am now 75 years old, and yet I’m still being asked those questions.

JJ: I’d be flattered if I were 75 and being asked those questions.

GS: No, you wouldn’t. Trust me.

: How has your perspective shifted as you’ve aged?

GS: Age brings a freedom. When you’re young, you’re much more subject to the idea of what feminine is or how you should look or how you should behave.

JJ: Early feminism wrestled with the fact that women were forced to choose between a career and marriage. Today, women have more choices,  but they struggle to ‘do it all.’ Is this what feminism was supposed to be?

GS: If I had a dollar for every time we tried to kill off the myth of Superwoman in Ms. Magazine, I’d have a lot of money.

JJ: I know loads of women who are still under the impression that feminism encourages that myth.

GS: It’s not possible; you can’t be both full time outside the home and full time inside the home. That idea came from the resistance to feminism. What feminism has been saying consistently for 30 or 40 years is that job patterns need to change so that both parents of small children — men and women — can have a chance to lead a full life. And that men need to become as responsible for raising small children as women are. As long as women have two jobs and men have one, it will never work.

JJ: So it is misunderstanding feminism to assume it’s about women having more opportunities and choices. It’s really about transformational change.

GS: We’re the only modern democracy in the whole world without a national system of child care and health care; that’s ridiculous.

JJ: Does it disturb you that issues like abortion rights are still being debated in the 21st century?

GS: It’s not surprising at a deeper level, if you consider that the whole reason for patriarchal cultures is to control reproduction. I find it very encouraging to realize that only 5 percent of human history has been like this. The Native American cultures on this continent, most of them, were matrilineal, and some women were the chiefs. Societies were about balance.

JJ: How does Nicholas Kristof’s book ‘Half the Sky,’ which has some startling statistics about the number of women suffering from atrocities like genital mutilation and sex slavery, fit in with the feminist agenda?

GS: What Kristof and Sheryl [WuDunn], his wife, are reporting on is the women’s movement — the women’s movement has been multinational and international from day one, because we always understood that our problems were not that dissimilar. The goal in all those countries is reproductive freedom as a fundamental human right.

JJ: Maureen Dowd wrote a column last year about recent studies that suggest women have become unhappier since the birth of the feminist movement. More choices equals more stress. 

GS: Why is Maureen Dowd an authority just because she’s a female? She’s a very smart person and a good writer, but her trademark is being against everything.

JJ: Even so, many women do feel burdened by a guilt that comes from their inability to devote themselves entirely to either their career or their family.

GS: Guilt is a way of getting a group to conform; you get them to oppress themselves by making them feel guilty. In the earlier stages of feminism, women were told they could not be whatever it was they wanted to be. After women became those things anyway, then society said, ‘All right, you’re now a lawyer or a mechanic or an astronaut — but that’s only OK if you continue to do the work you did before — if you take care of the children, cook three meals a day and are multiorgasmic until dawn.’


>: What have been the major costs of feminism, in your opinion?

GS: What’s the cost of freedom? What’s the cost of self-determination? The cost is growing up, but to remain a child when you are an adult is much more painful.

JJ: Without children of your own, has your credibility ever been challenged in the debate over balancing career and parenthood?

GS: The important point here is that men ask that question. Men have to ask, ‘How can I combine career and family?’

JJ: It seems unrealistic to move society toward that balance in a country that is career-centric and capitalist.

GS: I think people have started. Because it turns out that raising and socializing baby humans is a lot more interesting than most of what goes on in the workplace.

JJ: How have Jewish women contributed to the feminist fight, as compared to other women?

GS: For many years, the anti-feminist movement accused feminism of being a Jewish plot to destroy the Christian family.

JJ: Was your desire to pursue feminist justice at all inspired by your Jewish background?

GS: My mother, who was not Jewish, was always very clear about the importance of the Jewish tradition and respect for the Jewish tradition. She really tried to stress that, and she loved her mother-in-law, adored her mother-in-law [who was Jewish]. You know the passage [in the Torah], ‘Wherever I shall go, you shall go?’ That was always how I knew it was a woman speaking to a woman — because of my mother.

JJ: Do you feel you’ve failed at anything?

GS: I haven’t written nearly enough.

JJ: Any regrets about feminism?

GS: Yes, we’ve been much too nice.

Ms. magazine’s ad rejection elicits strong response

The American Jewish Congress (AJCongress) is ramping up its protest against Ms. magazine’s rejection of its pro-Israel advertisement.

In a campaign launched Sunday, AJCongress urged people to write, call or e-mail the prominent feminist publication to “register your complaint at their anti-Israel bias.”

It also has enlisted the support of high-powered Jewish feminist speakers, several of whom were to appear at a news conference Tuesday.

The ad in question features photos of three prominent Israeli women leaders and the phrase “This is Israel.”

AJCongress leaders claim Ms. rejected the ad because of its bias against Israel — a charge the magazine’s executive editor hotly denied.

“We only take mission-driven advertisements,” Katherine Spillar said last Friday.

“Because two of the women were from the same political party, we understood it as political endorsement,” she said. Ms. “does not get involved in the domestic politics” of other countries.

AJCongress President Richard Gordon called that argument “specious,” noting that in any parliamentary democracy, the foreign minister and parliament leader are going to be from the same party.

Gordon also noted that none of the women are running for office, and the ad does not suggest support for either of their parties.

He pointed out that Ms. ran a cover story about Jordan’s Queen Noor in 2003, and a story in its most recent issue about Rep. Nancy Pelosi (D-San Francisco), the speaker of the U.S. House of Representatives, under the headline “This is What a Speaker Looks Like.”

Gordon said the only difference he sees between Pelosi and the three women featured in the AJCongress ad is that Pelosi is not Israeli.

“Ms. magazine obviously is trying to create a legal fiction after the fact to cover their bias at the time of the incident,” he said.

Spillar said Tuesday that it is “unfair and untrue” to allege that Ms. magazine is anti-Israel. She said the magazine is running a two-page profile of Israeli Minister of Foreign Affairs Tzipi Livni, one of the three leaders pictured in the AJCongress ad, in its Winter 2008 issue, which hits newsstands Jan. 29.

In a faxed statement, Spillar wrote that the magazine has covered the Israeli feminist movement and the country’s women leaders in 11 articles in its past 16 issues.

But the AJCongress ad was “inconsistent” with the Ms. policy of not being politically partisan, and the slogan “This is Israel” in the ad “implied that women in Israel hold equal positions of power with men,” whereas “Israel, like every other country, has far to go to reach equality for women.”

Speaking later to JTA by phone, Spillar said she “puts the U.S. in the same category as Israel” in terms of having far to go to achieve full gender equality. But the AJCongress ad “was almost a country ad, and we don’t take country ads.”

Harriet Kurlander, the director of AJCongress’s Commission for Women’s Empowerment, said that when she originally tried to place the ad, a magazine representative told her that the magazine “would love to have an ad from you on women’s empowerment, or reproductive freedom, but not on this.”

In other conversations with magazine staff members, Kurlander said she was told that publishing the ad would “set off a firestorm.”

Kurlander said the magazine should admit its “cover-up” and “simply print the ad.”

Among the Jewish feminists speaking out on the issue is Blu Greenberg, the founding president of the Jewish Orthodox Feminist Alliance. Greenberg said that by not accepting the ad, Ms. is “aligning itself with the political far left that wants to delegitimize Israel altogether on the stage of world opinion.”

“I wish I could believe that we’re overblowing it, but I’ve been in numerous situations where I’ve seen the same thing — this total excoriation of Israel,” she said. “That’s what we’re all feeling right now.”

Susan Weidman Schneider of Lilith magazine said she was “very surprised” by the refusal of Ms. to run the ad. But Schneider said that after speaking to the magazine’s publisher Monday, she believes the ad was likely rejected “out of a place of ignorance” and was not intended as “a willful slap in the face to Israel.”

Weidman Schneider said she considers Spillar’s argument “possibly an ex post facto explanation.”

She said she told publisher Eleanor Smeal that in retrospect, Ms. would have done better to suggest to the AJCongress that the group shape an ad reflecting a broader range of women’s advancement in Israel if any perceived partisanship in the original ad was the impediment.

But beyond the fracas surrounding the actual ad, Weidman Schneider said she is disturbed by the “vitriol” she has seen on Jewish and feminist blogs over the past few days relating to the incident.

“I didn’t expect the depth of anti-feminist sentiment that this incident has stirred up,” she said, noting that she has read comments referring to “femiNazis” and others suggesting the feminist movement is inherently anti-Israel. “I felt quite chilled.”

Books: Interest grows in neglected 19th-Century female author Amy Levy

“The Romance of a Shop,” by Amy Levy, edited by Susan David Bernstein (Broadview Press, $15.95).
“Reuben Sachs,” by Amy Levy, edited by Susan David Bernstein_(Broadview Press, $15.95).

Oscar Wilde adored her, calling the young writer “a girl of genius,” while modern critics, in their flippancy and an attempt to articulate who this virtually unknown Victorian author was, have coined Amy Levy the “Jewish Sylvia Plath,” referring to both her precocious talent and her early, tragic demise. Levy committed suicide by charcoal asphyxiation at the age of 27. And yet, to most, her life and work remain unknown.

Born in November 1861 into a middle-class, Jewish, London family, Levy, the second of seven children, received a progressive education in school and in synagogue. She attended Brighton High School, founded in 1871 by feminists Emily and Maria Shirreff, and later went on to Newnham College, one of two women’s colleges in Cambridge University, where she also happened to be the first Jewish student. Her family belonged to the West London Synagogue of British Jews, a pioneering institution for the Reform movement that paved the way for acculturated Jewish practices of the Diaspora.

Levy’s extraordinary interior life is echoed by the circles in which she moved — Victorian London’s intelligentsia. Along with Wilde, she cultivated friendships in the reading room of the British Museum with Olive Schreiner, Clementina Black and Eleanor Marx (daughter of Karl), among others.

In the past few years, there has been an uptick in interest in Levy’s work, including the publication of a biography in 2000, a conference held in 2002 in London specifically on her work and scholarship tied to it and, most recently, the annotated editions of Levy’s two novels, “The Romance of a Shop” and “Reuben Sachs.”

Published this year by Broadview Press and edited by Susan David Bernstein, a professor of English, Jewish and women’s studies at the University of Wisconsin-Madison, these well-culled editions of Levy’s otherwise out-of-print novels include an assortment of other pertinent writings.

“Her work revises, critiques and updates Victorian representations of women and of Jews,” Bernstein said, also noting that Levy’s writing can be seen as a precursor and most likely an influence to such modernists as William Butler Yeats and Virginia Woolf.

Perhaps, though, one thing is certain: Levy’s writing illuminates not just the terrain of Anglo-Jewish life but also the Victorian notion of the “new woman” — the equivalent of today’s feminist.

Originally published in 1888, Levy’s first novel, “The Romance of a Shop,” is built on what was, at that time, a radical premise: Four sisters, ranging in age from 17 to 30, are left to tend to themselves and to one another after their widower father’s death and their resulting loss of financial security. He’s left a legacy as a photographer who owned a studio, and the young women — instead of accepting the various offers of house and home from distant relatives and then sadly having to separate — open a shop as photographers in their own flat, joining the working world and essentially the romance of being young women making their way in an urban environment.

“Despite its nod to the conventional happy ending of marriage and children in the epilogue,” Bernstein noted, “the vision of a woman with a husband, children and a career was a radically unusual one for a mainstream novel in Levy’s day.”

Levy’s feminist leanings developed early in her girlhood (it’s been noted, too, by many scholars that she was most likely a lesbian). Biographer Linda Hunt Beckman saw Levy’s feminism “revealed in drawings of a woman on a soapbox with a sign saying, ‘Votes for Women!'” Levy’s proto-feminism was no less pronounced in her nonfiction: “What woman engaged in art, in literature, in science,” Levy wrote in an essay, “has not felt the drawbacks of her isolated position?”
But if it was confusing to be a woman in the Victorian era, it was equally obfuscating to be a Jew — especially one who felt the tug of acculturation.

Levy’s work specifically takes to task their portrayal in fiction.

Her second novel, “Reuben Sachs,” which many argue was written in reaction to George Eliot’s “Daniel Deronda,” revolves around the relationship between two cousins, Reuben Sachs and Judith Quixano. But it was her subtle commentary on “materialistic values and preoccupations of the middle-class London Jewish community,” as Meri-Jane Rochelson, associate professor of English at Florida International University, put it, that raised the ire of many critics.

“[Levy] apparently delights in the task of persuading the general public that her own kith and kin are the most hideous type of vulgarity,” one reviewer wrote in The Jewish World in 1889. “She revels in misrepresentations of their customs and the modes of thought.”
At a moment in the beginning of “Reuben Sachs,” the protagonist’s mother and sister sit “in the growing dusk, amid the plush ottomans, stamped velvet tables, and other Philistine splendours” of their drawing room. Reuben, upon returning home late, enters the house and asks, “Why do women always invariably sit in the dark?”

Levy had the courage not to be one of those women — a contribution that, at times, may have isolated her. In her essay, “Middle-Class Jewish Women of To-Day,” written in 1886 for The Jewish Chronicle, she asks, “What, in fact, is the ordinary life of a Jewish middle-class woman?”

Levy’s extraordinary work certainly brings readers closer to understanding just what it was at that time.

Jessica George Firger is a freelance writer living in Brooklyn. This article originally appeared in the Recent releases: Forget escape — these films tugs at the conscience

Robot Dances Off With Award

Don’t have time to shlep to a museum? Too tired to remember if the free museum day is the first or second Tuesday of the month? Want to conquer a large, overwhelming exhibit in small, 15-minute intervals? Then bring the museum to your desktop and browse at your own pace.

The Jewish Women’s Archive has launched “Jewish Women and the Feminist Revolution,” an inspirational and evocative online exhibit. It’s an innovative way to introduce today’s generation of Jewish women to the pacesetting leaders who paved the way before them.

“‘Jewish Women and the Feminist Revolution’ brings the story of Jewish feminism into the story of American feminism for the first time, connecting their histories in a landmark project,” curator Judith Rosenbaum said.

The brightly colored site is easy to use and fun to surf. Complete with video clips, documents, posters, flyers, photographs, art, radio news reports and first-person statements, the exhibition explores Jewish women’s significant contributions to the American and Jewish feminist movements of the 1960s and 1970s. How did these times change the lives of Jewish women, and how did Jewish women create change during the times?

The site organizes material by themes, timeline, people and medium and covers topics like women’s health, female rabbis, sexuality, arts, education and spirituality.

The exhibition features artifacts from the private collections of 74 notable women, including Supreme Court Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg; Gloria Steinem, pioneering activist and founder of Ms. Magazine; and feminist artist Judy Chicago.

Also featured are three Los Angeles women: Rachel Adler, feminist theologian and professor of modern Jewish thought and Judaism and gender at Hebrew Union College-Jewish Institute of Religion; UCLA history professor Ellen DuBois, feminist author and scholar of 19th century women’s history; and Reform Rabbi Sue Levi Elwell, director of the Pennsylvania Council of the UAJC and founding director of the American Jewish Congress Feminist Center in Los Angeles.

The exhibition can be found at


Feminist Desktop Revolution

Don’t have time to shlep to a museum? Too tired to remember if the free museum day is the first or second Tuesday of the month? Want to conquer a large, overwhelming exhibit in small, 15-minute intervals? Then bring the museum to your desktop and browse at your own pace.

The Jewish Women’s Archive has launched “Jewish Women and the Feminist Revolution,” an inspirational and evocative online exhibit. It’s an innovative way to introduce today’s generation of Jewish women to the pacesetting leaders who paved the way before them.

“‘Jewish Women and the Feminist Revolution’ brings the story of Jewish feminism into the story of American feminism for the first time, connecting their histories in a landmark project,” curator Judith Rosenbaum said.

The brightly colored site is easy to use and fun to surf. Complete with video clips, documents, posters, flyers, photographs, art, radio news reports and first-person statements, the exhibition explores Jewish women’s significant contributions to the American and Jewish feminist movements of the 1960s and 1970s. How did these times change the lives of Jewish women, and how did Jewish women create change during the times?

The site organizes material by themes, timeline, people and medium and covers topics like women’s health, female rabbis, sexuality, arts, education and spirituality.

The exhibition features artifacts from the private collections of 74 notable women, including Supreme Court Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg; Gloria Steinem, pioneering activist and founder of Ms. Magazine; and feminist artist Judy Chicago.

Also featured are three Los Angeles women: Rachel Adler, feminist theologian and professor of modern Jewish thought and Judaism and gender at Hebrew Union College-Jewish Institute of Religion; UCLA history professor Ellen DuBois, feminist author and scholar of 19th century women’s history; and Reform Rabbi Sue Levi Elwell, director of the Pennsylvania Council of the UAJC and founding director of the American Jewish Congress Feminist Center in Los Angeles.

The exhibition can be found at