Gender & Sexuality in Judaism

May 1, 2019

Writing Portfolio Reflection

For the final paper, I want to revisit conceptions of Jewish identity in regard to appearance-and/or-gender-based stereotypes. This would involve a couple readings that we have discussed as a class, particularly those brought up by the recent reading of McGinity’s “Shiksappeal.” I intend to put McGinity’s ideas in conversation with those of either Bear Bergman and Laurel Richardson, who both discuss various stereotypes about Jewish looks and behaviors. If this paper were of a larger scope, I would include both of these authors and possibly more, but considering the length of the given prompt, I will resist temptation. Bergman, Richardson, and McGinity all discuss how Jewishness is defined, and what happens when people meet some of those expectations, but go against others. If I were to use the Bergman piece, I would focus on gender stereotypes about Jews and the reality of typical Jewish gender roles. Alternatively, if I were to follow up on Richardson’s essay, I would discuss interfaith marriages and the children they produce, as well as the roles of Jewish parenthood.

As far as the development of ideas, I think I am slightly disappointed by what we were able to cover over just this semester. While had many discussions on gender and race and how they play into definitions of Jewishness, we did not have much in depth discussion on how sexuality (in reference to both sexual activities and orientations) and non-cis-normative gender identities are understood across contemporary Jewish communities. I am left with questions about how issues such as abortion, same-sex marriage, gender-nonconformity, and others are treated across various fields of Jewish thought. I think the ideas that interested me the most were those about people who met some aspects of defined “Jewishness”, but defied others. This includes the women in “Shiksappeal” who acted as Jewish mothers regardless of whether or not they converted, the Mizrahi women who were “Jewish” enough to be in Israel but not enough to keep their children, and Laurel Richardson and her experiences with “looking Jewish”. The notion of feeling pressured to “prove” one’s Jewish identity catches a lot of my attention.

While the semester in leaving me with issues and topics I would like to know more about, it has also given me tools with which I can think about my own answers to these questions. I understand that it is important to examine not only what people say about themselves, but the narrative it is forming and why they are telling it that way, as in our discussion on Finkelman’s essay about Haredi gender ideology. It was helpful to write out my ideas in response to our readings, and I only wish I had made time to write reflections after we discussed readings as a class, to better see the development of my thoughts. In the writing I did in relation to class essays, in which I necessarily returned to ideas post-discussion, I can see a marked improvement in my thinking as well as my writing.

April 30, 2019

Uncovered: How I Left Hasidic Life and Finally Came Home by Leah Lax

The best memoirs often read like fiction, immersing readers in someone else’s reality. Leah Lax achieves this in Uncovered: How I Left Hasidic Life and Finally Came Home, reformulating the conventional narratives of coming out and escaping Hasidic life.[i] Lax writes a rich story of her exploration of her authentic self, drawing readers in with her vulnerability. Throughout her life, she is torn between being who she is told she is and running away from the restrictive definitions of others, ultimately coming to define herself on her own terms. Uncovered details Lax’s relationship with Hasidic law and life and how she discovered herself within and around them, engaging readers with honesty and emotion.

Lax’s story, chronologically at least, began in a Reform community in Texas, highly immersed in the secular world, where she first learns of and is drawn to the Chabad Lubavitch movement. Raised by two parents experiencing mental illness – her mom showed several signs of depression and her father had gone through treatments that left him vacant – she was left yearning for intimacy, belonging, and purpose. As she discovers this world of structure, this world of love from family, community, and God, she chooses to leave behind her secular family and lifestyle in favor of religion, where an arranged marriage in college sealed her into the Orthodox life. However, she finds that no matter how whole-heartedly she commits herself to her role as wife, teacher, mother – as a Hasidic woman – to be unfulfilling, a burdensome obligation to care for others with little time left to tend to her own needs. When she does turn her attention to her own needs, she begins to discover herself through exploring the boundaries of Hasidic life, as well as the boundaries of life as a woman. It is this journey of self-discovery that leads her away from her husband, away from Hasidism, and into herself.

Something which sets this book apart from other memoirs detailing departure from religious fundamentalism is how Lax captures the complexity of Hasidic life. At times, Lax falls into the pattern of other feminist and queer writings, which vilify fundamentalist religions as agents of patriarchal oppression. Lax does detail aspects of her Hasidic life that leave her feeling childish and without a voice, controlled by halakhah and the expectations of Hasidic society that force her to suppress her own needs and desires. However, this book is not Lax’s stance against Hasidism; she does not claim this to be an accurate and holistic representation of Hasidic life. Her book is a memoir, her own story of how she came to identify herself. Thus, her claim is not that Hasidic life is bad and oppressive, but rather that it was not a home where she felt like she belonged. More than representing Hasidism, Lax is demonstrating her complex relationship with Hasidism, as well as her relationship with her own self, from the perspective of her final position as a lesbian who had chosen to leave that world.

The book is rife with instances of Lax crossing boundaries in an attempt to understand herself. She gradually adopts the boundaries set by Hasidic law, crossing into that world with skirts and wigs and ritual bathing. As she questions her identity and her belonging in Hasidic life, however, she pushes against those very same boundaries that initially brought her comfort. The act of hair-covering is one of the most central of these boundaries, its literal and figurative meanings present even in the book’s title. Early on, the wigs and scarves acquired for her married life are a symbol of her belonging, a certainty in who she is and the role she plays. However, as Lax’s certainty in her Hasidic identity ebbs and flows, so does her adherence to covering her hair. She occasionally allows her scarf to slip back, exposing her hair, until she ultimately discards the scarf altogether, along with the various boundaries set for her by Hasidic life. The wigs and scarves had come to cover more than just hair. For Lax, they represent not Hasidic law, but a false self which she had used to cover up truths about her identity and her past that she was afraid to confront. As she is forced by others and by her own heart to uncover and take ownership of these pieces of her life, she leaves the cover of her Hasidic life and its boundaries behind.

Lax’s book is not an accurate and holistic image of Hasidic life as a woman, or as an LGBT person. Nor does she claim it to be. It is her own personal story, her journey of self-discovery, that happened to lead her into the Hasidic world and then back out again. Thus, it is not very effective as source material on the subject of Hasidism, but very effective as a memoir. Lax is not telling a story about how patriarchal religion silenced her, but how she felt silenced by a lack of identity and an unfulfilled desire to understand herself. In finding and embracing her identity, Lax regains control of her voice, her actions, and herself.

[i] Lax, Leah. Uncovered: How I Left Hasidic Life and Finally Came Home. Berkeley: She Writes Press, 2015.

April 24, 2019

A First Attempt at Reviewing Leah Lax’s “Uncovered: How I Left Hasidic Life and Finally Came Home”

Something which sets this book apart from other memoirs detailing departure from religious fundamentalism is how Lax captures the complexity of Hasidic life. Often, especially in feminist and queer writings, fundamentalist religions are vilified as agents of patriarchal oppression. Lax at times falls into this pattern in detailing the aspects of her Hasidic life that left her feeling childish and without a voice. She lacks control of her body and actions, governed by halakhah, by Rebbes, by her husband, by the expectations of Hasidic society that force her to suppress her own needs and desires. However, she also acknowledges the nuances of that lifestyle. There are times when she feels fulfilled by motherhood and halakhic order. There are times that the women-only spaces that Hasidic life allowed her to occupy brought her joy and peace and belonging. There are times that rituals are filled with spiritual meanings, just as there are times when the rituals are frustratingly empty. Though ultimately Hasidic life becomes a negative place for her, Lax does demonstrate the complexity of Hasidism and her relationship to it, making it seem a more honest portrayal than others might display.

Throughout the course of the book, Lax pushes the boundaries set for her by Hasidic life. The act of hair-covering is one of the most central of these boundaries, holding both literal and figurative meanings throughout the book and even its title. Early on, the wigs and scarves acquired for her married life are a symbol of Lax’s belonging, a certainty in identity. However, as Lax’s certainty in her Hasidic identity ebbs and flows, so does her adherence to covering her hair. At times she wears her wigs and scarves properly, covering her hair completely. Other times she allows her scarf to slip back, exposing her hair, until, ultimately, she discards the scarf just as she discards Hasidism. The wigs and scarves come to cover more than hair. For Leah, these scarves and wigs represent the rules and regulations of Hasidism, which Leah has used to cover up aspects of her identity and her past that she is afraid to confront. As she is forced by others and by her own heart to uncover and take ownership of these pieces of her life, she leaves the cover of Hasidism and their rules behind.

In her memoir, Lax paints an image of what Hasidic life is like for a woman, particularly for a homosexual woman. She recognizes that there are LGBT Hasidim who choose to remain in that world, as she did for a time. She recognizes that hers is not the only story of being LGBT in Hasidic life. However, as a memoir, it is her story. It is a story in which the Hasidic world was ultimately unhealthy and oppressive. Therefore, it is certainly a prejudiced representation of Hasidism, which Lax does not in any way deny. While she is limited by her personal story, she is open about the dishonesty of her Hasidism, and open about the complexity and nuances of such a lifestyle. Lax is not warning readers of the dangers of Hasidism, but rather than dangers of hiding oneself, of covering up the truth. It is the uncovering of her identity, more than the uncovering of her hair, that marks Lax’s journey.

April 23, 2019

A Response to Keren R. McGinity’s “Shiksappeal”

Reading this chapter, I have come to think that this should have been one of our first readings. It uncovers gender roles in American Judaism, despite the non-Jewish origins of the women being interviewed and discussed. These women, though non-Jewish by birth, have become part of Jewish families, have become Jewish mothers, and therefore have taken on the role of the American Jewish woman. The reactions of their husbands’ families further reflect what the role of an American Jewish wife is understood to be. McGinity explores what it means to be a Jew as a husband of a convert or non-Jew, what it means to be a Jew as a woman not born Jewish, and what it means to be a Jew as a child of some form of interfaith marriage. By the title of the book this chapter comes from, Marrying Out: Jewish Men, Intermarriage, and Fatherhood, I am very curious what other topics are explored and feel like many may have been relevant to our class. I also feel like this chapter could be well put in conversation with the readings by Bear Bergman and Laurel Richardson that we read earlier in the semester but did not discuss extensively.

April 22, 2019

A Response to Wendy Love Anderson’s “The Goy of Sex”

This reading gave a good overview of the history behind inter-religious relations, but it did leave me with some questions. First off, I find it interesting that Anderson did not devote space in her essay to the word goy and its meanings and implications, despite using it in her title. Other things she touches on briefly without elucidating include homosexual relations and how children resulting from intermarriages fit (or don’t) into Jewish communities. I am especially curious about the lives of intermarried couples before the era of national identities overtaking religious identities. If neither person converted and the two retained their religious identities, what did their lives look like?

April 14, 2019

Response to Shir HaShirim (Song of Songs)

What most grabbed my attention in this beautiful poem was the variety of pronouns used. First of all, the perspective switches between directly addressing a listener (“you”) and third-person pronouns. More interestingly, in my opinion, is the use of both feminine and masculine pronouns to describe the narrator’s lover. The poem mentions his hands, her praises, his eyes, etc. This fluidity of gender is fascinating. Some may interpret it as two lovers whose perspectives as they speak about each other are not clearly delineated, as Lieber seems to in the concluding commentary on page 209 of our secondary reading. Perhaps several people’s discussions of their lovers have been seamlessly compiled into this one book. I enjoy the idea that there is one lover, or one idea of love and beauty, whose gender is not strictly defined, but fluid and beautiful in that fluidity. This interpretation challenges the opposition of man and woman in a strict binary, allowing for the two gendered concepts to mix and merge freely within one image of the beloved whose beauty is being praised in Song of Songs.

April 11, 2019April 23, 2019

Book Review Update: Research

Throughout Leah Lax’s story, one aspect of prominence in her journey is that of head-covering. At many points, she takes a look at her head, whether it is covered by a hat, a scarf, or nothing at all, whether her hair underneath is shorn or worn long, whether she lets any of it be seen. This concept of covering her head, and subsequently uncovering it, is reflected in the title Uncovered. I find it interesting to follow her personal relationship with these different levels of coverings and what they mean to her, and I am curious about the meaning that it has to others. Therefore, I am looking into researching that topic and have found a few sources that I think will help me, which I am listing here:

Leila Leah Bronner, “From Veil to Wig: Jewish Women’s Hair Covering,” Judaism 42, no.4 (1993).

Simone Schweber, “Donning Wigs, Divining Feelings, and Other Dilemmas of Doing Research in Devoutly Religious Contexts,” Qualitative Inquiry 13, no.1 (2007).

Amy K. Milligan, Hair, Headwear, and Orthodox Jewish Women: Kallah’s Choice (Lanham: Lexington Books, 2014).

April 8, 2019

A Response to Genesis 34 and Tikva Frymer-Kensky’s “The Dinah Affair”

First off, I appreciate Frymer-Kensky’s labeling of this story as “the Dinah affair”, rather than the often used “rape of Dinah”, because she had proved the likelihood of this incident not being rape based on the biblical language used. Additionally, what was interesting to me were the questions Frymer-Kensky considered at the end about small groups such as Israel attempting to survive against threats. This was interesting because none of these questions were about Dinah or the role of women in biblical or current Jewish societies. Frymer-Kensky establishes that Dinah herself is almost irrelevant to this story, a catalyst more than a character. The relation of a daughter to her family is not being called into question so much as the relationship of men in a family to outsiders.

April 3, 2019April 23, 2019

Reviews of Leah Lax’s book “Uncovered”

One review that I read on Lax’s book, Uncovered, comes from the American Library Association’s Gay Lesbian Bisexual Transgender Round Table. This very brief review mostly serves to summarize Lax’s book and make it appealing to readers. However, this review glaringly oversimplifies the very complex and nuanced issues that are presented, particularly in relation to Hasidism. Being a review on a GLBT forum, I understand the propensity to paint Lax’s story as an escape from an oppressively strict religion into freedom as a lesbian woman. However, this ignores the appeal of the religion, the factors that brought Lax in and complicated her desire to leave. While Lax did choose to leave Hasidism and was able to feel more herself outside of it, it must be acknowledged that her relationship to her Hasidic life is highly complex and nuanced.

(Ritchie, Cathy. “Book review: Uncovered: How I Left Hasidic Life and Finally Came Home, by Leah Lax.” GLBT Reviews. October 1, 2015. https://www.glbtrt.ala.org/reviews/book-review-uncovered-how-i-left-hasidic-life-and-finally-came-home-by-leah-lax/)

Another review, from Lambda Literary, goes much more in depth. It recognizes the complexity of Lax’s story, how it resists the narratives we’ve come to expect from a lesbian woman’s escape from fundamentalist religion. It acknowledges the appeal of fundamentalist religion and how aspects of that life helped Lax. It also brings up Lax’s background in a much more secular household. What this review alludes to that I think is more central to Lax’s story is her relationships and interactions with others. Her mentally ill parents, her sisters, her early unacknowledged love interests, her female friends within and outside of the Hasidic community. It is these relationships that I believe are central to what drove Lax to Hasidism and what eventually drove her out.

(Enszer, Julie R. “‘Uncovered: How I left Hasidic Life and Finally Came Home’ by Leah Lax.” Lambda Literary. October 8, 2015. https://www.lambdaliterary.org/reviews/10/08/uncovered-how-i-left-hasidic-life-and-finally-came-home-by-leah-lax/)

March 31, 2019

Response to Love Poetry by the Rabbis

The primary theme I noticed across these poems was pain and despair. The pain of yearning, of not being yearned for in return. They all speak to the power of beauty over one’s emotions. It is neither a particular woman nor man that any of these rabbis is in love with, but their beauty. I would think that such beauty would be praised and lauded in this poetry, but the focus is more on the authors and the pain despair that they feel in wanting that beauty.