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. In her life story, Lax faces the age-old issue of belonging, of finding a purpose and an identity to motivate her life. [Thesis/themes I’m going to touch on – nuance of Hasidism, hair-covering]
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. 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.
