It's rather startling how one mitzvah- head-covering, for example- can turn into an indication of how we hold about all sorts of other aspects of Judaism.
I'd been talking to someone I met at work, and reference was made to being transgender. Afterward, in a fit of random association, I started to wonder about how I might behave with someone who was trans, in relation to my head-covering practice- would I feel comfortable taking off my scarf or not? In either situation (female-to-male or male-to-female) there would be both an argument that it would be fine, and an argument that it wouldn't.
Taking FTM as our example, the first question would be how you hold about whether it is possible to halakhically change genders, and if so, how. Clearly, if you think that yes, you can- then you have an answer: keep the scarf on.
If you think no, there might still be more factors to consider. How do you consider the way a person thinks of their self? It seems as if a real consideration of tzniut might ask one to go beyond the halakhic considerations of gender.
However, what it really highlighted for me was the way that halakhot interact and weave together. Different halakhot impact each other, so that the way that you hold about one question may well depend on how you hold about something that would seem to be quite separate. There's something that I really appreciate in that interwoven-ness.
Showing posts with label ideology. Show all posts
Showing posts with label ideology. Show all posts
Monday, September 10, 2012
Wednesday, August 22, 2012
Ethnic Dress
I came across this link courtesy of alreadypretty.com, a fashion and body image blog that I'm fond of. It talks about the way that women are regarded in professional settings. It asks whether the way that women are advised to dress in order to get respect actually forces us to play down our own guiding principles- and how to bring ethnic clothing into a professional context.
It seems a little bit off-topic for this blog, but given my recent post about wearing a tichel at work, it seems to be just what the doctor ordered.
What do you think of it?
It seems a little bit off-topic for this blog, but given my recent post about wearing a tichel at work, it seems to be just what the doctor ordered.
What do you think of it?
Monday, August 20, 2012
A Very Little Research Lends Me Perspective
I've been researching head coverings from different Jewish communities around the world. It's amazing how much context it is lending to the way I'm seeing contemporary Jewish head coverings, right now.
Looking at historical head coverings, they vary regionally. Now, they vary fairly little by region, and more by "how frum you are". The communities aren't local, they're almost hierarchical. Modern Orthodox women wear this, Hareidi women wear that, etc.
The same goes for men. You may have heard the joke describing how to identify a man's Jewish affiliation by where he wears his kippah (the image slides up the head- Reform at the very back of the head, near the top of the neck; Conservative a little higher, but still slanted toward the back; Modern Orthodox flat on top; Yeshivish tipped forwards toward the forehead). Similarly, there are identifiers like this chart (you'll need to scroll down a bit) from Wikipedia, where different materials are used to identify "how frum" a man is. (I joke that I could wear any of them and send the same message- you put a kippah on a woman, and all its other contextual messages go flying out the window...)
In some ways, I am making use of this set of stereotypes. By covering my head like someone from a "frummer" community than my own, I reach into that sort of authority that stems from a communal respect for "authenticity". On the other hand, it makes me seem somewhat separate from "my own" community in some ways, and leads to concerns like the ones I've shared about how I'll be seen in professional contexts.
Something about the modern, global world makes community into a statement of belief and lifestyle, rather than an affiliation with the people who live near you. My local Jewish community consists of a folks with all sorts of different practices and observances. There's no way to tell where I'm from based on how I dress. But you can tell something about what religious perspectives I stand for, just by looking at me.
It's a force for homogenization in how we dress- and a shift in what parts of our identities we express visually. I wonder what it would be like to wear what American Jewish women wear on their heads, rather than what a certain sort of observant Jewish women wear on their heads. Would it feel different? Would I notice? Would I feel more or less constrainted in my choices and creativity than I do now?
Looking at historical head coverings, they vary regionally. Now, they vary fairly little by region, and more by "how frum you are". The communities aren't local, they're almost hierarchical. Modern Orthodox women wear this, Hareidi women wear that, etc.
The same goes for men. You may have heard the joke describing how to identify a man's Jewish affiliation by where he wears his kippah (the image slides up the head- Reform at the very back of the head, near the top of the neck; Conservative a little higher, but still slanted toward the back; Modern Orthodox flat on top; Yeshivish tipped forwards toward the forehead). Similarly, there are identifiers like this chart (you'll need to scroll down a bit) from Wikipedia, where different materials are used to identify "how frum" a man is. (I joke that I could wear any of them and send the same message- you put a kippah on a woman, and all its other contextual messages go flying out the window...)
In some ways, I am making use of this set of stereotypes. By covering my head like someone from a "frummer" community than my own, I reach into that sort of authority that stems from a communal respect for "authenticity". On the other hand, it makes me seem somewhat separate from "my own" community in some ways, and leads to concerns like the ones I've shared about how I'll be seen in professional contexts.
Something about the modern, global world makes community into a statement of belief and lifestyle, rather than an affiliation with the people who live near you. My local Jewish community consists of a folks with all sorts of different practices and observances. There's no way to tell where I'm from based on how I dress. But you can tell something about what religious perspectives I stand for, just by looking at me.
It's a force for homogenization in how we dress- and a shift in what parts of our identities we express visually. I wonder what it would be like to wear what American Jewish women wear on their heads, rather than what a certain sort of observant Jewish women wear on their heads. Would it feel different? Would I notice? Would I feel more or less constrainted in my choices and creativity than I do now?
Wednesday, August 1, 2012
Girls and Kippot In The News
I know, I'm interupting my flow of Ba'kh, but I promise we'll get back to him. In the meantime, I want to share these things.
I just came across this op-ed piece, from e-jewish philanthrophy, by Rabbi Elyssa Joy Auster, criticizing the Conservative Movement for not engaging with girls and young women at summer camp about wearing kippot. The girls, when asked why they don't wear kippot, said "“It’s a boy thing,” or “The tradition is for boys to wear them,”".
I also came across this response, from a young woman whom I met at one of those summer camps, Eliana Light, who has managed to integrate her egalitarianism into her practice in a thoughtful and committed way. She writes that "a woman comes to more [traditionally male-dominated] ritual in one of two ways; she either gradually becomes more learned and aware and, either because of politics or person feelings or both, wants to take them on, or she’s just done them forever and never thought about it." She also points out the importance of having role models.
My own experience highlights the importance of all these factors- I grew up in a community where more women than men wore tallitot, and while more men than women wore kippot, women often did wear kippot. Then I became more observant, and began an in depth exploration of the issues, I discovered much of what I am gradually sharing with you on this blog- that head covering in some fashion has long been part of Jewish women's observance, and that there is a pretty good set of textual reasons for doing so even before I married. My role models included several women a few years older than me at my college minyan, as well as a rabbi or two. (Also, a woman who turned out to be a friend's mother, later on, who I saw across a room with a tichel and a tallis, one shabbat.)
But what really drew me in about Eliana's blog post was her attitude- that her egalitarian practice was both ideological and matter-of-fact. She had done appropriate learning about her ritual choices, even to the point of choosing against wearing tallit katan because she had been doing it "for the wrong reasons" (a decision I feel quite ambivalent about, but that's off the topic- my interest in it here just shows that she has put significant consideration into her actions). At the same time, they are also "just what one does" as an adult Jew- not something that has to be constantly justified or worked-over again and again. It is a balance that I think is the real goal- to approach each mitzvah with serious consideration, but not to be trapped in that contemplation all the time, to the detriment of actual practice. I seriously recommend her piece for that reason, if for no other.
I just came across this op-ed piece, from e-jewish philanthrophy, by Rabbi Elyssa Joy Auster, criticizing the Conservative Movement for not engaging with girls and young women at summer camp about wearing kippot. The girls, when asked why they don't wear kippot, said "“It’s a boy thing,” or “The tradition is for boys to wear them,”".
I also came across this response, from a young woman whom I met at one of those summer camps, Eliana Light, who has managed to integrate her egalitarianism into her practice in a thoughtful and committed way. She writes that "a woman comes to more [traditionally male-dominated] ritual in one of two ways; she either gradually becomes more learned and aware and, either because of politics or person feelings or both, wants to take them on, or she’s just done them forever and never thought about it." She also points out the importance of having role models.
My own experience highlights the importance of all these factors- I grew up in a community where more women than men wore tallitot, and while more men than women wore kippot, women often did wear kippot. Then I became more observant, and began an in depth exploration of the issues, I discovered much of what I am gradually sharing with you on this blog- that head covering in some fashion has long been part of Jewish women's observance, and that there is a pretty good set of textual reasons for doing so even before I married. My role models included several women a few years older than me at my college minyan, as well as a rabbi or two. (Also, a woman who turned out to be a friend's mother, later on, who I saw across a room with a tichel and a tallis, one shabbat.)
But what really drew me in about Eliana's blog post was her attitude- that her egalitarian practice was both ideological and matter-of-fact. She had done appropriate learning about her ritual choices, even to the point of choosing against wearing tallit katan because she had been doing it "for the wrong reasons" (a decision I feel quite ambivalent about, but that's off the topic- my interest in it here just shows that she has put significant consideration into her actions). At the same time, they are also "just what one does" as an adult Jew- not something that has to be constantly justified or worked-over again and again. It is a balance that I think is the real goal- to approach each mitzvah with serious consideration, but not to be trapped in that contemplation all the time, to the detriment of actual practice. I seriously recommend her piece for that reason, if for no other.
Monday, June 25, 2012
NOW, 1968
I came across this quote while browsing at this Christian headcovering blog (I venture into interfaith head-covering land, on occasion, to explore styles, comparitive approaches, and the like. More on that some other time.)
Maybe (probably, even), if I lived in 1968, I'd feel differently. It's amazing how fast cultural attitudes change- and this was over 40 years ago. In a world where cultural distinctiveness was just becoming acceptable, not a lot of women covered their hair outside of shul, anyway... I have been to a lot of Orthodox synagogues where you can see the generational divide: older grandmothers come bare-headed, women my mother's age come with hats, and women of my age come with either hat or tichel. At my own shul, older women come either bare-headed or with those doilies designed for the head, with a little bow in the middle- what must have been the fashion for women to wear to shul probably around this time, if not a little earlier, even.
Looking Jewish wasn't what you did, then. I get that. I'm not trying to be totally anachronistic. But just reading that quote irks me. I'm a feminist, and being told by a feminist organization that my choice of religious practice is a form of subjection of women really bothers me. For all that I'm aware that feminism of then is not the feminism of now (sorry for the pun- it wasn't intentional, I promise), it still riles me up.
How do you feel about it? (If pertinent)- did you feel differently about the topic in 1968 than you do now?
"Because the wearing of a head covering by women at religious services is a symbol of subjection with many churches, NOW recommends that all chapters undertake an effort to have all women participate in a "national unveiling" by sending their head coverings to the task force chairman. At the Spring meeting of the task force of women and religion, these veils will be publicly burned to protest the second class status of women in all churches. (National Organization for Women, Dec., 1968.)I suppose it was the mood of the times, but the thought of having to burn my tichels as a demonstration that I am not repressed really bothers me. Of course, noticing that it only refers to churches, ignoring all of us non-Christians bothers me too, but that's not the point in this blog. The point, for me, is that my head-covering is Mine, not anyone else's. I follow halakha- my husband didn't make, or even ask, me to do this (in fact, he tends to be just a little surprised at how attached to it I feel, and how thoroughly I take it), nor does it feel like subjection in the least, from any source.
Maybe (probably, even), if I lived in 1968, I'd feel differently. It's amazing how fast cultural attitudes change- and this was over 40 years ago. In a world where cultural distinctiveness was just becoming acceptable, not a lot of women covered their hair outside of shul, anyway... I have been to a lot of Orthodox synagogues where you can see the generational divide: older grandmothers come bare-headed, women my mother's age come with hats, and women of my age come with either hat or tichel. At my own shul, older women come either bare-headed or with those doilies designed for the head, with a little bow in the middle- what must have been the fashion for women to wear to shul probably around this time, if not a little earlier, even.
Looking Jewish wasn't what you did, then. I get that. I'm not trying to be totally anachronistic. But just reading that quote irks me. I'm a feminist, and being told by a feminist organization that my choice of religious practice is a form of subjection of women really bothers me. For all that I'm aware that feminism of then is not the feminism of now (sorry for the pun- it wasn't intentional, I promise), it still riles me up.
How do you feel about it? (If pertinent)- did you feel differently about the topic in 1968 than you do now?
Friday, June 8, 2012
"My Hair Is For My Husband"?
I was recently looking at some videos on rivkamalka.com, with the aim of seeing a tichel style tutorial that had been recommended. Indeed, the style itself and the ideas presented with it was very nice (for that, I can recommend the site), but it also presented a certain sort of ideology about head-covering that I find both tremendously attractive and uncomfortable and possibly even dangerous, all at once.
This ideology includes a variety of claims, coming down to something like this:
1. Covering my hair gives me something that I share only with my husband, and that is its main purpose
2. Covering my hair makes me beautiful, and one can't be beautiful and sexy at once
3. More of who I am shows when my hair is covered
4. Covering your hair inherently makes your relationship better
The thing is, a lot of the ideology really works for me. I feel really good with a tichel on, and I think that it is beautiful. And I would rather be beautiful than sexy, out in the world. But I don't like the sort of claim that tries to make beauty exclusive. It's a hard enough thing without such limitations. If being sexy is what makes someone feel beautiful, I don't want to deny that experience, for all that I personally wish that they would save that sort of beauty for private. This point is something of a contradiction for me.
Am I "more me" to the world with my hair covered? I don't think so. At least, nothing seems so different in how people react to me, so far. I'm perceived as more Orthodox than I had been. But is that "more like myself"?
The real issue that I have is that last claim. It's a lot like the claim they make about niddah: keeping taharat hamishpacha will make your marriage better and stronger. Sometimes that's true. Sometimes- not so much. It's a mitzvah, and so you do it, and if there are rewards, then good, and if not, then that's a gift you give to God, or something of the sort.
I also question the first claim, going back to basics. If one keeps tzniut in any way, there's a whole bunch of body that your husband is the only one who sees, so making hair one more of those things just seems like more, not something special in particular about covering your hair.
And yet, I'm very attached to this practice, and I find it meaningful. If this ideology doesn't work for me, what makes it so compelling?
This ideology includes a variety of claims, coming down to something like this:
1. Covering my hair gives me something that I share only with my husband, and that is its main purpose
2. Covering my hair makes me beautiful, and one can't be beautiful and sexy at once
3. More of who I am shows when my hair is covered
4. Covering your hair inherently makes your relationship better
The thing is, a lot of the ideology really works for me. I feel really good with a tichel on, and I think that it is beautiful. And I would rather be beautiful than sexy, out in the world. But I don't like the sort of claim that tries to make beauty exclusive. It's a hard enough thing without such limitations. If being sexy is what makes someone feel beautiful, I don't want to deny that experience, for all that I personally wish that they would save that sort of beauty for private. This point is something of a contradiction for me.
Am I "more me" to the world with my hair covered? I don't think so. At least, nothing seems so different in how people react to me, so far. I'm perceived as more Orthodox than I had been. But is that "more like myself"?
The real issue that I have is that last claim. It's a lot like the claim they make about niddah: keeping taharat hamishpacha will make your marriage better and stronger. Sometimes that's true. Sometimes- not so much. It's a mitzvah, and so you do it, and if there are rewards, then good, and if not, then that's a gift you give to God, or something of the sort.
I also question the first claim, going back to basics. If one keeps tzniut in any way, there's a whole bunch of body that your husband is the only one who sees, so making hair one more of those things just seems like more, not something special in particular about covering your hair.
And yet, I'm very attached to this practice, and I find it meaningful. If this ideology doesn't work for me, what makes it so compelling?
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