This woman writes about her journey and struggle with hair covering. She begins with the sheitel that she didn't really want to wear in the first place, and presents it as The Symbol of Orthodox commitment. It was something she didn't want, but came to love- then came to hate. It was difficult, and she presents it as tremendously important to other people- her mother and her husband, not to her.
She ties covering almost exclusively to tzniut, modesty. Then she objects on the logical reaction that there are women all around who have hair showing- so how sexually attractive can it possibly be? After all, people are used to seeing women's hair in our society. It's a familiar issue, and one taken up by several teshuvot, especially that of R. Mesas (which is not yet on this site, as it is long- someday). She translates ervah as "Sexually erotic", which seems to be a bit of an oversell to me, although plausibly accurate- lots of things are ervah that are not so very erotic in our society- for example, thighs. Yet no one presumes that it should be okay to show one's thighs, because other women in our society do so quite often (albeit less than hair). A nuanced reading of what ervah means might have changed her experience.
Although she does acknowledge that covering is also a visibly sign that she's married, she insists that her wedding ring does that just as well. My sense is that a covered head (although less so with a wig, I admit) is more visible than a ring, to those who know. To those who don't know, it doesn't communicate at all (otherwise, we might dispense with the wearing of wedding rings). I must admit, my scarf was not enough to prevent a gentleman I met at work a couple of years ago from asking me out (a staff member from a different department)- I had to point out my rings in order to communicate that his offer was flattering but mistaken.
As her story progresses, she switches from the uncomfortable-although-sexy wig to "bandanas", but feels frumpy, and misses her own hair, which had been a source of pleasure in her own appearance, before she married. And yet, once she starts to later show some of her own hair, that doesn't feel like enough- she ends up going bare-headed- yet she pays only glancing attention to this part of the story, giving me the impression that once the "hair barrier" has been breached, that's the end of the story. (I still have something of a hard time adjusting to that notion, since I spent years with a small head covering before I got married, as longer term readers here know. My ideal still involves the chumra of some sort of covering/kippah for Jews old enough to understand or begin to.) She pairs the move from wig to scarf to headbands to nothing with a move from skirts to "leggings and jeans". I'm not so sure that one has much to do with the other, outside of cultural commonalities. But okay.
I'm rather amazed at the way that one mitzvah comes to represent one's entire stand on Judaism, to both the self and the outside world. For me, covering entirely is most likely a chumra, at least given some of the teshuvot that I've seen. At the very least, it is perhaps the best way of fulfilling a mitzvah, with other ways also acceptable. And yet it communicates so much- often more than we might want it to. Visual cues are so powerful, especially when we have little else to go on. It's both a useful short cut and sometimes a blinder, preventing us from seeing the inner complexity, unless we consciously look for it. I wonder if a little more nuance would have given this author her chance to experiment without throwing the whole practice overboard- or at least feeling less pressure to do so or not do so for the sake of what it communicated to other people.
Showing posts with label reflection. Show all posts
Showing posts with label reflection. Show all posts
Sunday, January 4, 2015
Thursday, January 9, 2014
Talking About Coverings of Different Sorts
I'm once again thinking about how I talk about how and why I cover. I'm rather waiting for my new Hebrew school class to ask about it (I'm not teaching twice a week at a reform movement Hebrew school, and subbed at another yesterday), and so I'm trying to think about how best to explain it in a way that neither puts down the practice nor implies that their own parents ought to be doing so. It's a familiar balancing act- I id it a lot when I was explaining wearing a kippah- but not one I've always been good at.
And appropriately enough for the topic, a friend shared this- a performance artist's piece about why she covers her head, although it's pretty much a manifesto about tzniut, where the head covering is just the starting point.
Still, for all that I get uncomfortable with turning my choice about how to perform a mitzvah into a one-message item, the beginning does capture the awkwardness of these conversations. Also, the opportunity for vulnerability and real human connection. Asking about a religious symbol is one of the only socially acceptable ways to ask someone about the choices they make about self-presentation. It's no wonder that I have, on so many occasions, felt vulnerable when people have asked me these questions, and reacted defensively.
What I want to be able to do is to answer in a way that shows that vulnerability and true humanity. It isn't what the symbol is that matters, so much, as the opportunity it gives to share a piece of human experience and decision-making. The only thing is, it's hard to do, and even more so when the question comes without preparation or warning.
So I'm rather looking forward to my kids asking about my scarf. Maybe I can make a real connection when I talk about it, this time.
And appropriately enough for the topic, a friend shared this- a performance artist's piece about why she covers her head, although it's pretty much a manifesto about tzniut, where the head covering is just the starting point.
Still, for all that I get uncomfortable with turning my choice about how to perform a mitzvah into a one-message item, the beginning does capture the awkwardness of these conversations. Also, the opportunity for vulnerability and real human connection. Asking about a religious symbol is one of the only socially acceptable ways to ask someone about the choices they make about self-presentation. It's no wonder that I have, on so many occasions, felt vulnerable when people have asked me these questions, and reacted defensively.
What I want to be able to do is to answer in a way that shows that vulnerability and true humanity. It isn't what the symbol is that matters, so much, as the opportunity it gives to share a piece of human experience and decision-making. The only thing is, it's hard to do, and even more so when the question comes without preparation or warning.
So I'm rather looking forward to my kids asking about my scarf. Maybe I can make a real connection when I talk about it, this time.
Monday, December 2, 2013
Reaction: "My Kippah, Myself"
This article resonates with my own experiences. It is one woman's description of her experiences wearing a kippah for the last 20 years, starting at age 9. She shares some of the challenges she has experienced- and the theology and identity that lead her to make, and to continue to make, that decision. It's worth the read.
I didn't start wearing a kippah as early as Gila Drazen did, nor as consistently- I often swapped over to a folded scarf or a headband. But when I wore a kippah on the street (or at the grocery store, department store, post office...) I got the same reactions that Drazen did. They were glorious and they were miserable. They were, most of all, inescapable. By the time I went to Israel, it's no wonder that I didn't have the energy for the infamous "Ben O Bat"?" (Are you a boy or a girl?) conversations that many of my friends have had.
Drazen's story reminds me of my own in so many ways. There is no moment of definition- there's only her moment of recognition that she's known all along- the kippah her parents give her is sparkly, purple and Jewish, of course she was going to wear it all the time. For me, it was an even earlier moment of "I'm Jewish", therefore- for me, I was 5, and I insisted that my parents send me to Hebrew School. Her story resonates in its very lack of revolutionary energy. There is nothing at odds with the Jewish life she already was living in this decision- it barely Was a decision. It's only later, interfacing with the external world of the broader Jewish community and the non-Jewish world that it becomes a challenge.
I too had a conversation with a man in a black hat about my kippah- except I didn't get to have the conversation. I was walking with two Jewish men (with kippot and tzitzit) and a non-Jewish woman, a Protestant seminarian, after an interfaith conference. A man drove by, pulled over, and asked my male colleagues- "why is she wearing that?" I tried to answer- he didn't look at me, or listen to my answer. "Who said she could wear that?" "Why can't she just bake challah and light candles?" My colleagues tried to answer him- they said what I might have said, only more politely. Our Protestant company was passed by without comment, although she was wearing jeans, and a low-cut shirt. But my kippah (over a dress and long-sleeve, high-necked shirt)- now That was confusing, and a threat.
It's a reminder that clothing can be about us as much as it is about our way of shaping how other people see us. There is a connection between identity and identification, obviously- but the way that the kippah gets grabbed as a signboard can be very trying when one wants to send no message more controversial than Ï am a Jew who is in relationship with God".
In the end, Drazen's message is one I heartily approve of, even as someone who no longer wears a kippah herself- at least when you can see me:
I didn't start wearing a kippah as early as Gila Drazen did, nor as consistently- I often swapped over to a folded scarf or a headband. But when I wore a kippah on the street (or at the grocery store, department store, post office...) I got the same reactions that Drazen did. They were glorious and they were miserable. They were, most of all, inescapable. By the time I went to Israel, it's no wonder that I didn't have the energy for the infamous "Ben O Bat"?" (Are you a boy or a girl?) conversations that many of my friends have had.
Drazen's story reminds me of my own in so many ways. There is no moment of definition- there's only her moment of recognition that she's known all along- the kippah her parents give her is sparkly, purple and Jewish, of course she was going to wear it all the time. For me, it was an even earlier moment of "I'm Jewish", therefore- for me, I was 5, and I insisted that my parents send me to Hebrew School. Her story resonates in its very lack of revolutionary energy. There is nothing at odds with the Jewish life she already was living in this decision- it barely Was a decision. It's only later, interfacing with the external world of the broader Jewish community and the non-Jewish world that it becomes a challenge.
I too had a conversation with a man in a black hat about my kippah- except I didn't get to have the conversation. I was walking with two Jewish men (with kippot and tzitzit) and a non-Jewish woman, a Protestant seminarian, after an interfaith conference. A man drove by, pulled over, and asked my male colleagues- "why is she wearing that?" I tried to answer- he didn't look at me, or listen to my answer. "Who said she could wear that?" "Why can't she just bake challah and light candles?" My colleagues tried to answer him- they said what I might have said, only more politely. Our Protestant company was passed by without comment, although she was wearing jeans, and a low-cut shirt. But my kippah (over a dress and long-sleeve, high-necked shirt)- now That was confusing, and a threat.
It's a reminder that clothing can be about us as much as it is about our way of shaping how other people see us. There is a connection between identity and identification, obviously- but the way that the kippah gets grabbed as a signboard can be very trying when one wants to send no message more controversial than Ï am a Jew who is in relationship with God".
In the end, Drazen's message is one I heartily approve of, even as someone who no longer wears a kippah herself- at least when you can see me:
My kippah is not about you any more than the rest of the way I present myself is about you. My kippah is about me, it’s about God. It’s about Judaism and family and tradition. You are not the official arbiter of what Judaism is or is not. I do not require your understanding or your approval; however, respect is appreciated.Have you had one of these experiences? Are you curious about why women wear a kippah, or how they made that choice? This is an open space for respectful communication about the topic. Please share stories, questions, and answers. Anything disrespectful will be removed as soon as I can.
Sunday, November 17, 2013
A Comment Worth The Sharing: On Passing And Jewish Identity
Liz Shayne offered these thoughts as a comment on a previous post. I found them really interesting, and from a perspective that was new to me, maybe since I'm living in New York City, where Jews are plentiful and pretty identifiable. I thought it was really interesting and worth getting more attention. I invite you to read on, and share your own thoughts and reactions in the comments section.
"Visibility is...an interesting problem because I've found there's a difference between looking different and being visible as a member of a group. There's a strange space between passing and proclaiming identity where I look different from everyone else, but my surrounding culture lacks the necessary cues to identify me.
This is another sticky place between privilege and presence, because I look "stylish" when I cover my hair with a hat, especially when I'm wearing a beret/wool cloche during the winter. And even my headscarves pass for intriguingly retro or offbeat on the street. There are days when I want a large sign taped to the back of my head saying "This covering has religious significance for me!" and then there are days when I very much don't.
When I first started teaching, I only wore hats because hats, as Rachel says, help one pass. By the end of my first year, I was more comfortable wearing scarves to teach (and I was running an 8am section and taking my orals at that point so the fact that I got to the classroom with a lesson plan and my shirt the right way round was an achievement) and, over the summer, I deliberately wore a large, rectangular scarf on my second day as an odd kind of "this is who I am" statement.
But I never know if the statement I'm making is the same one other people are hearing (this has often been my experience with teaching, especially in the beginning).
So I value being able to pass because I am uncomfortable standing out without standing up. And yet there seems to be a lack of cultural awareness of Jewish hair covering as a recognizable form. This, I imagine, is because the how of covering has always been culturally determined and so Judaism, as such, does not have a distinctive style. We adopt the style of the culture around us and cover accordingly. And the current Western style of public hair covering is to not, which complicates matters and means that the current generation of Ashkenazi women (for the purposes of this conversation and making sweeping claims, lets say women under 40) find themselves in search of a tradition/stye of hair covering they can turn to and (assuming they have a job that does not mind scarf-like coverings) they, somewhat naturally, turn to the Israeli styles and modify them for the kinds of scarves and styles suited to the West…and attempt to avoid cultural appropriation in the process.
Do we fail to stand out because we pass or because we aren’t identifiable in the first place?"
"Visibility is...an interesting problem because I've found there's a difference between looking different and being visible as a member of a group. There's a strange space between passing and proclaiming identity where I look different from everyone else, but my surrounding culture lacks the necessary cues to identify me.
This is another sticky place between privilege and presence, because I look "stylish" when I cover my hair with a hat, especially when I'm wearing a beret/wool cloche during the winter. And even my headscarves pass for intriguingly retro or offbeat on the street. There are days when I want a large sign taped to the back of my head saying "This covering has religious significance for me!" and then there are days when I very much don't.
When I first started teaching, I only wore hats because hats, as Rachel says, help one pass. By the end of my first year, I was more comfortable wearing scarves to teach (and I was running an 8am section and taking my orals at that point so the fact that I got to the classroom with a lesson plan and my shirt the right way round was an achievement) and, over the summer, I deliberately wore a large, rectangular scarf on my second day as an odd kind of "this is who I am" statement.
But I never know if the statement I'm making is the same one other people are hearing (this has often been my experience with teaching, especially in the beginning).
So I value being able to pass because I am uncomfortable standing out without standing up. And yet there seems to be a lack of cultural awareness of Jewish hair covering as a recognizable form. This, I imagine, is because the how of covering has always been culturally determined and so Judaism, as such, does not have a distinctive style. We adopt the style of the culture around us and cover accordingly. And the current Western style of public hair covering is to not, which complicates matters and means that the current generation of Ashkenazi women (for the purposes of this conversation and making sweeping claims, lets say women under 40) find themselves in search of a tradition/stye of hair covering they can turn to and (assuming they have a job that does not mind scarf-like coverings) they, somewhat naturally, turn to the Israeli styles and modify them for the kinds of scarves and styles suited to the West…and attempt to avoid cultural appropriation in the process.
Do we fail to stand out because we pass or because we aren’t identifiable in the first place?"
Tuesday, November 12, 2013
"Holy Hair": Interfaith Awarenesses
Over on Morethodoxy, Rachel Kohl Finegold shares her experience of an interfaith panel at Le Mood. In short, in reaction to Quebec's proposed law against wearing "religious symbols" while working in public life, they held an interfaith panel discussion, in which head and hair covering became a major topic, in discussion with a Sikh gentleman.
Finegold finds a place where she has more privilege than her Sikh co-panelist: she can pass as just someone wearing a hat, whereas his turban is visibly a religious item. Her observance would be marginally safer than his, if this law passed. She is less visibly different.
She also finds in herself a new sensitivity. The Sikh feel discomfort about having his turban patted down, based on Sikh belief that the head is a holy part of the body, not to be touched by other people. Hearing this, Finegold realizes that her own experiences in airport security are offensive to her. People ask her to take off her hat, which feels to her like being asked to take off her shirt. She'd never been offended by it before, but now, she was noticing the cultural insensitivity of the request.
She says that the conversation "sensitized me to my own tzniut". And yes, in a context where covering is the norm, it would be offensive to ask someone to uncover their head or hair. But in a world where indeed, she might pass, whether she is intending to or not, I have this feeling that there is also room for patience and tolerance- because the TSA folks might just not know. Educating the uninformed is worthwhile, getting offended at them may be more reaction that is needed. At least, that's my reaction today.
It seems that visibility cuts both ways. It's riskier- but you can also use that visibility to advocate for yourself and your community.
I'd never considered covering my head as inconspicuous, but I suppose that with a hat, on the street, it is. It's always a little squiggly feeling, noticing a privilege you have, if you want it, when you usually feel visibly identified and identifiable. I wonder if that's what Ms Finegold was feeling.
Do you feel like you can hide your religious identity when it's convenient? How does that feel for you?
Finegold finds a place where she has more privilege than her Sikh co-panelist: she can pass as just someone wearing a hat, whereas his turban is visibly a religious item. Her observance would be marginally safer than his, if this law passed. She is less visibly different.
She also finds in herself a new sensitivity. The Sikh feel discomfort about having his turban patted down, based on Sikh belief that the head is a holy part of the body, not to be touched by other people. Hearing this, Finegold realizes that her own experiences in airport security are offensive to her. People ask her to take off her hat, which feels to her like being asked to take off her shirt. She'd never been offended by it before, but now, she was noticing the cultural insensitivity of the request.
She says that the conversation "sensitized me to my own tzniut". And yes, in a context where covering is the norm, it would be offensive to ask someone to uncover their head or hair. But in a world where indeed, she might pass, whether she is intending to or not, I have this feeling that there is also room for patience and tolerance- because the TSA folks might just not know. Educating the uninformed is worthwhile, getting offended at them may be more reaction that is needed. At least, that's my reaction today.
It seems that visibility cuts both ways. It's riskier- but you can also use that visibility to advocate for yourself and your community.
I'd never considered covering my head as inconspicuous, but I suppose that with a hat, on the street, it is. It's always a little squiggly feeling, noticing a privilege you have, if you want it, when you usually feel visibly identified and identifiable. I wonder if that's what Ms Finegold was feeling.
Do you feel like you can hide your religious identity when it's convenient? How does that feel for you?
Sunday, October 6, 2013
So You May Have Noticed Some Changes
The blog was starting to refuse to show me comments again, and I couldn't fix it (last time I just ignored it for a while, and one day they were back and functioning again), so I've gone to a different layout, which so far, seems to have fixed the problem.
If you prefer the old format, tell me, and I'll make an effort there, but otherwise, I think this variation may be here to stay for a while.
As for real content..
I was thinking about a question one of my readers sent me quite a while ago, that my life over the summer prevented me from writing about- "How did you make the decision to go from kippah to tichel?". I went back through what I've written here, and found this post about my transition, written around my first anniversary.
Another year (and a few months) later, I'm feeling reflective about how that change felt. The decision making was very much the organic process that I wrote about there.
What I didn't write about is that I'd already made a decision that I wanted to cover more territory once I got married than I did as a single woman, so as to have some "space" to communicate (to myself, mostly) that I was covering for multiple purposes now.
I wasn't expecting to want to cover all my hair- I had been thinking about leaving my hair down under a scarf or hat, as my presumptive place to start experimenting from. I'd seen women do that, and it looked appealing- frum but not too frum, not so different from my unmarried practice, but different enough. Then I got married, and I found that covering more thoroughly really called to me. I'm still figuring that one out.
The other aspect of the question is a little more vague- I was rarely a "kippah all the time" person. I covered my head all the time- but I had some scarves that I wore, headband style (I know this isn't news to longer time readers), in place of kippot a lot of the time. So it was more a matter of unfolding those scarves and wrapping them in different ways some of the time. Maybe that's what made tichels so appealing to me- they were already comfortable pieces of my wardrobe and of my religious life.
What about you- I'm curious about other people's experiences in developing their current head covering practices. Did you make a transition in your covering when you got married? At some other point? I'd love to feature some of your stories here. Please leave comments, or talk to me by comment or email about writing or expanding something for the blog.
Wednesday, August 28, 2013
My Ambivalence About How-To Style Videos
I just came across a bunch of how-to videos that Judith De Paris, an online tichel seller, has up, explaining how to put on the various styles of scarves that she sells. She sells a lot of scarves that are cut specifically for head covering, so they have different shapes and whatnot, and I imagine that a quick how-to is quite useful.
(I've never bought or made a scarf in one of these styles, as I generally try to be pretty thrifty, and these tend to be a little more money than I want to invest in one scarf. I have thought about making one, in one of the styles.)
However, these how-to videos all basically say "this is the one right way to wear this thing".
I've got to disagree. This is the simplest way to wear that scarf. It's the most obvious. But the only way? No.
I want head covering to be a way that I express my creativity. It's a way of bringing your own sense of beauty and artistry into this mitzvah on a daily basis (or however often you cover, or however often you find time and inspiration to be creative with it).
I want to ask those videos- can I mix this specialized item with another regular scarf? What about with additional accessories? Can I fold it up in some way if I feel comfortable showing some of my hair, and want to, that day?
I want to have fun, not just be beautiful in a prescribed way. This is my adult woman's version of dress-up. Does this scarf play nicely with others?
(I've never bought or made a scarf in one of these styles, as I generally try to be pretty thrifty, and these tend to be a little more money than I want to invest in one scarf. I have thought about making one, in one of the styles.)
However, these how-to videos all basically say "this is the one right way to wear this thing".
I've got to disagree. This is the simplest way to wear that scarf. It's the most obvious. But the only way? No.
I want head covering to be a way that I express my creativity. It's a way of bringing your own sense of beauty and artistry into this mitzvah on a daily basis (or however often you cover, or however often you find time and inspiration to be creative with it).
I want to ask those videos- can I mix this specialized item with another regular scarf? What about with additional accessories? Can I fold it up in some way if I feel comfortable showing some of my hair, and want to, that day?
I want to have fun, not just be beautiful in a prescribed way. This is my adult woman's version of dress-up. Does this scarf play nicely with others?
Sunday, June 16, 2013
Haircut, Style, and Covering
I read this article a few days ago, and somehow, although it's explicitly about short haircuts, and eccentric haircuts, it felt like something worth sharing here. Here's the general claim of the article:
"Hair doesn’t make anyone beautiful but anyone can make their hair beautiful by rocking the ever-loving everything out of it. Have the length of hair you want at any given moment".
And that's something that I think is totally part of the style message that I want to send (even if most of the article is about cutting your hair off, and my hair is now the longest that it's ever been, and I'm pretty crazy about that). To apply it to my topic at hand, I really believe in this covering thing- but do it in the way that rocks your world (not a phrase I'd usually use ever).
The phrase that caught my attention is "command of her own presence". Making your own decisions is taking command of your own presence, it's owning what you do with your body. And it takes courage to do that. Especially when I wore a kippah much of the time, it took courage to be myself, and to let other people react to it however they were going to react. I still have those moments, although they're fewer.
In other words, "Sometimes, in cutting off this type of hair, you really achieve a wider, louder broadcast of your identity as it is and as you want it to be." The head has this power to project identity. A headshot is all we put on drivers' licenses and passports because it's enough to see our heads in order to see who we are. So doing something authentic to yourself with your head is a really powerful way of signalling who you really are.
In other words- go forth and be yourself. It seemed like a message worth sharing.
"Hair doesn’t make anyone beautiful but anyone can make their hair beautiful by rocking the ever-loving everything out of it. Have the length of hair you want at any given moment".
And that's something that I think is totally part of the style message that I want to send (even if most of the article is about cutting your hair off, and my hair is now the longest that it's ever been, and I'm pretty crazy about that). To apply it to my topic at hand, I really believe in this covering thing- but do it in the way that rocks your world (not a phrase I'd usually use ever).
The phrase that caught my attention is "command of her own presence". Making your own decisions is taking command of your own presence, it's owning what you do with your body. And it takes courage to do that. Especially when I wore a kippah much of the time, it took courage to be myself, and to let other people react to it however they were going to react. I still have those moments, although they're fewer.
In other words, "Sometimes, in cutting off this type of hair, you really achieve a wider, louder broadcast of your identity as it is and as you want it to be." The head has this power to project identity. A headshot is all we put on drivers' licenses and passports because it's enough to see our heads in order to see who we are. So doing something authentic to yourself with your head is a really powerful way of signalling who you really are.
In other words- go forth and be yourself. It seemed like a message worth sharing.
Sunday, April 21, 2013
Head Covering as a Spiritual Practice: My Story
When I started wearing a kippah, it was a spiritual practice. It made me more aware of my tefillah, it made me more aware of God's presence. First, I wore a covering only when making brachot, studying, or eating. The extra action made me more aware of each moment, of each blessing, of the presence of God.
Then I started covering all the time, and it brought a little bit of that awareness to getting dressed in the morning. Whether I was wearing a kippah or a headband or a scarf, I was aware of having something on my head, and that would help me to remember why I did it. It brought me more awareness of God, for a while.
It also brought me a lot of obnoxious questions and comments. I've blogged about that in the past. "You know that's not for keeping the rain off" about a kippah, and "when did you get married?" when I had a beret on outside, etc. But the spiritual benefits outweighed the social annoyance, and the obligation to do education at any and all times, including while shopping for new bras.
However, over time, my awareness dimmed. A kippah, or a scarf, or whatever I wore, just became something that I put on in the morning, just like a shirt, or socks.
And then I got married. And I had a different awareness of what was on my head. For a little while I was deeply aware of the double meaning of my new way of covering my head. It was a thrill, because it reminded me that I was married (and of how wonderful my husband is, etc- I'm pretty sure that I was a quite typical newlywed). It was also a reminder of the spiritual significance of covering my head, which I'd become sort of numb to.
Now, when I'm aware of anything, it's usually a social marker, what sort of Jew I look like. And that's not nothing. It is a part of my spiritual identity. (Spirituality being generally defined as my connection to something greater than myself, to my community, to meaning, and to myself) But it doesn't help me remember God when I'm seeing a beautiful day outside, or when I'm spending time with the family of a dying patient in the hospital, or when I'm studying Talmud with my husband. And that's an aspect of spirituality that I want to get from my head-covering practice.
So sometimes I think about that- and more often, I don't. And I don't like that numbness. That's Not The Point of this practice, or at least, not the only point. I like that I look frum, I'm not going to lie about it. But that's not the aspect of this that is foundational for me.
So I'm thinking about how to help myself remember.
Is covering spiritual for you? In what way? What keeps it fresh and meaningful?
Then I started covering all the time, and it brought a little bit of that awareness to getting dressed in the morning. Whether I was wearing a kippah or a headband or a scarf, I was aware of having something on my head, and that would help me to remember why I did it. It brought me more awareness of God, for a while.
It also brought me a lot of obnoxious questions and comments. I've blogged about that in the past. "You know that's not for keeping the rain off" about a kippah, and "when did you get married?" when I had a beret on outside, etc. But the spiritual benefits outweighed the social annoyance, and the obligation to do education at any and all times, including while shopping for new bras.
However, over time, my awareness dimmed. A kippah, or a scarf, or whatever I wore, just became something that I put on in the morning, just like a shirt, or socks.
And then I got married. And I had a different awareness of what was on my head. For a little while I was deeply aware of the double meaning of my new way of covering my head. It was a thrill, because it reminded me that I was married (and of how wonderful my husband is, etc- I'm pretty sure that I was a quite typical newlywed). It was also a reminder of the spiritual significance of covering my head, which I'd become sort of numb to.
Now, when I'm aware of anything, it's usually a social marker, what sort of Jew I look like. And that's not nothing. It is a part of my spiritual identity. (Spirituality being generally defined as my connection to something greater than myself, to my community, to meaning, and to myself) But it doesn't help me remember God when I'm seeing a beautiful day outside, or when I'm spending time with the family of a dying patient in the hospital, or when I'm studying Talmud with my husband. And that's an aspect of spirituality that I want to get from my head-covering practice.
So sometimes I think about that- and more often, I don't. And I don't like that numbness. That's Not The Point of this practice, or at least, not the only point. I like that I look frum, I'm not going to lie about it. But that's not the aspect of this that is foundational for me.
So I'm thinking about how to help myself remember.
Is covering spiritual for you? In what way? What keeps it fresh and meaningful?
Wednesday, April 17, 2013
Being Seen: A Reflection on "My Fashion Choices—and My Husband’s—Reveal the Risks of Looking Hasidic"
Sunday, April 7, 2013
What We Get Away With
I've never been the most meticulous about my hair maintenance. I've had long hair since I was quite young, so I've never had the need for more than two or three hair cuts a year, just to clean things up. When I was young and had bangs, my mother used to trim them up herself. I've never dyed my hair. I rarely used to put it up in elaborate ways- I've never owned a can of hairspray. I certainly don't wash it every day- I never have.
But I have to admit, when I'm short on time, or exhausted, or whatever other reason, covering my hair makes it a lot easier to push the boundaries on when I wash it just a little further than I could when outside people saw more than an inch or two of my hair.
True, for a long time, I used to cover a little bit, and sometimes, when my hair really needed a wash, I would braid it up with a scarf or a cap, and ta-da, it hid most of the offense. (In fact, I had my hair done that way, and for Precisely that reason, when I met my husband. It's a good thing he noticed the lack of ring, and went ahead and asked me explicitly whether I was single or not.) But I was also quite concerned with not looking married, so I couldn't do that too often... It kept me responsible.
Now, no one outside my home sees what state my hair is in. Sometimes, I get lazy.
How has your hair-care changed, since you started covering?
But I have to admit, when I'm short on time, or exhausted, or whatever other reason, covering my hair makes it a lot easier to push the boundaries on when I wash it just a little further than I could when outside people saw more than an inch or two of my hair.
True, for a long time, I used to cover a little bit, and sometimes, when my hair really needed a wash, I would braid it up with a scarf or a cap, and ta-da, it hid most of the offense. (In fact, I had my hair done that way, and for Precisely that reason, when I met my husband. It's a good thing he noticed the lack of ring, and went ahead and asked me explicitly whether I was single or not.) But I was also quite concerned with not looking married, so I couldn't do that too often... It kept me responsible.
Now, no one outside my home sees what state my hair is in. Sometimes, I get lazy.
How has your hair-care changed, since you started covering?
Sunday, March 10, 2013
Inspiration
Once in a while, I start to feel like I'm doing the same things with my head, over and over again. I feel that way about clothing rather more often (I'm less experimental with clothes, especially work clothes.) I just get bored. I slip into the same style, over and over again.
And I have No ideas for what to do to change things up.
Whether it's a simple bun style, or a multitude of different layers, I get "stuck". I need some new inspiration.
Sometimes I find that inspiration in blog posts, especially at Wrapunzel or Rivka Malka, or some of the hijab videos I find on youtube. (Do any of you know of good covering-related websites with inspiring photographs?)
Other times, I find that inspiration after a week of dull wraps, and a half an hour of play and experimentation in front of my mirror, creating a variety of ideas that don't work, and one or two that do.
Sometimes I find inspiration in leafing through old pictures of myself, and noticing an idea that I used to wear all the time, then forgot about when I got excited about something new.
Sometimes I see someone wearing something interesting at shul or on the train, that I want to check out for myself.
How do you re-find your inspiration?
P.S. And for an unrelated other sort of inspiration, because I saw it and loved it: How are nail polish and tefillin connected, and how could that possibly be inspiring?
And I have No ideas for what to do to change things up.
Whether it's a simple bun style, or a multitude of different layers, I get "stuck". I need some new inspiration.
Sometimes I find that inspiration in blog posts, especially at Wrapunzel or Rivka Malka, or some of the hijab videos I find on youtube. (Do any of you know of good covering-related websites with inspiring photographs?)
Other times, I find that inspiration after a week of dull wraps, and a half an hour of play and experimentation in front of my mirror, creating a variety of ideas that don't work, and one or two that do.
Sometimes I find inspiration in leafing through old pictures of myself, and noticing an idea that I used to wear all the time, then forgot about when I got excited about something new.
Sometimes I see someone wearing something interesting at shul or on the train, that I want to check out for myself.
How do you re-find your inspiration?
P.S. And for an unrelated other sort of inspiration, because I saw it and loved it: How are nail polish and tefillin connected, and how could that possibly be inspiring?
Monday, February 4, 2013
A Couple of Links and My Thoughts
Here's another post with advice on what sorts of hats suit which face shapes. I'm still looking for one that takes into account that you might want to put your hair up in the hat, but in the meantime, this is still helpful, I think. However, I'd have to actually figure out my face shape in order to understand the advice. I've read the descriptions and they always baffle me a bit.
And another perspective on adjusting to covering your head or hair. Melissa's very intentional gradual transition connected to me to my own experience of engagement very strongly. Here I was, "off the market" and yet not yet married, and feeling like it was an appropriate time to start playing with the equivalent of an engagement ring on my head. Of course, I already covered partially, for other reasons, but already at that point, it made me start thinking of my caps and headbands as double-purpose coverings. It also meant that I already had lots of practice in thinking about how to get scarves to stay on my head by the time I got married.
Here's a personal reflection about hair covering through the course of a marriage, divorce and up-coming remarriage. It isn't something I've really touched on, in this blog, and I really appreciated the perspective. I think you will too. Here's the same author's thoughts shortly after her divorce. A lot of attention around women's head covering gets put into newlyweds and engaged women contemplating this practice. Very little that I've seen goes into talking about divorce, loss and other changes that are less pleasant and exciting. But that's part of a full and authentic look at any religious practice- how does it interface with the whole life? I'm grateful for these posts opening up that door for me to look inside.
And another perspective on adjusting to covering your head or hair. Melissa's very intentional gradual transition connected to me to my own experience of engagement very strongly. Here I was, "off the market" and yet not yet married, and feeling like it was an appropriate time to start playing with the equivalent of an engagement ring on my head. Of course, I already covered partially, for other reasons, but already at that point, it made me start thinking of my caps and headbands as double-purpose coverings. It also meant that I already had lots of practice in thinking about how to get scarves to stay on my head by the time I got married.
Here's a personal reflection about hair covering through the course of a marriage, divorce and up-coming remarriage. It isn't something I've really touched on, in this blog, and I really appreciated the perspective. I think you will too. Here's the same author's thoughts shortly after her divorce. A lot of attention around women's head covering gets put into newlyweds and engaged women contemplating this practice. Very little that I've seen goes into talking about divorce, loss and other changes that are less pleasant and exciting. But that's part of a full and authentic look at any religious practice- how does it interface with the whole life? I'm grateful for these posts opening up that door for me to look inside.
Sunday, January 20, 2013
What Do You Get From Covering?
This post about wearing hijab is really very thoughtful, while still being an easy read. I think a lot of it holds true for Jewish (married-woman style) head covering too. Here's my favorite line: "Although nobody on the outside could see my hair, my appearance underneath can still hold as much significance as I want to give it." My image of myself is both ways that I see myself in the mirror- hair covered (in all its different silhouettes) and uncovered and loose and down past my waist. It's as important to me as it ever was- even if none of you ever see it again.
The other thought I wanted to draw out is "I choose who sees what’s under there and that gives me a sense of power and reassurance I wouldn’t trade for anything". Clearly, it doesn't speak so much to wearing a kippah, but it's an interesting set of ideas to think about. Much of what's said could go for any modesty practice, but there's something about choosing to cover a part of the body that isn't in the secular vocabulary that is particularly vocal- especially, for me, in speaking to myself. It's a message that I hear most from my head covering, far more than the rest of my modesty-fueled clothing choices.
The other thought I wanted to draw out is "I choose who sees what’s under there and that gives me a sense of power and reassurance I wouldn’t trade for anything". Clearly, it doesn't speak so much to wearing a kippah, but it's an interesting set of ideas to think about. Much of what's said could go for any modesty practice, but there's something about choosing to cover a part of the body that isn't in the secular vocabulary that is particularly vocal- especially, for me, in speaking to myself. It's a message that I hear most from my head covering, far more than the rest of my modesty-fueled clothing choices.
Wednesday, December 5, 2012
When You Hide Something...
A couple of weeks ago, I was talking with some of my colleagues, and we were, for some reason, discussing hair. I was mostly listening- I don't "do" my hair much, at this point (obviously). Then one of my colleagues mentioned that I had beautiful hair (a surprise- I tend to think of it as very fine, and therefore mostly adept at escaping however I put it up)- and another woman responded: "How did you get to see her hair?". (The answer? We'd roomed together at a conference.)
I never thought of my hair as something secret or special, that other people would be interested in seeing.
I knew that my husband found it special that he was the only one who got to see my hair. I'd seen women (well, college students) have this reaction to other women's hair.
But my hair? What's the excitement in that?
Apparently, if you hide it, it does become special. Even if it's your own- someone else will still find it exciting, even intimate.
I kept wanting to say- 'but I'm not hiding it from you! You could see it any time, there's no problem in that.' But it felt too odd. Strangely exclusionary to the one man in our peer group.
I don't know what to make of that moment. Brief though it was, it really surprised me. I have now something special, off limits, that I never really thought about that way. Making sure it was covered? Sure. Feeling uncomfortable in boundary-stretching situations? Sure. Something other people were actively curious about? Never thought in a million years.
Have any of you had a similar moment? How did you feel about it?
I never thought of my hair as something secret or special, that other people would be interested in seeing.
I knew that my husband found it special that he was the only one who got to see my hair. I'd seen women (well, college students) have this reaction to other women's hair.
But my hair? What's the excitement in that?
Apparently, if you hide it, it does become special. Even if it's your own- someone else will still find it exciting, even intimate.
I kept wanting to say- 'but I'm not hiding it from you! You could see it any time, there's no problem in that.' But it felt too odd. Strangely exclusionary to the one man in our peer group.
I don't know what to make of that moment. Brief though it was, it really surprised me. I have now something special, off limits, that I never really thought about that way. Making sure it was covered? Sure. Feeling uncomfortable in boundary-stretching situations? Sure. Something other people were actively curious about? Never thought in a million years.
Have any of you had a similar moment? How did you feel about it?
Saturday, October 27, 2012
Blogging My Interests and Anxieties
When I started this blog, I said I'd be writing about all sorts of aspects of Jewish head-covering: personal experiences, source texts, pictures, how-tos, crafts, etc. And I've done a little bit of that. But mostly, I've focused on married women's head-covering- in my texts (and there will be more texts coming, for real), in my pictures and in most of my reflections. It's the reality that I'm living right now- and therefore, it speaks to me most vividly.
But I'm also really invested in talking about kippah-wearing, both for men and women, and the interesting sometimes controversy of wigs, and whatever other options I can come up with. And I haven't been writing about those things at all- and I really think that they're worth talking about, and talking about in the same forums as my style photos and musings about my own current experiences.
Some of my focus is just that it is easiest to write about what is most current for me. Some of it is that I don't really know who my audience is- I'm writing for women who cover their hair already- so probably mostly the Orthodox. I'm also writing for other folks who are interested and egalitarian. Do I just write what I want to, for myself, and let such readership as I have deal with it? Or do I play it safe? I've been playing it safe, a significant chunk of the time. The thing is- that isn't the point of this blog. I'm going to make more of an effort to both a. post more often, and b. talk about a broader range of issues relating to the things that we Jews put on our heads.
But I'm also really invested in talking about kippah-wearing, both for men and women, and the interesting sometimes controversy of wigs, and whatever other options I can come up with. And I haven't been writing about those things at all- and I really think that they're worth talking about, and talking about in the same forums as my style photos and musings about my own current experiences.
Some of my focus is just that it is easiest to write about what is most current for me. Some of it is that I don't really know who my audience is- I'm writing for women who cover their hair already- so probably mostly the Orthodox. I'm also writing for other folks who are interested and egalitarian. Do I just write what I want to, for myself, and let such readership as I have deal with it? Or do I play it safe? I've been playing it safe, a significant chunk of the time. The thing is- that isn't the point of this blog. I'm going to make more of an effort to both a. post more often, and b. talk about a broader range of issues relating to the things that we Jews put on our heads.
Wednesday, September 26, 2012
Post Yom Kippur Musing
Now that Yom Kippur is over (and my husband isn't home yet- he was away leading services elsewhere, I was home), I've been thinking about how to dress for Yom Kippur. There's the "it's a holiday, we should look festive" approach, and there's the "it's Yom Kippur, it's totally Not about how you look, white is useful, wear whatever you have that's white" approach. I tend toward the latter camp, but this year, felt mildly uncertain about it- maybe I should do something to dress up a bit more... Especially since I'm pale enough to look a little washed out and well, very much on the ascetic side of things, all in white.
Thursday, September 13, 2012
Follow-Up On Work Anxieties
After the
concerns I wrote about before starting work, you might be surprised at the
outcome. Although I’d contemplated trying
to make my covering less obtrusive, rather unsurprisingly I went into work in my
usual sort of head-coverings, and have had no trouble or discomfort about
them. Neither supervisor seems at all taken aback or
discomfited.
It seems
that I pinned my anxieties on an item of dress, when their concerns seem to
have rested somewhere else entirely- in some aspect of scheduling or behavior
that my dress indicated, rather than in the outfit itself. I was even aware of that at the time of my
interview.
I don’t know
why I fixated on my tichel as the source of their concern- in retrospect, it
seems a little bit silly. I suppose that
I grasped onto the physical item that seemed the most Other, in comparison to secular
American expectations, and tied all my worries about othering onto it. A logical connection, but one that might have
caused me more anxieties than I might have had otherwise, although there’s no
way to know that for certain.
We’ll see
how patients react- I’ve only been really working seriously for a short time
(translation: about a day), and so it’s hard to tell, thus far. But I imagine that, given that chaplains, as
religious professionals, are often expected to be marked in their dress in some
way, stemming, I imagine, from Christian clergical collars, that a head
covering won’t be such a concern. In
many ways, I’m more curious/concerned about how Jewish patients will react,
especially the Hasidic population who, it seems, makes up a sizable percentage
of the hospital’s Jewish population.
Wednesday, September 12, 2012
Are You A Rabbi?
“Are you
going to be a rabbi?” For several years
after I started wearing a kippah, I got asked this question in all sorts of
places. At the grocery store, on an
airplane… It was my second most common
question, directly after “Is that a yarmulke?
I didn’t know that women wore them”.
Anyone who already knew that some women wore kippot seemed to also presume
that any woman who actually did so, outside the synagogue, must either be a
rabbi or was going to end up being one.
And indeed, while I was quite set against the idea at the time, I seem
to have ended up a rabbi anyway.
While I
stopped getting the question, oddly enough, around when I started rabbinical
school (perhaps people in New York are more used to women in kippot than folks
in Waltham, Mass), it does open a certain, rather depressing, line of
thought.
Maybe the
only women who care enough about the particular practice to take it on are the
ones who are so invested in religion that they, for the most part, end up as
rabbis. There isn’t much of a place
carved out for really invested, educated laity in the liberal Jewish
world. It isn’t something that I like to
look at, but it is, right now, something of a fact on the ground. If you know something about Judaism, and have
invested sufficient personal energy in a practice that people tend to associate
with men to wear it in the streets- you’re probably going to end up in the
rabbinate, because where else do you fit?
The problem for me is that I don't want the only women who take this seriously to be women who go into the rabbinate. I hate the notion that the only women who are willing to go out of their way for the sort of Judaism I believe in are those who want to make it their career. But how do I persuade anyone to do this, when I know what they're going to be asked are "are you a rabbi?"...
Tuesday, September 4, 2012
And What Will the Children Do?
We went to our nephew's chalake (like an upsherin, only Sephardi- a boy's first haircut at age 3, where he also gets his first kippah), last fall. It was actually the first one of either sort that I'd been to- so I can't discuss how it was similar or different. But it was a sweet event, and clearly a pretty potent ritual moment for our nephew- if a little overwhelming for him at times.
I wonder what we'll do for our children, when they (G-d willing) come along. Clearly, it's impossible to decide so far in advance, but I like speculating.
Will we just cut all our children's hair whenever it seems logical, and put kippot on them (boys, maybe girls?) gradually? Will we wait, and then put a kippah on boys? If so- then what for a daughter? A kippah? A headband? Will it depend on where we are and our community? Can I ask a daughter to deal with being accused of wearing "boys' clothing", when I know how difficult teasing is for a child- I went through plenty of it myself...? (Especially given that my husband will be an Orthodox rabbi- it makes for a community that will Notice what we do, and have their own opinions, desired or not.) Or are hair bows plenty of head covering for a little girl? How do I account for my values?
I wonder what we'll do for our children, when they (G-d willing) come along. Clearly, it's impossible to decide so far in advance, but I like speculating.
Will we just cut all our children's hair whenever it seems logical, and put kippot on them (boys, maybe girls?) gradually? Will we wait, and then put a kippah on boys? If so- then what for a daughter? A kippah? A headband? Will it depend on where we are and our community? Can I ask a daughter to deal with being accused of wearing "boys' clothing", when I know how difficult teasing is for a child- I went through plenty of it myself...? (Especially given that my husband will be an Orthodox rabbi- it makes for a community that will Notice what we do, and have their own opinions, desired or not.) Or are hair bows plenty of head covering for a little girl? How do I account for my values?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)