Showing posts with label Better Know a Kofer. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Better Know a Kofer. Show all posts

Tuesday, September 21, 2010

Better Know A Kofer - Devorah

Photo Credit: Flickr User Ben
Just in time for your holiday enjoyment, I'm very pleased to present another great interview by a wonderfully meyuchasdike kofer, Devorah. Devorah is a 44-year-old divorced mom living in Jerusalem with her two kids, having made aliya recently from the US. She left the frum community twenty five years ago when she went off to study in university at the age of nineteen. Now, I know what you're all thinking: "You see! The gedolim were right! College is treif!" Well, I would never be so bold as to argue with that, but before you jump to conclusions, take a few minutes and read through her interview to find out the whole story.

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Hello Devorah, and thank you for participating in the series. To get us started, can you tell us a bit about the religious environment in which you were raised? 

I grew up in a litvish, extremely meyuchisdik, family. Both my parents came from very choshev lineage. I’m a direct descendant of the Vilna Gaon. My more immediate ancestors were highly renowned roshei yeshivas, rabbonim, etc. My grandfather was an Av Bais Din and my father a communal rav.

There was a very strong focus on Torah learning and we all did family parsha study on Friday nights. I also did a lot of self-study and by the time I was nine years old it had become my habit to learn through the following week’s parsha together with Rashi by mincha time of the previous Shabbos. During the week I fleshed out my learning with other meforshim. I did my learning for fun and out of a deep desire to absorb as much kedushas hatorah as I could.

In general we were very makpid in the keeping of halochos and somewhat chumradik. Although we lived in a more right wing MO community where my father was rav, we led a moderate Charedi lifestyle. We were allowed to listen to talk radio and occasionally saw a PG movie.

By the time I was around six years old I was wearing at least elbow length sleeves and knee socks. After my bas mitzva I started wearing tights exclusively, high necklines and skirts to well below my knees.

I think that paints a pretty clear picture for us, but is there a specific experience you can share which captures the religious tone in your home? 

Sitting at the seder table and listening to long dry discussions about hilchos karban pesach and thinking to myself, "Hey, isn't this meant to be a discussion of yetzias mitzraim?" Our shabbos and yom tov tables were always focused on halochic issues and my father often discussed interesting questions that he had paskened on. It was very intellectually orientated, but I’ve got to admit, that with the exception of that seder, I did often enjoy it.

Believe me, I know very well how frustrating the seder can be. But can you highlight an example of an idea you encountered that actually made you question your upbringing? 

The sudden realization that the distinction I’d been taught between ‘medaber’ and ‘yehudi’ was just a cultural imposition and not a species barrier. When I started to realize that goyim were full fledged human beings, I started to think a lot about why such intelligent, even genius goyim weren’t converting to Judaism if yiddishkeit was as patently true as I was being told.

Also, despite learning about the crusades and the holocaust, I just could never buy the whole Eisav soneh es Yaakov business. I was very sure that Goyim were all individuals and not pre-programmed semi-automatons. The few Goyim I knew did not seem the least bit dangerous or evil to me.

Was the impetus for your transition primarily intellectual, emotional, social, cultural, or some other factor?

Wholly intellectual! I was very keen on science and took out a lot of library books, and my reading led me to understand that creationism was a mere myth, Noah’s Ark was improbable in the extreme, and the exodus and desert travels had no archaeological foundation. There was also no evidence for a God at all!

Did you ever discuss these issues with anyone?

Around the time I was experiencing my theological breakdown, there was a BT student who would often eat Shabbos and yom-tov meals at my cousins and I’d met him through them. He was a physics student, so when I happened to meet him at the library we got chatting and I bounced a lot of my questions off him. Basically, after trying to prove lack of contradiction, all he could ultimately answer was that faith sustained his belief. But I was finding that all my faith had deserted me.

Over the next few years, I also spoke to several other frum scientists and got no better basis for belief from them.

Despite being a misnagid, I even wrote in desperation to the Lubavitcher Rebbe (this being twenty-seven years ago) for chizuk in my emunah, since I thought that with his science background he might have some real answers for me. But I never received a response.

If there was a moment for you when it all suddenly fell apart, how did it feel when you realized that it all wasn't true? 

When I realized I did not believe in God any more I was emotionally devastated and wished that I could just put away my thoughts and get on with my frum life. I was around 15 at the time, and I held on without discussing my apikorsus openly, even going on to sem and teaching in a day school. I finally left when my father started putting pressure on me to go on shidduchim and refused to let me study in university.

But it was all hollow for me and pretty soon I stopped my self-study of parsha and stopped davening except for Shabbos at shul. After a while I stopped saying brochos and krias shema al hamita. However, I was still ostensibly the nice frum girl acing all the limudei kodesh tests and never scoring less than 100% in Halocha.

It was actually rather easy for me to toe the line since I was fairly physically and emotionally immature and had no interest in boys and also did not care at all for pop music. Those were always the chief issues bugging my classmates and getting them into trouble.

Can you highlight one of the very first ways you crossed the halachic line and how you felt about it? 

After I left my family home to study in university, although I did not light candles or make Kiddush I was not mechallel Shabbos and I became a vegetarian. The first time I broke Shabbos was when traveling as a passenger. I had to leave the car after the onset of Shabbos and we had traveled outside the tchum.

It took me a while to act outside the normative Halachic bounds of kashrus and Shabbos, because I was very keen that people should not view me as having left my upbringing for self-indulgent reasons, and I did not want to shame my family.

For many years, for at least a decade after I stopped keeping Shabbos, every time I was in some way mechallel Shabbos I would think about which av or toldah I was being oiver. However, it was wholly intellectual, just something I was cognizant of, and I never suffered any guilt from it.

How did you family react to your leaving? What is your relationship like with them now? 

For almost two decades I never discussed my different world view with my family, but also rarely returned to visit them. When I did go back I would wear appropriately long tznius clothing. A few years ago I told my father I was atheist and he accepted that it was a thoughtfully arrived at conclusion for me. We have never discussed it since, and in fact our relationship has been warmer than ever.

What connection do you currently have to Jewish identity, religion, or culture? 

I feel ethnically Jewish, and chose to make aliya a year and a half ago. I now live in a secular/MO section of Jerusalem. I very occasionally attend a reform shul to give my kids some comprehension of what shul is about, and they recently started going to the Israeli version of RSY (Reform Synagogue Youth) to learn a bit about Judaism. Today, my nine year old asked me what a sin is, since she heard the madrich talking about sin in a discussion about Yom Kippur. Charmingly, my daughter first heard about God when aged five. A kid she met told her that God is a superhero whose powers never get used up! Yup! I told her, I’ve heard of that superhero. She thought I was a really cool mom!

How do you you approach the Jewish holidays with your kids?

Since we now live in Israel my kids are starting to absorb the notion of being Jewish and have certainly absorbed some knowledge about Chagim and Shabbat from their surroundings, school, the youth group, reform shul and my frum relatives. The reality is that even secular Israeli schools teach quite a lot about religion – at least in Jerusalem.

I’m actually rather pleased that my kids are getting to know about Judaism because I feel it might insulate them more from zealous evangelists like Chabad when they get older and go to college. When we lived in America my kids had no exposure to Judaism at all and had they continued that way they would have been prime BT targets.

However, even in Jerusalem there are certainly secular ways of celebrating Chagim. For instance, Yom Kippur to my kids is Bike Day, when they spend all day out on the deserted roads enjoying their bikes and scooters.

What is something from your religious past that you miss in your life now? 

Absolutely nothing that I can think of. Sometimes, I visit frum relatives and although I enjoy spending time with them, I’m acutely aware of how limited their lives are.

Whatever minor benefits might accrue from living such a cloistered, rule laden lifestyle, the downside is a huge sapping of curiousity, creativity and even ethical consciousness.

Are there any behaviors or perspectives from your past religious life that are still dominant in your life now? 

There must be, but I really think individual personality is most dominant, and I don’t know whether my perspective has been formed via my upbringing or personality.

Do you have any strong feelings towards the religious community you came from?

I do not feel in the least bit connected to the Charedi community, but do feel a bond to others who are ex-Charedi.

Do you still believe in some form of God or in some version of Judaism? 

I am a convinced atheist. I cannot even comprehend how supposedly intelligent adults can persist in believing in such an irrational notion as God. It literally boggles my mind. However, when asked directly and I don’t want to be offensive, I sometimes adopt Golda Meir’s answer. “I believe in the Jewish people and the Jewish people believe in God.”

What are some of the drawbacks of your decision to leave? Do you regret it at all? Is there any guilt? 

The only drawback was the loss of financial support which my father extended to his other children. But the reality is that I’ve managed very well by myself. Otherwise, it was an inevitable transition since I could not live a bogus life forever. I have no guilt since I did not have faith from well before I left. I now live a quiet, highly caring, loving family life.

I have never regretted making the break – not even for a second!

Were there any particular struggles or challenges that you found especially difficult in the transition? 

I made the decision even as a non-believer to pay my ex-husband for a get. He was a secular Jew but so angry that I was leaving him that he decided he would extort money from me for the get. He got the idea after idiot people told him how important a get was to my family. He hard balled for a very lot of money. He knew the get was meaningless to me, but he knew I would never want to bring disgrace upon my family.

Can you name something significant which you are currently doing in your life, or that you’ve experienced, which would have been difficult, if not impossible, in your former life? 

I’ve traveled to more than 80 countries, climbed Aconcagua, camped in Denali, traveled through Amazonia, been on a whiskey sampling tour in the Scottish Highlands, stayed with a Borneo tribe and taken an Antarctic voyage. I’ve also hung out with many incredible and smart people. I can’t imagine doing that as a frum girl.

It is a continuous much appreciated joy for me that I can now genuinely be myself and express myself, and search for true meaning in life and about life through science. Although if I’d stayed frum I could always have snuck into Borders to buy science texts, the ongoing conflict between science and frum hashkofa would have been a daily irritant.

Is there anything that you hope to achieve now which wouldn’t have been possible when you were frum? 

One of my greatest hopes now is to facilitate my children’s development according to their talents and aspirations. One of my daughters is a fantastic singer and dancer and the other a budding gymnast. They have the prospects of going far with their skills and taking part in contests and public performances. I’m pleased that my daughters aren’t restricted in showcasing their talents as frum girls routinely are.

What surprised you most about the world outside ultra-orthodoxy? 

How universities (science departments) are all about critical thinking and searching for real answers in contrast with the sophistry that passes for learning in yeshivas.

Also, the fact that people are much kinder and more accepting in the general community than I had ever expected. I’ve been looked after and helped by total strangers whilst traveling, merely because I’m a fellow human.

What is one misconception or stereotype about ex-frum people that you’d like to correct? 

Many of the best and brightest are leaving the frum world, not the dregs as popularly depicted. Most ex-frum people I associate with are intellectually very smart and kind warm people.

It’s also not hard for an ex-frum person to pursue a successful new life in the general community and in fact marriage prospects are enhanced. Once divorced, I found it to be no difficulty to find high quality men to date in the wider community.

How does your life now compare to when you were frum? 

It is much more honest, broader in scope and more fulfilling.

Can you give an example of something that has completely changed in your way of thinking since you left? 

I now respect people much more for just being a person. I also have shrugged off warped frum thinking such as respecting people for yichus or money, both of which my family was blessed with.

What’s the best thing about not being frum? 

I can be intellectually honest and think about serious and important things from an open perspective.

What’s the best thing that you recall about being frum? 

Lavish kiddushim with cholent and potato kugel.

Do you have a favorite character or incident from the Bible, and why? 

Hmmmm, I liked the Bnos Zelofchod for their excellent legal reasoning!

If you could change one thing about the community you left, what would it be? 

Not to be snotty!

Do you think there’s anything that the frum world could have done to keep you "on the derech"? 

Accept a rational naturalist way of thinking about the world, but then that would rule out God!

If a child of yours chose to become religious, how would you react? 

I would be a little amazed, but hey it’s her life!

Is there anything else about your life you’d like to elaborate on? 

I never openly acknowledged being atheist until 1996 when I met Richard Dawkins at an event in Oxford and it broke the discomfort barrier in admitting I was atheist. I actually enjoyed a rather nice chat with him, and he told me that acknowledging one’s atheism was a big deal to many people not just ex-frummers. He made me feel so much more normal about my concern about that.

Like many other thoughtful people I suffer from depression from time to time. However, because I no longer believe in an afterlife I realize that suicide cannot be an option. I have only this one life to live and no other. In this way my atheism helps me pull through my bouts of depression. In contrast, when I first suffered depression in my early teens I seriously contemplated suicide and believed that Hashem would understand my reasons for taking my life.

Are there any parting words you’d like to tell the frum world? 

All parents are entitled to educate their children as they see fit. However, if your child upon attaining adulthood, and after having absorbed at least eighteen years of your values and frumkeit, decides to choose a different philosophy in life, then accept it!

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Tuesday, August 24, 2010

Better Know A Kofer - Sam

I know it's been a long time since I posted a kofer interview. I had thought about letting the project wind down, but recently I met someone who told me how helpful he felt these stories were to him and how much he looked forward to reading more of them. Well, after hearing that, how could I possibly refuse? So I've whipped up another kofer interview for my dear readers. You'll be getting to know Sam, who comes from one of the most insular chassidic communities ever. Sam left the frum world only a few years ago and now has almost completed his bachelors degree in chemistry. Please enjoy the interview.

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Hello Sam. To start off, tell us a bit about the religious environment that you grew up in.

It was literally a shtetal, and a small one. My community is known to be close minded even in the chasidic world. We have a "heilege rebbe" who many people believe can perform miracles, and the entire community revolves around him. When it comes to isolation from the real world, we score a perfect 12 in a 1-10 scale.

Can you give an example?

Ok, so until I was about 12 there was no such a thing as swimming in my community. But when I was about that age they decided that we should be allowed to swim. So we went out swimming, but to be modest all the boys had to wear the long sleeved shirts and long pants. No kidding, we all went swimming dressed up like we were going to a wedding.

Can you highlight an idea you encountered that made you question your upbringing?

When I discovered married people have sex, which was quite late I might add, I was really confused. I couldn't believe that even the most tuma (impure) thing ever was even done by the HOLY REBBE, holy shit!

What was the impetus for your transition away from frumkeit?

It was a combination of intellectual and emotional issues. Let me elaborate. The one major factor that drove me was the emptiness I felt there. Since as far back as I can remember about myself, I always had something in life to look forward to. Be it graduating from class by the end of the year, or my bar mitzvah, etc. Although today, these goals look really silly, it was very real to me back then. However when I got a little older, around 16-17, I found myself not really looking forward to anything. At the time when my peers were dying to get married, for some reason I was able to look past it. I saw marriage as a short cut to death. Because marriage was going to be the last major achievement or change for the rest of my life. And while my children are going to do the same that I did, I figured there is no way to be happy for kids since their life will be as empty as mine. On the other hand, I was really afraid of God and hell so I didn't really think of leaving. I just surrendered to the idea that my life is going to suck real bad. However, at the time, maybe a year later, I began questioning (real questioning) the validity of the existence of God. Some would say my questioning was a result of my unhappiness. I really don't care why I was questioning. The fact is that I had questions and stopped believing. And these questions were real and they are still real. The second I stopped believing the decision was made.

Did anything happen once that decision was made in your mind? How did things change at that point?

I stopped keeping Halacha, I would refuse to go meet people about shiduchim, etc. About a half a year later I heard about Footsteps and I went to them.

How did Footsteps help you?

When I first left I didn't know a single other person who left. I had no idea what to do or where to turn. I was totally lost. If I hadn't felt that I could go to Footsteps when I left, I probably would never have left at all. I'd probably still be there, totally miserable with my life and very likely divorced. Footsteps was my lifeline. They helped me find a place to live, they helped me find a job, they helped me with preparing for and getting into college. They helped me with everything.

What was one of the very first ways you crossed the halachic line?

I turned on a radio on Shabbus to listen to a hockey game. I switched it on, and wow! I am still alive. So I thought maybe god didn't realize what just happened. So I switched it off and on again. I repeated that quite a few times and from that point on I never had any real problem to do any sins ("Aviros," not a virus). And I am doing everything now.

How did you family react to your leaving? What is your relationship like with them now?

I have over 10 siblings. Right at this moment when I am writing this I am staying in my brothers house. But on the other hand I have other siblings that I haven't talked to since I left. My parents do talk to me on the phone and I visit them occasionally, but I have to lie to them about my beliefs. For a recent family wedding, my sister told me that she didn't want me to be there.

What connection do you currently have to Jewish identity, religion, or culture?

Religion zero, some aspects of the culture I really like. I consider Judaism a tribe in which I am a part off.

What is something from your religious past that you miss in your life now?

The fact that I didn't have any pressure and second thoughts about anything I did. I knew exactly what and when to do everything, which is not the case today.

Are there any behaviors or perspectives from your past religious life that are still dominant in your life now?

I kinda really like the food and some music. Also I can sway back and forth, like I used to do studying the Talmud, when I study my textbooks.

How do you currently view the religious community you came from?

Mostly nostalgia. On the one hand, I think they are unbelievably wrong. I'm an atheist, so I don't agree with anything they do. Even keeping shabbos seems crazy to me. On the other hand, I do miss that place. So in my fantasy I wish I can change them to not be as extreme.

What exactly do you miss?

The strong community life. For us, even minor details about each others lives were familiar to each others families, like how many sleds my neighbor owns. Even the little things I remember, like the way we played in the snow. I don't know why I feel that way - maybe it's just the fact that you miss the life you had as a child. But I don't hate it. I think they're wrong, but I do still miss it in some ways.

Do you still believe in some form of God or in some version of Judaism?

Not that I can think of.

What are some of the drawbacks of your decision to leave? Do you regret it at all? Is there any guilt?

Regrets? Hardly any. Of course there are drawbacks. You have to rebuild your life. In my old life I considered myself one of the top students in my class, and as a result, respected myself a lot and was convinced of my superiority. Now I don't have that same feeling of confidence.

What are some things that helped you get through those difficult times?

The fact that I am able to look back and remember how difficult my life used to be. Anytime I find myself feeling frustrated with my life now, I remember how bad it was for me back when I was frum, and realize that my situation would not have been any better had I remained in the community. I don't just think about it though. I actually visualize the experience of being in that world and how bad the experience was and it helps me realize how it's not so bad now.

Can you name something significant which you are currently doing in your life, or that you've experienced, which would have been difficult, if not impossible, in your former life?

A major factor for my leaving was due my desire to go to college. Back then, my fantasy was to graduate, go to medical school and find a cure for cancer. But even then I knew that my goals would evolve. And they did. Now I am much more interested in math and physics than I am in biology. But my goals are still evolving. However the fact that my fantasy of my careers are constantly evolving is something that I am very satisfied with. In short, I am in college studying science, which was very difficult for me to do before I left (if not impossible). In addition, I am enjoying my life, something that rarely happened before I left. And I am actually surprised by how good life is on the outside. I get up every morning and do what I think is right. I don't have to regret half the things I did the previous day. The only regretting going on today is not enough studying.  

What surprised you most about the world outside ultra-orthodoxy?

That people are as nice, and as bad, as in the Chasidic world. All I knew (or thought I knew) about gentiles was that they are a bunch of criminals and drug addicts. Also I couldn't get over the fact that most non-Jews don't bother focusing on Jews anywhere nearly as much as I was told they do. They could hardly care less about what we do.

What is one misconception or stereotype about ex-frum people that you'd like to correct?

That we are lost souls drifting around a contaminated world confused as shit, only interested in sex, and not worth taking seriously.

Are there any stereotypes about general society that you found to be true?

99.9% of it isn't true.

What's the best thing about not being frum?

The best thing... hmmm... maybe that you don't have to take everything so seriously. Every choice and action isn't considered such a major issue that you always need to be absolutely confident is the exact right thing to do. In my old world, everything had such huge consequences, both now, and for your future olam haba. I always had to be sure I was doing the right thing. Every change a person did, no matter how slight, had ramifications in how they were perceived in the community. People don't judge me that way anymore. Also, now I'm free to consider the possibility that what I'm doing is wrong. Making a mistake is not the end of the world. It's an amazing freedom.

What's the best thing that you recall about being frum?

Winning debates about the Talmud over the Rosh Yeshiva. Even when I knew I was right, he never conceded my victories, but all the other rabbis that were around to hear the discussion agreed that I had beaten him.

If you could change one thing about the community you left, what would it be?

Disallowing such young marriages. I believe that many of my friends would have make different choices if they hadn't found themselves having to support a family. It's used to trap people into staying.

If you could go back in time, and speak to your teenage chassidish self, what would you tell him?

Use your leverage. I understand now that the adults in my life wanted so badly for me to be properly frum that I could have used that to my advantage and gotten all sorts of benefits for myself. If I would have said, "Let me do x,y, z, or else I'm cutting off my payos!" I think they would have given me what I wanted. But back then, I was so obedient and such a believer that it never crossed my mind to do that. But I think I could have pulled it off.

Are there any parting words you'd like to tell the frum world?

Wake up and consider the fact that other people might have their own real views about life. You don't have a monopoly on reality.

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Photo Credit: Flickr user andre_guerette.

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Monday, February 15, 2010

Better Know A Kofer - Tova

Continuing our series of kofer profiles, today I have a chance to present the author of the blog "The Righteous Rasha". Coming from a most fascinating background, Tova is a 21-year-old, undergraduate student from the Midwest, majoring in Economics (and minoring in Hebrew/Near East Studies). I thank Tova for giving us such a comprehensive picture of her fascinating life journey.

To start things off, can you describe the religious environment that you came from? 

Yes, in just one word: "unique". I'll elaborate, though. My mother, raised as a Protestant, finalized her Orthodox conversion in 1979 when she was pregnant with my older sister. And my father, who was raised as a Conservative Jew, became more observant during his college years. (In the '50s and '60s, Conservative Judaism resembled Orthodoxy, so it's not as though the changes my Abba made were huge.)

My parents, who had in a sense 'rebelled' from their own upbringings, expected an intellectual and questioning form of Judaism from me and my siblings. Chareidi we were not; our frumkeit was backed up by logic and sometimes self-challenged with skepticism or outright mockery. My immediate family would make jokes about 'frummies' and 'black-hatters', even though our home kept "The Big 3" of Orthodoxy.

From my parents, there was always an encouragement to ask questions of our teachers, who were frequently stricter than we were. When one teacher of mine - who publicly insulted me for my leniency (despite her former tendency to eat ham sandwiches) - did something emotionally abusive to me at school, Abba swore at her. And Mom always wanted me to be reading or writing or listening to something. She would encourage me to read the classics instead of those trashy frum novels, and played Neil Young or DYB on the stereo instead of what she called "Ay-ay-ay music".

That definitely is quite a unique environment. And what stream of Orthodoxy was the school you attended?

It depends on which school you're talking about. From kindergarten through fourth grade, I attended Akiva, a Modern Orthodox/religious Zionist/Young Israel-affiliated sort of school. This worked well, because my family was what you might call Modern Orthodox. (And we were certainly Zionists - my father knew Rav Kahane!) And the only shul I ever daven at is a Young Israel, incidentally.

From fifth grade through my high school graduation, however, I attended Bais Yaakov, which was a lot stricter and more forbidding. This was difficult because my parents didn't agree with a lot of the Chareidi ideas that I was being taught. At the same time, though, they didn't want to create a parent-school conflict. I didn't manage to create a 'niche' for myself at Bais Yaakov until my parents divorced in 2001-2002 and I began to write seriously. By that time, I had developed a few close friendships with more accepting classmates.

Is there any incident, idea, or experience that you can relate which captures the religious tone of your upbringing? 

Until my parents divorced when I was 13, our family would go camping each summer in Michigan's Upper Peninsula. We would set up camp while some classic rock or Grateful Dead played on our car stereo, and my mother would bake challa on Fridays in a collapsible Coleman oven.

This unusual and esoteric yearly activity epitomizes my upbringing: We were "the black sheep" of our neighborhood (which was and is chareidi) and everywhere else we went. We were out in the wilderness, literally and figuratively, maintaining (sometimes unconventional) ties to Judaism while forging strong identities in other realms.

Can you highlight an example of an incident, experience, or idea you encountered that made you question your upbringing? 

There are many of these, but I'll delve into one. Unlike many converts to Orthodox Judaism, Mom has a strong connection with her blood relatives. I had been told at Bais Yaakov that "Esav sonei es Yaakov", that goyim should be stayed away from. We were warned that Jewish people had to stay separate from the 'outside world' in order to avoid persecution and bad influences.

But I loved my Christian relatives, and I still do. They are wonderful people, and in many ways they are better than the frummies I spent so much time with. Knowing that many of my classmates would chastise me if they knew that I ate meals (on kosher dishes) with goyim regularly made me strangely satisfied, but also confused: Why was I being told to stay away from people who loved me, who understood my personality and desires better than most frummies did?

I concluded that my teachers had been lying to me, or were at the very least misinformed. That those in authority were wrong on such a core issue made an indelible impression on me.

Would you say that the impetus for your transition was primarily intellectual, emotional, social, cultural, or some other factor? 

I'd like to think my rebellion was a result of all the factors you suggested, but the primary ones in that list are intellect and emotion. It did not seem logical to me that God would care if I ate a cheeseburger, and the cruelty that Jews often displayed toward me and my family made me realize that religion didn't necessarily make people kind or good.

I often wondered, "So what if the Hebrews accepted the Torah? Did I? My mother converted, but I didn't. Why am I required to follow these rules if I never personally accepted them?" Eventually, I came to believe that the God of the TaNaCh was an evil being due to his repeated commands of slavery, genocide, sexism, racism and rape. I refused to worship or obey the commands of such a deity.

My views are strongly libertarian, and I value freedom above all. The idea that everything I ate, wore, read and discussed should be subject to ancient rules did not make sense to a woman who is committed to personal liberty and independence.

As for the emotional aspect, I hated the way that frummies made me feel: Not religious enough, not smart enough, not good enough. I was emotionally penalized throughout junior high and high school due to the fact that I was not chareidi, and I believe that the lack of support given me was a major contributor to the severe depression I experienced until my first year of college.

Did you ever share these thoughts with your parents, and if so, how did they respond? From your description of them, it sounds like they'd welcome these challenges.

I was very open about the way I felt, and my parents often agreed with me in this regard. The trouble was that they felt that Bais Yaakov was the best option out there for me (when compared with public school and the other Jewish day schools in Detroit), and they thought that their hands were tied. Mom and Abba always encouraged intellectualism, questioning, serious thought - but they knew that if pushed too hard, I would get into serious trouble at school.

These days, my parents are fully aware that I'm "off the derech" (a term I think is highly inaccurate, as I am very much on my own derech), but they don't like hearing about it. My father, for example, knows that I eat treif, but he doesn't want to hear about my favorite Chinese restaurant. My mother knows that I date goyim, but doesn't (usually) want to hear about how my dates with these men go. (There was an exception to this rule in 2007, when I dated a wonderful guy who my mom said she'd be happy to see me marry.) So I suppose my parents don't approve of my lifestyle, but they also do not disown me as a result of it.

Was there a moment for you when it all suddenly fell apart?

There was no singular moment for me; rather, it was an evolution. I do remember my senior year of high school thinking about where I was religiously, though, and it felt beautiful, thrilling and terrifying all at once.

Can you elaborate on those very different emotions? What was beautiful? Terrifying?

It was beautiful to me that I was able to make my own choices in life, that I could live properly without being frum. It was also terrifying, because this realization destroyed a lot of what I had been taught. And it was thrilling because I discovered so many new, 'forbidden' things that made my life more fulfilling and productive. I felt that I had been born anew and was just beginning to truly experience life. The thought of it still excites me.

What was one of the very first ways you crossed the halachic line? How did you feel about it?

One of my closest friends, who rebelled from his Lubavitch upbringing, took me to Taco Bell sometime when I was 17 or 18. I remember ducking down in the seat so that no one would see me at the drive-through. It was an exciting experience, but the emotional upheaval made me ill afterward. To this day, I will not eat at Taco Bell because of the way its food made me sick… though that might be more an indictment of my own memories than of fast food itself.

Subsequent trips to buy cheeseburgers made me ill at first, but I think that's because my body wasn't used to digesting meat and dairy products at the same time.

Did you find yourself thinking at all, "oh yeah, just like they said would happen, god's punishing me for what I just did…"?

Sure, but I did so in a joking manner. I would eat treif with my other formerly frum friends and say, "See? God's striking me down with diarrhea for eating at McDonald's!" We would all burst out laughing, but once in a while I did think that I was truly being punished - not only with sickness from fast food, but with an inquisitive mind that left me unsatisfied with frum life. I would often ask why God punished me with the brain that I had, why he couldn't make me a person who was happy with the answers that Judaism had to offer. It would be so much easier just to believe in this religion and not doubt it.

How did you family react to your leaving? What is your relationship like with them now? 

Some of them still don't know the extent to which I have rebelled. Those who do know, get along with me pretty well. My sister's prior "going off" had gotten many of my relatives used to the idea that not all of us were going to be frum.

I usually get along very well with my father and mother. Since I'll live with Mom until I graduate college, though, I try to keep most of the rules while at home: I don't bring treif food into the house, I don't break Shabbos in her presence, et cetera. This is an issue of respect for me. My Bubbie promises to disown me if I marry a goy, though she herself is not Orthodox.

There is an intense love I have for my family, both Jewish and Christian. I've heard that most OTDers have been rejected by their families, and that makes me terribly sad.

Does the fact that your parents themselves had periods where they "rebelled" from their family's traditions contribute in any way to the dynamic with them?

Absolutely. From what I've read and observed, they aren't as harsh as some frum parents of 'rebels' can be. When I make jokes about frummies, they laugh, and when I express doubts, they will often share a few of their own. I don't think somebody who hasn't 'rebelled' religiously would behave this way toward a child; this is why so many frum parents shun their formerly frum kids - because they haven't been there.

What connection do you currently have to Jewish identity, religion, or culture? 

I firmly believe that Judaism is more a nationality than it is a religion, and express my personal identity in those terms. I am very pro-Israel and enjoy doing some Jewish things. Shul can be fun, if there's singing. I find nationalistic significance in many of our holidays. And there are several aspects of our culture that are simply delightful: klezmer music, Jackie Mason, cholent.

Is there anything from your religious past that you miss in your life now? 

It's hard for me to miss anything, really, since I still live in the same frum neighborhood I grew up in. I suppose, after rejecting frumkeit, I'm missing out on a few things, but none of these activities are inaccessible to me currently. If I want to daven, I go to shul and nobody questions it. If I want to help cook for Shabbos, Mom is happy that she has a less stressful Thursday. If I want to read something Jewish, I do so and analyze the writing. There isn't anything to miss because I haven't physically abandoned anything.

Are there any behaviors or perspectives from your past religious life that are still dominant in your life now?

Definitely. The importance of communal support is more obvious to me than it is to some friends from other backgrounds. And the desire to pick things apart logically and analyze them is something that I think comes from my 'Litvak' ancestry.

How do you currently view the religious community you came from? 

I feel sad for many of them, because they are willfully ignorant about 'the outside world' and don't know what they're missing. On the other hand, if they truly think that they 'have it', it is not my right to intervene. They have tried to intervene with my life, though, and that makes me angry.

My next-door neighbor once told me to go back into the house and change my outfit from jeans to a skirt because my clothing somehow marred the "beautiful neighborhood". I told her that she wasn't my mother, and that her eleven children dumping garbage onto their lawn did more harm to our street's beauty than my blue jeans did. Well… I told her the first part. The second part is what I imagined. My father called her up and yelled at her, and she waited 3 months to apologize to me. Chutzpa!

On the other hand, I have some frum friends who I absolutely adore. One of my closest buddies, for example, is a Lubavitch newlywed who commutes from school with me. She and I have a lot of great conversations about life and theology, and she often likes to say that "Tova is not off the derech; Tova is on her own, perfectly good derech!"

It would be wrong of me to pass judgment on all frum Jews; the majority of them are fine people who treat me nicely (and I, of course, reciprocate). But the people who are nasty magnify themselves to their own detriment.

Do you still believe in some form of God or in some version of Judaism? 

I am a Jewish nationalist, but I don't believe in the biblical deity. There have been some events in my life that I consider miracles, so I do think that there is 'something' out there. But I don't believe in HaShem specifically. He's way too petulant and bigoted to deserve my worship, and there is no sense in limiting our lives for the sake of a being whose existence we have no proof of.

What are some of the drawbacks of your decision to leave? Do you regret it at all?

I do not regret "going off", but there have been some difficulties. Some people are horrified to learn that I am no longer Orthodox, and it's difficult for them to understand why I do not want their 'perfect' lifestyle.

Anything in particular that is difficult? 

I have a hard time attending weddings of classmates, especially when people at these events say "Im yirtzeh HaShem by you!" to me (yes, even to me!). More acutely, it is extremely painful to watch high school girlfriends marry men they don't love.

When you meet such people, acquaintances that don't know how you've changed, do you tell them about it? How do you handle those situations where you're not sure how people will react?

Sometimes I tell a person about the way I live, and sometimes I don't. If I don't know him (usually her, because women tend to be more narrow-minded in my experience) well enough, I probably won't tell. But really, do I need to? It's pretty obvious, if you ask me: I am not a frummie - just look at the way I dress and talk and behave!

If I'm not certain how a person will react, I can test the waters with a question about music or fashion (or something else). This can give me clues as to what a person's viewpoint of non-frum Jews is; although no one follows a set "list of beliefs", it's more likely for a classic rock fan (for example) than an Avraham Fried listener to tolerate people who aren't frum.

Then there are complete strangers who, upon finding out my story (or even a tiny bit of it), decide to make incredibly funny accusations against me. Jacob Stein, for example, has said that I prostitute myself to Detroit's black men, that I shoot heroin into my arm, and that I have had abortions. None of these things are true, but I did have to file a complaint against Stein with my local police department after he began harassing my family with phone calls and emails.

Other people have written me hate mail claiming that I think I'm smarter and better than frum people, even though this is not the case. I love frum Jews; in many cases, they have been the kindest and brightest people I've ever had the pleasure of interacting with. If I thought I was superior to them, why would I live with them and do business with them and be friends with them? Why would I hang out with them, eat at their homes, have conversations with them, call them up on the phone? The fact that I disagree with them theologically doesn't diminish their humanity or goodness. People are people. So it's pretty clear that anyone who calls me a whore, a drug addict, or a frum-hater has never met me.

What are some things that helped you get through those difficult times?

After years of being told that we were to make ourselves unattractive to men, and that men were not interested in listening to us or making us happy, I had an interesting time my first two semesters of college: My first sexual experience was shocking in that it demonstrated to me that men did find me attractive and wanted to give me pleasure. This made me happy; I finally felt like a woman after being infantilized for so many years by my teachers at Bais Yaakov. I also had my first (and best) boyfriend, a wonderful guy who I'm still friends with.

These experiences were extremely informative, almost revelations. I experienced sexual confusion and heartache as every young woman does, albeit at a delayed stage…but the things that happened were so outside the realm of what my teachers had wanted for me that even the break-ups and upset were, in a way, enjoyable.

Can you point to something which you are currently doing in your life which would have been difficult, if not impossible, when still frum? 

Blogging, for one. I would never be able to say such controversial things if I were still frum - without a pseudonym, anyway. And despite your insistence that OTDers don't just eat cheeseburgers all day, Hedyot, I have to say that my ability to eat what I like when I like is extremely fulfilling. And cheeseburgers are delicious! I often make kosher versions of them for my mother. The fact that I can walk down the street wearing a pair of jeans is a great feeling, too.

Is there anything that you hope to achieve now which wouldn't have been possible when you were frum? Were there aspirations or goals that you had which were unable to be realized due to being frum? 

I would like to move to the Upper Peninsula and marry an American Indian (I'm only half-joking about these). I want to go to graduate school, teach my field (economics) to others, and continue to write and possibly get published.

When I was frum, I did not even think it would be possible to go to college to study a field other than the ubiquitous 'therapies' that so many frum girls seem to take courses for.

Even with the open-minded and questioning upbringing of your family, you were expected to follow the standard frum route?

It depends on what one considers 'standard'. Honestly, I think my parents would be satisfied if I kept kosher, observed Shabbos and went to the mikva before my wedding (to a Jew, of course). They would be happy if I followed the basics. But they also think that if parents push their kids too much, the kids will be completely turned off from religion - and they're right.

My question was actually referring to the academic "route". It sounds like your parents would encourage you to explore any paths that appealed to your interests, and not just those typical professions.

I didn't even know that frum girls were 'supposed' to become OTs, et cetera until I was in high school. My parents told me to study whatever interested me, though. They both liked the idea of me becoming a professional writer.

So if your parents were ok with pursuing any route, then why would you have thought that only OT, PT, etc. were legitimate options for you?

Although my parents told me I should do what I wanted, I didn't think that this was what a truly 'frum' person did. I agreed with my folks that I should do what I wanted, but I also felt that the frum community would never find any of the 'non-mainstream' career paths acceptable.

When you left frumkeit, what surprised you most about the world outside ultra-orthodoxy? 

This still surprises me, actually: The ignorance that so many white Christians have about Judaism, and the relative knowledge that black Christians have about it. I suppose this can be attributed to the black Christian community's emphasis on the Old Testament and learning Hebrew. Why so many people are so misinformed about Jesus' religious background is still a mystery to me, though.

What is one misconception about ex-frum people that you'd like to correct?

We are not inherently irresponsible, and we don't all engage in stereotypical "OTD" behavior: We do not all use drugs or drink, some of us (me!) have not had sex yet, we go to college, we work, we're productive. In fact, I think leaving frumkeit forces one to take on a level of unprecedented responsibility. To suggest that adults who are making their own choices are irresponsible is backward.

Are there any stereotypes about general society that you found to be true?

My parents didn't really raise me with stereotypes about 'the outside world', and their influence on me was greater than school's. So there was no revelatory moment where I said, "Aha! The frummies were right!"

But there were a few things I saw that reinforced what I had been told in Bais Yaakov: General society takes sex too casually, in my view. And people are not as intellectual as they could be (though this is something I found in the frum world, too).

How does your life now compare to when you were frum?

I rarely get depressed anymore, and I am more productive than I once was. I am vastly happier as a non-frum Jew.

That's really nice to hear. Can you give an example of something that has completely changed in your way of thinking since you left? 

It is no longer so scary to try new things, and challenges often seem exciting instead of daunting.

Any societal and/or cultural experiences which have significantly shaped your worldview?

There have been many formative influences/experiences on my life. These include: Grateful Dead concerts, Rush (the band), economist/philosopher Thomas Sowell, Ayn Rand, camping in the North, and visiting with my Christian grandparents.

What is it about a Grateful Dead concert that can affect one in such a meaningful way? 

Ask any Deadhead about what Dead shows were like, and they'll inevitably describe these as warm, spiritual experiences. When the band was still around, it had a way of communicating with the audience in such a way that the air crackled with energy at most shows. The way that most 'heads interact with one another - through commerce, drum circles, dancing, and conversation - opened my eyes at a young age to the down-to-earth kindness that people can exhibit.

What's the best thing about not being frum?

The best thing about leaving frumkeit is one's new possession of liberty and its promise. I've written quite a bit about this theme on my site because freedom is the most important value to me.

What's the best thing that you recall about being frum? 

The network and the support it often gave to people who needed it: G'machs, meals when babies were born, people who would daven for the sick or needy.

Is there anything positive in your life that you would attribute to having gotten from the frum world?

I wouldn't have a fraction of the Jewish knowledge I currently possess if I hadn't been raised frum. I know who the Rishonim were, I can speak Hebrew, I can study TaNaCh and I discuss kashrus issues. Most Jews in this country can't do that, and I am proud of the information that I have.

Do you have a favorite character from the Bible?

I can't pick just one! My three favorites are Yael, Yehudis and Devora: This triad represents the epitome of strong femininity. Devora is the Jewish Joan of Arc, a woman with brains and wile. Yael is a warrior, driving a stake through the head of the Jewish people's enemy.

Yehudis, though? This lady takes the cake, in my book. She uses her sexuality to take advantage of an enemy general, inducing a drunken slumber. Then she severs his head and places it at the gates of Jerusalem to rally the Jewish troops.

All 3 women have balls, as far as I'm concerned. I would be happy to name a daughter after any one of these heroines. I can't relate much to the men of TaNaCh, though, as most of them were polygamists on power trips.

If you could change one thing about the community you left, what would it be?

I wish I could bring an end to their willful ignorance. So many frum Jews have a desire to not know things, and it's an infuriating characteristic. On the other hand, they must be given the right to live the way they want, even if doing so limits their intellectual exploration.

Do you think there's anything that the frum world could have done to keep you "on the derech"?

No, because I don't think that Orthodox Judaism is the correct way for me to live. Even if the frum lifestyle were more tolerable or pleasant, this wouldn't have changed the cognitive dissonance I felt when doing things that, while frum, were illogical or downright immoral.

Is there anything else about your life you'd like to elaborate on?

Some random facts for you: I love to read, particularly books on economic theory and polygamous cults. I write a lot and run a blog. I work for a Chaldean-owned business, and my (majority black) customers consider me an honorary "sista". My family has a rescued greyhound for a pet. I find American Indian and Asian men extremely attractive. My favorite bands are the Grateful Dead, Rush, the Rolling Stones and Led Zeppelin. I like to wear jewelry and perfume, though in most respects I consider myself a tomboy. My closest friends are male, and I can't stand JAPs. I am 21 years old, with a 25-year-old brother and a 30-year-old sister. I go to school in Detroit. My major is in Economics, and my minor is in Hebrew/Near East Studies. There is a strong penchant on my part to buy things on Amazon.com and watch YouTube videos.

Are there any parting words you'd like to tell the frum world? 

Live a life that you take pleasure in. Live a life that allows you to be productive, fulfilled and intelligent. Do not judge others based on superficial characteristics. Encourage those you know to achieve their dreams. Do not shun children from "broken" homes. Stop the shidduch system. Finally, thank you for raising me.

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Photo credit: flickr user encouragement.

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Tuesday, February 09, 2010

Better Know A Kofer - Adrienne

I'm pleased to now present another Kofer interview, for your reading enjoyment. Today's participant goes by the name Adrienne, and for those of you who complained that my prior posts were too long, you'll be happy to know that Adrienne is a master of succinctness. Let's dive right in.

Adrienne, can you start off by telling us about the religious environment that you came from?

My community was modern orthodox-Sephardi. You don't see many Sephard kids going of the derech, because the majority of us are really, really modern. I think OTD is a mainly Ashkenaz phenomenon.

Whats was something you encountered growing up that made you question your upbringing?

My mom got very sick, she has multiple illnesses, despite all this, she became more religious, she got more friends who were absurdly religious. I lost faith, thinking why should I worship one who keeps such bad stuff happening? Also, I was never accepted to a yeshiva high school due to my ADHD and mental illness. What the hell ever happened to us helping each other?

Was the impetus for your transition primarily intellectual, emotional, social, cultural, or some other factor?

Definitely emotional. I was tired of having stuff shoved down my throat. I called this "Because I said so Judaism".

How old were you at this time?

When I was a kid, I did not know what OTD was, but some form always looked good to me. I would say 14.

If there was a period, or moment, for you, when it all suddenly fell apart, how did it feel when you realized that it all wasn't true?

It did not exactly fall apart, it just gradually happened. I felt like I had been lied to, and the community togetherness was false. I found that if your family did not have the right last name or a ton of cash, you were nothing. This is especially true in the Sephardic community - The Peoples Republic of Midwood.

Can you highlight one of the very first ways you crossed the halachic line and how you felt about it?

I started sneaking around as a 9th grader, I would go for non kosher food in far, far away neighborhoods. At first I felt like I was weak, but I stopped caring.

Did you ever admit this to anyone? How long was it that you lived this double life?

No I didn't. For a long time, I did not tell my family but I finally came out to my family about being Reform 3 weeks ago. My mom took it well, but she says she can't accept it, but she loves me anyway.

Do you currently have any connection to Jewish identity, religion, or culture?

I chose to go Reform. Ever notice that the Frum community claims Reform folks are not even Jewish? I met people who are far less hypocritical here. I would say I am more spiritual now that I left. It feels good. I, being bisexual, my husband and I joined the gay synagogue...what an open, warm service.

Is there anything from your religious past that you miss in your life now?

Being open with my family.

Are there any behaviors or perspectives from your past religious life that are still dominant in your life now?

Loyalty and charity. I truly give, and not to crazy people who bug you at your door. We don't have those here. I give a few dollars to worthy causes, I volunteer when I do not have the cash. Not to see my name in lights, like so many people in the old community did.

How do you currently view the religious community you came from?

With both fondness and hostility. There were many good parts on the surface, but way too much ugly underneath.

Do you still believe in some form of God or in some version of Judaism?

Yes, I like to think there is someone. God, Allah, goddess, whatever you call them, there may be several "someones". I don't know. As I said, I am Reform, but I like to throw in some Wicca and some Buddhism and see what sticks. Perhaps I am "universally religious".

What are some of the drawbacks of your decision to leave? Do you regret it at all?

Not being closer to my family; having to lie. But I don't regret it. Who regrets freedom?

Are there any particular struggles or challenges that you find especially difficult in the transition?

I still feel a little evil when I "break" a law.

What are some things that helped you get through those difficult times?

My husband. I love him so much. I did marry him early on to get away from them though. My mom had us under her thumb. My older siblings still live there in some odd limbo.

Can you name something significant which you are currently doing in your life, or that you've experienced, which would have been difficult, if not impossible, in your former life?

I could never have been a frum Drag King.

You're a Drag King now? Can you tell me a little bit about what that's like? How did you get into that?

Yes I am. It is fun to be someone else for a while, so much fun to be onstage. I have a ton of LGBTQ friends, I saw one show and I was hooked.

What surprised you most about the world outside ultra-orthodoxy?

That they were not a bunch of anti-Semites or sex-possessed heathens.

What is one misconception or stereotype about ex-frum people that you'd like to correct?

Trust me, we are not all about the sex/drugs/rock n roll/cheeseburgers, even though those sure are tasty. We are not addicts, we are not weak.

How does your life now compare to when you were frum?

When I was frum, everything that looked like fun was "Not For Us". Now I do all sorts of "Not For Us" things - march in the Pride parade, see burlesque, roller derby, enjoy as many holidays as possible.

Can you give an example of something that has completely changed in your way of thinking since you left?

That it is not a sin or a sickness to live an alternate lifestyle.

What's the best thing about not being frum?

FREEDOM!

If you could change one thing about the community you left, what would it be?

Hypocrisy. We only do good if it makes us look good.

Lastly, do you think there's anything that the frum world could have done to keep you "on the derech"?

I seriously do not know. Maybe there needs to be some sort of Rumspringa like the Amish have. The vast majority of Amish who do that tend to return. Taste the freedom, but know you can return.

Thank you very much Adrienne.

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Photo credit: flickr user Emuishere Peliculas

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Friday, January 22, 2010

Better Know A Kofer - Derech Acheret (Part II)

Continuing where we left off on the interview with Derech Acheret from a few days ago, here is Part II of her story.



Is there anything from your religious past that you miss in your life now?

I miss having answers and knowing that I am 'right'. The complexity that comes with living in modernity and being governed above all else by Western Liberalism, acceptance and openness and my own sense of right and wrong is sometimes confusing. I am never totally 'right'. And I don't have a whole community and GOD backing me in my rightness.

I miss community and I miss the company of women and only women, knowing that men are not allowed in.

Can you highlight an example of something in life that confuses you now without your religious structure?

What to do when with guys is still confusing. Carrie (from Sex and the City) always says how confused she is by men but I sometimes feel that I have a whole additional few layers of confusion.

I'm confused about how to keep Israel Jewish while not giving into Hareidi stricture, especially in Jerusalem. For example, I really want parking lots to be open on Shabbat so that tourists can come here and enjoy the city but I don't want to be inundated by huge numbers of outsiders taking photos, clogging up the roads and making loads of noise on Shabbat.

Are there any perspectives from your past religious life that are still dominant in your life now?

Tsnius modes of thinking still inform much of my self-image. For instance, flirting with a guy is still very hard for me to do. Often, I'll think I've been totally demonstrative, and everyone around me, including the guy I was trying to flirt with, will tell me I was totally coy.

I'm still self-conscious showing cleavage.

I try really hard to be cool in a bikini but usually put on a sarong the minute I get out of the water.

I am still overly analytical and earnest. Although I feel so much more chilled out than I used to be, when I meet new people they say that I'm pretty intense.

Yes, well, from your answers so far, I can understand why they think that. How about behaviors? Are there any religious activities you still engage in?

I still don't eat non-Hechshered meat yet, I have no idea why not. It must be emotional because I definitely can't think of an ideological reason! I live in Jerusalem though, so it doesn't often come up. If I lived in most other places I'd have to face the issue a bit more.

It took me a long time to stop saying brachot on food and asher yatzer. It was so Pavlovian that I'd just start reciting them automatically, and would have to remind myself, "No, I don't do that anymore".

Why did you feel a need to make yourself stop these behaviors? If it didn’t bother you, then why not just let it be?

Because it did bother me. I no longer believed in the male god of the brachot or the system that wrote them and would have me say them. Saying them felt not true to who I now was.

How do you currently view the religious community you came from?

When my mother was alive I didn't bother thinking about it much. I was grateful to where I had come from but I was concentrating on growing into the person I still wanted to become. Any time I would get irritated by something, my mother would remind me that I had made my choice that was good for me and other people make their choices that are good for them.

Now, without my mother's reasonable voice, I oscillate between feeling sorry for people who are still frum, feeling furious with them and feeling love, warmth and pride for where I came from.

When frum people patronize me and imagine that my leaving was in any way easy or not thought out I hate them and want to shake them. One of my aunts told me that I should be frum now "because that's what my mother would have wanted". I wanted to punch her in the face!

When I hear about random acts of chessed performed by Bnei Akiva I am proud to have been part of something good.

However, I think it is an inherently immoral system because a legal system written by men, in which men are the primary beneficiaries, and which, by the system's very nature, relegate women to a second-class status in which they have no real recourse for their voice to be heard, is immoral. (I know Avi Weiss has recently set up a program for women but he's hardly mainstream Orthodoxy!)

Of course the Western system has problems too but it is reexamining and developing them everyday. If my choice is Kiryat Sefer or Beverly Hills, I pick Kiryat Sefer; if my choice is Miley Cyrus or eshet chayil, I pick eshet chayil - but I want neither. I want to live in a system that allows me to pick something else, something bigger and more self actualized than both.

Do you still believe in some form of God or in some version of Judaism?

Yes, but I'm very upset with Her at the moment for taking my mother away from me. Yup, there is a part of me that still believes in an immanent God. I feel a godliness in the world, but I can't explain it. My mother's death was utterly and overwhelmingly devastating for me and the only vocabulary I have to describe the devastation is in terms of god being an utter bastard for making it happen.

If I were to have children I would probably send them to the Masorati (Conservative) school system in Israel and maybe even start going to one of the Masorati shuls so that they could have some sort of knowledge of how some Jewish things work. I think I'd also want them to learn gemara and Torah, so that they could access their culture and history. But as I have none presently and apparently it all changes when you actually have them, the answer is yes to the god question and no to the version of Judaism part.

What are some of the drawbacks of your decision to leave? Do you regret it at all? Is there any guilt?

I don't really have much of a community. I have amazing friends and everything in my world is within a half hour walk, but I don't have an extended community and thus don't know that many people any more. Also I have to make my own rules, I wasn't trained for a life of infinite choice.

But no regret or guilt for a minute.

Are there any particular struggles or challenges that you find especially difficult in the transition?

Making new friends. I don't really know what one talks about, secular small talk is different from religious small talk and I haven't quite figured it out.

And the guy thing?? I find myself even now confused and overwhelmed by the guy thing, I was trained to constantly repress my sexuality. It is amazing to live in a world where sexuality is viewed as a good, exciting thing, to be enjoyed and cherished, learnt about and relished. I don't understand basic cues yet that come instinctively to others.

What are some things that helped you get through those difficult times?

Knowing that ultimately my life is more authentic on this new path I've taken than on the frum one dictated to me by others.

Can you name something significant which you are currently doing in your life, or that you've experienced, which would have been difficult, if not impossible, in your former life?

Self actualization, and erring. Self actualization simply isn't valued in the frum world, even in the MO world. Totally leaving your home and community in search of something entirely different is not encouraged.

I always felt that making mistakes in the frum world was so dangerous. There were so many people watching with so much to say about it. In the world I live in today if I make a mistake its no big deal, people are so much less judgmental and I am of myself too, its a mechaye.

I now teach Torah as history and culture in the secular world. I teach it only as literature and am able to appreciate it on a whole new level from how I did when I was religious.

So once you left, what surprised you most about the world outside orthodoxy?

That there's not just one 'world' once you leave Orthodoxy. There's loads of people and communities out there to pick from. Some parts are open and giving and nurturing and full of chilled out, intelligent, committed, deep thinking people who are interested in making the world a better place yet not confined or hysterical about it. Some are awful and mean, and some people really do value their possessions above all else.

What is one misconception or stereotype about ex-frum people that you'd like to correct?

This was not some impulsive, immature, hedonistic phase that I went through as a kid. I stopped davening at age 21 and stopped keeping Shabbat at 32. It was a long, long, extremely well thought out ideological process. I came from a loving, warm home and nothing terrible happened to me to make me frei out. I asked every possible question from every possible source during the eleven years between not davening and not keeping Shabbat. Some issues simply cannot be resolved by Torah.

Also, I wish frum people wouldn’t think the outside world is so horrible. When I told one friend I had decided to become sexually freer she was horrified and said to me, "You mustn't! You'll be raped! I've heard what happens to untznius girls!" I think people who believe that are pathetic. I have had a lovely, safe, exhilarating, educational and, of course at times, frustrating time. But raped? Dangerous? Regretful? Never. (Now why do I suddenly want to add kneine horo to that?! That superstitious claptrap, just never leaves me!).

Are there any stereotypes about general society that you found to be true?

There's no inbuilt community, I had to build it myself. Some men are revolting (but then again, some frum ones are too).

How does your life now compare to when you were frum?

I'm much more relaxed, more focused, calmer, happier, softer, less judgmental, more fun to be around, less intense. On the down side, I don't eat as well as I did. Now that I can eat most things, I do.

Are there any societal and/or cultural experiences which have significantly shaped your worldview?

Dancing is brilliant and fun. Trance and dance music really do sound great!

Sex is brilliant and lovely and nice and disappointing both in a relationship and outside of one. Choosing to have it and not to have it are both good and right choices. Knowing when to make which choice takes wisdom. Having the opportunity to make the choice is a gift.

What's the best thing about not being frum?

Not being judged by everyone, being able to wear comfortable clothes, being able to be who I am and engage in the challenges of everyday life from an authentic place inside me.

Being able to go dancing with friends, being able to talk about many intimate aspects of my life with other women who I know can relate to what I'm talking about and guide me without personal agenda.

I understand why people become ba'alei teshuva. The frum world is great, warm, kind, inviting. The secular world is not inherently warm nor inviting because it is not cohesive or homogenous. But for me the diversity of the world I now inhabit is fantastic! Even just seeing people dressed so differently from each other gives me a kick. The range of ideas and opinions of the people I mix with is lovely. The freedom of ideas and expression is amazing.

What's the best thing that you recall about being frum?

Community, friends, a sense that however difficult an act was, I was doing the right thing and it would be alright; random acts of chesed, the g’mach system, being right.

If you could change one thing about the community you left, what would it be?

The sexism and homophobia. The xenephobia, the angst, I could go on but you said one.

Do you think there's anything that the frum world could have done to keep you "on the derech"?

There are so many things that would have needed to be different it feels disingenuous to name any specific one as it must be the system in itself that is repellent to me and not products of it.

So many frum people are so judgmental, accusatory, self-righteous and bigoted it seems to be part of being frum. People have said such mean things to me since I stopped being frum. It seems to me that frumkeit compels the person to say something when they see a yid living a life they consider sheker.

Do you really feel that frum people are compelled to act that way? After all, your mother never stopped being entirely loving towards you.

That's about our relationship though. I do think that inherent in the system is bigotry and judgmentalism. Sometimes people who love us are able to put those aside, allow themselves to be overcome by love, but that is a bediavad not lehatchila, I think...

Oh, that's another thing I love about not being frum - no one's looking at what I'm doing and telling me how I should be doing it differently or better.

Maybe if I'd been brought up in an environment where my learning was valued, or where I was taught gemara like my brother, or in a Minyan like Shira Chadasha, where I could lein and be shatz for tefillot that don't need a minyan, I wouldn't have realized quite so early on how much women get excluded from leadership and law making roles. (I was told that it was egotistical for wanting to be shatz, yet my brother was a rising star for wanting the very same thing!)

But I'm not sure that would have helped as ultimately women are excluded from those roles and it is that exclusion that distances me from Orthodoxy.

Are there any parting words you'd like to tell the frum world?

We are all individuals with individual stories. Of course some people leave because they are troubled and some people become frum because they are troubled; some leave because it is better for their souls and some become frum because it is better for their souls. People leave for all sorts of reasons and I'm sure some are furious, miserable and frivolous because that is humanity. Mostly people are multi-layered and complex. There are a myriad of reasons to leave the frum world and if the frum world dared explore just five or six of them it would become healthier and calmer.

My reason for leaving in the first place was feminism but now I have a host of reasons never to return.

The world is ok, once you learn how to navigate it. It is as dangerous and as safe as the frum world and you need to work out who and what is bad for you just as you do in the frum world, but there’s no need to be so afraid of it.

Unlike the frum world you don't have to second guess yourself. If something makes you feel uncomfortable there is no one telling you that it is good and you are bad for not realizing it is good.

Or maybe that's just the world I have had the fortune to create for myself.

Actually, after all is said and done, all I really want to say to the frum world is - calm down!



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Wednesday, January 20, 2010

Better Know A Kofer - Derech Acheret (Part I)

After a long hiatus, I'm pleased to once again present another interview with a formerly religious member of the tribe. Our newest interviewee, Derech Acheret, hails from Jerusalem, where she divides her time between teaching Torah and mentoring professionals, helping them accomplish more in their working lives. She also works with a lot of non-Orthodox rabbinic students and has learnt a whole lot about the outsiders view of Orthodoxy from them. Due to its length, I'll be splitting this interview up into multiple posts. Here is part one.

Hello Ms. Acheret, and thank you for participating in this series. To get us started, could you please describe to the readers the religious environment that you came from? 

I grew up in a frum Bnei Akiva family. My late mother wore a sheitl. Apart from that our home was totally Modern Orthodox in the Soloveitchik model. People would describe my mother as the Lonely Woman of Faith.

We didn't live in a particularly Jewish area (although there was an Orthodox Synagogue 15 minutes walk from our house) and I went to the only Jewish (non-chareidi) school there was where all the students were Jewish but mostly secular. I was the frummest person in a mixed gender school that had non-Jewish chol teachers, chareidi kodesh teachers and secular Israelis teaching Hebrew.

Sounds like quite a diverse environment.

It was, but I was quite involved with Bnei Akiva and my clique was referred to as the 'God Squad', as we were the shomer negia, skirt wearing kids, from frummer homes than everyone else.

In my early twenties I was involved in Kiruv for a few years. I was the cool, soft face of frumkeit. FFB, davened three times a day, skirt wearing, parents fairly well known, up-standing members of the community with a bit of yichus from previous generations, mother gave a ladies parsha shiur once a week, but I also went to university and had a career that I took very seriously.

What was your home environment like, religiously? 

We were the only home in the area where the community rabbi would eat and, once he left town, our home was the place frum yiden visiting would spend Shabbat. Some really well known Rabbis would spend Shabbat at our house and talk Torah with my mother at the table.

There are hundreds of people across the world who attribute their Halachic observance today to having spent their first Halachic Shabbat in our house. (That’s why the kiruv world felt quite natural to me. I had watched my mother be mekarev everyone she met, in a very natural, non-coercive way.)

When I was about 11 the Rabbi of our shul retired and my mother became the first point of call for halachic questions. She would always answer saying, "Of course I’m not a rabbi but it seems to me that…" and then she’d give her answer. By the time I was 12 or 13 she was known as the spiritual leader of our community being posed all sorts of shailes.

It seems that your mother was a more respected torah scholar than your father. Was that odd for you?

It’s what I grew up with which is why I was so devastated to discover that our family was such an exception and that in the rest of the frum world, women's learning, if ever given any regard, is definitely the stupider side-lined sister.

It sounds like you were raised in an exceptionally open and accepting environment (relative to some other frum homes). Were there things, even in this environment, that made you question your upbringing? 

There were. I was extremely interested in Feminism from a very early age. It always seemed outrageous to me that the boys got such different attention from the girls. It also seemed weird that so many men who were clearly not as bright as my mother got to be Rabbis and she didn’t.

At our Shabbat table people would always initially turn to my father with questions and chidushim. He would often answer with something like, "My wife was just talking about that the other day," and then he'd turn to my mother, and ask her to tell the guest her thoughts on the issue. My father was always quite proud of my mother’s learning, but for me it was so irritating that the presumption was that the man is the lamdan.

I would sit with my mother in shul and she’d correct the leining or nusach whenever anyone got it wrong. I really couldn't understand why they never asked her to lein or daven from the amud as she could definitely do it. A slightly less couth friend explained that it was because she had the wrong type of genitalia. I must have been about 12 at the time and I was devastated to realize how shallow the exclusion of women from law-making and the public sphere was.

How did you react to this conflict?

I spent years searching for answers about women’s exclusion and total dependence on men, not just financially, as in the broader world, but legally too. For a long while I bought the apologetics, but finally the whole chochmat bina thing lost its shine. How could it possibly be that women have an extra intelligence but are allowed no access to Jewish academic life? I know that today a few women learn gemara, but their voices aren’t really heard in the same way. Our ‘chochma’ really isn’t being sought in legal matters.

What were some other experiences that challenged your understanding of Judaism?

A few rabbis at my high school also left an impression on me. They were what I can only describe as disgusting letches. They would peer down the blouses of the non-frum girls, although not mine, as I was frum, as they would tell me when I’d say something about the way they spoke to the non-frum kids.

Also I constantly felt that I had to curtail my personality for tznius purposes. It felt as though anything I did that was vaguely interesting or expressive was deemed untznius.

Another experience that affected me occurred when I was 16. I had met a boy in Bnei Akiva. At first we were, of course, shomer negia, but after three months together we decided it would be ok to hold hands and after six months we kissed. It was a huge, arduous decision that we both took very seriously and understood to be taking us out of the realm of halacha. Finally after much trepidation and heart searching we kissed and it felt amazing and so right that I couldn’t imagine why I wouldn't be allowed to do that there and then.

That experience made you question why halacha would forbid something that felt perfectly right?

Totally! It just seemed like the Rabbis must have misunderstood women. I wasn't going to jump my boyfriend; it wasn't going to, chas veshalom, lead to anything serious (like mixed dancing). All those HaTzne HaLechet and HaIsha VeHaMitzvot halachot just seemed SO uninteresting and off the point. And I truly believe that my boyfriend knew that nothing more than making out was going to happen between us.

Also at this point in my life, I was listening to pop music on the radio very quietly in my room with the door closed. I got really into one band and it turned out that their lead singer was openly gay. I was, of course, disgusted, knowing it was a toeva. But when I heard an interview with him, he sounded so normal and was so much calmer about his preference for his own gender than those interviewing him. He just seemed to like men and said that being with men probably involved the same emotions as being with women.

This seemed sensible to me and so not a big deal. I like the other gender and some people like the same gender and love and kissing was brilliant as I had discovered. It seemed to me preposterous that Judaism would want to deprive people of this great feeling just because they happen to want to do it with their own gender.

Aside from the challenges these early experiences presented to you, was the impetus for your actual transition primarily intellectual, emotional, social, cultural, or some other factor?

It was a mixture of all. I made Aliya at the age of 29, when I was still frum, and I looked around for a community to join. I never found a frum one that fit me ideologically, intellectually or socially. I wanted to be part of a diverse community where people looked and thought differently and were from different parts of the world. I found that amongst my secular friends and neighbors.

Intellectually speaking, by my mid-twenties I felt that if chazal had got it so wrong about women and gay people, they must have got it wrong in most other places too. It was a devastating idea that I mourned for many years.

What do you mean exactly that you “mourned the idea”?

I was mourning the idea that Chazal were wrong. I grew up in a home where Chazal were living contributors to conversations with my mother and around our table, e.g. when we would find Rabbi Meir in a daf of gemara my mother would smile and say, "Clever Rabbi Meir, he does say some very wise things," and we would mull over him for ages, asking questions, thinking about what Bruria might say. Or when we would come across Rabbi Eliezer my mother would get irritated and then laugh and say, "Well, we never like Rabbi Eliezer, he's always so harsh." The Amoraim especially were very significant for me. I have feelings about them as people! So the idea that they might have got it wrong was really hard to consider. The faith thing never really bothered me as much.

Can you highlight one of the very first ways you crossed the halachic line and how you felt about it? 

What is the 'Halachic line'?

I held my boyfriend's hand at 16. I kissed him too, and like I said earlier, I thought it was absolutely wonderful.

At 21 I stopped davening, a huge step away from Halacha, but as women don't really have a chiyuv to daven maybe that wasn't a line?

I started wearing pants at 25, but is that asur? For me it was a huge decision that took a few years to get used to.

When I was thirty I went to my first night club and danced. It was amazing and terrifying at the same time!

I suppose I really started crossing the halachic line when I was about 32 and got cable TV. At first I'd leave it on over Shabbat but then I started changing channels on Shabbat and then I'd turn it off during the night. Within about a month I was turning it on again during Shabbat day. Then came lights and I did think that the electricity might blow out when I switched them on. But, shockingly, it didn't! After about a month of Shabbat TV watching it felt totally normal and not a big deal.

The following erev rosh hashana about six months after I'd started using electricity on shabbat I went to a club, by car, with some friends. I had a terrible night. Later I realized it was because I didn't like the music or the people I'd gone with or the drinks and food served. But at the time I honestly thought it was punishment for what I'd done and a sign that no joy can come from being mechalel shabbat/yom tov.

A few weeks later, on erev Simchat Torah, I went to a different club with different people and had the best time. As we walked back home, sun coming up, people walking to shul, I felt like I had discovered a fabulous new world that I was ready to embrace.

How did your family react to your leaving? What is your relationship like with them now? 

When I started using electricity on Shabbat I phoned my mother to tell her. She said that she understood that this was what I wanted to do for now but that in time I would realize that the only true way for a Jew to live is within the Halacha. I explained that I may never keep halacha again to which she told me not to say that as I can make new choices every day.

How come you decided to tell her about it, and not just keep it to yourself, as so many other people choose to do?

It was very important to me to be honest with my mother. Now that she is no longer here I feel it would be devastating to think that she died not accepting me for who I really am but was just proud of me because of some fantasy she imagined my life to be. I'm very grateful that I was able to share with her who I really was before it was too late.

My mother never actually witnessed me being mechalel shabbat as I wouldn't openly violate anything while in her home. When my parents came to Israel I would drive to see them, but would park around the corner and although they presumably knew how I'd arrived there, the issue was never raised. By the time my mother passed away she had made her own form of peace with my transition. In what ended up being our last conversation (my mother was completely well to her last day; she died of a heart attack in the middle of the night) my mother told me how she had been at a wedding with all the chareidi relatives (we're the only non-chareidi branch of my mother's family) and had told them how proud she is of what I'm doing and what a wonderful, deep life I've made for myself.

My brother was, and still is, an idiot about me leaving. While my mother was still alive he would frequently point out to my parents how non-observant I was. I stopped talking to him for a bit because he was so self-righteous, judgmental and difficult about the whole thing.

My sister is a bit of a tzadekeste and accepts everyone for who they are, where they are. She married a Merkaz Harav boy at 22 and they have six children. They live in a chareidi neighborhood but are chareidi leumi, meaning that they are deeply Zionistic and believe in their children serving in the military or doing some sort of national service. During the week I would wear pants at her house and that was kind of ok. The children all knew they weren't allowed to dress like that but as a beloved aunty they accepted me as I was. When I visited them on Shabbat I always put on a skirt and sleeves that came somewhere near my elbow, parked around the corner and never discussed how I got there.

My father is over 80 (til 120!) and until very recently lived in the house I grew up in. I would go back there at least once a month (the airlines loved me!) for a long weekend so that on Shabbat he wouldn't be alone. Since spending all that time with my father we have developed a lovely, patient relationship.

I would cook for Shabbat and eat with him both meals and learn parsha and bench with him.

After the meals I would drive his car, with his permission, to wherever I wanted to go, sometimes shopping, sometimes to see friends and when I'd get home we'd talk about what we each did over Shabbat when we weren't together.

At first it was hard for him but I think that he soon realized that this life choice is so much better for me that he accepts it almost completely. Someone told him that he shouldn't stand for my way of life in his home to which he replied that his home is mine and he has his way of living and I mine.

Don't you think it's a bit insensitive to do that to your father? To be in his home and act in a way that he is uncomfortable with? 

I did worry that I was being insensitive to him or making him feel uncomfortable in his own home but I think that that's really what changed for him after my mother died. Just having me at home was such a comfort for him and he was so grateful to me for giving up so much time for him that the other stuff came to be less important.

For me, being real with my mother was such an important lesson that I was, and still am, determined to be real with my father too.

What connection do you currently have to Jewish identity, religion, or culture? 

When I was 25, while finishing my Masters, I found out about a non-Orthodox congregation that was looking to hire someone to teach some subjects. Being financially strapped, I applied. They took me in immediately. My boss would sit with me for hours and review and critique my teaching: Was I allowing the young people to connect to the text as much as I was? How could I help them feel the love for Judaism that I had without scaring them or judging them for their lack of knowledge? She encouraged me to develop courses and for the first time in my life my Jewish learning was taken seriously. Within a year I had the status of 'chief educator' and after a while I became unofficial rabbi to the under-25s.

To this day, I'm still very close to this congregation. I call it my emotional home. I never overlapped with it ideologically. When I was still frum I believed things that they didn't, and when I stopped being Halachic I didn't keep what they did. But emotionally I was there. The people were so bright and accepting and just lovely.

When my mother died I said kaddish with that stream of Judaism. I will never daven with a minyan that doesn't count me in it and when my mother first died I had a compulsion to get up each day to say kaddish, so that was where I went. For me it was a comfort at first, but eventually became a tirche so I stopped after about four months.

I live in Israel which for me is about putting my lot in with the Jewish people (whatever that means). I don't know if I'd have dared leave (go OTD) if I was still in the Diaspora. (I hate the phrase 'OTD' by the way. I am not 'off' and there isn't only one 'derech' in the world)

Why do you think you wouldn't have done it if you didn't live in Israel?

It's difficult to imagine what my life outside Israel might have looked like but I think that had I not come to Israel I wouldn't have had the guts to stop being frum. All my friends there were frum, I worked in Jewish education, my parents were there, also I don't think I'd have known how to retain a Jewish identity in the Diaspora without Halacha.

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This concludes the first part of the interview. Part II can be read here.


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