Frum N' Flipping

We spoke about sheifos a lot, in seminary. Ideals, religious ambitions, spiritual goals. We said man is defined by his sheifos . We spoke of homes of Torah, saintly husbands, pious children, worlds of Chesed, revolutions of inner character work. We had big dreams. I spin the glass around, between my fingers. I look up and out, at the sea and sand beyond us. There are two Israeli Air Force officers, flanking my right and left. Another couple of guys have joined us too, but they are less glamorous in their civilian shirts, so I don't pay them quite as much attention. We speak about trips to Europe and past conferences. They follow me, as I walk from drinks table to the railing. They've been smiling at me all day, looking to see if I laugh at the jokes the lecturer makes, catching my eye in the silent pauses. I can barely believe that these good looking, polished, sophisticated army officers are interested in me, but even clueless me can read the signs. I always wondered wh...

I could buy a Sheitel and a ring, and move to a place where no one knows me. I could say my husband is a Masmid, and learns in Kollel night and day, and thus explain away his absence. I could have a baby, and raise him on my own. I could stop waiting for the right man, and skip to the next stage. I could be a mother, before I'm a wife. I won't, of course. But sometimes I want to. I told my theory to the guy I was dating, when we sat on the grass one night. "First you think marriage is about having a permanent boy friend, and it's not." Teenagers also want to get married. They want a boy to give them red roses and heart shaped candies. They want a boy to tell them he loves them. They want the romance, and the relationship. But marriage should be about giving, not taking. They aren't there yet. If they do get married their relationship will have to mature, after the Chuppah, for it to last. "Then you think marriage is about giving to each other, b...

They are only 23. They are coming back from India, becoming students and waitresses, living life step by step, vaguely thinking of plans for the future. They are still young. I'm 23 already. I should be married, should be a mother; should have settled down, moved on. I shouldn't be in this position. I'm an older single. You suggest evenings for single girls, events arranged specially for those left on the shelf. I tried them. I went to Shiurim, organized for girls "in my situation". It felt like stepping back in time, back to my schooldays. I'm used to boardrooms and conferences now, not classrooms where we sit in rows, like good little girls, and are lectured to on why we should be brave, have faith, on how there is a light at the end of the tunnel. It felt like a quasi support group, where all that united us was our unmarried status. There's more to me, than being single. There's more to life, than waiting to get married. So I'm 23. I...

"I'm not wearing my best dress. Because I'm saving my best dress for your wedding" Says my 6 year old niece. Sweet. "You're so silly", her cousin says to her. "It will be too small for you by the time she's married, for sure!" WTH? It the forecast so dismal? "No. How can you say that? She can have a Shidduch tommorow, and bingo be married!" Pipes up another little voice at the Shabbos table. Thanks for the faith, darling.

I'm tired of sticking my hair under the shower head, rinsing off the shampoo, pulling through a comb, stepping outside, and having to prove to the world that, no, I'm not wearing a wig, and yes, it's my own hair. If it looks good- it's obviously a top of the range wig. If you're having a bad hair day- it must be you're wearing last year's wig, which got singed while you were slaving over the kitchen stove. Whatever I do to my hair, whatever look I pick- long, short, straight, curly - people keep on assuming it’s a wig! I thought of going for the green hair with spikes look, but I doubt that would help. Don't Purim wigs look something like that? "What’s your maiden name?" Asks the random lady I've just met and am making small talk with, in the hopes she'll set me up with the love of my life. "Do you have kids?" asks the old classmate I bump into in town. I guess if 90% of the Charedi female population over 19 is wandering arou...

Some guy asked me that, one moonlight night, when I thought he was about to propose. Anyway, you, dear reader, didn't ask me this romantically, under the stars, but here's the answer all the same. Aside from G-d, and his plans (yes, I'm sure he features heavily in the equation, I am religious after all) and aside from me being kind of picky (no, shadchanim, I didn't really admit that, this blog is ANONYMOUS), I'd account a lot of it to falling between two worlds. We, chareidi children of Olim, are neither here nor there. We can choose to be Israeli, but that means giving up so much. Thinking for ourselves, for a start. Accepting others, educating ourselves and our children, and so much more than that. I don't want to tar and feather all of Israeli chareidi society, but yes, that's what it would be to me, if I married one of the Israeli boys I've dated. And Americans? Making aliyah was a struggle, learning the language, figuring out how to make it here. A...