Frum N' Flipping

"Shake my hand." I say to my husband "Huh?" he replies. We don't usually shake each other's hand as a greeting. "I need to practice" I say. "For the interview." He looks worried. "Because it's a woman who’ll be interviewing me." I explain. “They said her name is Ilana. I"ll actually be able to shake her hand, so I want to check my handshake is ok” He still looks rather confused. "What's the big deal?" " Everyone knows there's a lot they learn about you from your handshake. It's very psychological." I should know, I’ve been reading enough online posts about how to prepare for an interview. (Tip: don't say your biggest weakness is hating routine boring work.) I’ve shaken hands with someone perhaps once in my life. I've spent my last thirteen years making excuses for why I can't shake hands with men, an art form mastered by most Frum women. We know the hold cell...

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...

Warning: Men should stop reading this right about now. So you're in Jerusalem, the holy city. And you want to be holy, and dress modestly. But you don't want to look holy . You want to look good . Never fear. I'm a secret Shopaholic. And arriving home loaded with shopping bags tonight, I suddenly felt like sharing my accrued wisdom with the world. This is going to be an exceedingly shallow post. 100% Chitzoniyus and Gashmiyut. My only defence is that a girl in Shidduchim has got to be well dressed! Frum stores I'm not so into shopping at Frum stores. Something about the idea of being dressed exactly the same as every girl in Bnai Brak and Sanhedria Murchevet gives me the shivers. But if you're aiming for a Frum-yet-classy look for a Simcha, where you want Tante Baila to approve of you and suggest a fine Bochur for a Shidduch, then check out One-of-a-Kind (Location: Go down Rechov Haturim, which is off Malchei Yisroel, and then turn either left or right, I...

Frumsatire's post on why he loves being an Orthodox Jew had me itching to write one of my own. So here's the female perspective, on why I'm glad I'm religious. Deep existential reasons aside. Shomer Negiah- I complain about it endlessly, about how tough it is not to be able to touch my boyfriend, OK, how tough it is not to even HAVE a boyfriend. But, when push comes to shove, being Shomer Negiah is a great excuse to get out of kissing old men on their dry parchment skin, or hugging fat uncles, or basically any physical contact whatsoever with the male species who are, on a whole, less than appealing . It's bad enough having to kiss every female at a wedding; Thank God the men keep to their own side of the Mechitza. And even if we do end up making out with the opposite sex, we limit touching to the guys we find attractive. The rest of the clan we can tell "Sorry, I'm Shomer." Also, I'm glad I wasn't pressured into sleeping with my boyfr...

Or more to the point, is my blog Tznius? Got some not-so-positive feedback recently. Here's my response. Being a Bais Yaacov girl means many things. Most of them are good. I made a conscious decision to study in the places I did, to belong to the society I do. I don't regret it. But along with the schooling came a pattern. The pattern of Chareidi society at large, perhaps. What not to say, where not to go. When I was in high school it was non Jewish music, movies, boys. These subjects were taboo. Good girls didn't even think of them, at least not aloud. Even now, in the discussions of "kids going off the derech" flourishing in the Frum press, so many theories are produced, for what drives teenage boys and girls to hang out together. What they never mention is hormones. Awakening needs, wants, temptations. Teenage boys want to be with girls, teenage girls want to be with boys. Sometimes it's as simple as that. Some kids do it. Do the forbidden, the banned. ...

"Yes, I know, I know, you've told me before, you're not a feminist." I nod. He can't see, of course. He's on the other end of the line. "But, if you were a Chiloniya [secular], you would be a feminist. Admit it." "If I wasn't Frum I would be a lot of things." I feel like saying. But I don't. Instead I'm silent, waiting for the barrage. "The way you told me you 'got your brother to admit sleeping in the Sukkah is a Mitzvah for women too'. It sounds like you argued until he caved in." I gasp. A two minute light hearted conversation with my brother while tying down the Schach has been turned into a family dispute. We actually never argue in my family, for better or for worst. We just silently disagree, and keep it to ourselves. "I never said women have to sleep in the Sukkah. I only said it's a Mitzvah if we do. I started doing it last year. I built it, it's there empty, it's seems a waste not to ...

I've dated many men, in the last few years. They have some things in common. For a start, they are all single. Also, they are all in their twenties. I also go out with women. Mainly married women. Their ages range through the twenties to sixties. Don't be shocked. Hang on, and I'll explain. I'm in town, meeting up with a pal, one of the rare occasions she's in the hood. I get a phone call. It's my friend's mom, who since her own daughter recently acquired a new last name, has sweetly joined the ranks of those attempting to marry me off. "Someone wants to meet you. She has a guy." "Right. But I don't meet women. Who is he?" 'She won't tell me anything. She wants to meet you first." I entreat and I protest, but eventually I give in. The meeting is set up for the following night. Wednesday evening I get home from work. I choose an outfit which I hope the mystery woman will like or at least approve of, touch up...

"In our frum and yeshivish circles it has become acceptable to send 2 to 3 year olds to a mixed pre school, where boys and girls: play together , walk to the park holding hands (Non shomer negiah at such an early age!) , eat at the same tables.. (someone could think it's a shidduch date!) I feel it's inappropriate " Kudos to C.S from Yerushalayim , who wrote to Hamodia raising this important issue. While we are on the topic, I'd like to propose that hospital nurseries should also be separate. I mean there our Kinderlach are doing something much worse than holding hands, they are sleeping together!

Did you know I'm an irreverent dissenter ? I think it's super cool. First time I've been mentioned in the same line as a pervert too. In reply to the concerned comments, here and over at Bad4Shidduchim , I'd like to reassure my devoted fans (well OK then, my happenstance readers who googled "frum + phone + sex" and stumbled upon me instead) . My last post on the work-date dichotomy is not to be taken too seriously. I exxagerated. Poetic license. I do act myself on dates. The question is, what is myself? The work me certainly isn't. I'm not into technology, and put my hands over my ears when my friends mention anything to do with computers ("I'm trying to chill here folks!") I prefer classic understatement and modesty to showing off and self marketing. I'm totally into going with the flow and detest schedules and charts. I resort to intuition over logic. It's only now that I'm learning how to direct people, and get things done...

Career girl and Shidduch Maidel- two diametric opposites. After a day at the office, getting dressed up for a date isn't enough. A major personality switch is needed too. I lock the screen, pull off my ID card, breathe in, breathe out, and shift gears. Body language, tone of voice, that changes automatically. Next comes the attitude. Work: Get across that you’re wrong, and I'm right, without actually saying so. It should be obvious that my idea is the one we should use, how could you ever suggest otherwise. Date: Give the impression I think you're amazing and brilliant. I totally agree with everything you say. In fact you're what I've been looking for my whole life. Work: Be assertive, without raising my voice. Sound firm and uncompromising. Date: Be soft, pliant and feminine. Flutter eyelashes occasionally. I don't know how I ever managed without you, opening doors is just so hard on my own. Work: Sell myself. Do nothing without proper recognition and ...

See men are pretty simple. Easy to snap into neat little categories according to their head coverings. Check out their kippah (if there isn't one you already know all you'll need to know), and you're set. Women, as usual, have to be more complicated. Feminist - Baggy pants with a hat over long hair. The hat shows she's religious, so no need for a skirt any longer. National Religious (A.K.A Mizrachistiyot) – Skirt over pants. It started off with the bohemian look. Long skirts with white cotton pants peeping out underneath. The skirts got shorter, until now a scarf wrapped at the waist will do. The pants got tighter. Jeans will do too. The main thing is there's something over the pants. Ready sewn skirt-pants sets can be purchased at Lord Kitsch on Rechov Yaffo. Ulpanistiyot - Long straight jean skirts and baggy t shirt– the idealogical settler type who go to the best national religious girls boarding schools, like Rav Baharan and Kfar Pinus (no I'm not kidd...

I caress them. Perfection. They have eluded me for years. The vision of dreams. Found, after months of searching in the malls of the holy land. I slip them on. The shoes I've always wanted. I admire my reflection in front of the narrow pine mirror. There is something about a good pair of heels that can make even a covers-the-knee-when-sitting-down-skirt look hot (or so I'm hoping, at least) I teeter off to shul. After davening I practice my chatting-up skills. Standing by the bulletin board, pretending to scan the shiurim schedule, I strike up a conversation. By the end of it we've arranged to meet at the first shiur of the night. (For those who think aidel bais yaacov girls have no opportunity for flirting, let me correct the misconception. We flirt just as much, but with stout middle aged women, instead of young cute guys. We dress the look, talk the talk, walk the walk. Learn how to make eye contact, smile, joke, exchange telephone numbers. Every woman is a potential m...

Take nice sweet aidel innocent Chareidi girls, put them on facebook, and what do you get? D-A-N-G-E-R Not because they hook up with guys, not because their photos are up there for the whole world to see. They simply have no sense of what-not-to-post-in-public. On my B-Day, my wall gets filled up with posts wishing me "Find a Chassan soon!", "Meet your Besherte this year!" I mean, have you ever? No pressure or anything.. As it is my less chareidi friends think my society is insane, this will only confirm it. What next, shidduch suggestions on my wall? Oh yeah, and I've even been asked to join a Sheitel Macher fan club.

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...

"His Mom wants to see your picture". "No way. Sorry, I don't do pictures" "She says she won't show him, it's only for her to see." "She can ask everyone what I look like; height, weight, hair color, eye color, length of nose, promince of cheekbones, whatever she wants. " "No, that's not good enough. She says her son wants to date a clever girl, and most clever girls are ugly. So she needs to check." Have you ever?! Intelligent Women of the World, let us unite.

19th Century- Yente the Shadchan. 20th Century-The Resume. For the 21st century- The Shidduch DVD! More graphic, more interactive, more in depth coverage. Wait, should I be telling you this before I've patented it? OK, I confess, I've never actually written a shidduch resume. (The first time I heard of them, I was sure it was a joke.) I did write out an email with all my "info", a couple of weeks ago. A woman at work wanted "details". Plus the required phone numbers of friends, family friends, and rabbis. So I wrote it all out, and pressed send. A few days later, someone else at work wanted the same "info". "No problem!", I said. This time all I needed to do was press forward. So here I am, pressing forward every couple of days, and thinking I've got the "finding out" stage covered. Then it struck me. Text documents are so out of date. I mean, how much can words in black and white convey? What every girl in Shidduchim nee...

The night before: I pick what I'm going to wear (I'll spare you the shopping sagas). I empty out an entire drawer of tights, and eventually find a pair with no ladders or holes in the toes. I do my hair, nails, eyebrows, legs. I pack makeup, find a lipstick between some magazines, and shove that into my bag too. The morning of: I scramle out of bed, and sit for a long long time on a stuffy bus, trying to daven against a background of Mizrachi music and R&B. The day of: Slaving a way in front of a computer all day, monotony only broken by meetings and lectures. In between emails, call hairdresser. The evening of: Cancel a meeting with my boss, grab bulky bag, and hail a taxi. Arrive at hairdresser, wash hair in her sink (We're low tech in Israel), then have a soul-to-soul on what was wrong with the last guy, while she does her stuff. Hail a second taxi. In random location (friend's pad/changing rooms in mall/hotel bathroom) wriggle out of the long skirt...

"Frum or Modern?" "Can't I be both?" "You know what I mean." "Frum", I type. Can't get away from it, even on the Web. "Chasidic?" "No." I sigh. Close the private message window. On second thoughts, open it again. What the hell. "Married?" "No." "Age?" "22, u?" "28." "Cool. But you're married of course. What's wrong with her?Too many pregnancies?" "No, just I felt like a change. One woman,for all these years, same body, same positions. It loses it's excitement" "I C". "So, what are you wearing ,baby?" . I know where that's leading to. I close the window. There are ten other minimized windows, flashing neon orange , I'll concentrate on those guys. ____ Why do I chat? I used to think it was for male contact. All girl school, all girl camps, no brothers the right ages to bring friends over and tu...

Funniest: Wandering around a graveyard, thinking it's a park. Took ages for us to realise where we really were. Made me feel Guiltiest: Being sent love letters by a guy I dumped. Most Clicheish: hard to say, I've done them all. Coca cola in the Sheraton Plaza Lobby along with every other hotel in Jerusalem, Moonlight walk in Yemin Moshe, Cafe Hillel in Emek Refaim, Cafe Rimon in Mamilla, Tayelet in Yaffo. If there's something I missed, let me know, I'm sure I've been-there-and-done-that too. Most Annoying: Having a guy arrive an hour late vies with the not being taken even to a bus stop. Davka the one time I hadn't brought a lot of spare cash. And they were both Brits! Why do people think the British have manners? Weirdest: Seing a guy I'd just broken up with, after a rather intense relationship,also on a date, and not being able to say anything to him. Funnest: Still waiting. Never had a truly fun date, the fun stuf I do with the non fun guys, so it d...

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...