In her own way, in her own time, Rachel Sassoon Beer fought against misinformation. She’s a role model for modern feminists as well as for that little girl who yearned to hold the pages of the newspaper just right.

Judaism’s core teachings of tikkun olam, social justice, and equality are what the riot grrrl movement was all about. Sleater-Kinney is no different.

Following in the footsteps of Jewish feminists before us, I think educating others to stop the spread of misinformation, accentuating voices that need to be heard, and acknowledging your own privilege is deeply necessary in this fight.

Just as Dr. Goldhaber wanted to personally encourage others to study science and math, I too, try to personally invite others in the hope of creating a more fun and welcoming environment. 

Current affirmative action activists can learn from Lani Guinier: she supported affirmative action, but she also supported reforming it.

Taking inspiration from Rabbi Bernstein’s efforts with Tu B’Shvat, I wonder what a Shmita haggadah might look like.

Goldman drew upon her Judaism as a source of radical moral guidance and held fiercely to her Jewishness without limiting herself to it.

Suffragist Maud Nathan could never have predicted the labor protections and voting rights we have now, and just like her, I can never give up on fighting for what is right.

No one figure serves as the champion of the early 20th-century union movement, but Bessie Abramowitz Hillman comes close.

I loved the time I spent in England, but I would’ve enjoyed it more had my school attempted to create a more diverse, welcoming, and not Christian-centric environment.

I wondered, and still do, why it is that I can’t be accepted as a “real Jew” everywhere I go.

Hineni invites you to confront your own presence, and its unique and vital impact it has on any given point in time.

If non-Jews had more understanding of what our people went through, it would take a lot of emotional labor off the shoulders of Jewish kids.

By choosing this tallit, I am honoring the hard work of other women that allowed me to go through this process.

The thought of wearing something that declared my Judaism felt strange.

Standing in front of my closest friends and family discussing a holy text that claimed women “do not count” taught me to pay more attention. I became a Jewish feminist.

With my grandmother and my mom in mind, I chose a design for my tallit bag that represents the influence that women have had throughout my life as a proud Jew.

Particular emphasis is put on setting the table for these occasions. So much of my Jewish and familial identity is tied to these meals.

With all the joy in the room, I didn’t understand why my eyes would begin to water.

There is a point of tension for me in both being valued in the Jewish community and being devalued by the Torah’s discussion and treatment of women. Owning my own tallit reminded me that I am valued twice.

When I unfold my little silver candle holder and light the flames, I bring in the light of a commitment to practicing my Judaism alongside my feminism.

Even though Kiddush has traditionally been done by men and I was just a girl, I took it upon myself to make Kiddush each week. 

This is how we grieve: crying, laughing, brisket and Yahrzeit candles. Again and again and again.

My uncle had the idea that maybe I could weave a tallis of my own. But I didn’t want it to somehow invalidate my bat mitzvah.

As a teen with a Muslim-Palestinian father and a Jewish-American mother, the hamsa has always meant a lot to me.