I’ve realized that, in my life, my jewelry, my gold, has been a source of strength and sanctuary that allows me to connect with my family, culture, and self.
Instead of using the poem the way a husband would honor his wife for taking care of the entire family, I chose to use Eshet Chayil as my way of thanking and expressing the awe that I have for these female role models in my family.
In the same way I have an obligation to my Jewish ancestors to continue the fight for social justice and equity, I have an obligation to my queer ancestors as well.
The British Library shares a fifteenth-century prayer book commissioned by a father to his daughter, Maraviglia, a testament to women’s participation in fifteenth-century Italian Jewish ritual life.
My parents explicitly educated me in social justice issues, but not everyone learned these things as a child. What was the difference between my parents and my friends’ parents that had shaped the way we were raised?
Thanks to this beautiful drawing of the biblical story of Ruth in my house, I was able to develop an appreciation for Ruth and how her journey connects to mine.
I often overlook how lucky I am that this necklace was passed down to me. My great-aunt gave it to me when I was born. Now I feel connected to my great-grandmother, despite having never met her.
Slowly, I have come to understand that my connection to Judaism doesn’t need to be a linear path. I experience days of doubt, times of radiant joy, and moments of deep guilt.
When the topic of my bat mitzvah surfaced in my two households, it became evident that my bat mitzvah was not going to be like the ones my friends were having.
She never stopped hoping that our shared humanity could guide us through the most difficult conflicts and help the world become a more peaceful, just, and equitable place.
Reading A Brief History of Feminism with my camp friends acted almost as a shared secret or understanding between us. All of us were realizing together that this was a movement we cared deeply about.
I’ve uncovered a thread, in the form of a chain of paintings by my great-grandfather that stretches across the United States and links me to my aunts, uncles, cousins, and grandparents, who live hundreds of miles away.
In the awful days since October 7, the people in my tight-knit, mostly Orthodox LA neighborhood have come together to share their sadness, anger, and grief.
