For some reason, wearing kippot gave me that same itchy, wrong feeling I had experienced from feminine clothing in elementary school or masculine clothing in middle school

For some Modern Orthodox Jewish women, skirts versus pants gets tricky.

Recently, I’ve embarked on a mission to dress how I want, when I want.

The film The Fifth Element creates an aspirational society in which a woman does not feel exposed or sexualized because of what she wears. I want that for all of us. 

Clara Lemlich, the female garment workers she led in striking, and the women who have come after her prove that strength truly comes in numbers and in unity.

All Jewish bodies are important, no matter what they do or don’t look like. We have to care for each other in a way that makes every single body feel included.

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

Let's talk about pretty privilege.

The Star of David and its history helps me understand the different layers of my Jewish identity; the symbol represents the different cultures we’ve embraced as part of the diaspora.

My jade chai necklace has become my most prized possession as a Jewish-Chinese feminist.

Growing up, Victoria's Secret models represented my default (and only) view of femininity and what it means to be an adult woman.

My hair doesn’t only destroy hair ties; it also destroys insecurities about my Jewishness and femininity.

Like everything we wear, our jewelry displays our tastes and preferences. On a deeper level, though, it also projects our values to the world.

My classmates started posting pictures from last year’s Coachella, their excitement for the music festival illuminating my phone screen. However, amidst all the elation, I couldn’t help but notice the troubling cultural appropriation that also filled the pictures. In the backgrounds of nearly every photo I saw, there were young women wearing bindis and feathered headdresses, and young men wearing war paint. Unfortunately, this insensitivity to and misappropriation of cultures is not specific to Coachella, nor is it a new problem in fashion.

When I showed a girl in my class the prom dress I was thinking about buying, the first thing she asked me was whether or not I was going to shave for prom. Her question wasn’t really that surprising. People often associate body hair with uncleanliness, and they don’t expect it to appear in formal situations. The fact is, people only question me about my body hair when I’m wearing something more traditionally feminine. When I’m wearing shorts and a t-shirt people rarely look twice at my legs or armpits, but when I’m wearing a dress, people consistently double-take. When it comes to how other people see me, it seems that my casual clothes and body hair make more sense together than my more feminine clothes and body hair.

There’s nothing wrong with making a lot of money. Honestly, I admire Jenner and her family for building up their empire from scratch, and becoming a modern-day royal family. And, as Kylie is only about two years older than me, I can only dream of what it would be like to be so successful at such a young age. However, I think what shows a lot about a person’s character is how they use their money. 

I’ve realized that the show’s one-dimensional view of identity is objectifying. Segments on the show include “How to Hide Your Tummy,” or “How to Create Curves.” At one point I heard those things and thought they were trying to be helpful. At second glance, these “how tos” project a single image of beauty, an image of beauty that has a big bust and a tight tummy. 

For the longest time, mirrors were my sworn enemy. Dressing rooms were the battlegrounds of a war between comfort and confidence, and my body was caught in the middle of it. On some days, every curve I had was subject to thorough self-scrutiny. Stomachs had to be sucked in, and spandex was a girl’s best friend.