Ritual

When my bubbe gave me this yad, I felt like I finally didn’t have to hide some parts about my Jewish identity.

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.

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.

Grammatical gender in Hebrew fosters a culture of exclusion and denies people safety and belonging in our religious spaces. It's time for that to change. 

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

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

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.

My two identities and their literary traditions, Torah and magical realism, work together to shape my writing style.