The amount of page time devoted to questioning a ruling that diminishes the status of deaf people represented, to me, that these rabbis recognized that physical limitations should not keep people from following the mitzvot.  

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.

The idea that Miriam will dance with us to repair the broken world paints an image of a world in which change is actually achievable. How beautiful is the thought that we can advocate for a world that swirls with gender equality?

Women can add, and have historically added, so much to Jewish culture and faith; I wanted this to be reflected at my camp, starting with the prayer books we read from.

I decided that I, a thirteen year old, would convince the rabbi of my synagogue to change a rule no one else had successfully challenged.

When I stared down at my siddur for the first time, the one I would come to memorize, I ran my pudgy fingers over the fiery red woman featured on its glossy cover.

At camp, every song had a different tune, and for every prayer I knew, there were four more I didn’t.

There were no chairs in the women's section of my school's shul. 

I hope that contemporary feminists can learn from Debbie Friedman and bring people together through interactive art.

My Judaism guides me to use my words in order to lead a mindful life of gratitude.

For two hours a day, three days a week, the Orthodox rabbi led us through the strict and meticulous process of tefillin-making.

I expected to feel emotion and attachment to the Kotel. However, despite the burning midday sun, my first visit left me cold.

Last March, as I prepared to visit Holocaust sites as part of my high school semester in Israel, I braced myself.

Every “perfect girl” I have ever met has been so humble, that they can turn a compliment into self-deprecation. It is so unbearably heartbreaking to me that these girls who are so marvelous all don’t know how marvelous they are. But the truly terrifying truth is that their humility and self-consciousness seem to be an essential part of being the “perfect girl.”

The first time I visited the Kotel (Western Wall), I cried. I know, this is nothing unusual. This historic place often invokes intense spiritual connection or deep reflection from its visitors, moving them to tears. I was certainly overcome by emotion, but for a completely different set of reasons.