chal-converts:

better-latke-than-never:

this-is-not-jewish:

betvous:

I cover my hair because I am not public property. Because I get to decide where your gaze falls.

This notion that I didn’t have to be on display was transforming. That the choice really was mine. That I could choose to keep pieces of me private. This choice was also about community- it connected me to Jewish women before me and around me.

And it helped. The self loathing, the anxiety with being on display is lessened a little.

However we live in a society that is hostile to women’s agency. I will not allow my decisions to be separated from their complicated path – to be used to shame other women. Weariness of this possibility has made me a better ally to other women. Made me more conscious of the words I use, the causes I support (or call out). As a consequence covering my hair has made me a more active feminist.

Covering my hair has been healing and revealing. But I still struggle with the idea that I’m doing it “wrong”. That a tichel and pants are fundamentally incompatible. That I’m going to be called out one day. So I will fully support all women in what they choose to wear (or not wear) in hopes that one day I will fully accept my self and my own healing choices.

I stopped wearing tichel after a solid year’s barrage of “But I thought you were Conservative? Isn’t that kind of false advertising?” (because clearly, choosing to do a mitzvah is the sole purview of the Orthodox) and “Why are you wearing that schmatte? Why even bother paying for haircuts when no one will see it?” (because clearly my husband is “no one” and looking good for myself is unthinkable), but the longer I stick around on Jewish tumblr, the more determined I become to take it up again.

I have always struggled to feel comfortable in my skin. I have always felt fat or pasty or lumpy, always felt like people were staring at me and judging. Now that I consciously choose each morning to cover my elbows, to not show cleavage, to dress as “frumpy” as I want– it’s liberating. I am intentionally claiming my body as private, not just from lustful gazes, but from everyone who I don’t explicitly invite to see it. These rules don’t restrict me. I don’t always cover my collarbones. Some days, my knees show.  And its all on my terms.

For so much of my life, I was worried about not fitting in, about not being pretty enough or fashionable enough or good enough. I don’t worry that anymore. Honestly, people probably are staring at me when I wear my new bathing suit that covers me up– but I feel comfortable. People worried about me being oppressed by long sleeves are usually the same people who were unhappy when I showed too much cleavage, or when my thighs were too jiggly. You cannot please everyone. So, please yourself instead.

If you are comfortable in pants, then wear pants! If you like showing off your awesome shoulders? Go for it, I’m sure that they are fabulous! I will fight tooth and nail to keep someone from telling you how to dress. I just wish everyone else would return the favor, even for those of us who are “regressive.”

I can’t wait to cover my hair. I have been practicing tying a tichel all summer, and doing preliminary wig shopping. And, I’m still super feminist. You know what isn’t super feminist? Telling me what to cover or not cover!!

Honestly this.

I found covering to be one of the most powerful steps I’ve ever taken in healing as a survivor because it was the first time I’ve been able to enforce *visual* boundaries when I’m in public.

Up until that point, I’d deeply internalized the idea that the only feminist way to fight back against the constant harassment was via weaponized femininity, and that the only way to regain control or wield power was to use my body in certain ways that I was never comfortable with.

Dressing modestly and covering my hair taught me that actually, prioritizing my need for privacy gave me a lot stronger sense of agency and allowed me to feel much more confident in public spaces than I ever did before.