A Different Voice

My favorite thing about this blog has absolutely nothing to do with my own writing, and everything to do with the dozens of messages and comments I’ve gotten from others. I have gotten letters of support, people who need or want a sounding board for their own experiences, and general responses to the topics I’ve brought up. What always surprises me is when people note the tone of my writing, although I guess it shouldn’t. When I first began discussing my blog and book idea I think people thought I wanted to join the ranks of Deborah Feldman, Noah Feldman and many others and air out my grievances and anger against my frum upbringing. But my initial inspiration actually came from Alain De Botton and his ideas about religious secularism and the hopes that writing would help me strike a personal balance between my secular and Jewish values. I do think I try to reflect my appreciation and respect for the religious experience, while maintaining the awareness that I will continue to lead a secular life. And, honestly, at the end of the day I have very little anger to air out.

Most of you have seen “The Rabbi’s Daughter” by now. It’s a 33 minute film by Racheli Wasserman who chronicles the lives of three women, Rabbi’s daughters, discussing their struggle with their relationship with God juxtaposed with their relationships with their fathers. I think there is a lot to be said on the topic. The filmmaker, herself a Rabbi’s daughter, has clearly inserted so much of her own experience into the work. All in all I think that the viewer gets a very intimate sense of the pain that these women experience, and the harm that their upbringing has done. Obviously this film spoke to me. I found myself nodding in agreement as Tamar Tzohar explained how her family avoided asking religious-themed questions, and when Ruth Katz described her family’s confusion about her religious views.But the heartrending overtones were not something I could personally relate to. To be clear, leaving Orthodoxy was the most painful experience of my life, but my time within Orthodoxy carried little of the burden that these women described.

Sometimes I get the sense that people in the frum community believe that anyone who has “gone off the derech” has experienced trauma. In fact, every time I broach the subject with my mother I find myself reassuring her that no one hurt me. In fact, I’d venture to say that quite the opposite is true. Yes, I was frustrated. A lot. And in retrospect, there are many things about my upbringing I take issue with. But nothing in my religious experience evokes the kind of bitterness or pain I’ve heard others express. I was lucky enough to study at institutions where I found support and even love from Rebbeim and where my creativity and critical thinking were never stifled. The values I got in highschool and (especially in) seminary, in many ways continue to guide me.

So there you have it. No anger. No bitterness. Choosing an alternative isn’t always a rejection of everything that came before.