Shabbat Shalom, happy pride month, and happy Juneteenth. Thank you all for taking the time out of your busy, busy, lives to come to my bat mitzvah. It means a lot to my family and me.
A bat mitzvah is a coming of age ceremony, and many of you have watched me grow up since I was a little kid. Today marks me becoming a Jewish adult, or, as Rabbi Barbara puts it, today is the day I enter the Jewish conversation.
The Parsha Chukat takes place over several years, marking the transition between the first generation of Israelites in the desert and the second. During my parsha, two very important people die: Miriam and Aaron. Miriam, Aaron, and Moses are the three siblings who brought the people of Israel out of enslavement and towards a better life. When Aaron dies, because of his importance to the community, the people mourn for 30 days. Yet when Miriam dies, a prophet who plays just as big a role in the Torah as her brothers, we go straight to talking about the community’s water drying up. As a feminist, this section brings up many important questions for me. Why is Aaron recognized more than Miriam? What does this say about how women are seen now and throughout history? What is the connection between Miriam’s death and the water drying up?
One interpretation made by Rachel Adler is very interesting. In her interpretation, she suggests that the water and Miriam’s death symbolize women, both during the time the Torah was written, and now in modern day society. Even in the Talmud the well is said to exist only because of Miriam’s kindness and hopefulness.
Before the Israelite’s water disappeared, it was often taken for granted. No one stopped to recognize the privilege of owning necessities. Only after the water disappeared did people truly realize its value. Rachel Adler thinks that the inability to recognize what we have before it is gone represents our views on women today. Women are often taken for granted and thought of as “less than”, but our world wouldn’t work without us. While the portion never outrightly honors and addresses Miriam’s’ death, this interpretation makes a good point.
Miriam played a crucial part in the Torah. While her brother parted the Red Sea when fleeing enslavement, she danced and sang with the people of Israel, bringing them humanity. She gave the people of Israel the one thing they hadn’t had before: Hope. Hope for a new, better life. Hope for a world where they could sing and dance. Miriam can even be seen as the world’s first Jewish feminist. She is credited for not only bringing the women out of Egypt, but for teaching them the Torah and giving them a way to connect to God.
So, thinking about it, this interpretation makes a ton of sense. Women in our society are constantly underappreciated, in all settings. Women only get paid $0.82 to every mans’ dollar. And it’s particularly the fact that women are compared to water-a necessary life force-that makes this comparison so powerful. It is a biological fact that we need women just as much as we need men in this world (just like we need water in this world) except women are not only underappreciated, but we are also shamed for our necessity.
Has anyone ever heard the phrase “period stigma”? I’m assuming most people who menstruate have, and if not will probably recognize the concept. For those of you who don’t know, periods are something everyone who is biologically female will experience starting at one point in their life. In order for humans to reproduce, a woman has eggs inside of them which, if aren’t fertilized, are painlessly flushed out through their uterus in the form of blood. Pretty simple and normal. Yet a stigma has been developed that tells menstruators to be ashamed of our periods and to never talk about them, especially in the presence of those who don’t menstruate.
Now, I know some of you are feeling uncomfortable right now and have been since I brought up periods and menstruation. Not necessarily just those of you who don’t menstruate, but those of you who do too. So, I want you to ask yourselves, not as a critique, but to genuinely ask why? Why am I feeling so uncomfortable right now? You might genuinely not know. That was my immediate reaction when I was first asked this question. The answer is, I would guess for most of you, period stigma. Period stigma, or the concept that we should be ashamed or embarrassed by our periods is deeply ingrained into our society. I want you to take the discomfort you’re feeling right now and embrace it. Try to become comfortable with your discomfort, because unapologetically talking about periods should become the norm.
I’m assuming most people have had a health class, and I hate to say it but oftentimes they are a cause of dread and embarrassment. I had my first in school health class in 5th grade, and my teacher held it over us the whole school year, making jokes about how it would be “so embarrassing and uncomfortable” and how we shouldn’t misbehave because she would get to torture us with health class.
At the time, I saw these jokes as meaningless and funny, but looking back I realize how problematic they actually were. The thing is, the second we step into the world we are constantly being told, regardless of gender, that our bodies are something we should be ashamed of. This especially hurts those of us who are biologically female. Periods also affect the gender wage gap, seeing as how 2.5% of American females are more likely to skip school during their periods, limiting what they learn in school while their absences go on permanent record, affecting the colleges that they can get into.
So how does this connect to Torah?
Not only are both water and women’s bodies a necessary life force, but I want to be like Miriam. I want to provide people with hope, even when all seems lost. I want to give women the option of education. I want to help lead the way.
These past few months I’ve worked with my school to get something called a period hub in Brookline High, the public high school in our area. Just a show of hands, who here has actually heard of a period hub? Okay (not that many of you, a lot of you, none of you, etc.). Basically, a period hub is a place that not only gives out menstruation supplies, but also educates people of all genders about periods and works to eliminate period stigma. It’s a relatively new concept in America, but it is immensely important, especially in high schools. This hub for me is not only a way to provide supplies and to secure girl's futures, it’s also an outlet to teach menstruators to love their bodies, and non-menstruators not to shame them.
How, though, as feminists, should we respond to the absence of Miriam’s death being honored in the Torah? It illustrates how long sexism has existed, and how deeply ingrained it is into our society. If we fail to address sexism in any text, when sexism still is in full force today, we’re no more enlightened than the people who wrote it. This is a personal issue for me. It always has been, and it always will be.
A few months ago, I posted my feminist story on Instagram. I wrote it for International Women’s Day. I want to share part of what I wrote with you today because, honestly, we all need a reminder of how serious this is.
I am three years old. I get out of a cab with my mom and brother, and the driver makes his voice higher and tells me to "Have a good day, princess". I am five years old. I stop wearing my favorite dress because I think it makes me look fat. I am eight years old. I wake up and hear that Trump has been elected as president despite many women claiming that he harassed them. I am eleven years old. A friend of mine makes a joke in class about women's boobs, and everyone laughs. The teacher doesn't do anything. I am eleven years old. I go to sleep away camp and kids are disgusted that I don't shave my legs. I am twelve years old. I tell my principal that I've experienced sexism at his school. He gets the whole grade together for fifteen minutes and tells them to use kind words, without once mentioning sexism. I go through one of the worst nights of my life where we discuss sexism via text. I end up crying with my friends because we all feel silenced. I am twelve years old. One of my friends says that he thinks I'm sexy. He then goes on to explain that he also likes me because of my personality, but I still feel uncomfortable and gross. I am thirteen years old. I am told countless times to calm down when I show the slightest signs of anger. I learn how to cry instead of fight. I am thirteen years old, and I know I am the lucky one.
This seems like a lot, but there were so many things I left out. Both little and big. All of these stand as a reminder of why I have to do something to combat sexism. They make me want to work harder and push through because sexism is bigger than me. It’s bigger than one petty instance, or an annoying classmate. I am insanely lucky that I live in a place where I actually have the power to bring about change. We all are that lucky. So, next time you hear something that is wrong, don’t look past it. Address it. Expose it. Question it. You are not helpless. You have no idea how important your voices are. You can be like Miriam, too. You have the ability to find the light in life.
Before I end, there are a few people I’d like to thank. First off, I’d like to thank my parents for always being there for me and making me write and practice Hebrew even when it was hard. You are the reason I am here today. Second, I’d like to thank my brother Benji for keeping me at least partially sane during this pandemic as well as being insane with me when I needed him to be. I want to thank my tutor Missie for helping me not only relearn an entire language but getting me to the point where I can chant sacred text. I want to thank Rabbi Barbara for being my rabbi on this special day and helping me write a D’var from an altogether overwhelming portion. I’d like to thank my Nana for staying up countless nights with me going over choreography for my crazy number of shows as well as choreographing some numbers yourself. Trust me, you’ve still got the touch. I’d like to thank Grampy for schlepping me to and from rehearsal as well as being my food stealing buddy in the moments in between mealtimes . I’d like to thank my grandma for putting up with our constant crazy as well as always indulging in intellectual conversations with me. I’d like to thank my cousins, Sophia and Nevaeh, as well as my aunt and uncle Melody and Jason for great dance parties, swimming in the lake, and more to come. I’d like to thank the entirety of the Barn Family for watching me grow up and for our countless vacations and good memories together. I want to thank Leili for being the best resident theater kid and my constant and an amazing friend. I want to thank all of the remote on campus kids from Beaver. I genuinely don’t think any of us would’ve survived this year without our daily rants and constant SNL obsession. I want to thank all of my other family and friends who are here today, especially those calling in from out of town. I know some of you are here on 6-hour time differences, and it means a lot to know you’re here anyways. Additionally, I’d like to thank those who are not here with us. In particular, I’d like to recognize my grandfather who died before I was born. Even though I never met him, I know he was a great man, and I think of him today.
Everyone here has made me who I am today, and I am forever grateful. Shabbat Shalom. Thank you!