A Steady Mourning
These days, I cruise the streets of Williamsburg—Marcy Avenue, Wythe Avenue, Bedford—camera dangling from my neck, protected by my flannel jacket, pillowed against my chest. I pedal slowly, on the lookout for my mark. I never know in advance what she will look like. Nothing—not her age, her coloring, height, weight, type of dress—not a single detail. It is only by the kick in my belly, the sudden thump-thump of my heart, that I know. I brake, then.
For seventeen years of my life, I gave almost no thought to my “chussid status.” I was a chussid. It was as much a part of me as my knobby knees, the freckles on my chest (later, somewhat obscured by tiny curly hairs), the little bump on my nose only noticeable in profile, the dark corneal structure that gave my eyes its intimation of sadness. I was a chussid. It just was.
Somewhere around my seventeenth birthday, I began to challenge the Hasidism construct. At first, only in the interior crannies of my mind. And only in relation to the shidduch process. Although I had given my personal shidduch prospects but cursory, transient consideration over the years, at seventeen I began to think about it more purposefully. When my time came, I would have to—in Chassidic parlance—“look away.” I knew that much. My family had its sticking points, which would make me, regardless of the quality of my character and scholarship, a B choice at most.
I am, perhaps, a pessimist at heart. On the street I’d pass a girl who struck me as excessively ugly and think, this is my future. I’d see a ragtag older man with greasy peyos and dirt under his fingernails and think, there goes my father-in-law. There was a rage inside me that beat against my ribs like a living being. I began to speak out. I declaimed our absurd method of choosing a spouse, our fanatical fixation on family, as if (I clamored!) the qualities with which we rate “family” have anything to do with our chances of future happiness or our potential spouse’s caliber. My friends mostly agreed with me, though they advised me to shut up. It was too late. I had patted the snake in the grass and it had given me an appetite for more.
One month before my eighteenth birthday, I left yeshiva and my parents’ home. In retrospect, I can see that I had escaped before I could find out for sure, before the shadchanim’s calls would confirm my pessimistic predictions. By running away, I was, in a sense, beating the system before it could beat me. But that wasn’t how I thought about it then. I was merely trying to escape my fury, to ease the thunder in my chest, and find a better way. A better way for me.
Did I find it? I’m tired of trying to answer that. For months and years (I left my home seven years and four months ago), I agonized over my choice, a choice that was supposed to be imbued with more “meaning,” because I had hurt people by making it. I weighed and gauged, kept running calculations in my head. Especially on bad days when half crazed with loneliness, I would slip out to the corner bar at 2 a.m. to drink myself into forgetfulness.
The futility of it! How many Chassidim indulge in such introspection? I began to think of my life as a kayak. Or, for variety, as an airplane banking on its ascent or descent. In a kayak, you hold a paddle in front of you and dip it into the water, first right, then left, again and again, moving continually, gradually forward. The kayak inclines as you dip, occasionally slanting enough to douse the boat with water. But then it corrects itself, almost of its own accord. The banking plane follows the same pattern: dip left, then correct, dip right, then correct. And so does my life. To use a trite expression, my life is, despite the intermittent (frightening, to be sure) dips, a course of smooth sailing. There’s the usual sturm und drang of an ordinary existence. No more. No less. Not happier, not unhappier. For me, that is sufficient.
What then am I doing here, biking slowly, casually, my adrenalin soaring, my entire being breathless with anticipation? (And here, my kayak theory pleats a bit.) Because though my life is fine in so many ways, there is a constant, steady dip in it. A mourning, you can call it. Of something lost, which I cannot—not without giving up what I now hold dear—ever retrieve. The chassidishe girl I knew (or thought I knew—who knows?) I can never attain – I still ache for her. Nobody else, none of the girls I’ve dated, no matter how hot or cute, makes my belly vibrate, fills me with yearn on sleepless nights, makes me clench my fists in longing when Celine Dion croons of love. When I close my eyes, I do not see a tightly clad ass, breasts spilling out of shirts, or bare legs on stilettos. Instead, I cocoon myself in the mystery of the knee-length skirt, the blouse that requires unbuttoning, the legs that must be uncovered to be discovered.
And so I bike slowly, my eyes ever alert. I wait for the electric moment. The thump-thump vibration of my heart. I brake, then. Lift the camera and snap. I shoot as many angles as I can without arousing suspicion. Without looking different from the hipsters who crouch to snap photos of car tires or garbage cans.
As I bike home, the girl in the photo begins narrating the fantasy to me. Each one is different, and I never know what the fantasy will be before I find “her.” I step into my apartment, my veins tingling with life.
Printable Version
Excellent piece, ES.
I feel you, brother.
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I see a “chaptzem” in your future.
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So do you regret leaving or was it worth it despite what you think you lost out on?
Another question: Do you think that had you stayed and married one of these chasidisha women you now fantasize about would you perhaps now be cruising the streets of Hipsterville pining after one of those girls you could’ve had?
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Is the story of this essay true, or is it a clever parable by a frum person of how those who leave “suffer”?
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Eli, Listen to me brother, as someone who did manage to snap one of those hotties of Willy, a head turner with all the bells and whistles, lemme tell you, you ain’t missing nothing. Come, let me give you a tour of how *our* woman look once those skirts and boots come off and there’s no place left for the imagination ( especially the gap between the boots and skirt which throws most men gaga) Their skin is as pale as the snow on the mountains of Iceland, their legs are decorated with huge tree trunks and thick blue and green snakes spiraling downwards, on their stomachs you can clearly discern a map of Kentucky, their asses are cellulite island itself, and some of’em have a big steel-wool down south for decoration purposes so that traffic units might be required to be called in and make *seider* before one intends to park his Caddy into the garage…. Stay put in YupplyLand with their toned bodies, where you’ll find tons of *our* boys cruising (not on bikes but in Honda Odyssey’s ) and craving a glimpse into *your* planet.
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i really enjoyed this essay. eli szendrowitz really touches on the questions that all people who leave “home” must face: whether or not what has been given up is equal to what has been attained. the feelings are terribly real and the longing for the familiar (yet unfamiliar)aspects of one’s own community are enough for szendrowitz (or his speaker)to make these clandestine journeys, camera in hand to photograph what he cannot have.
moosik brings up an interesting point. perhaps, no matter which road is chosen, there will always be the question as to whether it was the right choice. maybe the proverbial grass will always appear to be greener, from whichever side it is viewed.
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emily, that was exactly my point.
I think it would be appropriate here to quote Robert Frost’s “The Road Not Taken”
Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;
Then took the other, as just as fair
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that, the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,
And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.
I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
two roads diverged in a wood, and I –
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.
It’s also interesting to take a look at the wikipedia article http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Road_Not_Taken_(poem) which cites two contradicting interpretations of the poem.
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I think this must be a universal phenomenon. Nothing like your own. Shiksas are great for fucking, but heimisha gals are for loving.
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I’m surprised no one touched on what I see as the essay’s key theme. The writer speaks of the “rage beating against his ribs,” for being placed at the bottom of the barrel for shidduch status. It is obvious that he didn’t really want to leave, but felt compelled to in order to “escape his fury,” and in the end, “beat the system.”
All societies are fixated to some degree on social status and the need for its members to conform, but in the Chasidic community it is perhaps a more salient characteristic. And it’s a key factor when it comes to shidduchim, arguably the single most defining point of a young person’s future. Divorce, death of a parent, mental illness, sexual abuse, the wrong ethnic background, offspring of ba’alei teshuva or converts, or anything else deemed “unusual” (often by the most arbitrary criteria) will present insurmountable obstacles for being presented with suitable shidduch prospects.
This essay is a poignant personal reflection on the fallout of such social pickings-and-choosings. It seems the writer would’ve loved for nothing more than to be “normal,” not to have objectively undesirable and unattractive traits in his future family makeup as his inevitable lot due to subjective and society-defined deficiencies that said said nothing about (or even overrode) his objective qualities.
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Rebel, to my understanding the writer is touching more on the point that no matter how far you go, you really can’t escape your past instilled in your inner fiber, in short, your mind and subconscious will always be attracted – for the rest of your life – to the cultural ideas and customs you have been brought up on, its inescapable, its a trap and a scheme the wizards who set us up with, envisioned thousands of years ago.
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> I am, perhaps, a pessimist at heart. On the street I’d pass a girl who struck me as excessively ugly and think, this is my future. I’d see a ragtag older man with greasy peyos and dirt under his fingernails and think, there goes my father-in-law
As much as we resent being “qualified”, we’ve internalized this way of thinking.
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Excellent post.
“so that traffic units might be required to be called in and make *seider* before one intends to park his Caddy into the garage….”
WTF, if Chassidish women shave their head because of chatzita, then…..??!?!?!
Or am I missing something.
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TConfused, you crack me up…..ask the Mikva lady how many of us don’t have bushes……….by us this is part of not being “Mudairen” and up to date, living in 18th century’s times …..staying how are grandmothers were before they invented shavers…..nebech nebech. AL TITOSH TORAS IMACHOO…..Yes, I know. Gevald….lets run…..!
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TC — Your question points to the obvious answer: head shaving is not for chatzitza. Scholars of Jewish History are uncertain of its origin, but they all agree, the reasons are unclear.
Some claim it was to protect against the medieval practice of primae noctis, the local nobleman’s right to taking a bride’s virginity. Others claim the whole primae noctis is mostly a myth. But there is very little in early rabbinic literature to explain the head-shaving.
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This is an exquisite piece of writing. Eli, any chance you’d provide an email address where you can be reached? Unless this post was professionally edited, I’d like to discuss something with you.
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Insider: “…let me give you a tour of how *our* woman look once those skirts and boots come off …”
I’m sorry for what your wife looks like. Truly and deeply sorry. But seeing as she’s only married to you, I’d reconsider the plural ‘ours’.
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Tzippi, apparently, when walking up 13th avenue, you will see *our* women with their transparent pantyhose and it ain’t a pretty scene….don’t try to bluff ME, you know very will how you look in an empty room when staring in *your* mirror, and I have seen more than plenty…..and I know from your history that you’ll always defend and apologize no matter what, because your agenda here is to make *us* look good to *their* world but I ain’t buying your crap…..
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Insider: Shame on you!
I’m sure you can share with us your beautiful insights on down-sindrome children how ugle they look, or any humans you find funny.
Stay in Yuppy land you may one day share grandchildren with Joseph Goebbels who tried but was unsuccessful in eliminating the crippeled Jewish race.
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Wo wo wo!! Velvel! what have I said wront here??? I just painted how a woman’s body looks after popping out 8 shrutzemelech…..after all, THEY turn their bodies into human xerox machines…..
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Insider:
Can’t help but wonder about the ‘plenty’ you saw. Logic would dictate that all those who stripped for you, (considering that they weren’t your wife and apparently knew they weren’t your only one,) that they must have serious issues of insecurity. I’m guessing their insecurities were valid.
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Ok, ok, things are getting out of hand here. I so hate to have to moderate, but please, ladies and gentleman, no personal insults. From this point on, they will be deleted if they appear.
Insider, you made some good points in other comments, but gratuitous nastiness about all Chasidish women is absolutely uncalled for. Please refrain. (You can’t possibly know them all of course. And trust me, plenty a hipster girl — and I know many — ain’t got much going for her either…)
So let’s keep the comments on topic, please. And most of all, be respectful.
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No one forgets their first, and you’ve colored these feelings with an artful stroke. Bravo.
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HR, your diplomatic skill never wane. I miss ya sweet brother!
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Insider, I’m glad you haven’t met my wife.
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Shtreimel, I know how she looks, not to worry, she fits the criteria.
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Frimy – pray tell us : How can U love what U cannot fuck ? From the previous comments it also seems that U cannot fuck what U cannot love ! That just leaves us with longings & frustrations . And that is the point of this colorful telling of the Naked Truth ! BRAVO !!!
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Goodness, I never expected to create a war zone. Cool it, people.
I will respond to as many comments as I can. Firstly, to all of you who’ve left complimentary comments, thank you so much. I truly appreciate your kind words.
Secondly, to all those criticizing the appearances of chassidish women or hipster women, that’s low. I’m no saint. My comment about the ugly girl and ragtag guy was quite shallow. I was trying to be as honest as I can, though. But that was a specific woman, not a critique of an entire group. There are beautiful and ugly women and beautiful and ugly men in every group. It just so happens that it is chassidish women who do it for me. Your taste is different, and that’s ok. Meagan pretty much got it when she said there’s nothing like the first. Even though a chassidishe woman was not my first in actuality, she was first in my fantasy. And there’s a pining for that innocent fantasy of my teens.
To the one asking about professional editing, my workmate made one suggestion: to delete the parenthetical clause, “or thought I knew, who knows?” I chose to override her suggestion. So that’s your answer. Unfortunately, I don’t wish to share my email address in this forum. However, if you wish to share yours, I’ll send you a note.
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Emily, you “got” me. And HR, you got me on the shidduch status aspect, which nobody else seemed to take note of.
Moosik, I do not regret leaving. Perhaps, if I would have stayed, I would not have regretted it either. To steal a phrase from a popular song,”Life is a mystery.”
Ben Sorer, why do you assume I’m suffering? I absolutely am not. I thought that was made clear in my article.
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Poignant words.
You know, you can still have your fantasy. Just browse around a bit on Craigslist. Plenty of frum girls there, even chassidish. Don’t give up the dream, Eli!
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Eli: I was not assuming that you were suffering. I don’t know you, so I was trying to understand if your story is being written from the perspective of an ex-Hasid (apparently so), or if it was how someone “inside” the community imagines life is for someone who has left the community. A common “frum” narrative is “troubled kid-rebels-tries new life-is happy for a while, but something’s missing-kid has crisis and a. kid comes back or b. kid is bitter for the rest of his life”. Thanks to a new generation of voices, a different story is being told.
Insider, etc.: please respect your fellow human being, regardless of what their body looks like and what they cover it with.
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Well, Insider, as a true “insider” I beg to differ.
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Shtreimel, a true insider literally and figuratively?
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Mendy I should be more clear. The shiksa is great for that one night stand, or the short fling. But for long turn relationship, the typical chosid or xchosed, pines for his own.
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yeah, shtreimel, when was the last time you were literally “inside”? Hah?….lol I hope you’re not as sensitive as the rest of’em sissy’s here….well I know you aren’t.
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Insider, I’d rather not discuss it in public, but as an insider you should know the monthly cycle…
It’s not about sensitivity, it’s about respect.
Pray tell, do we know each other?
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voos respect in kup oron? Respect for whom?? Did I insult anyone in specific?I merely painted a general picture, this is the goyish fancy shmancy foramlity I just hate and despise, everybody is fakey nicey.
I’ll dodge the other question.
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Insider seek help asap. You seem very angry and hateful towards your wife and other hasidic women.
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Eli, if its because of shidduchim that you left I’m sorry but I find that kind of pathetic. There is plenty of ways to beat the shidduch game. Never heard of meeting a girl on your own? And don’t farkof me that its ‘just not done’, I know plenty of chassidim who have taken matters into their own hands. You make no mention of having doubts of any kind, so im surprised its shidduchim that was the so called tipping point. You could have found a nice chassidish albeit modern girl and lived your ‘fantasy’ life happily.
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Lovely piece. Nice attention to detail. Feels authentic. Am all too familiar with this “rage inside of me,” and the mourning. Great THEME. I love the kayak simile, love images such as “and here my kayak theory PLEATS a bit.” Try to get it published. I would advise taking out a few redundancies such as, “like a living being” in the rage sentence (if it beats against your chest, we know it’s living). Good luck.
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Thank you, forbidden. I thought getting it on Unpious constituted being published.
Malkele, my reasons for leaving (and staying) aren’t quite as black and white as a simple “couldn’t do a shidduch, so I left.” Reasons for any action are not usually so simple, since humans are nuanced beings. But yes, my frustration at the chassidic shidduch process instigated my disillusionment.
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Fair enough
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Eli: Reasons for any action are not usually so simple, since humans are nuanced beings.
Exactly. I feel like I could have written this line.
But what I want to know is, how did you learn to write this well?
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Laura,
Are you suggesting that the average 25-year-old Chusid isn’t capable of writing well?
While I think this is one of the most beautifully written pieces on this site, it’s stereotypical to assume this could not have come natural to Eli.
Ok, with a bit of practice. A bit more than a bit.
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Well, I’m only going by HR’s anecdotal evidence. In his ABC post, he claimed that submissions from chassidim were grammatically and stylistically flawed. At least, that’s the way I remember it. Am too lazy to check the post now.
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“Are you suggesting that the average 25-year-old Chusid isn’t capable of writing well?”
That is unfutanately the case 99% of the time. Eli must have studied diligently, kudos to Eli and a bunch of Hatzlache.
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Laura — Our flawed education system notwithstanding, you underestimate the ability of a Chasid to learn a thing or two after being out for seven and a half years.
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To be perfectly honest, I believe there are chassidim who write really well, regardless of whether they left for seven years or have never left at all. (In fact, HR, I will use you as an example.) It’s simply a matter of how interested one is in developing their English skills.
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That should have read “in developing her/his English skills.” Talk about correct grammar!
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And just to give credit were credit is due, the writings of Misyavni, Mar Baravashi, and the two Yonas are not exactly the works of mapil kinder either, Laura. In fact, they are anytime as good as those of some English majors I know.
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Frimy, I won’t argue with you on that, and I’d even add a few others to the mix. You’re right about the English majors. I was appalled at the level of some of them in my own English classes.
Just to be clear, my original comment was simply a question to Eli about where he’d learned to write. (His level, in my opinion, is above par, both stylistically and grammatically.) It wasn’t necessarily meant to connote anything negative.
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Frimy – u have awhole Shabbos ahead – write us a GREAT one . Shabbat Shallom !
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Hello, y’all. I’m happy to see that the arguments here have moved from certain groups’ attractiveness measures to the merits of my writing skills. Thank you, Laura, Yoelsih (is it meant to be Yoelish?), and Velvel for your kind comments. My dad is a professional writer, so you can say writing is in my blood. I am also lucky to work at a bookshop, where I have a literary gan eden hatachton surrounding me all the time. Finally, my immediate superior at work, with whom I have a close relationship, is partial owner of a writing school, and I participate in the workshops quite often. (I actually taught a class once!)
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>“Are you suggesting that the average 25-year-old Chusid isn’t capable of writing well?”
I’d say that the average “anyone” doesn’t write well (includes me).
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Ha, Ben. You’re right.
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Do you realize that the typical good-looking woman has to put in quite an effort to look the way they do? Based on a chassidishe vibel’s lifestyle, their routine, their upbringing, their sense of what’s important, etc, logic would dictate that they couldn’t possibly have nice bodies. Unlike Insider, I can’t say I have seen “plenty” cuz I haven’t seen any besides my wife’s; however, I must agree with him that the majority are probably a big mess. (I don’t know about the tree trunks and all that…but it had me laughing…)
How does one who doesn’t go to the gym, doesn’t sunbath, doesn’t wax, have way more kids than the average women, and doesn’t do half of what most non-chasidishe women do, supposed to have a nice body? Are they naturally built better than the rest out there? Of course not!
Think about this for a second: how many “kosher” gyms are there in willy? My guess is not too many. The gyms outside of willy typically don’t see many chasidishe women for obvious reasons. So where are all these women you are defending get their hot bodies from? Are they working out at home with all the kids running around? Whom are you kidding?
Look, I like to defend my community as well. With all its problems, there are plenty good things that come out of this community. However, you come off as an apologist when you defend them on such an obvious subject.
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Tzipy,
My posting was addressed to you. Sorry, forgot to mention that.
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WillyKid, the gym I frequent – outside of Williamsburg – has the most cellulite-filled asses, sagging breasts and *maps of Kentucky* than I’d ever seen before. It’s not all hot bodies there, either. And the funny part is that the Chassidishe women I meet there are the ones who are looking the best.
Where do you get the notion that Chassidish women don’t shave or don’t do what non-chassidish women do to their bodies?
You claim to have only seen one body – your wife’s. It’s laughable that you would feel confident enough to know what thousands of other womens bodies look like.
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Maya,
Are there chasidishe women who go to the gym and do what’s necessary to look good? of course there are. Is it the norm? Absolutely NOT! You seeing non-chasidishe women in the gym with fat asses proves nothing. If anything, it shows that even if you do go to the gym you may still not look your best. So imagine not going at all?
As someone who “frequents” the gym, can you tell me, percentage-wise, how many of them are chasidic, men or women?
Yes, I said I only saw my wife – NAKED that is! Are you suggesting I can only comment about women whom I have seen naked??? I see plenty chasidishe women on a daily basis (I live in willy, remember???). I know what they’re into, and it’s not the gym or their bodies! They’re into outdoing each other when it comes to clothes, carriages, and all sorts of mind-numbing nonsense!
I think I made a valid point by pointing out how few gyms there are in willy. Doesn’t that show that there isn’t a big demand for it?
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Insider’s original post stated that, when the pretty clothes and boots come off of our women, their *naked* bodies are a mess. So yes, you should comment on how women look NAKED. That’s what this entire debate is about. So if you haven’t seen enough naked women, you probably shouldn’t comment about it.
The gym I used in Williamsburg had a very nice membership before it closed. There currently are others, including aerobics and Yoga classes given by young women here. And many, many families own treadmills, or make use of exercise DVDs at home. In fact, most people I associate with exercise in some shape or form. So again, you’re wrong in your assumption that Chassidish women don’t work out.
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I think Insider originally said that women look that way ‘after popping out eight kinerlach’. The idea is, my friend, that you get to know each other BEFORE the eight kids are produced, give and take from each other, love each other, and by the time eight kids have arrived you remember what her body looked like before, and realised all she has sacrifeced by carrying your children. And the lack of a local gym is nothing to go on many chasidishe ladies wouldnt be seen dead in a gym. Speaking from experience they get together in someone’s dining room to excercise, follwing an instructer or a book.
And for the record, a chulent baachel is not exactly the epitome of sex appeal, either.
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Maya,
How many naked women have you seen that you can comment? Even if you have seen more than me, you haven’t seen a big enough sample to base any kind of average on.
Regardless of what “Insider” says, I still think I can have a pretty good idea what these women look like without their clothes on. Most likely pale as hell and completely out of shape! I know MANY chasidishe women. I have sisters, neighbors, cousins, business associates, on and on. I know what they’re into and it’s not the gym. It isn’t exactly rocket science to figure out.
About the gym, I’m basing it on the fact on how few gyms there are, which I think is an obvious fact. You’re saying they work out at home. How you know that is beyond me, but whatever! It’s pointless to go back and forth on this. We’re arguing about facts!
Fluffy,
I couldn’t agree with you more about the chulent bocher! Unlike women, I see plenty of naked guys (mikvah…duh). I’d say, after the men reach the age of 30, 99% of them are out of shape.
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Willykid: How you know that is beyond me, but whatever! It’s pointless to go back and forth on this. We’re arguing about facts!
How indeed would one woman know what other women discuss and spend their time on? Mind boggling! Whereas you, the on looking Peeping Tom? *Of course* you know! How wouldn’t you? You’ve even got some overweight sisters!
And for the record, I’ve yet to sit in on a group of women where the discussion did not at one point go to weight loss or exercise or the best place for a waxing, or any other of the mind-numbing ‘body issues’ conversations. Oh, and yoga is big now in Willi. Pilates too. Oh, you don’t get to sit in when women discuss their bodies and the improvements they’re planning? Shocker!
Indeed it would be pointless to argue back and forth. You’ve misconstrued what the scarcity of gyms might mean, and comfortably mislabeled ‘opinion’ as ‘fact’.
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So, what you’re basically saying is that I, a woman, know nothing about women. You, who has some sisters and cousins, are an expert. Yeah, that makes sense.
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This exchange is quite ludicrous, as people tend to use their own frame of reference to make judgments about the *general*. That’s why anecdotal evidence is so iffy. Personally, I’m with Tzippy on this, but that’s because *my* friends and *my* neighbors and *my* family are exactly as she describes. Perhaps if I’d be in willykid’s family, I’d think entirely differently. As it is, I can’t say what *most* chassidish women are like; I can only say with absolute confidence that the chassidish women in my life are *very* into their bodies and looks. And yeah, they all wax and laser. What does that say about chassidish women in general? Nada.
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Tzippi,
Why don’t you enlighten me and explain the “scarcity” of the gym in willy? How do you explain so few gyms and yet, as you and Maya allude to, working out is supposed to be the norm in willy.
The rest of the world relies on gyms to work out (not all ppl, but a huge amount does) yet willy, the place where there are way more kids to take care of than anywhere else, has managed to figure out a way to work out at home! Yeah, right! Bubkas!
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Willykid, nothing bubkas about it. I don’t think the scarcity or abundance of gyms in willi proves anything, but to respond to your question, there are loads of aerobics, yoga and pilates classes in willi basements. Not to mention all the power walkers on the willi bridge every day. Also, back to personal frames of reference, I work out with a personal trainer in a Manhattan gym. I’m sure I’m not the only one.
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Maya,
I don’t remember saying you don’t know anything about women, I just chose not to believe you. I get the impression that you defend them blindly, based on the silly facts you mention (like, they work out in their dining room…lol)
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Laura,
Good for you that you get to work out with a trainer. You are the exception, not the norm.
In any event, this debate has run its course, I think. Next topic please!
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Yes, Eli. Apparently, I can’t spell my own name, which according to Chasidic folklore, makes me destined to become a millionaire.
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You guys are going around in circles when the reality is quite obvious. Insider made the assertion that the average chasidishe gals body at say the age of 28,looks like a wreck in comparison to those of the Shiksas.
Though not baby exclusives, NOTHING ruins the female body as much as having children does,gym non withstanding.
Even our ovus knew that (think Rachel and Zilpu).
That being the case, your average hipster will have a better body than your average yenta.
All that being said, there is way more to beauty than say taned or toned skin and no one is saying that chasidishe ladies have longer noses or tripler chins or crosser eyes than their non frum counterparts. At the end of the day, their are plenty frum girls out there who have all the dudes from hipstervile going gaga.
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Eli, you don’t mention it in your essay, but do you have siblings? Did they get married, and were their shidduchim as you expected? I understand this isn’t the point of your essay, but I’m wondering.
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Even if chassidic women should as a generalization have physical imperfections, say, because of frequent pregnancies [a fact], it would be ludicrous to write off their attractiveness.
It is likely to come away from this piece with the impression that the attraction of chassidic woman is in her sensual modesty, a bit like the erotic full lengthy kimono of the Geisha. Sensuality rooted in tsnuis, however, is simply not accurate to the chassidic woman. A chassidic woman’s sensuality isn’t modestly hidden, her sensuality is suppressed.
A chassidic woman can be subjectively attractive for a number of unique characteristics. But often outsiders perceive her as exotic and sensual in ways that simply mischaracterize and stereotype. I thought Misyavni’s piece described a woman very real, yet very sensual. Her youth and reservation, her being so unaware of her sexuality and…her youth and naiveté and…her youth, are all beautiful and authentic.
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Yoelish, is that so? I might have made a mistake, working so hard to learn how to spell.
Aryeh, some of my siblings are married. It was and it wasn’t what I expected. They did not marry the “smetene” of families, but they did get kind (and in one case, very attractive) spouses.
I won’t respond to the heated discussion (again!) about chassidishe women’s attractiveness. It seems it’s already been debated quite thoroughly in this comment section.
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