First Person
The Get
I remember you told me once that you like to watch me take off my rings. You said that all of my stubbornness comes through when I try to wrench them off. You said it teasingly, laughing at me lovingly, pulling my sweaty hands apart and slipping the wedding band off my finger.
Do you remember that now as I remove my ring and set it on the rabbi’s desk in the bes din room, near my coat and bag, looking as white as I did the day our marriage began? Do you see me trembling, my stubborn perseverance hanging on to its last fight; my willfulness slowly failing with our marital death? I wonder if you’ll look at me with my fingers naked of your gold, shaking, aching for your comforting bond to return. But your bearded face is turned to your father and brothers while you talk amongst each other somberly. You’re wearing your gartel over your calf-length suit jacket. It’s what you wear for special events, for occasions like this monumental one, when you are to make me, me … — I who crept into your arms and I who share your baby — a stranger. It seems like yesterday that you wore the gartel to Chanukah lighting and you bounced our baby on your knee, smiling at me proudly. But you won’t look at me now. I’m a stranger. I’m far away from your familiar touch, a million heartbreaks apart, miles into my stubborn hell, a gaping chasm of religious differences dividing us towards an inevitable end.
The Rabbi asks me to inspect my hands to make sure I set down everything I had. I know that it’s a tradition at the get not to have a kinyen or accessory on you, parallel to the tradition of our wedding day. The rabbi talks with his eyes on me. You won’t look at me, but he does. His acknowledgment of my presence is too kind, threatening to emit warmth that’ll melt my brittle façade of bravery. I don’t want to let them see how I feel in this quiet room in the synagogue on this sad day of parting. I’m the only woman in the room filled with Hasidic men. I don’t know most of them, but I can guess they know of me. Everyone around is blurred by a terrible weakness in me. Even you I don’t see clearly. The sofer is finishing writing the get by hand. I hear my heart beating wildly. I look at you, and you glance at me before you divert your gaze. I know you hear my heart beating. I’m still alive; my heart still pounds its stubborn melody, you know it does even though I stumbled on a path you do not want to walk with me. I’m not so innocent or moldable anymore, I agree, but I’m still the same Satmar girl. And I love you still. Even though I read books and found my voice and ask for a life of more rights and liberty, that same heart you knew from its fragile first days as your eighteen year old wife beats in me. Now it thumps, whacks, bangs its stubborn sound. It calls to you, the only man I’ve ever known.
“Yoelish.”
You do not hear the voice of a stranger and you walk towards the sofer to whisper something into his ear. The proceedings take long and I feel cold. I fix my eyes on my warm coat on the table but I can’t see anything except a veneer of tears. We bought this coat together. It has a swing and opened wide with my expanding figure when we awaited Leahele.
I’m not alone Yoelish. I have friends who support me and will comfort me when your familiar reassurance is gone. But they struggle to understand me. They won’t appreciate that I can feel this way at a time of betrayal and divorce. They don’t know how far I’ve come with your support, only to come too far, beyond the territory you wanted to support. They cannot comprehend that even though I love you, the role of a wife and mother that is required from that love is not something I can give you. They won’t understand that sometimes we’re confronted with diverging convictions, and as desperately as we hold onto the relationship, our deep beliefs drive a sharp knife through the bond. Our virgin marriage has become too small for our growing differences. It’s time to let go.
The Rabbi wants me to step over to where you stand. I walk cautiously to you directly, Yoelish, oh, my heart explodes. I can smell your familiar sweat. My head swims with memories of your nightgown and tsitsis and our bedtime talks. My limbs fire up inside with hope that quickly burns to ashes with the dreadful realization that standing so close will only be followed by standing apart, forever. Forever. Yoelish, can you live without me forever? Forever? And our Leah?
I stand in front of you, a hug’s distance. I cry quietly. A cathartic release surges in sobs as I stand here in this frightening room, with you, my husband, in front of me. I hear you sniff. I feel comfort, relief by your presence. I miss you already.
You’re given the divorce document. I’m instructed to cup my hands and catch it because you’re not permitted to pass it to me directly. I hold my hands. Silently, you let the document go, and it falls together with my tears. I receive my pain and my hopes for freedom into my curled fingers. I take it, put it under my arm, and walk a few steps towards the door in accordance to the Rabbi’s directives.
Done. Mazel Tov, they say. I’m a grisha, the stigmatized rejected woman, and young single girl and many other things I choose to be. I’ve come here today by myself in order for this to happen. And now I must go home by myself.
Let’s go home, Yoelish. The loneliness is strangling me.
I straighten my back and try to fix my façade. I return to the rabbis and hand them the document that testifies we’re now strangers.
You ask me quietly for forgiveness, and I nod tearfully. I look at you for the last time. I want to tell you I’m making fleish and ferfel for supper for us tonight, that we should go for a walk around Keiv Road when Leahele is asleep, but you won’t be home for supper or for our daughter’s bedtime. You and your father and your brothers leave the bes din without looking at me again. It’s the last I’ll see of you for the foreseeable future. You’ll go on to slash my heart again soon by quickly remarrying and moving on with a new Hasidic family, with a wife who doesn’t stubbornly take birth control and resist shaving her head. I’ll continue to mourn you, Yoelish, as you’re alive in my child, you’re alive in the Chasidic child in me. But eventually I’ll be alright. You know I’m stubborn. Slowly, you’ll become a stranger to me too.
Printable Version
wow this was an intense read so many emotions, feelings… thoughts..
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Beautiful! Heartbreaking and beautiful.
I am, of course, reminded of the famous story of the couple who must divorce after 10 years without “pri beten” and the Rav (was it Reb Shimon Bar Yochai?) tells them to make a grand seuda for the get just like when they got married. Of course the husband in his magnanimous and inebriated state tells his dear wife with love and longing that she should choose ANYTHING and keep it, naturally after he falls asleep she takes HIM home, cause he is the ONE thing she truly wants.
You must know that story… but alas, the happy ending of the couple who then get blessed by the Rav and then have kids, often only happens in the fairy tales…
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always wonderful when someone leaves the cult.
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Thanks for expressing what i have no words for.
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Sad. Beautiful. Brilliant.
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Heart wrenching and beautiful. your courage inspires me. thanks for sharing this.
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This is truly beautiful and heartbreaking. I think many of us can identify with the love you lost, and the fact that you were able to share it in such an eloquent way is a real testament to your strength. Thank you for sharing.
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Heart wrenching.
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Powerful writing; I’ve got tears in my eyes. Good luck.
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Oy! Heartbreaking and beautiful, as others have said.
I fear of the same happening to me, with the differences between me and my wife growing larger than the love we share.
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Your ability to stay true to yourself yet keep it honest and in perspective is admirable. Brilliant piece!
Best of luck to you, your ex and most of all your child who’s caught in the middle of this.
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stunningly beautiful writing.
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Shpitzel,
This narrative is beautiful, complex, brilliant and real.
This narrative is you.
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So beautiful and sad. Your ability to transform your emotions into words so that the reader can feel what you are feeling is incredible.
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Just wow. Reeling. Be strong.
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The sign of a real artist is being able to take the audience along on an emotional trip, even though they were never there. I was there, but i felt every word. Like its being written by me. Im extremely greatful to you for that shprintza. Thank you for this piece.
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Wow, Wow, Wow, Speechless
I remember those feelings, you are truly talented
thanks for bringing out some emotion
I love this piece, speechless
Thanks
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Powerful! thanks for sharing!
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I must say, I’m feel blessed that my wife is with me on my new journey; OTD. I don’t know if I would be able to bear the emotional pain you’re currently experiencing. Is it less painful to live a lie while keeping your love ones on your side? Not in my opinion. Stay strong SS; keep your head up high.
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Wow, can’t remember the last time I wiped my tears like now.
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Hi,
What can one say? Its all so unfair. I hope you take strength in writing and sharing as you do it with so much emotion and so well.
They say time heals every wound, but some wounds are beyond even time.
But our minds do trick us. They make us forget. They allow us to deal with the pain, the anguish, and the emptiness.
I know you will feel better soon, and I know its hard for you to believe me, but you will. You will heal.
Its been a while since i’ve said this;
I remain,
Chaim Chusid
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Oy do we all feel for you, as best as we can. Welcome back to writing, I hope it gives you some catharsis.
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Stirring, emotional, gut wrenching, surreal, and so vividly mesmerizing.
Knowing now thru you, how alone and unfair this painful process is.
I envy the way you were real to yourself throughout, and willingly knowingly went on with it.
It shows grit character, and truthful determination, not just childish rebelling behaviour.
To some life as a chusid,is simply not fulfilling, not real, and full of rules that were meant for the few and the holy,and the most fervent of worshippers,
God, and the torah, equals goodness and way of life,
Most additions were meant mostly as a “free ticket” to paradise ace.
Or to jump the line into gan eden.
Oh,I don’t soap myself, I don’t shower at all, I shukel fast, I shukel strong and fast…. Bla bla bla!
My black jacket is blacker,my gartel is thicker..
My family wears black socks even in middle of the week, yay, for 6 generations….
Just be who you are, be jewish, and learn the torah, and love one another, and spread the love!
Shpitsele,sorry to jump so off topic, you opened my heart, and my mind, I wish you all the best, in all your endeavors. Shalom!!!!
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Someone give SS a book deal.
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Look who’s comin’ out of the woodwork; HoezenT, among many others. I miss reading your comments, HT. Welcome back!
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Very talented, but a sad big mistake u did I’m sure its the result of a very painful upbringing. But happiness will never come by hiding ur inside and changing facade. Pls let us know when ur really happy, I believe from past experience that u will be back fully, its a pity that the journey of finding ur true self is taking u down this bitter route. I really wish u find UR SELF quick and come back were ur heart really is….
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you might run into him at a strip show
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Unfortunately I have predicted this from the first day you started writing on the web. I read your posts from the first day you got connected to the internet a couple of years ago and my gut reaction back then was that one day you are going to leave it was just a matter of time. I guess the time has arrived. Sad, very sad.
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Unfortunate: Why is it sad when someone sees through all the BS and has the guts to live their life openly as they freely choose?
Yes, a divorce and breakup of a family is usually not reason to celebrate, but Shpitzle more than sufficiently brought that point home. And I am pretty sure that if she would be able to turn back the clock, she wouldn’t do anything substantially different.
I wish her much happiness in her new life, a life which I will most likely never have, for lack of balls.
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kafhakela
Let me tell you a true story. I know this guy. He comes from a frum family went otd. He met a women also otd they explored their new world together, married her and he really loved her. After a while she requested from him to put on kippah, a very little one. It meant a lot to her from some reason. In the end they divorced just because of this. He remarried and today he really wants to be more religious and goes to synagogue. However, he cannot put on a kippah. He says that every time he thinks about putting on a kippah it kills him. He cannot forget his first wife. He is still in love with her and the kippah is what caused his divorce.
My point is this. She will never really move on. They didn’t really break up and divorce because they didn’t love each other. They grew up together. Don’t forget, they were innocently married at a young age, explored the world together and moved into adulthood together. They grew closer to each other and genuinely cared for each other. This never ever goes away. I am from the same community as her, and I could have written all the blog posts that she did. We all grapple with the same issues. I accept it and move on. At this point in my life I genuinely love my wife and cannot even think of doing something that will pull us apart. I cannot even think of leaving my wife and kids simply because I love them too much. I became nauseous reading this post simply by thinking about what they are going through emotionally. Very very sad.
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Quistion to the unpious posik:Is it possible to love ur wife when she thinks and believes the same as the the people the u hate with a passion?
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Quistion to the unpious posik:Is it possible to love ur wife when her believes and ideals are the same like the people the u hate with a passion?
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Heartbreaking yet heartwarming. My emotions were all over the place after reading this.
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Unfortunate:
I hear you. I do not know the particulars of Shpitzle’s situation, and obviously it’s hard to know exactly how someone’s future will play out, but I hear you, and you have a strong point.
But I feel that what is sad is the system which created this problem in the first place: putting together young people, without them having much developed into who they really are, hoping that they just go with the flow and don’t change too much. But 19-20 year olds who were never given the opportunity to explore themselves are bound to do some exploring once they get the opportunity and think for themselves, at least if the brainwashing was not total and they are smart and curious. When that happens, as frequently does, you have a person trapped between a rock and hard place, stuck in a life he/she does not want, with a spouse and kids.
So yes, that is very sad indeed.
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Just wondering if the comments would be as sympathetic and complimenting to a male in Shpitzles Shtrimp’s shoes. Or perhaps, they’d be demonizing and vilifying the selfish egotistical father… Hm???, anyone read recent comments on some certain essay on Tablet Mag???
http://www.tabletmag.com/life-and-religion/70518/too-cool/
How ’bout it Frei Fem???
I know quite a few heart-broken men, abused by their wives, and, ignored by very frum rabbis bending over backwards lest they appear to be misogynists and to prove their “open-mindedness”. Of course, in the world at large, the pendulum swing has already given birth to a vital – though still fledgling, but growing – mens’ rights movement. However the ultra-Orthodox rabbis are still discovering, and proving their awareness of, and sensitivity to the “Feminist Cause”.
So Mark Kay, how’s your agunah’s cause doing? Perhaps you are now interested in helping any of the many chained, whipped, stigmatized and ignored males???
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Unfortuante (sic), we all agree it’s sad. But what exactly are you suggesting that someone under Shpitzle’s shpitz sshould have done differently?
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As with so much more in ultra-orthodoxy / hassidism there is a heavy weight on that which makes so little sense in the world of individual rights and technological conveniences. And that is the notion of a youthful lifelong partnership with someone else living an archaic lifestyle.
This article was very sad. And it makes me sad also to think of anyone divorced or for that matter single too long into adulthood. But what is this fantasy world made of exactly?
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Unfortunate,
I’ve been following your comments on this post, and find them to be presumptions and disturbing.
You write:
“My point is this. She will never really move on”.
Really. What else do you know? Can you tell us too when Moshiach will come? How many relationships have YOU been in? Did you ever hear of people in love, moving on, and then loving again?
Unfortunate,
Have you ever been a young, attractive woman forced to face and interact with the world with a shpitzel on your head?
Are you as talented as this writer is, wasting your talent on mizvah notes and purim plays?
Do you too possess a great sense of humor but no one to share it with, because your neighbors will never get your jokes and witty references?
Do you sit with your extended family at a Yom Tov meal, bursting with intelligent insights and observations and yet no one to impress?
Are you also forced to sit with your friends at a simcha and talk incessantly about kugel recipes, breastfeeding techniques, toilet training tricks and failing teachers?
Do you know what it means to go out there, into the big broad world and discover that those quirky characteristics and personality traits which you always were told to subdue and hide those very same traits are considered assets and are admired by the rest of the world?
Yes, divorce is sad.
But living with the anguish of Self De-actualization, of extreme loneliness, boredom, and unfulfilled potential, that, I dare say, is sadder than sad.
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40
Your courage is inspiring. Thank you for sharing this.
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I became a ba’al teshuva at the age of 27, having grown up with the generation whose motto was “sex, drugs and rock ‘n roll.” I am secularly educated to an advanced degree. I stumbled across this blog quite by accident and read this piece by “Shpitzle Shtrimpkind.” And so it is that I must ask, with all due respect: how can I believe that this author is anything but a fraud?
Her writing is superb, her words expressively beautiful:
“I walk cautiously to you directly, Yoelish, oh, my heart explodes. I can smell your familiar sweat. My head swims with memories of your nightgown and tsitsis and our bedtime talks. My limbs fire up inside with hope that quickly burns to ashes with the dreadful realization that standing so close will only be followed by standing apart, forever. Forever. Yoelish, can you live without me forever? Forever?”
This is the language of poetry. And that is the problem. How am I supposed to believe that a young Satmar girl whose first language is Yiddish…whose English language education in Satmar yeshiva had to have been sparse (so that most Chasidim can barely write a coherent English sentence, demonstrating not a scintilla of correct grammar, syntax or spelling)…writes like an Oxford graduate student in English literature? Really, can someone please explain this to me? (I’m serious, and not being at all facetious).
Sign me, perplexed.
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Shua — You obviously don’t know much about Chasidim. Some of us can actually spell, believe it or not. We’re a rather motivated bunch, and some of us — especially those who’ve made the choice to leave — are probably more educated secularly than many Americans with advanced degrees. So you might want to check your condescension at the door and learn something first.
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Shulem:
The only way one can “learn something” is by asking…and so I asked. And please be mindful that I did so with the specific addendum that I was being serious and not facetious. If my words came across as “condescending,” then I apologize.
You stated in your answer: “We’re a rather motivated bunch, and some of us…are probably more educated secularly than many Americans with advanced degrees.” Well, this is a rather audacious proposition which does not really answer my question: how does a Yiddish speaking Chassidish yeshiva student acquire the secular education that you refer to? At the age of young motherhood did the author of this piece return to school and take remedial English classes (in say, Kingsboro College) and excel by dint of superior talent? Is she perhaps self-educated, having devoured the works of 20th century poets and novelists?
As a retired public school teacher I am seriously curious about how a person with a Satmar upbringing/education has been able to reach such an accomplished level.
P.S. You don’t need to be so defensive. I think that this is a legitimate line of inquiry for anybody interested in the multitudinous experiences of Jewish life in America.
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Hey “RETIRED PUBLIC SCHOOL TEACHER”
Come to the Committee On Special Education.
I work there as a psychologist, with my Yiddish/ Williamsburg education, and my family of five.
It isn’t really rocket science.
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I happen to think that Shua Cohen is not too far off the mark with his line of questioning. Unlike technical and knowledge based skills such as math & science, I was under the impression that language composition & music skills generally are acquired in relative youth. It wasn’t that long ago, that I too was highly impressed with the literary skills of some chassidim. And Sholom, as you said “Some of us can actually….”; there’s a “some” there with good reason I don’t think it was condescending.
(Unless you were just looking for someone to play the foil again)
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Haimishvaibel:
Of course it’s not “rocket science.” Of course I understand that there are Chassidish individuals who earn advanced secular degrees by doing as you clearly did: departing from the derech of Williamsburg to attend undergraduate school, going on to do a masters and finally completing your PhD. But, would you not admit that your path is a relative rarity for denizens of Williamsburg?
(I don’t quite know what relevance there is to the discussion at hand, of the fact that you have a family of five. My wife is a physician…we have five children who were born during her residency and fellowship and were looked after by me…but after all, we became balei teshuva just when she entered medical school and we viewed our Yiddishkeit, at first, from a very modern Orthodox perspective and not an insular Chassidish one).
In any event what you’ve answered, by inference, is “what” you did…but nothing about “how” you did it! If Yiddish is your native tongue and the one in which you were principally educated, it is clear that you had to have put in a considerable number of years to master English and procure an advanced secular degree. And what you clearly didn’t do was leap ahead on some sort of miraculous fast track from the chuppah (as a teenage bride) to writing your PhD thesis. Now that would be rocket science!
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Shua, I agree that your question is legitimate. I confess, I was wondering the same thing. Maybe one reason it was met with defensiveness was that you said, “…how can I believe that this author is anything but a fraud?”
That phrasing seems to almost invite a defensive reaction since it leaves very little room for the possibility that the writer could be genuine and self-educated.
It’s true that there is a lot of fraudulence of precisely this nature on the internet, but perhaps you might have phrased your question in a manner that indicates that you are open to the possibility at least that the writer is genuine.
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Baal Habos: Your observation: “I was under the impression that language composition & music skills generally are acquired in relative youth” is trenchant and quite apropos. Thank you for further clarifying my question.
Mimi: Surely I am allowed to be skeptical, but you are correct, I should have expressed my skepticism with a greater degree of derech eretz. I’m afraid my skepticism tends towards sarcasm nowadays, due to the prevalence of internet fraud (as you have noted) protected by the mask of anonymity that the internet affords. My general philosophy is that unless a person is courageous enough to post under their own name, then anything they have to say is probably not worth reading. I understand that there are exceptions (when protection of privacy might be crucial), but unless such an unusual circumstance applies I generally don’t post under a pseudonym…Shua Cohen is my name.
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BB,
“Unlike technical and knowledge based skills such as math & science, I was under the impression that language composition & music skills generally are acquired in relative youth”.
I’m not sure about this, but might not language composition skills in the native language (Yiddish) facilitate development in English writing skills later on in life?
SC,
First off, I don’t have a doctorate. That is not a DOE requirement.
You ask,
“I don’t quite know what relevance there is to the discussion at hand, of the fact that you have a family of five”.
I only mentioned that in response to this:
“At the age of young motherhood did the author of this piece return to school and take remedial English classes (in say, Kingsboro College) and excel by dint of superior talent”
Here is where you are mistaking. Although there are exceptions, unlike the boys, most Chasidic girls receive a relatively decent secular education. In fact, many schools have the students take the ELA’s and Regents.
“Oh but, would you not admit that your path is a relative rarity for denizens of Williamsburg”?
Of course. But isn’t it self-understood that not every yenta on Lee Ave is Shpitzel? Do you think that your prototypical Chasidic housewife is on the net reading Unpious?
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Shua – you can’t call someone a fraud before giving them a chance to respond and at the same time pretend to be asking a serious question. All you wanted was to get your point across without really caring what the response was going to be. So who’s really the fraud here???
Piece of advice: if you want ppl to take you seriously, try to be less condescending.
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Shua — Yes, your question was a legitimate one. My harsh reaction was not towards the question itself but towards the tone, as Mimi pointed out.
Just to give you a little perspective. I started blogging in 2003. From the very beginning I got numerous comments, both on my blog and in private emails, of either mild suspicion or outright accusations of fraud.
When we started this site about a year and half ago there were again numerous comments suggesting fraud. Here’s one example:
And yes, even the question itself gets tiring. Yes, good writing among Chasidim is unusual, I’ll be the first to admit it. But that should be reason for admiration not for suspicion. It takes a lot of hard work and perseverance for the many of us who’ve had only an hour or two of after-cheder English instruction to learn how to engage with the world with the kind of fluency that others take for granted. To then have our hard work called into question is insulting.
Instead of admiring the fact that there are Chasidim who’ve overcome the handicap of a meager secular education, some would rather remain “confused.” The natural assumptions — that Chasidim too have access to libraries, bookstores, and the Internet, and that they use their well-honed Talmud skills on broadening and expanding their previously narrow worldviews — seems too far-fetched for some.
So if I came off as being exasperated with such thinking, you now have the reasons.
A word about pseudonyms:
The primary overseers of this site (Leah Vincent and myself) use our real names for the very reasons you mentioned. We also encourage others to do the same. Unfortunately, the realities of our world are such that there are real risks involved, and some have no choice but to write using pseudonyms. But I can assure you that the bulk of those who write here — and make claims to being part of the Chasidish world — are individuals I know personally and I place my own (real) identity behind those assertions.
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12
Shua, I for one felt the honesty in your tone and did not feel you were condescending so let me give you the most simple and true answer.
I don’t understand your amazement at all, people who question their faith are usually very intelligent and knowledge thirsty people, not the typical Satmar, go-with-the-flow cookie cutter molded ones, these people devour one book after another, cleaning entire library shelves yearly, so, by being a ferocious reader, one – especially people with a knack for language and/or people with some talent, can easily acquire highly admirable language skills, especially school girls, who they, DO happen to get quite a decent education even among Chasidic schools. Additionally , as Shulem pointed out, this particular author probably has a lot on the line with respected family members in the community and is not here to hurt anybody, just to express herself and entertain us readers, so she has to use a pseudonym.
Hope that answers your question
Shabbat shalom
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Shua,
There is no way someone from the outside can write the posts that she did. The details, perceptions and emotions can only come from someone who truly lives in Williamsburg. As I said earlier I could have written the exact same posts, I mean the content not the eloquence, because I live in the same world. I grew up in the exact same environment. It is impossible to understand it if you haven’t lived it. She has done a remarkable job in expressing it.
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HaimishVaibel, let’s see what the Toireh has to say about this.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Second_language_acquisition
The issue of age was first addressed with the critical period hypothesis.[45] The strict version of this hypothesis states that there is a cut-off age at about 12, after which learners lose the ability to fully learn a language. This strict version has since been rejected for second language acquisition, as adult learners have been observed who reach native-like levels of pronunciation and general fluency. However, in general, adult learners of a second language rarely achieve the native-like fluency that children display, despite often progressing faster in the initial stages. This has led to speculation that age is indirectly related to other, more central factors that affect language learning.
My supposition is that those Chassidim who exhibit superb writing skills are highly atypical or did lot’s of reading when they were still very young.
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Haimishvaibel: I phrased my question in this way — ““at the age of young motherhood did the author of this piece return to school and take remedial English classes, etc.” — only to emphasize that there seemed to be a rather short time span between the author’s marriage as a teenager and the acquisition of her superior writing skills. Logic would dictate that a considerable amount of educational effort would be required to go from a predominant Yiddish speaker to an accomplished English writer…which is why I was skeptical of the author’s true background and identity. Your comment that most Chassidish girls receive a more superior secular education than the boys is enlightening. Finally somebody here addressed my question with a germane answer. Much appreciated.
Shulam: I’ve apologized (above) for any unintentional “condescension” imputed to my words, and admitted a tendency for skepticism turning towards sarcasm in today’s internet climate. Being an accidental visitor to this site and therefore unknowledgeable of past discussions, I appreciate your quote from March of last year. But, just as one can understand your exasperation at the suspicion engendered in readers, you clearly understand first time readers’ reasonable cause for that suspicion. I do see, though, how from your perspective the repeated challenges can become tiresome.
This is an exaggerated example of course, but as a middle-school teacher in a marginal neighborhood I had functionally illiterate students hand in “papers” that were merely printed-out internet articles. How they actually thought that they could fool me was somewhat pathetic. But, my students were not pseudonymous writers. I have no idea if Shpitzle Shtrimpkind is who she proffers herself to be, or is some aspiring writer practicing her ‘creative writing’ skills online in search of praise for her efforts (and lets face it, praise she abundantly received from commenters in this thread). So, all I can do is trust your final assertion that the bulk of those who write here — and make claims to being part of the Chasidish world — are individuals I know personally and I place my own (real) identity behind those assertions.”
It was an interesting experience visiting this blog. A “Shabbat Shalom” to one an all.
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BB,
Of course. That’s basic psycho- linguistics. But I wasn’t referring to language learning per se. I was talking about ( creative)writing skills.
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Shua,
Like Shulem, I wrote a blog online for some years. Hasidic bloggers learn to write through various unconventional venues, including online writing. Readers’ feedbacks make pretty good teachers (not excluding the trolls, the rockers and the authenticity doubters). Many of the writers I know far surpass the average college-educated writer. The effect of minimal education on writing can go both ways: it can impede or it can enhance output. Creativity or genuine storytelling is not the product of the Ivy League. It’s often the product of very difficult and unique life experiences.
The things we write about should explain to you why there’s a need for a pseudonym. It baffles me that people would assume there’s a better reason to hide behind a pseudonym. Why else, if not to protect family and connections that are already hurt and damaged? To give credit to some made up name?
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Shua,
Just reading the comments on this site should be able to tell you that some chasidim can write. Or, are we all not who we portray ourselves as?
Granted, my skills are nowhere close to Shpitzle’s, but if there are plenty of chassidim who can write fairly decent, it shouldn’t come as a shock to you that some rise above the rest.
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Also, thank you everyone for the heartwarming feedback and for feeling the pain of this most difficult experience in my life. In this lonely process, when you think no one will every understand the pain and heartache, it is a beautiful surprise to see others understand and sympathize.
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Shpitzle,
that was such a beautiful piece.
Thank you for sharing your anguish with us. I could really feel your emotions through your writing. Now let me share mine: the second I finished reading this article, I just wanted to give you a hug, to give you a warm embrace of support, to show you support and also admiration. I admire your candidness and courage.
Keep blogging!
a fardorbener yid
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Shavua shalom!
Shpitz, I’m speechless; your writing is priceless!
Shua;
It might be a personal enlightenment for you to do some biographical research. Start with Baruch-Benedict Spinoza – if you find his case to far removed and exaggerated as a patriarch of us contemporary Unpious, then – skip ahead a century or so and start with Solomon Maimon…
You’ll come across many, many contributors who enriched the arts, literature, philosophy and humanities, who were expatriates of Jewish fundamentalism, ultra-Orthodoxy, and Chasidism. (Let’s not even attempt to chart the catalog of expatriates from non-Judaic fundamentalist origins.) The nomenclature will be a burgeoning list even before you arrive at the inter-world-wars era. Read some more recent revelatory materiel regarding Shimon-Sigmund Freud’s youth; specifically, his frum father Reb Yakov teaching this son of his the Hebrew TaNaKh and Talmud. I’m sure you’ve heard of – perhaps even actually studied – the academic discipline called Sociology; the very existence of this discipline is thanks to an ex-yeshiva student Emile Durkheim. The “father of modern anthropology”, Claude Lévi-Strauss, until leaving his orthodox upbringing was raised by his grandfather, the devout rabbi of the synagogue of Versailles. All these, and much more, are even before the plethoric surge and swelling of the last half century. Now, I refer not to ancient history; nay, these are people who left the very same yeshivos, and beis yakovs, that we Unpious are intimately familiar with.
Innumerable offices of prestige in academia, tomes upon tomes of prose and poetry, showcases, picture-frames, stages and screens, are emblazoned with names that are an ode and ballad to the struggles, sufferings and sacrifices that our rightfully glorified heroes and heroines have wrought for the betterment of society; call it “tikkun-olam” if you must, I doubt they’d mind.
p.s. Happy Birthday Shulem! I wish you many more happy birthdays of continued success and fulfillment!
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This is what you ruined your life for?
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Joseph, it’s great that you didn’t keep such an enlightened and insightful question to yourself. Now that you did share it with us, life on this planet will never be the same.
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I have been captivated by shpitzels essays for years but im not sure if its her excellant writing skills that keep me captivated or the fact she belongs (or belonged) to the so called untouchables that captivates me
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I don’t mean to undermine your talent shpitzel I’m just wondering if some non religious women would write about her lusts and her experience at the mikva and all those naughty articles you wrote over the years that got me really excited, would she receive the same feedback that you always got?
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Joseph,
Your question deserves an answer, not because I think you have any interest in hearing it, but because I’m afraid others who are in the process of going through similar experiences will also wonder if they should or could go through so much pain. Is it worth it? It is extremely painful, but like others said, the pain heals, and what lies ahead is worth it, yes. I say so from experience. I can imagine that any young woman who feels strangled by a life in which she is often nothing but a peg for reproduction would be torn between two difficult choices: to go through the searing pain of divorce and rebuilding her life or to settle for the comforting bubble of the as-is situation by passively letting the restrictions and oppression take away her rights, sense of self and LIFE.
But what is that comforting bubble really if not a slow, silent internal killer? What does this comfort give if not a numbness to reality? What good is not feeling the pain that is trying to tell a person that they are giving away, every day of their lives, their right to believe what they want to; go where they want to; look the way they want to; have kids when they want to; raise them the way they want to; be a lover with whom they want to; grow and realize their dreams the way they are meant to?
It’s a horrible sacrifice.
Throughout this process, I often comforted myself by thinking of my friction with the Hasidic lifestyle as a cancer. I could ignore the cancer and try to live my normal, comforting life. I could don the scarf on my shaven head, push my stroller to neighbors and engage in a social environment I felt made me explode inside. But the cancer was killing me. It made me increasingly angry, sad and hopeless. It convinced me that I’m a horrible person, that if anyone found out who I really was I should be disgusted with myself. It made me turn anger on myself, my family and on the community, but it still was easier to deal with than the other alternative. That alternative was to acknowledge the cancer, acknowledge that the Hasidic lifestyle was killing me, that my husband would not follow me on my journey out of it, and accept that it’ll take the sharp knife of a get to relieve me of the killer. And I have no regrets that I was able to face that procedure. It hurt for months. I was up many, many nights, throwing the blanket around, throbbing with so much internal pain I didn’t know if there’s a way for me to help myself. But it stopped hurting eventually, and I faced a new day. A day of freedom to be the mother and person I am and to enjoy and fully live life. To be me. To finally walk healthy, friction free.
When I was a Hasidic girl I was taught to love my husband above all, and I did, even if he didn’t return that level of commitment. But after him I was finally, for the first time, able to love myself. And as my own lover, I’m glad he left me so I can snatch myself to myself
He wasn’t worth my love if he couldn’t accept me for who I am.
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Shua, you obviously haven’t the slightest clue, beyond stereo types, about Chassidim, current and former. Some of the brightest and most talented people I have ever met are from this group. As far as great writing is concerned, some learn it in a class, others by reading and absorbing the works of great writers. Granted, Chassidic education is severally lacking, but those who apply themselves have immense curiosity, drive, and in most cases far superior intelligence to make up for their lackluster education. You will most likely never measure up to these giants walking among us dressed in fur hats and schpitzlech.
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Sorry Shpitz, but in your heart of hearts I know that you don’t believe you are — or will be — happier as a result of your actions. No, you wont admit this now. Yes, your virtual cheerleading squad here will boo me and applaud you now. But in 5 or 10 years from now I sense that you will have the courage to admit the fallacy of the path you’ve chosen here. It is only for so long that being a discontent hanging out with the malcontents on the fringes can keep your spirits falsely raised. You think Shulem Deen and his little gang will be there for you for even the next decade as your husband, children, family and community were there for you in the last – and could have been for the next five decades and more? You may be living in a dreamland now, but you can’t stay in that bubble indefinitely. It bursts sooner rather than later.
You think the “fringes” falling off Judaism is but a recent phenomenon? Our people have suffered them ever since we were a people and left Egypt. Where are they now? Those who have remained faithful to our heritage are still here with their children, grandchildren, great-children, still counted amongst the Jewish People. Those who have strayed over the ages are long lost, spread amongst the nations and the seas.
As time distances you and stubbornness sets in, you become less willing to follow the path that your parents, grandparents and great-grandparents for the past 3,000+ years set on. The course you chartered will lead to happiness whereas for millenia your ancestors were all wrong?
Wake up before it is too late and you are too far down your destructive path. You can start afresh. The path of return is always open and welcome.
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As if to prove Shpitzel right, Joseph shows us that while he’s asking questions, he’s not interested in the answers. Indeed, he knows that Shpitzel herself doesn’t believe in the answer she gave. And the Josephs of this world like to say on others, “people don’t have questions; they only have their answers.”
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You think the “fringes” falling off Judaism is but a recent phenomenon? Our people have suffered them ever since we were a people and left Egypt. Where are they now?
Where are they now, you ask?
You can find them, Joseph, among the Nobel Laureates.
They are the doctors and psychologists who you of course don’t go to, and at the forefront of the medicine that doesn’t heal you, and the scientific breakthroughs you don’t accept.
They are journalists and editors of the media you don’t read, the films you don’t watch, the music you don’t like, and the art that you don’t grasp.
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Joseph, would you give the same generic advice to a BT who is about to cut off his/her whole family and throw in his lot with a bunch of strangers who consider his adoption of orthodoxy as a notch in their belts?
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Hoezen: And these esteemed Doctors and Psychologists and Journalists and Editors, how long will anyone give a damn about them? 30 years? 50 years? 100? Will anyone be studying their medicine or their journalism in 300 years? 500 years? 1,000 years? Who will be studying them… who will even barely know their names after that many years? Do you study the medicine of any doctor of 150 years ago? Do you read the journalism of editors from 250 years ago? No, you do not. You don’t even read the journalism of 50 years ago. Those men are by and large forgotten. The ones from 200 years ago few people would even know their names.
And how many people still study Rashi 1,000 years after his writings? Thousands upon thousands of people daily. From Pre-School children in Pre-1-A through advanced rabbinical colleges and the common man at home, work, and shul. And how many study the Sages of the Talmud 1,500 – 2,000 years after their writings? And how many study — daily and in-depth — the writings of the many commentators over the past 2,0000 year exile? Thousands and thousands of people daily around the world. The Chofetz Chaim’s writing will still be studied in 500 years; Bill Keller, Editor of the New York Times will not. Do you know the name of the New York Times editor in 1911? After googling it, tell me the last time, if ever, you read any of his works.
Baal Habos: And how long do you suppose those BT’s families are off the path of Torah? A couple hundred years? Almost all of them too have thousands of years of Torah living family prior to a branch of their family falling off the tree. You think when their great-grandpa went off the derech his family was peachy keen about it?
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At least this one here proves Joseph has a point.
http://hasidicrebel.blogspot.com/2011/03/dangling-thoughts.html
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“And how many people still study Rashi 1,000 years after his writings?”
Joseph, I’ll have you know my family studies Rashi. In fact, we are related to him!
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B.T. — Unless Joseph’s point is that those who leave face unique hardships (a point that few will contest), then sorry, but Joseph’s point is not proven at all.
Yes, the frum world who will do everything in its power to increase the misery of those who leave. And those who leave would be well advised to be aware of the absolute evil that emanates from that world.
But here’s a fact you and Joseph might be interested in: Those who leave rarely regret it. Those who wish to but don’t, often live out their lives with bitter remorse for their inaction.
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Joseph, I’m impressed by your ability to see the whole future and situation so clearly. Most humans can’t do that. A human reader would assume – given the information they’re given on this site – that all the authors and commentators on Unpious are separate individuals dispersed all over the planet with dynamically different lives who have their own support systems, who are their own self-made unique individuals, who are busy most of their time with very different things than this site. They’d assume the writers consist of busy professionals, students, parents, each living in their own communities and with their own friends and families. Perhaps they’d imagine the fringe folks write here at the same time they also get accepted to a college, get a new kick-ass job, watch a kid graduate, hear the heartbeat of their unborn baby for the first time or spend the sunny evening talking and laughing with friends. You know, they’d think that those who write here also live their private lives.
But like you so keenly deduced, people on the fringe are actually nothing in life except one depressed gang of cronies married together (In the NY Polyandry and Polygamy Act) who spend their days wining about their woes and talking each other out of missing the yearly pregnancies and the “support” from intolerant families. In fact, like you guessed, we all live together in an abandoned warehouse in the outskirts of an unnamed urban city center, where we drink our days and nights away. Just yesterday, while I was sitting on a salt bag in The Warehouse gurgling vodka straight up, and my sixth rotting tooth popped out, I ate some rusty paint from the beam and got so happy I drunkenly thought my journey to freedom is all worth it.
But in five years from now, when my last tooth will crumble and I will chew on the last sheet of paint, I will understand your wisdom.
Fwom zwe toofless me: Fank you.
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