I received this email in response to yesterday’s post about the installation of the new female-free Chicago Mikva Association board of directors. I have no answers to offer besides the usual trite responses (learn more about this important mitzva, find a female mentor to confide in, find a trusted rabbi to talk to, find the beauty in the practice, take note of the practical benefits of separation and coming together, do it for the reward you will receive for performing a difficult mitzva, do it for your spouse, do it for your children, just do it!).
I do know that depending upon location, there are mikvaot that will allow making after hours appointments in special circumstances, even letting the husband be the shomer in such cases. However, as this is an unusual request, it would be hard to keep making this special appointment month after month. After a certain amount of time, I think there would be the expectation to “get over it” and take your dip with the big girls. However, it could be a short term solution if there is a mikva in your area willing to accommodate a private dunking. Just a thought.
Maybe after reading this woman’s plight, someone else will have helpful suggestions for how she can keep taharat hamishpacha for the rest of her reproductive life without feeling resentful. You can leave a comment below or I will be happy to forward her any private responses via email, as she wishes to remain anonymous. Comments from both women and men are welcome.
Dear Sharon,
I have never been the spiritual type. In my Orthodox high school we had a mandatory class on Taharat Hamishpacha. I hated the content of it and felt all aspects of what we learned was so invasive. My friends chuckled as I squirmed with each mention of a period.
Yet despite the uneasiness I had with the topic, I have always been thankful to have a textual background on it. Mostly because I knew it played such a big role in women’s halacha.
When it came time for me to learn how to apply these halachot, I chose to learn with an incredible role model. I learned not only the halachot but the challenges and progress that had been made on niddah infertility. My teacher was extremely sensitive, knowledgable and caring. I am lucky to have her helping me deal with these challenges today.
Despite the unique insights into modern day halacha I had been learning, deep down I knew I would struggle with every aspect of niddah. I knew any separation would be traumatic for a non-shomer negiah couple. Yet there is no easy solution for those who simply don’t want to deal with the anxiety and trauma of separation. Try explaining to a medical expert that you want to use a medical solution to bypass a separation imposed on you by your chosen religion. Their answer would be that’s your choice, but medicine is not the answer. I agree.
As I chose this route, I asked myself: why have medical solutions such as fertility drugs been recommended to those with niddah infertility? I struggled to see how can any halachic authority could validate using potential harmful biological solutions when there is a natural solution. Niddah infertility has been addressed by medical experts and halachic authorities, yet not enough progress has been made.
My first mikvah experience was a nightmare. But I don’t think this event made a huge impact. I always felt these laws are solely placed on women, that the stringency and procedures invite obsessiveness and cause many to harbor a resentment for halacha. Many people wait so long to live with their partners and once this is halachically permissible you are still asked to separate.
To me the halacha calls for an unnatural lifestyle. The reactions of my secular friends make me long for a relationship without restrictions.
Will I ever have a relationship where physicality is only up to me and my partner? If I stick with this, the answer is no. Do young girls realize these laws ask for a lifelong commitment? For me this commitment is a lot to ask.
My mom came with me for my mikvah initiation. The mikvah lady greeted me with midrashic divrei tora, which made me furious. Spirituality is definitely not how I approach the immersion process and it felt like she was on a mission to instill belief and holiness in me. She emphasized my status as a kallah and told me that the shechinah is about to come between me and my future husband. Knowing that this mikvah attendant knew my sexual and biological status felt like the deepest invasion of my privacy.
Immersing felt so foreign to me, but I felt forced into it because I chose to live halachically for all the other parts of my life. Yet I am still the girl who wont change in locker rooms, never let her mom in the dressing room and shudders at the mention of periods or blood. Having to discuss any of this with another person was challenging enough.
The mikvah attendant tried to test my halachic knowledge, and rubbed my thigh as she continued to give me spiritual divrei Torah against my will. She made no attempt to avoid her eyes as I dunked in a hysterical state after stating twice that I prefered her only to come in the room after I was under water. I cried underwater and the tears continued for months. Although I rarely tell anyone about these kind of private experiences, I called my yoetzet halacha and she did everything she could including calling the mikvah to explain how deeply I was affected. I found myself repeating this story to friends and family, and soon learned how that many women feel strongly about the mikvah system.
Despite my extreme discomfort and negative feelings toward all these halachot, I have decided to go back to the mikvah and immerse alone. Even this is a challenge and I have no desire to say the beracha. To me it’s not a holy act. Its something i felt was forced upon me by Orthodoxy and I struggle to submit to something that is so against my private nature.
As I enter the waiting room for the third time, I see other women sitting there. Anger burns inside me. I am now in an impure state. I am an untouchable, and I have just chosen to go to a women’s bath-house. It feels degrading to be sent away to become purified and join with other women in this exile of contamination. I feel like I am part of a controlled system. Yet this time the control is exercised by women, not men.
I dip privately, with no ability to recite the beracha. Why would I say words that were imposed upon me to add holiness to an act, which I feel is degrading? I walk out with a fake smile, trying to mask the disappointment in myself. I can’t believe that I agreed to this.
I am not the kind of person who accepts anything blindly. I have spent my life searching for textual sources to help me find rationale and meaning to each aspect of Judaism. If I cannot find any meaning in my practice, then I come to resent it. I admit that after much searching, I am fully resentful of every aspect of this halacha. I am resentful of the fact that it in talmudic sources the conclusion was that the women accepted upon themselves the more stringent approach, and I am bound to that today. There is a part of me that wishes I was ignorant and never learned what a mikvah was.
I am resentful that so many women submit to this system without a fight. And I am resentful that my request to immerse alone requires means I will need to explain my request to those who insist on overseeing my immersion. I am horrified to have learned that any mikvah attendant feels its her responsibility to ensure the mitzvah is kept according to her standards.
I promised myself that I will never allow myself to do anything that will cause resentment towards religion. Yet here I am.
If I decide to stick with these halachot, I know it will be accompanied by continued resentment. Resentful for the feeling that I no longer have the power to say this simply isn’t working for me, no thanks. The worst part is that if I am honest with them, I will not be able support my future daughters in doing the same.
Sincerely,
Drowning in the mikvah
