I was recently described in a Chicago Tribune article as being “a feminist Orthodox Jew,” and I disagree with the description. I have had this disagreement with more than one of my blog readers, and apparently, whether or not I am a feminist is a point of contention with some folks.
To illustrate why I don’t identify as a feminist, I can look to a recent article about how George Clooney’s new wife, successful attorney Amal Alamuddin, has changed her name to Amal Clooney. Her decision to adopt her husband’s surname has upset feminists around the globe.
Natalie Matthews of Elle magazine said she felt:
“a twinge of disappointment” because “women keeping their maiden names is not just a rare phenomenon but a decreasing one.”
Other women defended Mrs. Clooney’s right to take her husband’s last name:
“Caroline Schumer, 27, from Carroll Gardens, rallies for a woman’s right to choose to be Mrs. Clooney.
“I’m proudly taking my fiancé’s name,” she says. “I don’t think it’s anti-feminist to take your man’s last name.”
Accountant Nicole George, 35, from the West Village, agrees. “I don’t believe in that feminist [bs],” she says. “Do what you want.””
The debate over whether or not a woman should adopt her husband’s name rang a 21 year old bell.
During my college years, I was well on my way to becoming a staunch feminist. Back in the 1990s I was floating in a sea of feminist ideas from Virginia Woolf, Simone de Beauvoir, Naomi Wolf, Alice Walker, Zora Neale Hurston, Margaret Atwood, and Erica Jong.
I remember when I was 21 and dating my husband, he gave me his departmental honor key pin as a symbol of our budding romance. The first day I wore it to my Women in Literature class, my professor took one look at the pin and declared that I deserved an honor key of my own, and didn’t have to wear one that belonged to a man. Until then I had been flattered to receive such a prized possession. However, after her remark I felt rather ashamed to wear it, and it remained in my jewelry box.
When I became engaged at 22, several of my college friends asked if I was going to take my husband’s last name. They posed the question as a challenge. I realized that quite a few of my peers had kept their maiden names or adopted a hyphenated version of their maiden and married names.
I hadn’t really thought about it, but when I practiced saying Sharon Shapiro, the newness and (in my opinion) obnoxious alliteration of my first name and his last name was a turn off. I decided to keep my maiden name upon marriage as can be seen in our wedding bencher –
Of course, this won me the approval of my college feminist acquaintances, yet was completely overlooked by my new orthodox friends and family who called me Sharon Shapiro or Mrs. Shapiro despite the fact that I didn’t legally change my name. Keeping your maiden name simply isn’t done in the orthodox community, so nobody assumed that I had kept mine. If a feminist makes a social statement in a forest and no one is around to hear it, does she make a sound?
“Feminist” is a dirty word in frum society. In fact, I have even heard women who have made statements that could be construed as feminist sentiments preface their remarks by saying, “Chas v’shalom, I don’t mean to sound like a feminist, because I’m not…”
Of course, those frum people who decry feminism and do everything to distance themselves from the movement often have never been anywhere near a feminist or an academic or political feminist hub. They simply see feminism as a group of bitter spinsters who probably weren’t attractive enough to snag husbands and who always harbored a secret desire to be men themselves.
Feminism is accused of being the downfall of the nuclear family in secular society and is seen as a cult that will take away our young women and lure them with freedoms and possibilities that are unavailable to them in the orthodox world. If women eschew their domestic roles as wives and mothers, or start demanding leadership roles in spiritual areas ordained solely for men, orthodoxy will cease to exist.
I was chugging along pretty nicely in the eyes of feminism during my first years of marriage. I had stuck to my principles and kept my maiden name, I was working in a professional capacity in the field of my choice, and I was also the breadwinner in our family because my husband was in medical school.
A few years later, I got pregnant, had a baby, and a funny thing happened to my state of mind. When they handed me my newborn son, he was wearing a little hospital ID bracelet with the name “Baby Myers” on it. My husband was not pleased. Neither was I. Our family structure had just radically changed. My husband and I were no longer just two individuals linked together in marriage, we were the heads of a new family. My gut feeling was that a family should have the same last name to show the world their connection.
Of course, some people would say that my husband could have changed his last name to mine and we could have all been the Myers family. Some people would say that I could have adopted the hyphenated version of my last name and my husband’s last name so that I would share a portion of my growing family’s name while still retaining my roots. However, that just didn’t feel right to me. Therefore, on a cold autumn day, portable car seat and baby in tow, I went down to the DMV and officially changed my last name to Shapiro. Three years after my marriage we were officially Mishpacha Shapiro.
To me, that’s what feminism should be all about – the right to make choices about what’s best for ourselves and our families. It’s perfectly fine for women to hold tight to their maiden name and be proud of their heritage. I have absolutely no problem with any woman who wants to keep or add on to her original surname. Therefore, why is it that I am considered to have caved in to patriarchy because I chose to adopt my husband’s last name?
That was only one offense to cause my feminist card to be revoked. The first came even before my marriage when I chose to become orthodox. I’m not going to delve into all of the feminist arguments against joining a religious sect in which our sons are taught in yeshiva that women are too emotional and irrational to be trusted with making decisions, serving as witnesses in court, or serving in leadership roles. Needless to say, I lost a lot of feminist street cred with that decision.
As time went on, I grew into the role of a working mother. Although I worked for some impressive firms throughout my career, as my husband finished his training and his career began to blossom, my professional life was always outshined by his. When we would be introduced to a new couple at shul, the initial question would usually be asked of my husband, “What do you do?” As soon as he replied that he was a doctor, all conversation steered around his impressive profession.
I have been asked more often, “What’s it like to be married to a doctor?” than I’ve been asked “What do you do as a career?” or even “Do you work outside the home?” Being a doctor is a trump card that steals all professional attention away from the other spouse – especially when it’s the husband who is the doctor. I wonder if male spouses of female doctors get the same brush off?
A few years ago, my department closed at the firm where I worked, and I became a stay at home mother. Talk about eyes glazing over upon introduction! Again, most people already assume I don’t work because my spouse is a physician – this was true even when I was working. However, most people who do bother to ask what I do, immediately indicate their disinterest upon hearing my current reply – unless it’s another stay at home mom asking the question.
In fact, I was rather amused at being grilled about my work status for the Tribune article. Since I don’t have any profession to speak of, I was identified as “a blogger on Jewish issues.” Apparently my little ol’ blog plays a much more prominent role in my identity than I had previously thought!
In any event, giving up a career to be a stay at home mom certainly doesn’t conform to feminist ideals. Women should and could have it all – the marriage, the kids, the degrees, the high powered career, and if you are an orthodox feminist – a role as an accomplished balebustah to boot! Nothing has to give – except our strength and sanity. It’s all a competition to juggle multiple fire torches and make sure no one gets burned. That’s what 21st century feminism seems to be about.
I feel like there has been a break between being an activist for women’s rights and the feminist label. It’s imperative that women speak out for the right to equal pay for equal work, the right to safe and legal abortions, the right to equal educational opportunities, the right to pursue any career or leadership option of our choosing, the right to be legally protected against domestic violence (or any violence), the right to have a voice at the table in our government, etc. When it comes to speaking out about women’s issues – that’s an ongoing conversation that will continue to have relevance until women are no longer exploited for being women.
However, feminism, in my mind, has become a limited term. It’s an identity label forged by other women who want to determine what female enlightenment should look like. At the same time feminism advocates for self-determination, it negates any option that conforms to traditional norms. Women who choose to follow the paths of their mothers and grandmothers are often not respected as representing the progressive ideals that feminists believe are empowering.
In 1992, Hillary Clinton made headlines, as she asserted herself as a successful career woman in her own right during her husband’s election campaign:
Conservatives and Democrats alike critiqued her statement as being condescending to wives and mothers. She was accused and suspected of being a virulent feminist. Feminists embraced her message, and welcomed a first lady who, if she could not yet run for president herself, at least could be taken seriously as a politician and expert lawyer in her own right.
I was 22 at the time Hillary Clinton made her cookie statement. I remembered my own stay at home mom’s delicious cookies, and thought her remarks were rather condescending. However, although I thought Mrs. Clinton was a bit harsh, I aimed to follow in her footsteps and not those of my mother.
Cut to 22 years later.
Before the last days of yom tov, I decided to make a treat for my children – my homemade cookies. Admittedly, I don’t enjoy baking very much, but when I set my mind to it, by golly I can bake as good of a batch of cookies as any balebustah!
Several of my kids were in raptures as they tasted the warm chocolate chip cookies fresh from the oven. Over yom tov, my youngest son made me arrange a plate of the cookies to bring out for dessert, although we already had fruit and cake on the table. As he brought them out to the sukkah on Shemini Atzeret, I overheard him telling our guests with pride, “My mom made these cookies! You have to try them, they are the best chocolate chip cookies you will ever taste!”
In his words I could hear that he felt all of the love, effort, and promise that went into those cookies. Although I haven’t a clue what my general purpose is for being put on this earth, there is one purpose I know I have without a shadow of a doubt, and that’s being my kids’ mom.
There are worse things in life to be famous for than a good batch of homemade cookies. That’s why I am not a feminist.
