I am the youngest of three sons. No sisters. I never learned that boys and girls have different roles in the family. There were no girls. I washed dishes, did laundry, vacuumed, dusted, and did whatever chores I was asked to do.
But I am not a feminist.
I was very active in NCSY, our co-ed youth group, in my small community. We did everything together—attended shiurim, went to shabbatonim, planned events, spent shabbat afternoons at each other’s homes. There were no differences that I could see. Everybody, boys and girls, participated in the same activities.
I left high school after three years and went to Yeshiva University. I became an advisor in NCSY and attended shabbatonim in various cities. I talked to the boys; I talked to the girls. I became a youth advisor in a shul. I taught and I listened; I made friends with the high school students. Boys and girls—it made no difference.
But I am not a feminist.
I met the woman of my dreams, the woman I wanted to spend the rest of my life with. We planned our future. We planned our wedding—traditional roles for her, traditional roles for me. That’s what we planned.
Because I am not a feminist.
Our first daughter was born when my wife was still in college. We shared the work—bathing, diapering, and entertaining. We were partners in raising her. Why not? She was my daughter too. We shared because it was the right thing to do, regardless of tradition.
But I am not a feminist.
We helped start a new shul in Brooklyn, where we lived. We created it to be a place where women could feel comfortable and could hear the davening and laining if they chose to, a place to which we could proudly bring all of our children, not just our son, so that they could learn to daven. I set up the shul furnishings and the mechitzah to ensure that the women could see and hear everything that was going on during the service. I encouraged the men to respect the ezrat nashim (women’s section) in the same way they expected their side to be respected. If our side was the shul, the other side was also.
But I am not a feminist.
Our three children grew up. We grew up. The time came for our older daughter’s bat mitzvah. It was to be the first bat mitzvah in our shul. It never occurred to us that it should be significantly different from the bar mitzvot which had taken place at the shul. Our daughter would not lain or get an aliyah, but, of course, she would give a d’var Torah from the bimah. Of course one of her parents would speak to her, and let the whole shul listen. We felt that the logical choice for this was her mother, just as I would be the logical choice at our son’s bar mitzvah. Nothing can compare to that special relationship between mother and daughter, except maybe the one between father and son. We did this because it made sense, and we were surprised when some of the members of the shul disapproved.
Because, after all, I am not a feminist.
By this time my wife had become a regular at the Flatbush Women’s Davening Group, a monthly gathering of women who want to enhance their relationship with God and tefillah and to take a more active role in the service. It never occurred to me to do anything but support her in this.
But I am not a feminist.
Our shul grew and acquired a second sefer Torah. Controversy erupted. Previously, with only one sefer Torah, hakafot on Simchat Torah were held on the men’s side of the shul. Now we had two Torah scrolls. The new one was purchased with funds raised from all members, both men and women and, not unreasonably, many of the women felt strongly that they should be able to carry one of the sifrei Torah for hakafot on their side of the mechitzah. Not surprisingly, a great many members, both men and women, objected just as strongly.
With the help of the rav, the shul undertook a review of all the pertinent halakhot. His pesak (decision) was simple. It was clearly permitted for woman to touch and hold a sefer Torah. There were clear guidelines by which women could have hakafot with a sefer Torah. As a member of the board, my obligation was to all members of the shul. Granting this simple request would in no way detract from our shul; it could only enhance it. I voted yes. However, for many familiar reasons the vote did not pass. “It just is not done.” “It has not been done before.” “We did not do it in the old country.” “It will hurt your chances for a shidduch.” I disagreed. When a course of action is permitted and is desired by many members, we should not allow reasons having nothing to do with halakha to influence us. It was a simple matter of following halakha and nothing more.
Because I am not a feminist.
From controversy and discord can come great good. A friend told us about a shul that would be willing to lend a sefer Torah to us for the purpose of women’s hakafot. While no shul could be convinced to permit the permitted, we were lucky enough to have a large living room. That Simchat Torah, and every Simchat Torah since, about 50 women hold, in that living room, what are probably the most lively hakafot in our Brooklyn neighborhood. One of our daughter’s teachers asked my wife rather dubiously, when she heard of this, cocking her head in my direction, “And he lets?” At first neither of us could quite grasp her meaning; the idea of my controlling the form my wife’s tefillah should take was at the same time completely foreign and patently ludicrous.
But I am not a feminist.
When our younger daughter became bat mitzvah, we simply assumed that she would celebrate her bat mitzvah by being called to the Torah at the Women’s Davening Group. To my surprise, I had to argue strongly with the principal of her modern Orthodox yeshiva to keep him from forbidding the girls in her class to attend. In the end, my daughter also lained, led birkhat hamazon after se’udah shlishit (third meal on Shabbat) and recited havdalah when Shabbat ended, in the company of nearly all of her friends. I went to shul with the other men for minhah and se’udah shlishit.
After all, I am not a feminist.
When the Flatbush Women’s Davening Group needed to relocate, my wife offered our home. It was a topic we had discussed, and we knew that it was an ideal location for the group. For over two years they have met in our home every Shabbat Mevarchim (Shabbat before Rosh Hodesh). I set up the room before I leave for shul. I roll the sefer Torah, prepare the siddurim and chumashim and even prepare kiddush. It says in Proverbs 14:28, B’rov am hadras Melekh, in a group of people, the king is exalted. In other words, a gathering of a large group of people brings honor to God. I regard my participation in this women’s gathering as part of the mitzvah of service that applies in any synagogue. Moreover, if my wife held a Tupperware party I would help; how much more so this holy gathering?
Even though I am not a feminist.
Supporting my wife and my daughters in their various pursuits and paths within Judaism has been my privilege and pleasure. Just as they support my shul attendance and participation in Jewish communal activities, I support theirs. I am a supportive and loving husband and father. I am frum—modern Orthodox. I am not radical; in fact quite conservative in many ways. But most of all—I am not a feminist.
Perhaps, however, a feminist is what I am.