Comfortably Uncomfortable

We need to talk about sex. Admit it, even the title of this post made you squirm, or sparked your attention. Either way, even the simple word, sex, has this ability to spark an immediate reaction on people. Ever stop and think why that is? I did, and you are about to read my thoughts. For some reason, society has decided that being a woman who talks about sex is controversial. When talking about potential subjects for future posts, someone said to me “ladies don’t speak like that”, as if sex is some kind of dirty subject that must not be mentioned out loud for fear that the moral police might jump out of a corner and brand you with a big bright scarlet letter.  After all, being an adult capable of making decisions, birthing and raising children still does not make it ok for me to discuss the basic sexual needs that are part of the human condition. Apparently, sex is only to be discussed as a means of procreation, lest we mention pleasure or passion, for they are not morally accept

I have been trying really hard not to talk or write about the current state of the world. I have been trying to keep our lives and the lives of our children as normal as possible, and to some, this appears as me ignoring all warnings and not placing weight on the severity of the situation. Even coming up with a name for this post has been a week-long process, mainly because I have come to a place where my brain goes on immediate defense mode and would much rather quarantine itself away from all of the fear and uncertainty around us. And I am talking past the physical repercussions of COVID-19, or the emotional stress that comes with a pandemic. I am talking about how it is bringing out the worst in us as human beings. (Funny enough, just the other day I finished writing a whole blog post about sex, and even that felt slightly more comfortable than writing about this.) We all know the practical purpose of social distancing. Keep yourself six feet away from others, avoid physical touc

I have been a horrible friend. Whenever I tell people that I am an introvert (which I am, despite what others have told me), I get a weird look. Yes, if you see me at the temple, or school pick up, or even at the grocery store, I am usually very friendly. When you see me in front of a class, or a workshop, (as long as I am well prepared), I appear to be very much at ease. I am someone who is never afraid of speaking up and have big emotion and even bigger opinions. But, I am an introvert. And with that, comes an immeasurable struggle. I am one of those people that overthinks everything. Did I say too much? Did I not say enough? Was that out of line? Did it seem I didn’t know what I was talking about? Am I way over my head on this one? I can go on. Point is, all of that happy that you see when you meet me, is usually followed by a pretty agonizing process as soon as I am alone. And this is when I become a horrible friend. I am an anxious person. I’m not talking about just ner

It's International Women's Day, and it's Purim, so we need to have an important (and timely) conversation about feminism. The story of Purim is simple-ish (nothing in Judaism is 100% simple). King asked his wife Vashti to come show her beauty to the King and his friends after one too many glasses of wine, she refuses, so he gets rid of her. A man (Mordechai) presents his beautiful niece (Esther), but tells her not to tell anyone she is Jewish because the king's right hand is a classic good ol' anti-Semite. The King loves Esther, and they get married. Haman (king's right hand with the three-pointed hat that inspired hammentaschen) asks Mordechai to bow to him, Mordechai refuses, so Haman goes on an anger rampage against all Jews, telling the King that he should get rid of all of them because they are different and don't listen. Esther sacrifices herself by telling the King that she herself is Jewish and begging him to spare Mordechai and the rest o