by Dr. Elizabeth Kaufman
I suppose one
of the biggest advantages of growing up with no religious background is
never being aware of the common stereotype that Orthodox women are considered
second-class citizens and that these poor unfortunate creatures are barefoot,
always pregnant, and chained to the kitchen. After meeting Orthodox women of all
stripes in Israel, I returned to New York only to be informed by my very Reform
an less-than-Reform friends of the actual state of affairs. If I hadn't seen the
reality for myself, I would have believed what they said and dismissed
subsequent Jewish exposure as archaic and out of touch.
For those of
us who question unproven stereotypes, lets get something perfectly clear: Jewish
women work. And they have always worked, whether as shopkeepers, teachers, or
professionals, whether in Babylon, European shtetls, and 20th-century America.
And nowadays, like women all over the Western world, they work in every field.
Some run their own businesses or are part of a larger corporation. Here in
Israel one of my neighbors is a nuclear physicist. Another is a school
principal. Several good friends are lawyers. One's a pediatrician. Two are
successful artists. I'm a zoo veterinarian.
Many of these
professional women have been religious since birth; equally as many are newly
returned to Orthodoxy. My point is, little is forbidden us. We work in the
fields we want. We have open choices. We can choose to work part-time or
full-time. We can choose to stay at home with our children, and no one will
pooh-pooh us because this, too, is a valued choice.
Since I have
always worked, perhaps I should tell my story. I first came into contact with
traditional Judaism while working at the St. Louis Zoo as senior keeper of the
Aquatic House. My brother introduced me to a college friend of his who'd just
spent six months in a Jewish beginners program in Israel. Nice guy. We got
religious and we got married.
Actually, my
return to Judaism took longer than that. My boyfriend wasn't doing anything
Jewish when we met, but he talked about it. And kept on talking about it. I
found it somewhat interesting but decided that it could never be relevant to me.
Four months after we met, I moved to Colorado to start veterinary school.
Three months after that we became engaged. Since my fiancé was determined to do
this Judaism thing, we agreed to explore it in Israel before the wedding, and I
agreed to keep an aborted form of Shabbat for the school year. That meant no
school work on Saturdays and no telephone. Frankly, Shabbat saved my sanity that
first grueling vet year. Soon I realized -- with Judaism increasingly,
surprisingly relevant --that we needed to live near a Jewish community. I
arranged a transfer to Tufts Veterinary School for the following spring.
We then flew to Israel to work out our various issues.
At
a women's yeshiva, I learned that my Shabbat observance wasn't even close to
reality. Nevertheless, I'd fallen in love with the idea of Shabbat, the peace of
mind it gave, and the increased energy and concentration it lent my week. My
feminist mind liked Judaism's answers to women's issues.
My mother, upset at my new religious
bent, predicted that I was going to drop out of vet school, get married, get
pregnant, and in 20 years get divorced with no way of supporting myself. The
truth is, I did drop out of school and get married, and I did get pregnant
right away. Mothers may always be right, but they're not always prophets: I
graduated vet school, and I'm still married and still happy. And I can even
support myself.
After our learning
time in Israel, we moved to Boston and Tufts. This was my first
professional outing as an Orthodox woman. I was visibly pregnant with a scarf on
my head. I was nervous about how people would accept me. But since vet school
was what I had wanted my entire life, I plowed ahead. For six weeks no one spoke
to me. Many years later, I learned that the vet students thought I was a medical
student, the medical students thought I was a vet student, and everyone thought
I was undergoing chemotherapy because of the scarf and wasn't that a shame
because I was pregnant. It took a while to sort things out.
What
surprised me most during my five years at Tufts were the many people telling me
how much they respected my melding of Jewish and professional life. Even the
dean helped. When I told him, "I can't work or take exams on Sabbath or the
holidays," he typed out, "Elizabeth Kaufman will be making
requests for religious reasons. Please comply with everything she asks." He
handed me the paper, saying, "Don't abuse this."
To reciprocate, I
worked every Sunday and all Christian, Greek, and
Armenian holidays. I always tried to be polite and friendly. I always tried to
behave better than I would have otherwise. Because, lets face it, I looked
weird: the only one in dress on night duty during large animal
rotations, the only one pregnant with scarf on her head.
By the time I left
on aliyah, after a residency at Tufts New England Wildlife Clinic, my colleagues
threw me a party. They had done their research and were proud of the fact that
it was a completely kosher affair. And because I ate Yodels constantly, they
bought me a case for a going-away present. The truth is, Yodels were the only
kosher snack in the vending machines, and I haven't eaten one since.
Time was forever
tight. No time for phone calls, for correspondence, for errands. I was always
racing home from classes to nurse the baby and see the husband, who did all the
shopping, cooking, cleaning, and child care for five years. He insisted he
wasn't a house husband and preferred to be called a housewife. I bought him
flowers on Mothers Day.
Sixteen years later I'm working
at four part-time jobs in two cities. I
work for the Biblical Zoo and a private clinic. I teach at the
Veterinary School of Hebrew University and teach pro bono for Jewish
outreach programs throughout the country. I've found my present colleagues
responses akin to those of my student days -- people go out of their way
to accommodate my religious requirements and do so happily. I try to be cheerful
and professional and religiously tolerant in return.
But priorities
remain husband and kids. I'm always home by one o'clock, when my youngest child
arrives. I reschedule my workweek if there's a school party or
performance. No matter what work requires, my children come first. Because
without a family-first priority solidly in place, we cannot expect our own
lives, or our children, to be successful.
You might ask, if
family is so important, why should women work at all? The answer is different
for everybody. For some it is an economic necessity; given a choice they
would rather not work. For others, the challenges present in pursuing a
professional career or any work outside the home adds a dimension that can help
round us as balanced human beings. We can pursue interests and uncover
potentials that homemaking and parenting, no matter how rewarding, leave
unfulfilled for some women.
The Western
world defines success as being at the top of one's field, wielding power
and making lots of money. Being a housewife and mother, therefore, appears
antithetical to accomplishment, because one remains at home, not out making ones
mark in the world.
In stark contrast
stands the Jewish definition of success: To what degree have you become a
developed human being? How do you treat your spouse? Neighbors? Business
partners? Are you honest with yourself? Are you emulating Gods attributes? Are
you raising children to do the same? Because, you see, in Judaism, building
caring, principled people is an equally valued career for a woman -- and a man.
Work and religious
life are not mutually exclusive. Working can be an important part of
a rich life. We merely need to decide which definition of success is most
important to us so we can prioritize and organize our days, weeks, and months to
give everything we can to those we care about, including ourselves.
We need to decide how we wish to be affirmed in life, how we wish to be
remembered after our deaths.
Speaking for
myself, I work because I am a better wife and mother for it, because my
personality needs to have various intellectual interests and physical
occupations outside the home. Work helps me appreciate more of what I've got.
Reprinted from "Jewish Women Speak About Jewish
Matters" www.jewishmatters.com. Published by: Targum Press,Inc.
www.targum.com
