I spent six suffocating years in a Bais Yaakov in South Africa, drowning in rules about skirt lengths and collar heights. I still remember the constant tugging at my shirt to ensure it covered every required inch. Three months in a Har Nof seminary followed - I couldn't take more than that. Yet here I am, living in a Haredi neighborhood, my conflicted feelings as tangled as the eruv wires overhead.
There's this woman I know - a Haredi mother of 11, her patience endless, her home a wellspring of love and Torah. I am in awe of her, today and every day.
What if I had stayed in that world? There's an alluring simplicity to it. While I'm battling my kids over TikTok and fighting about which movies are acceptable, Haredi parents never face these dilemmas. Their boundaries are clear, their path well-marked. No gray areas. No endless negotiations. No cultural tug-of-war.
The security blanket of always having a rabbi to turn to - it's both maddening and enviable. Need to buy a new phone? Ask the rabbi. Kid struggling in school? Ask the rabbi. There's comfort in never having to shoulder life's big decisions alone. Yet it makes me want to scream: "Think for yourself!"
But then comes the issue that tears me apart - the army. My son serves in the IDF, protecting their children too. I watch Haredi boys his age walking to yeshiva while he patrols our borders, and something burns inside me. Their Torah study is valuable, yes, but doesn't our tradition also teach about defending our people?
The Haredi world is like a gated community within Judaism - safe, structured, insulated. Some days I peek over those gates with longing, craving their certainty, their unity, their unwavering faith. Other days, I want to shake those gates open and let in some reality.
And when I walk into the office of my Haredi co-workers, all I see is a sea of too many white shirts and I feel it all over again, I'm choking from the restrictions and I just can't breathe.
And it's not them, obviously. The ones who aren't too scared to talk to me are actually really normal and intelligent and interesting (who knew?) They are also weirdly up to date with current affairs and social media trends.
I've built my life in the space between - sending my kids to religious schools while letting them engage with the modern world, teaching them to think independently while respecting rabbinic authority, embracing Torah while serving in the army. It's messy, it's complicated, and sometimes it feels impossible.
But maybe that's exactly where I need to be - in this uncomfortable space of questioning and growth. Perhaps my frustration with the Haredi world's insularity and my admiration for their dedication are not contradictions but two sides of the same coin - the complex reality of being a Jewish parent in modern Israel.
I may never fully resolve these conflicting feelings. And maybe that's okay. Because while the Haredi world offers answers, my world allows for questions. While their path is straight and narrow, mine winds and weaves, challenging me to find my own way to serve Hashem while raising proud, modern, Torah-observant Israeli children.
Some days I envy their certainty. But most days, I'm grateful for my doubts.
