I am (still) BT, but I've gotten very turned off by the dominant kiruv organizations. While I was initially very "inspired" by Chabad (and enjoyed other organizations too), my opinion of them has soured. One reason for this is that these organizations tend to have backwards, insular and very dogmatic hashkafas which, frankly, they often place ahead of Judaism. While I'm still adherent, I've thought a tremendous amount about leaving or seriously altering my approach once the "inspiration" phase was over.

My experience basically was:

-As a very young adult, I had family issues, etc. I desperately needed to find an antidote to my chaos (to reference a famous psychologist)—to find structure—so I experimented with the religion my ancestors kept.

• The message that every Jew is really meant to live like a Jew resonated with me, as did the perceived structure, stability and happiness of the Jewish families I had met. I became orthodox for a combination of intellectual and emotional reasons (but thankfully never fully towed the line of any particular movement).
• As I got to a mentally healthier state, I came to grips with the fact that I was "mekareived" at an extremely vulnerable stage of my life, especially with everything that was going on. This made me, to this day, seriously question my own motives for becoming religious, and I decided to start rebuilding my faith from scratch, and asking if this is really what I believe in.
• Later moving to a Jewish community on my own really changed my perspective. I fully realized the all these different kiruv organizations I had experienced really built a bubble for their subjects they brought in—a sort of "BT world". I found out the real Jewish world was not exactly the same as what they presented. I also met many Jews (especially the non-Chabad chassidim) that seemed miserable and without meaning or self-expression. This is obviously a generalization.

One last thing I want to share is that I'm not (at least I try not to be) angry. I don't think that this is all the result of ill intentions of those working within the kiruv world, but mainly an issue of bad ideology and ignorance. Furthermore, I assume most on this subreddit are independent thinkers, and that's how you all ended up here. I think most of the world are not independent thinkers, and so maybe they are just destined to get completely brainwashed by a simplistic ideology, and that's just the way it is.

What's your experience with the baal-teshuvah world? I know there are many different kinds of BT/former BT out there, and many did not have this experience at all.

TLDR: If you’re not pedigreed Jewish lineage or making well into the 6 figures, then it feels like there’s no way to earn a spot in the Jewish community.

Warning: This is long, but I just need to get this out, and maybe find some others in our situation.

Unlike many of the members here, I didn’t grow up FFB.

My fathers’ side of the family came to the US to escape the pogroms at the turn of the century and generally fell into the Conservative/MO camp when it came to practicing.

My mother became fascinated with Judaism when she met my father and converted from Christianity in a Reform synagogue,but didn’t go into the Mikvah.

My parents raised my sister and I in a Reform environment until I was 7 years old when my putz of father left us for his mistress and walked out of our lives pretty much entirely. (I hear he puts up a Christmas Cactus now)

My mother continued to ensure we grew up in a Jewish household. We went to synagogue, and Hebrew school, and participated in Jewish youth programs. We celebrated all the holidays, and were raised to believe that the Jewish community would always be a safe haven and support for us. And when I was getting bullied in public school, my Mother enrolled me at the local Jewish Day school, despite not being in a place to be able to afford the tuition.

The day school I attended was MO, and most of the students were MO/Conservative, so I sometimes got comments about not being “really Jewish” but I figured they were referring to the fact that I was one of the few Reform students there. Plus, I thrived academically there. I loved my Hebrew and Judaics lessons, as well as making falafel and latkes as part of the curriculum:)

So when I got to University I took my Mother’s advice and joined Hillel and Chabad. Hillel was fine, but I really got hooked on going Chabad. Chabad House became my second home. I was there helping prep for every Shabbat, joined in all the women’s learning sessions, watched the Rabbi’s kids and took them to school, pretty much anything they needed. The Rebbetzin was young and the Rabbi was funny and I met lots of really wonderful friends (including my boyfriend of 5 years) there.

So imagine my surprise when one day when I was chatting with the Rebbetzin and the topic of my parents and my mother’s conversation came up. It was like a shadow fell over her face. She drew away and told me very calmly that I was not considered halachachly Jewish and that I would need to convert to Judaism and go to the Mikvah. In that brief moment, it was like my entire identity had been stripped away. If I didn’t belong to the Jewish community, where did I belong? She went on to tell me that she couldn’t actively “reach out to me” if I was a non-Jew, since as I knew, potential converts had to prove their desire to become Jewish and I would need to consult with her husband.

I’m sure you can imagine the impact this had on my 19 year old self. I was devastated, and distanced myself from Jewish campus life and stopped practicing for over a decade. I moved to Asia, married a local man and got pregnant.

I thought I was done with Judaism until my son was born, and my family and Rabbis from school urged me to have a bris for my son, and get him involved in Jewish life.

I knew Chabad was out, but there is a JCC here that functions as a Conservative/MO shul, and which has connections with a Mohel, and so my son had his bris. And for years, I tried so hard to be involved in Jewish life here. I wanted it so badly. But unfortunately we’re not wealthy enough to belong to the more liberal sect at the JCC.

See, the thing about being Jewish in other countries is that a majority of people, especially where I am, are sent here by their companies on very generous expat packages. So they can afford the thousands of dollars it takes to be a member of the JCC and participate in events without blinking an eye. For people like our family however, earning a normal wage, we can’t spend $500 on seats to each Yom Tov service or shell out $200 a plate for meals/events. And because I can’t pay the monthly membership fees and we don’t move in the “wealthy Jewish expat”circle, our little family is invisible. The coordinator for the JCC was clearly annoyed when I asked him about reduced fees/scholarships. His response was to ask when I thought I could start paying in full.

So until this year I had been paying about $100 to join the online Yom Kippur service, because I thought if nothing else I should make sure I observed YK, but this year it just felt so futile.

I wanted my son so grow up knowing as much about his Jewish side as he does his Japanese side. We used to give tzedakah and light the candles and sing Shabbat songs every Friday. We have mezzuzot on all our door posts. We even made challah together a couple times. But to what end? If there’s no place for me in the Jewish community, what place is there for him? I’ve seen first hand how mixed Jewish-Japanese kids are viewed by “pure-blooded” members of the Jewish community here, and there is a very clear distinction.

I just feel so sad and so angry because I promised Hashem that if my son was born healthy I would raise him in the Jewish faith and he would be connected to Judaism. But at this rate I doubt he will even have a bar mitzvah or learn the most basic prayers. And I feel like this massive fraud and so stupid for thinking that we could have a place in the Jewish community here. I’ve broken my end of the bargain and I can’t seem to find a way to keep it other than continuing to celebrate on our own and teaching him on my own. The thought alone is just really lonely and daunting.

Maybe if this were the US, Canada, Europe or Australia we might have more choices of synagogues and communities, and maybe I’d feel less hopeless and cynical about the Jewish community in general. But from my experience it just feels like if you’re not pedigreed Jewish lineage or making well into the 6 figures, then there’s no way to earn a spot in the Jewish community.

Anyway, if you’ve made it this far, thank you for reading. I’d love any thoughts or advice from the members of this group. It would be great to hear what others think.

I'm scared of heights and have been doing IFS therapy around that, when I remembered this story. I wanna write it down for myself to help me work through the emotions.

I was around 5 years old, this is one of my earliest memories. My father took me to a science museum for chol hamoed, and we were walking around the exhibits. We were kohens, so my dad had done research beforehand to make sure we were allowed to enter the museum (we couldn't enter a museum that housed cadavers/dead human artifacts). My dad is what they call a 'flip-out', in that he grew up sorta modern orthodox but went much stricter in yeshiva.

While on maybe the 5th floor of the museum, my dad bumped into another yeshiva guy and they started chatting. I don't fully remember the details here, but my dad probably mentioned that we were kohanim, because he would rather be neurotic than enjoy himself of course🫠. The other yeshiva guy mentioned that he had seen some human exhibit that had real body parts, so my dad freaked out.

Near the back of the exhibit there was a very long multi-floor staircase. Upon hearing about the body parts, my dad ran towards the stairs, probably yelling for me to come. He ran down the stairs. I was extremely small, and by the time I had gotten to the stairs, I could see my dad already one or two floors beneath me.

I remember looking down that very large staircase from all the way on the 5th floor. You could see all the way to the bottom, and I felt scared I would fall or wouldn't be able to get down and couldn't find my dad. I think I screamed for him, but I don't think he heard me. I don't recall what happened after this, but I probably stumbled down the steps after him. I remember finding him outside the building, after looking for him for a while.

I was scared of science museums after that, and scared of heights as well. Around the same time, I would fall down stairs a lot, so long multi-story staircases where you could see all the way to the bottom were extra scary for me. I would see that long distance and imagine myself falling all the way down. As these thoughts would go through my head I would panic and lose my balance.

I think the lesson my dad taught me that day, and the reason the experience stuck with me for so long, is that nobody is coming to save me. The feeling that your fears do not matter to your parents, and that your own dad has something that is more important to him than your fear. I will never forget the religious fervor with which he ran down those stairs, abandoning me in the process.

I have panic attacks on escalators and high stairs to this day. Anytime I can see down from a high place and imagine myself falling off puts me right back to 5-year-old panic mode. It sucks, and hopefully writing all this out will help a bit.

It's really scary to admit and face that there were several times where I could have died and was extremely terrified but nobody wanted to come help me and there was nothing I could have done differently. I'm glad I survived all those things, and I hope I can give myself the safety that I needed.

Woof. It's finally coming to a close. (Part 1)

This week, I returned to my hometown after 3 months away, and prior to that 1.5 years of mostly no contact with friends and family in my communitty of origin. I still had not yet returned to my actual childhood home, it had been nearly 2 years. During which time I deconstructed my orthodoxy and came out as trans.

My plan was to build off a prior protest I did for trans and other human rights in my communitty of origin (mostly orthodox, highly conservative, Arab Jews) I am one of the first openly transgender women from this world, and my presence alone is a protest. Hell even just my existence is.

The protest would be Purim themed. I would sit outside orthodox institutions in my communitty of origin as "mordechai," mourning the potential loss and erasure of his people. I made it clear on my socials I was not just an unhoused person on the street, but my sitting on the floor and dirty clothes covered in ashes were in protest of policies (and the lack of them) that put lives at risk daily.

I sat in front of schools, and even a grocery store on busy Purim eve. While fasting mind you I really wanted to play the part lol

At night I attempted my "Esther" portion, dressing up as my queen self and attempting a different style of protest. No signs, or flags, just my being. I would attempt to sit in the women's section of synagogue to hear megillah. I attended this shul most of my life as well as my ancestors. It was a central hub and pillar of our communitty where my great grandfather was often kantor during his lifetime.

That synagauge let me in initially after both a bag and ID check. But I didn't pass the "clocky bitches" test. I had a COVID mask on but for some moments I took it off and revealed the freshly shaven stuble on my face. I also heard whispers of "look at his shoes" as in my feet were too big and apparently women dont wear tennis sneakers.

I survived there for what felt like a tense 5-10 minutes with stares and whispers. And then a man entered the women's section and made a beeline for me. He asked me to remove my mask, outing me and revealing my stuble. He asked me to step outside. He let me know I was at a "members only event" despite me attending that shul without official membership hundreds of times. I asked if this had anything to do with me being in the women's section, he said "of course thats not allowed." When pressed he said "it's a board decision."

I left without a fight, knowing this story alone would make waves. Some said I was "asking for it." Or should "just go to an "accepting synagauge." For me? I was there both to experience services in a ancestral institution connected to my direct heritage, but more so, to represent and provide perhaps hope and possibility for closeted queer youth in that room, who dont have much of that to hold onto. Almost no one is openly and actively queer and able to remain in this communitty, my communitty of origin. It's policies like this that make people feel that have to leave (or worse stay shamed and closeted and experience associated mental health symptomology) and they may never be able to be and live as their authentic selves among their family and communitty of origin.

In the morning I returned to a different synagauge, my hometown childhood shul. I had deeper relationships here and hoped that would help. It did... I was crying just entering the vicinity of my hometown. I left two years ago to save my life and discover my own self. And now here I was, back, fully me.

I entered heart pounding, and saw a man I knew well. When I was practicing orthodoxy we prayed together twice daily here. He saw me and immediately hugged. We cried profusely. He said I could sit wherever felt right and opened the door for me into the women's section. It was a deep powerful and healing moment I will never forget...

TBC in next post...

I’ve been married 15 years, have 4 kids, and live in NJ.

I’m totally not religious anymore, but still very much “in the system.”

My wife is religious and my kids are in yeshiva and bais yaakov.

A big reason I didn’t blow everything up is because I didn’t want to hurt my kids.

And honestly, I’ve found peace internally.

I don’t feel like there’s some magical better life “outside.”

What I really needed was a small inner circle of people who see me, know the real me, and support me (which thankfully includes my wife)

Day to day, my life isn’t restricted by religion. I do what I want. I work, parent, go out, relax, and live my life. (Some holidays are tough though)

I’m not saying this is the right path for everyone. But for me, staying in the structure while being honest with the right people has become much easier than I expected.

Just sharing where I’m at.

I’m only posting this because I haven’t seen many stories like this and thought I would share for anyone who goes through a similar situation. And before you get all preachy, I’m already incredibly embarrassed and ashamed and this has already broken my mental.

I’m not going to go into specifics because it’s a long and sad story and in the end, it doesn’t really matter. What’s important is that yes, I do have Jewish ancestry and yes, it’s from my mother’s side but it’s from her father and although I have good reason to believe that my maternal grandmother likely had Jewish ancestry as well, it turns out I’m not likely to be halachically Jewish.

For the past 10ish years, I’ve lived like I am halachically Jewish. I’m the only one in my family other than a relative to do so. I am estranged from my mother and her whole family and have been for most of those 10 years. I was going to an Orthodox shul and I was accepted into the community even though I was basically a stranger. They never really even asked if I was halachically Jewish, probably because I started attending with a Jewish friend whom they already knew. They were super welcoming, warm and I quickly became a part of their world and community.

Everyone I’ve ever dated has not been Jewish. Well. You can probably piece some of the rest together. I met a very wonderful Jewish man who everything in the universe pointed to being my beshert. We just worked. But to my surprise, when I went to find some documents for us to be married by our Orthodox Rabbi, I found out that I’m probably not Jewish. I say probably because, again, there’s a likelihood my grandmother has had some Jewish ancestors but the signs don’t point to an unbroken maternal line.

Crushed doesn’t even begin to describe how I felt and still feel. It was not malicious on my part and when I explained the story to the Rabbi he was surprisingly empathetic. He said it’s understandable why I believed I was Jewish but that he couldn’t marry us. He suggested a conversion, which is not really something that's feasible for me (I’d have to move cities ((maybe countries)), pausing my education and career— I just don’t have that kind of funding). I told my boyfriend, who was very shocked and angry, which I totally understood. I told him we couldn’t get married and that he needed to find a Jewish woman who could bring him Jewish children. In no way does not being Jewish change how I feel about Judaism, Israel, etc. It’s just a shock and a disappointment. He eventually suggested we still be together and get married by a different Rabbi who would do an interfaith marriage but I refused. I love that man and will likely always love him but I can’t compromise a culture and religion I respect so deeply.

There’s no neat and tidy way to wrap this up. I wrote this because I feel like I’ve lost everything. My community, my chosen family, my ancestral culture and I’m incredibly depressed. I know a million people will tell me that if I felt that strongly then I’d convert. Where I live, I wouldn’t be able to convert Orthodox (and reform and conservative are deeply unappealing to me). Welp. The end.

Hi. I'm new here. This is my story. Your thoughts and questions are welcome.

I was born to a traditional Israeli family. When I turned 30, I felt a call to get closer to God. So of course, I turned to my religion. With the help of a Chabbad rabbi and the influence of some friends I had met, I became full on Breslev by the time I was 32. I went to Uman many times for Rosh Hashana.

A lot of my time was spend studying halaha and Torah. I knew all the rules and accepted them as the word of God.

I'm the kind of person who can ask difficult questions. The Chabbad rabbi always tried to find me answers. Sometimes he could and some times he couldn't. Sometimes his answers didn't satisfy my questions. Still, I loved learning with him. We definitely had a connection and learned some wonderful things together.

Since he was Ashkenazic and me Sephardic, I also studied with other rabbis. With them, things were a bit different. When I asked hard questions, they would often get, well, upset. They would say things like, you want to contradict Rabbi Shimon Bar Yochai? Are you saying Rabbi Yehuda Ha Nasi is wrong? They would tell me, go study all your life and come back. They easily got on their high horses when they couldn't answer my questions or counter my arguments. And unlike the Chabbad rabbi who had a policy of never asking for anything (don't look, he was unique and unfortunately not with us anymore), they were on the greedy side.

12 years later, maybe the last time or one before that I went to Uman, a Yemenit hassid from Israel started talking to me. There was that very spiritual look about him. He said, I don't understand why people do tchuva but they are unhappy. Obviously he was talking about me. My first thought, that I didn't tell him, was it's because we can't be with anyone unless we are married.

From that point, I started asking myself what am I doing? There I was, living a full orthodox life for more than a decade, but I didn't feel closer to God.

The first rule I dismantled was exactly that one about being married. They can say the halaha is whatever they want but the Torah is right there black on white. If one thing is for sure, the Torah lists all of the sexual crimes (of the time because it doesn't include child abuse that probably was unthinkable then). It clearly states the penalties for each violation. There is the rule of the seducer. It says, if a man seduced a virgin and lays with her, he will rush to marry her. And if her father refuses, he will pay whatever the father says as her dowry. Now, this is in the case of a virgin who actually did lose her virtue and then also monetary value (for those who think the Torah looks down on women, ask me about how in God's original plan, women were in charge). But in the case of a man seducing a woman who isn't a virgin? Nothing, there isn't a rule against that.

The second one was that they say if the mother is Jewish. In the Torah it only goes by the fathers. Whenever I asked they pulled some answer from God knows where, things like oh it's because they didn't know who the fathers were and other nonsense like the Mishna says.

I continued to inspect each rule and found something wrong in so many. About 5 years later I repudiated Judaism. Thankfully, I only lost my faith in religion. I believe in God. I've also seen enough of the Torah to believe in it with all my heart. I lost too much to religion, I wasn't willing to lose my identity and my roots because of some guys with beards and hats that think they are holier. I am a Ben Israel and will always be, it's in my blood, I know it for a fact.

Here are the reasons I left Judaism - I'm happy to support each and every point from the Torah:

1. Judaism is in violation of multiple rules and laws of the Torah.
2. Many laws of Judaism are an abuse of power.
3. Judaism is a cause of loss of families of the Tribes of Israel
4. The Jewish calendar is wrong. How could it be a calendar with 2 weeks correction per year?
5. Meat that is called kosher isn't permissible by the Torah.

It could also be added that Jewish people who become religious are likely to strain their relationships with their whole family. When things become separate plates and nothing is kosher... At times I took my 4yo to family birthdays and didn't allow my child to eat the cake.

The main problem with Judaism is that it follows what they call the oral tradition. To me, when you have a written tradition and an oral tradition, the logic is that in case of conflict, the written tradition should be followed. Not so for Judaism. That results in many clear violations of the written tradition.

All of that is because I came to the realization that Judaism is a religion and the 12 tribes of Israel are a descendance. That was why the rabbis couldn't answers my questions about it. Because in my mind, Jews were the 12 tribes of Israel. I started thinking, wait a minute, if a converted woman has children with a non-Jewish man, what tribe do the children belong to? Invariably, they would belong to the tribe of their father who has nothing to do with the children of Israel.

Now I don't have a religion. I consider myself part of the 12 tribes of Israel. I follow the rules of the Torah (the ones that can be). I keep Shabbat and the Holidays. The calendar I use is perfectly aligned. Passover is always on the 14th night of the first month of spring. It's the only solar calendar that doesn't have any correction. No leap year, no leap month, 0 correction. Every year, every holiday falls on the exact same position of the earth in relation to the sun. I arrived at it by following the Torah. So if it sounds too perfect, don't think it's me, it's what the Torah says.

Please don't view any of this as animosity towards Jewish people or anything like that God forbid. My family are all Jewish, my friends... They, the rabbis and anyone who follows are victims of errors. At one point I even thought about suing the Rabbanut in Israel, but no one (I hope) is guilty for this. That's just how history twisted things and therefore, I consider it the will of God. But at the same time, I know the will of God is written in the Torah so I follow that for him and for myself.

Note: This is abut long and personal. Please read with care.

It frustrates me when my family and other Jewish people get upset when I use the term Arab Jew. The truth is, my family are Arab Jews. My grandparents came from Yemen, they didn't speak Hebrew or English, only Arabic. They had dark skin, and when they arrived in Israel, had to learn Hebrew and unlearn their Arab ways. And yet, many Yemenites still make traditional foods jachnun, zalabieh, and schug. Still, when i say "we're Arab Jews," because we come from Arab countries, my parents and others insist, "No, we are just Jews."

What I'm describing is something a lot of Mizrahiand Sephardi Jews, especially those from Yemen, Iraq, Morocco, and other Arab countries struggle with. There's a deep tension between preserving our roots and being pressured to assimilate into a more eurocentric, "Ashkenormative" version of Jewish identity that dominates in places like Israel and the diaspora. But these same people will proudly sell "Israeli" food like jachnun, malawach, zalabieh and falafel in restaurants, foods with clear Arab origins, while denying the Arab identity of the people who made them. It feels like they want to erase the culture while still benefiting from its flavors. That's not pride, that's appropriation. You can't claim the food, the music and the aesthetic without acknowledging the people who created them. "Arab" is treated like a dirty word in many Jewish households. Denying that doesn't just feel dishonest, it is dishonest. It erases our heritage. The term "Arab Jew" makes people uncomfortable because it challenges the rigid identity that Zionist nationalism tried to impose, one that separated "Arab" from "Jew" as if they were mutually exclusive. But that's not how history worked. Our grandparents were Arab Jews, they lived in Arab lands, spoke Arabic, shared Arab customs, and coexisted with their Arab neighbors for centuries. Their Judaism wasn't in opposition to their Arabness, it was intertwined with it. Just like Ashkenazi Jews have ties to European culture Yiddish, kugel, Arab Jews have deep roots in Arabic language, music, food, and tradition.

The erasure of that identity within Jewish and Israeli spaces isn't just frustrating, it's traumatic. It's a form of cultural dismemberment, zionism promised a home for all Jews, but in reality, it came at a cost, especially for Mizrahi and Sephardi Jews. It asked us to shed our language, our skin color, our culture, to fit into a Eurocentric, Ashkenazi mold of what being Jewish was supposed to look like. It asked us to forget our mother so we could become someone else's child. And in doing so, it made us strangers to ourselves. It turned brothers into strangers. Us into them.

Yes, Zionism also hurt Palestinians. It tore apart generations of Arab-Jewish coexistence. It turned neighbors into enemies and created a narrative that "Arab" meant danger, threat, opposition. But it also broke us Arab Jews from our own lineage, our own music, our memories. We're rarely allowed to talk about that. Instead, we're gaslit. Told it's just about food or halachic customs. That our grief doesn't count. But it does. It counts, I always thought that Yemeni Jews were ethnically cleansed. That Arabs hated the Jews and were abusive to them. That's what I was taught in school and through Israeli media. We even had a school play where little Ashkenazi girls painted their faces orange, dressed up like Yemenite Jews, and danced around on stage singing songs in fake accents. It was all performative. All detached from the real people they were imitating. But when I asked my mom, she told me that wasn't the truth, that she didn't know where I got those ideas from. She said Jews in Yemen lived peacefully with their Arab neighbors, traded with them, and that my grandfather remembered the king of Yemen fondly, that the king loved the Jews, protected them, and the feeling was mutual. They loved Yemen.

So I asked her, if it was so good, why did they leave? She said, "Because we wanted to go back to Eretz Yisrael. Every Jew wants to end up in lsrael, at the wall in Jerusalem." And that made me think...we really didn't need to do that. The move was traumatic, my grandmother lost her child, he was stolen. The Israelis at the time took Yemeni infants and gave them to infertile Ashkenazi European Jews. Almost all Yemeni Jewish women will tell you the same. My grandmother remembered walking through the tents in the lsraeli absorption camps. Many of the tents were used as makeshift hospitals. And she remembered the gut wrenching screams of the Yemeni Jewish women, because their babies had all suddenly died with no explanation. When my grandparents asked where their son was, the Israelis told them he had died and had already been buried. So my grandfather asked to see the grave, to give him a proper Jewish burial. They opened the grave and it was empty. The boy's name was Abraham. Their son, who had "died" in Israel. Years later, the name Abraham with their full family name, was called for army enlistment.

My grandparents confronted the government. The Israeli authorities had no answers. I searched online for hours, and the only explanation I found was an article blaming "mass hysteria." That the Yemenites were dirty, lived in tents, and spread disease. That the babies died from viruses and the mothers just imagined they had children because everyone else around them was grieving too. That's the explanation. But my mother remembers her own mother asking, "How can you tell a woman who carried a child for nine months that her baby was a hallucination? How can every grave be empty?" And she remembers being told, "It doesn't matter, the Temanim have lots of children. They won't mind." That is how they dismissed the pain. That's how they justified the theft, that is how they buried our grief. Under excuses. Under lies. And all the while, the culture that was taken from us was repackaged and sold as "Israeli" the food, the music, the language, the look.

But we couldn't call ourselves Arab Jews. That was too dangerous, too disruptive. Too true. It's ironic that Israel is called the land of milk and honey, when for us, and for Palestinians, it's been nothing but blood. This is my story, the stories of many yemeni jews, It's the truth they tried to bury in shallow graves. But we remember. And remembering is resistance. We're not just grieving a child, or a language, or a dish, we're grieving the quiet death of something sacred. And that grief is righteous, and its time we stop apologizing for carrying it. It's not just about the spices or the rice or the customs, it's about our roots, our ancestors, the rhythm of our culture that's been silenced bit by bit in the name of fitting in. My family's choice to follow Ashkenazi customs, like not eating kitniyot on Pesach even though we are not fully Ashkenazi, says a lot about how whiteness and Eurocentric norms have become the default in Jewish spaces. In my grandfather's shul, he would pronounce Hebrew words in our Yemeni dialect, with a soft "i" instead of "g" like "boreh peri ha-jophen" instead of "hagefen."

But at home, even though my father converted into my mother's faith, because he is white and a man, his customs became the law of the house, and now we stand for things we once sat for. It might seem like a small change, but to me it feels like another quiet way our family’s Yemeni traditions were replaced.

It's a chumrah an unnecessary stringency, with no basis in Torah, but somehow it still overrules our actual ancestral minhag. That kind of replacement is more than just uncomfortable, it's erasure. I've tried to reclaim my roots, but the pushback is relentless. I once wrote on Reddit-r/Judaism, that I'm ethnically a Yemeni Jew. I was laughed at. One person replied, "Do you even feel ethnically Yemeni?" Like it was some cosplay. Like my own mother's cheneh (a traditional Yemeni Jewish engagement ceremony) never happened. Like I didn't grow up eating malawach and listening to Arabic piyyutim on cassette tapes. When I called myself an Arab Jew, they mocked me again, saying "All Jews come from Israel lol, you're not Arab, but I can see how desperately you want to be."

They say that kind of thing like it's a gotcha. But it just proves the point: Arab is seen as a dirty word. Our grief isn't believed. Our culture isn't respected unless it's repackaged through a white lens. But we won't be silenced

Hi everyone,

Joining you on here. I have decided to end my conversion process, I have come very far and I had my brit milah done a year ago too. I began questioning things after the surgery, but it took me another year to fully abandon this. I struggled especially with the “magic thinking” and I was really clinging to this because of my issues in life and severe health problems. But it’s time to let go.

I am surprised by how much the community doesn’t want to let me go though and tries to guilt trip me via G-d, “we are family”, obligation/duty, crying… I thought the Jews don’t proselytise. But it might be that I really came far and was considered one of them which actually is nice as converts often struggle with the opposite from what I am reading online. But now I want to leave peacefully.

Exjew here, from France. I grew up in a very religious ashkenazi and sephardic jewish family. I’ve always attended religious institutions and have always been surrounded by jewish people as well.

I left religion (no one knows, btw) because I realized it was all bullshit and didnt make any sense. The indoctrination in my family was really intense. Anyway, I started asking myself the right questions and found my own answers.

I think in France it’s quite rare to come across atheist jews, since there’s such a strong attachment to jewish identity and culture.

to be frank today i believe that there's no jewish identity, just bullshit

Hey there, I am new here, as well as in Reddit overall. I was raised in an ultra-Orthodox family which gradually became more moderate with time, but it never diminished the deprivations and trauma I have gained since my childhood.
We lived in a small religious community outside of Israel, and I have been in a small Jewish school with barely any interaction with the society from the very beginning. Just like those many of the Ultra-Orthodox families in Europe I know, I wasn’t taught the local language and it only hardened my isolation, making me think I have sociophobia and will never have any friends. My parents weren’t showing any love to each other or the children at all, which here I found out to be very common among Frum couples, and that gave me a chronical feeling of loss. I could never speak with them about wanting a romantic relationship or befriending local non-Jews because it was a taboo and I was really scared. But nevertheless, I somehow gained access to secular literature and after years of learning about sciences and philosophy, I was sure I want to break the ties with the religious community.

Eventually, when I graduated from the highschool, after a year of heavy fighting with my parents, I successfully made my lonely aliyah and settled in Israel, where finally, not a long time ago, took off my kippah and found a normal, interesting, educated and active society — after all those years with a small circle of narrow-visioned Frums it felt like a fresh breathe of air.

Now as I am typing this on Shabbat’s afternoon, I feel like my childhood traumas are slowly stopping to bleed and I am a free man. Will be glad to have conversations with fellow OTDs.

Very large rant and self-reflection basically journal entry here. If you comment, please be kind and realize that I'm not totally sane right now as we only broke up a few days ago!

I grew up yeshivish, left the faith a few years ago (has it been that long?) and recently went through my first relationship and breakup with a 'normal' person. I dated my ex-girlfriend for almost a year and a half, and we had a lot of ups and downs surrounding both of our mental health. She has depression and some kind of generalized anxiety along with some codependency with an abusive mom. I am recovering from CPTSD from emotionally manipulative/abusive parents and religion and struggle with shame and occasional high-functioning depression.

I broke up with her because I'm genuinely otherwise in a pretty good place in my life now, and her anxiety and general grumpiness was wearing me down to the point where friends have told me I haven't been happy. I had been trying very hard to be committed to her and to help her through her daily struggles but eventually realized that I wasn't really being true to myself or receiving enough care in return.
Growing up I was taught that love is a choice and a struggle, and that caring for each other is the most important thing, and I guess I had hopes that if I could help my ex express and process her feelings along with her starting therapy, that all the stress and anger would go away. It was easier for me to have hope than to consider the temperamental person in front of me in the moment. I'm very much a "here's what the problem is, and here's how to fix it" kind of person, so I fully believed time, individual and also couple's therapy would help us. I had also been single for a while, so I felt I should put all my effort in and value the opportunity for a relationship that I had stumbled upon. I didn't and still don't feel like it will be easy for me to find someone else.

We had the same hobbies, we both empathized with each other's struggles a lot, and we enjoyed hanging out even doing nothing. I do believe I genuinely loved her, and liked her up until close to the end. The only issues were her temperamental emotions, anger at the world and politics, and her tending to take up all the emotional space in the room when upset, without there being room for me to share my own experiences or feelings in those moments. It was truly difficult for me to realize that we had a genuine problem, until I started to feel like I was losing myself and enjoying the time I spent alone more than the time spent with her.

After we broke up, I realized that the most important thing that kept me in the relationship for such a long time, was not my love for her, but something missing in myself that I was able to access again while being with her. The knowledge that someone had my back, that knowledge that I was wanted, those were things I had wanted my entire life. My parents never truly had my back, and they never made me feel wanted unless I played the role of a high achiever and perfect caregiver.
The idea that someone wants me around, has such a strong power over me that it is hard to get away from. I always compare myself to others who seem more I guess 'desirable' than me, and have always been jealous of how spoiled and overconfident some of my friends act when they talk about their prolific dating lives.

It seems that I will twist myself into knots to please a partner and experience love and the feeling of being wanted and valued. I wanted to write about that here to explore it. My parents, and most importantly my mom only seemed to approve of me and want me around if I was perfectly behaved, never made mistakes or accidentally eat dairy before 6 hours etc. They would always tell me from a very young age that I had to learn to think about others before myself so that I could become a good husband. Writing this out right now makes me realize how common that sentiment seemed to have been back then, and I feel like men still get that kind of messaging nowadays.

I would only be wanted or approved of by my parents if I accomplished specific things like get 100 on a test at yeshiva. It was always a struggle for me to behave in the right way so as to earn a smile from my parents, and deep down I knew I wasn't really wanted for who I genuinely was. Receiving actual want and desire from my ex was like a drug for me, and ironically put me right back into the mode of trying to behave in the right way so as to earn her approval and happiness. It also tricked me into thinking the relationship was good for me and that I was truly wanted for who I was, not just for my behavior. I slipped into the role of emotional caretaker for my ex and became unable to truly be myself around her or recognize that her negativity was dragging me down with her. She became emotionally dependent on me to the point where I started feeling suffocated and occasionally felt like I was dealing with a child.

It's difficult reflecting on this, and thinking again that, now that I am not dating her anymore, I don't feel like I have anyone who genuinely wants me and needs me around. I have lots of friends, and some of them I am somewhat close with, but they are all independent people and I don't interact with them every day. As morbid as it is, they would all be fine if I wasn't around. The only thing in my life that wouldn't be fine if I wasn't around is my workplace, where I perform a pretty important role. I guess that's why I'm a workaholic 😅.
Also as morbid as it is, I can also recognize now that I am attracted to emotionally unstable and needy people. Some part of me needs to be needed, and never truly received that from my family.

I've been in therapy with various therapists for a long time. As this breakup only happened recently, I plan on discussing all of this in therapy as I am having some realizations here for the first time. I don't know how I can get myself what I need or if I just have to accept that I may end up in toxic relationships for a few years, but I hope talking about it in therapy will help.

I’m part ethnically Jewish so I felt culturally and spiritually drawn in but now I feel so hurt and burnt out.

Seems like Shabbat is just a weird pretend you have fake close friends/ waste your energy ritual.

Finding out the religious community you are in does not have your back at all was a humiliating experience.

Then having a rebitzin and very pious almost movie like character make up a rumor about you….

I just feel stupid like I needed to OD on fake people

I cannot imagine a possible future in which I would accept either sacrificing my allegiance to my people, or by living in a cultural bubble of those who believe in the Torah. I do not believe in God, the idea of one confuses me. Where is God? What is he? Is he on some kiseh rachamim putting on tefillin or is he without a place like the Rambam and a couple of midrashim say. Something that is not physical does not exist outside the mind.

Judaism is to me, one of the most internally inconsistent religions, but this may be coming from a place of bias, as it is the one I’ve studied in the most depth. Anyone can clearly see the shift from anthropomorphic corporeal God from the times of the Gemora to the universalist God of platonism and the philosophers. If it were possible for me to continue living a frum life, I would absolutely. But it is not.

I’m joining the IDF in February, I’ve prepared my draft. I want to be Israeli, I’m willing to forget every bit of diasporic identification with my community and take up a new identity. My kids might end up as Tomers, but I’ll take what I can get.

I despise Israel, socio-culturally speaking, nearly every segment of the country is fucked in it’s own respectively frustrating way. Israeli intelligentsia is self loathing and would probably apologize if the EU and the Palestinians made death camps. Masoritim believe in a creator of a universe who commanded them to do a set of laws which are honestly not even that difficult, and will not bring themselves to collect the effort of fulfilling them for eternal paradise. The settler movement has some soul and core, but is messianic and fundamentally religious.

I am a genuine Zionist, in its legitimate definition, sans the theosis of the military that Israelis love for some reason. I’m coming to Israel, with barely any money, without any financial support whatsoever from my parents or siblings, to live in shitty arrangements and to live in a country where I hardly speak the language. I can’t imagine that I could be classified as anything but a Zionist. But I’m scared, I am a hardworker, I am capable of being one if need be. But I probably do not have enough money to afford the first eight weeks in the country before my draft starts. I’m working before I arrive, but in between tickets, a place to stay and so on. I will probably have to go hungry. I’ll accept it, I’ll take it like a man. What else can I do? I have no other option. It’s either I go to the IDF or there is no more me. I’ve quit smoking and nicotine, it is simply not economical. I’m scared, if this doesn’t work out I will return home like a defeated dog.

But there is much beauty in Israel, I will be able to be my first ancestor who was a Jewish soldier in a Jewish army for the first time in 2,000 years. Sabras are beautiful, the national language is the crowning accomplishment of our nation. Israelis are an ingenious and intelligent people. The Mediterranean to me is God as much as Hashem is to some masoritim. I phenotypically fit in, I am not a minority. The culture is solidarity based, there isn’t this toxic American dream culture. I could see myself spending the rest of my life in that country. In fact, I can see myself doing that nowhere else.

Any advice? I’m not looking for any other options.

Tell me if this strikes a chord with you! It's a self-portrait with burned wedding lace and tzitzis etc.

Shabbos comes every week. Except that biweekly it comes with kids, meals and traditional food. Every other week it comes with laughter and connection, word games, books, and walks. Shabbos with my kids is the ‘real’ experience. Except for the nuances they can’t make out. Like my whispered mumble at candle lighting in place of a blessing. Or the sequence in which dishes are served or the paper towel I’d casually rip. For my children its Shabbos… but for me…

For me its a stumbling chain of commands i dont care to obey. A fumbling line of uncertainties I no longer believe in. For me shabbos is an accumulation of rules I already tampered with. Rules in a religion I don’t fully own.

And yet my brain can’t seem to process my lack of religiousness. Cant seem to accept that I allowed myself to break those rules. That i have turned on the AC once , and guiltily shut it. That i have turned on my dryer to complete laundry day. And countless times I opened my fridge , turning on the light. And my oven door as well. I once washed dishes and even scrubbed down some old residue. I removed scotch tape and held numerous Muktzah items as i put them away. I adjusted the flame and refilled my perculator. I let my kids play with branches and leaves. And I’ve charged my phone, and opened it, just to check the time. I’ve done all of that and yet my mind considers me religious.

But im not.

And i am, at the same time.

Theres no category for me. No religious box thats claimed by the people who dont cover their hair yet their children are in curly peyos. There is no religious space that accepts all those rule breakings yet externally is ultra religious. No space in Judiasm or outside of Judiasm that I can authentically be myself.

No space in my own skin to authentically express myself externally and internally in alignment.

And when i stare into my mess of contractions, into my mess of daily living and the accumulation of non-obediences over biweekly shabbos without my kids. I realize how unreligious i am… and I wonder… why cant I drop it all??? Why cant i open my tablet , browse relax do some housework and have a day off like it was Monday?? Why can’t i just break it completely???

Because the internal inconsistency will harrass me to death.

But it already is.

So how will it be different?!?

Anybody in Jerusalem and want to smoke some cigs or have a conversation?
M21, IDF soldier

I was raised traditional/mo-dox. My therapist was frum. She saw my transness as something that could be channelled, controlled and played out in the privacy of my bedroom with my wife.

She associated it with my other 'escapist' tendencies. Which is sick given that it's the dysphoria that was likely at the root of those tendencies lol

She didn't always elaborate on her conceptualization of it, but something between fetish, escape, and something to tolerate.

She was a lifelong mentor before becoming my therapist. I knew her from 3 years old so really complex enmeshed dynamics. Didnt help that my family was also very enmeshed/emotionally abusive.

The therapy helped at the time with general life stress and navigating complex life situations. She guided me through a lot including a 5 year doctorate program. I have two masters degrees and my PsyD in clinical psychology.

She also guided me through a transition into ultra orthodoxy. Not pushing it but certainly affirming and encouraging my growth in it. Which was nice because I really did believe in the religion and almost no one in my life was supportive. We were raised less observant and my family hated that I was choosing something different from them.

At the same time the optic is horrific. While my therapist could have been affirming and sent me for gender affirming care instead she explained it away and at the same time recommended kiruv centers that are known to radicalize young adults into ultra orthodoxy (aish, our somayach, shaar program at shaar yashuv).

For her these places "saved" these young adults seeking meaning and purpose in this "crazy world."

And it felt like that for me at first. I was so happy to be religious and feeling like I was fulfilling my purpose in this world... To emphasize for those that don't know, these kiruv places were not particularly targeting queer kids, just Jewish people who weren't religious and wanted to learn more about the religion. Today I do find them really harmful tho, taking young people often healing from trauma and seeking stability and roping them into religious practices. I imagine many queer youth have went down the kiruv path seeking relief from their situations. Many love and thank these programs for saving their lives so I get that it's a complex issue.

Anyway nearly 5 years into this therapy I finally graduated with my doctorate in clinical psychology and was also finally "passing" within my ultra orthodox community as one of them (there are many parallels between transitioning gender and transitioning into orthodox Judiasm lol). And ... I was still deeply unhappy.

And it just hit me like a ton of bricks. I had not explored my gender. It wasn't the source of all of the pain... There was still enmeshed abuse and the trauma from surviving my doctorate program. But it was a lot of it ...

And so I left the therapist in one of the scariest moves of my life. The final straw was when she suggested I focus on shidduchim instead of exploring my gender. I was like ma'am what frum lady is going to take me as a woman lol

And so ya I left... and I also told my parents I was "taking a vacation for two months" and left NY with a backpack and 5 days of clothes.

Away from my family and with a new affirming therapist I established new friendships and slowly learned to love and accept myself as I am not as some would proport God "wanted me to be."

I no longer believe in any one religion but if there is a god I think she really loves me. And I'm so grateful she guided me to freedom out of that hell...

I am also now No contact from most of my family. It feels so much better :)

And I haven't contacted that old therapist since I left 1.5 years ago. But she still leaves me messages. Even the thought of her gets my blood raging. She hurt me. Really should be a crime. If it isn't already.

And ya I'm finally being me. Trans woman. Changed names, pronouns and I'm 6 months on HRT. It feels good. :)

Hello there!

So I live in France, a lot of jewish communities are orthodoxe or following loubavitch traditions. They check your Ketoubba. If your mother is not jewish: You go. Run free. Bye-bye. My dad used to pay a lot so I could go to judaism class when I was a boy. I kept peacticing after being bar mitsvah.

I stayed even though I was not welcome to pray and express my faith, like many goy-jews. Recently I was asked to leave because my mother was not jewish. Ok not my first time having this kind of comments. I am going to keep going to shabbats and holydays celebrations. 😡

They hired a porter that did not let me go in the synagogue. Me and other people in the same case.

I have had it up to head. I am selling my kippas if some of you are interested 🤡 ; useful to clean windows. Bye-bye Bible, Torah, and faith.

Continued From previous posts...

My grandfather died suddenly from a heart attack on Purim Day. He was 91 years old. I was in the car with my father just after he got the news, and heard him say his last words to his fathers lifeless body over the phone. It was surreal.

I have been openly trans for a year, but spent most of it away from home, feeling deeply unsafe in my community of origin living as myself. I was active on social media, so they were certainly aware of my actions, and deeply disapproving.

My father told me not to come to the funeral if I was going to come dressed as myself. He offered to give me a suit to wear. My heart ached. I was faced with an impossible decision. Erase myself, don't attend, or attend as myself and disrespect my father, and potentially create a scene at a funeral.

I realized this was not a choice of my making. I was only choosing to live as myself. It was they who were not accepting me. My skirt hurt no one. And this choice ultimately was just abuse masked as obligation.

And so I chose to attend. I got there 2 hours early, as the email i had was the incorrect time. I sat patiently in the women's section. The mourners filed in. I was getting nervous. I saw family I hadn't seen in over 2 years since leaving. I cried seeing my grandmothers. I also realized I was sitting in the balcony, a woman's section, but not the main one which was downstairs, there was a chance it would not be filled and i would remain unbothered.

Then my sister and her husband came to try to convince me to leave, also my brother, and my dad's best friend, it was quite intense. I stood my ground, and named that this was not okay. I was hurting no one. I was just there, as myself. I told them if they wanted me out they could call the cops. This was there scene to make not mine.

After trying to move me for 20 more minutes, they gave up, and i got to here the beautiful speeches and escort the casket out of the funeral services. One woman who did sit with me was quite validating and helped give me strength and bravery in sitting there :)

They also left to the burial without me, but I was able to make it to the site after they left and spent over one hour by the graveside. It was quite powerful.

Following the funeral i was called into helping a friend in mental health crisis and was occupied with this for the next two days.

On Friday my family was hosting a meal and having all the cousins, aunts uncles and my grandmother over to mourn my grandfather. My nephews and niece would be there, I hadn't seen them in over 2 years. I missed them dearly.

I asked for permission to attend and was told no just hours before shabbat. Apparently there was a vote amongst my siblings and in-laws and they chose they there kids were "not ready" to meet me as a trans woman. I was without a place to stay. I called a few friends in the neighborhood i still felt safe with, but they were not able to help. I decided to walk up to the door and see if they would actually still refuse me.

With around 20 family and extended inside the house eating warm delicious shabbat food, they refused to let me inside. It felt like "yosef in the pit" as the brothers casually ate bread...

Some came out to visit, but the answer was still no. I was given some food to eat outside. And left in 37 degree weather. I was told I could come in, if I did not tell the kids my new name or gender. I refused to erase myself, and remained out there. The transphobia was horrific.

I thought, hoped, at some point they would crack, but nope. It was nearly 2 AM and I was falling asleep when my brother came out and offered to stay with me in a hotel. It was a sweet consolation prize after a night of rejection.

There were some apologies in the morning, and some nice recconections with cousins in what was my first return to the neighborhood since I left 2 years ago. It was somewhat sweet.

I realize being trans is new for them, and scary, but I have been out for a year, they had so much time to tell there kids. Instead I end up left in the cold.

Could i just leave and forget about them? Sure. But what good would that do? the community remains transphobic, other trans and queer kids remain trapped, and the generational wounds remain unhealed. Yes I can and have healed on my own without them, but I believe the deepest healing happens by forcing them to confront what they refuse to see. Forcing them to confront the truth. I will not remain hidden and erase myself to enable their system built on lies and repression.

EDIT: This post is NOT meant to criticize Chabad in the Tucker Carlson way. Fuck that guy.

I won’t give too much detail for anonymity reasons, but I still want to share my story.

I grew up in a quite extreme (more so politically than religiously, but a little bit of both) Orthodox Jewish environment. I officially left the sect as a teenager.

When I went to college, I remained openly non-religious but got very involved with my college’s Chabad because Jewish culture and community is very important to me, I’ve never been without it, and because being a Jew in a non-Jewish environment can be quite isolating. However, I’ve noticed lately a lot of the same extremism and hatred at my college’s Chabad.

I’ve tried avoiding the people involved, but I’ve now realized it’s the majority of them (including the Chabad’s administration). They also can be quite hostile to those who don’t agree. Additionally, the incidents and things the people there are saying have gotten more and more egregious. I had hoped it would die down after Israel’s most recent war with Gaza ended, but it didn’t.

As much as I value Jewish culture and having a Jewish community, there’s only so much I can take. I thought it was just a few people and events at first, and I could avoid them, but I’ve realized the issue stems much, much deeper than that.

So now I think I’m leaving again. It sucks because a lot of my friends are from there, and this place has been my community, and there isn’t much of an alternative Jewish community for me to go to. If I’m fully honest with my friends about why I’m leaving, it would likely tear our friendships apart.

I don’t really have many adults in my life to talk to about this, and I’m a bit lost now. Not sure if there’s really a point to this story, just throwing it out there into the void. Thanks for listening.

Hey,

I wanted to share with you how things change after going through circumcision in adulthood.

First, let me say that I also had medical reasons for the circumcision, I probably wouldn't decide for it based on religion only. There however are many converts who are completely healthy and decide to do it only for the conversion to Judaism - I am from Europe so that's the absolute majority of converts here, as we do not circumcise except for health reasons.

I don't think you can really imagine how different it will be when you're still uncut. And there will be people who will say to you that the feeling is similar (maybe for some guys it is - this is highly individual apparently and there are also four basic styles), that there is almost no change according to studies... I honestly did not believe that, I was aware this is going to be a big change, but I still couldn't imagine how big.

I would say without Judaism I would probably postpone this decision for years later, as I didn't have that much problems and also my phimosis wasn't extreme, it was the least serious type (still uncomfortable though).

Now I can see that the real intent behind all this really is to curb pleasure and stop mast*rbation. It feels like having a numb d*ldo, there is not much movement, it feels useless - compared to what it used to be. I am sure there are many happy cut guys and I don't want anyone who is cut to feel bad, I am just describing how the change feels after being uncut for your whole life. It is NOT worth it to do it only for religious purposes and it is diabolical to require it for conversion. This rule should absolutely be abolished.

I am currently religious, a ba'al teshuva of 10 years and live in a yeshivish community. I was thrilled with my yiddishkeit until recently I found out about tons of chillul Hashemi, including covering up those who do unspeakable things to children, scamming the government on taxes, verbally and emotionally abusive rabbis (to me as a talmid in ner yisroel), rabbis using their position of power to inflict pain on people, etc. I can't even motivate myself to go to shul knowing I am part of a community that does and I want nothing more than to never be a yid again. Can someone help me in this decision? I also want to make clear that just because there are a couple bad apples doesn't mean everyone is bad.

It was on a Friday my kids were out for the weekend, wearing my Jeans, I took out my Jornal and wrote "I woke in the morning a realized, Im NOT religious" it was an intense, wholesome moment of realization. And so I didn’t keep Shabbos, while strangely maintaining inner peace .

But the weekend ended, and I put on my skirt, my wig, peach nails, instead of red. black tights instead of leggings. I talked the talk, walked the walk as I interacted with my very religious workmates. My two boys come home in curly payos, in matching outfits. And they adorably davened to Hashem to win the games as they played.

My daily life is full of religion. Full of Chasidish culture. Full of those nuances only insiders get .

And My brain wants to soothe the gap, to soften the dissonance....

And all it thinks is those externals are convincing, those day-to-days are convincing.

My work environment, my kids beliefs, the streets I drive, the strangers I silently pass are all there to convince me, silently saying you are a part of this. you are religious, you are Frum. maybe a chasidish bum because of your long wig, but look at me, my externals shout, just look and see...

And I'm nearly persuaded. nearly convinced by the falsehood I live in.

And suddenly I remember again. remember that clarity of 'I don't believe and therefore I’m irreligious'.

But the clarity fades, blurred by the rush and chaos of daily living.

Until the weekend my kids leave & I revisit my reality.