A topical confession
Hi everyone. My name is Lawrence, and for the life of me, I can't understand gender politics.
This has been fermenting in my brain (yuck) for a few weeks already, and Elf's recent response to the controversy surrounding Lawrence Summers's alleged comments at a Harvard conference has given me what should be sufficient motivation to finish another little essay.
A rather significant portion of my energy as a gabbai goes toward assigning `aliyyot* on Mondays and Thursdays. The process is simple enough: hand the prospective `oleh** a little wooden card with a Hebrew word written on it, check to make sure that this is cool for all parties involved, and move on. The only truly complicated bit is making sure that people get their fair share of `aliyyot. I mustn't automatically gravitate toward close friends, and I need to walk the length of the room***.
Except that there's another complication, of course. I study at one of the world's few egalitarian† yeshivot, and some of my fellow students are, for reasons unknown to me, rather insecure with regard to the stability of egalitarian philosophy. There seems to be a pervasive notion that if an equal number of men and women do not participate in the service today then the disparity will grow tomorrow and the day after, until finally we divide the building in two and call the smaller portion a seminary††.
The crazy thing is that people insist on this standard in an environment that is roughly 70% male. In the pursuit of this particular definition of equality, it is not unheard of for every woman in the room to be given some part in the service, only to be followed by grumbling that more men participated than women. I cannot remember the last Torah reading day in which women were not overrepresented — at least with reference to the number of them in the room — among the potential ten participants. (There is also an insistence upon appointing both a female and a male gabbai, which may get complicated in the next few months as candidates are exhausted.)
When I mentioned the issue of intrayeshival demography to one of my fellow students, the response was a bitter "Yeah, and we're supposedly egalitarian." I can only assume that this was meant to be a comment on the yeshiva's admission policies — a criticism suggesting that there is a guiding force behind the 70:30 ratio. This is true, of course, and here it is: fewer women apply to come here. What's more, four of our female students are here primarily because their husbands are JTS or UJ students in the midst of their year in Israel†††. (Why such a discrepancy exists is a subject worthy of examination, but it has to be recognized first.)
I've heard a great deal of discussion about how important this matter is, and how we have to show that we are egalitarian. Apparently, the sign on the door reading "Welcome to the Conservative Yeshiva" is not a sufficient reminder.
*More properly, birkot `aliyyah, or blessings of the `aliyyah. An `aliyyah is the reading of a passage from the Torah, of which there are three on ordinary Mondays and Thursdays. Being asked to recite the berakhot before and after one of the readings is considered to be an honor.
**Person who recites the berakhah. `Oleh is the masculine and general form, `olah being female-specific.
***I tend to stand in the back during services, and there's a tendency to give out `aliyyot to people in the neighborhood.
†In this case, "egalitarian" means that men and women have, with one exception about which I may post at some later point, equal opportunities in prayer, Torah reading and study.
††"Seminary" has come to be used by the English-speaking orthodox Jewish community to refer to a school of religious studies for women, as opposed to the term "yeshiva," which tends to be reserved for men's schools. It goes without saying in most circles that seminaries do not offer the same educational opportunities as yeshivot.
†††We do have one male student who is here because his wife is a UJ rabbinical candidate.
This has been fermenting in my brain (yuck) for a few weeks already, and Elf's recent response to the controversy surrounding Lawrence Summers's alleged comments at a Harvard conference has given me what should be sufficient motivation to finish another little essay.
A rather significant portion of my energy as a gabbai goes toward assigning `aliyyot* on Mondays and Thursdays. The process is simple enough: hand the prospective `oleh** a little wooden card with a Hebrew word written on it, check to make sure that this is cool for all parties involved, and move on. The only truly complicated bit is making sure that people get their fair share of `aliyyot. I mustn't automatically gravitate toward close friends, and I need to walk the length of the room***.
Except that there's another complication, of course. I study at one of the world's few egalitarian† yeshivot, and some of my fellow students are, for reasons unknown to me, rather insecure with regard to the stability of egalitarian philosophy. There seems to be a pervasive notion that if an equal number of men and women do not participate in the service today then the disparity will grow tomorrow and the day after, until finally we divide the building in two and call the smaller portion a seminary††.
The crazy thing is that people insist on this standard in an environment that is roughly 70% male. In the pursuit of this particular definition of equality, it is not unheard of for every woman in the room to be given some part in the service, only to be followed by grumbling that more men participated than women. I cannot remember the last Torah reading day in which women were not overrepresented — at least with reference to the number of them in the room — among the potential ten participants. (There is also an insistence upon appointing both a female and a male gabbai, which may get complicated in the next few months as candidates are exhausted.)
When I mentioned the issue of intrayeshival demography to one of my fellow students, the response was a bitter "Yeah, and we're supposedly egalitarian." I can only assume that this was meant to be a comment on the yeshiva's admission policies — a criticism suggesting that there is a guiding force behind the 70:30 ratio. This is true, of course, and here it is: fewer women apply to come here. What's more, four of our female students are here primarily because their husbands are JTS or UJ students in the midst of their year in Israel†††. (Why such a discrepancy exists is a subject worthy of examination, but it has to be recognized first.)
I've heard a great deal of discussion about how important this matter is, and how we have to show that we are egalitarian. Apparently, the sign on the door reading "Welcome to the Conservative Yeshiva" is not a sufficient reminder.
*More properly, birkot `aliyyah, or blessings of the `aliyyah. An `aliyyah is the reading of a passage from the Torah, of which there are three on ordinary Mondays and Thursdays. Being asked to recite the berakhot before and after one of the readings is considered to be an honor.
**Person who recites the berakhah. `Oleh is the masculine and general form, `olah being female-specific.
***I tend to stand in the back during services, and there's a tendency to give out `aliyyot to people in the neighborhood.
†In this case, "egalitarian" means that men and women have, with one exception about which I may post at some later point, equal opportunities in prayer, Torah reading and study.
††"Seminary" has come to be used by the English-speaking orthodox Jewish community to refer to a school of religious studies for women, as opposed to the term "yeshiva," which tends to be reserved for men's schools. It goes without saying in most circles that seminaries do not offer the same educational opportunities as yeshivot.
†††We do have one male student who is here because his wife is a UJ rabbinical candidate.