My name’s Hannah Dreyfus, and I’ll be your Managing Editor this year. This column, written monthly by yours truly, is dedicated to the distinctive experiences and challenges of young Jewish women attending a very, shall we say, complex university. Nowhere but here do elbows carry so much significance. Nowhere but here does lettuce cost quite so much. Nowhere but here does the discussion of premarital sex make the news, and nowhere but here does the term ‘exegesis’ get us excited (or some of us, at least).
There are a lot of things that make our experiences as practicing Jews at an Orthodox University unique and, when you mull them over enough, quite fascinating. I can think of no place better than here to start those conversations.
Now, while I am quite adept at speaking to myself (preferably not in densely populated areas), I want those conversations to involve you. To that end, I deeply encourage response articles, questions, comments, compliments, and tips. But seriously folks—this may be interesting, but it’s even more interesting when you write back.
Like every joke blanketing a piece of truthfulness, this column is supposed to discuss serious topics with a copious and necessary dose of satire. Or, if you’d prefer, a satirical column with a touch of content now and again. I invite responses to be written in the same manner.
So, shall we get to know each other?
Madness and Morals
One year back from seminary, I developed a frenzied desire to get a nose ring.
Now, in no way do I write to besmirch the decision of those who decided to consummate the madness with a small silver ring or diamond stud in one nostril. There is undoubtedly something aesthetically pleasing about the small, unexpected shimmer, the same appeal that makes most any piercing a desired amenity. But the reason I wanted to get a nose ring, if I am to be bluntly honest, had nothing to do with its aesthetic qualities.
I wanted to get a nose ring because I wanted attention. Yes, that’s right. The quintessential reason adolescence is such a flaming disaster.
What kind of attention you might ask? I wanted to challenge others to judge me. I was tired of others seeing the length of my skirt, the cut of my hair, and the seminary name stamped on transcript, and assuming they’d gotten the whole picture. I craved that unexpected edge, that, ‘really—you went there?’ moment, forcing said questioner to check his/her preconceived notions and split-second conclusions at the door. I was the tired subject of stereotyping.
The idealist that I am, I made it my altruistic mission to take on the fight for the betterment of mankind. Yes, I would be the selfless martyr, venturing forth, come what may, to debunk an ugly system that made individuals into brands and turned a world of vibrant color into a scheme of black and white. My nose ring would be a hallmark of progress, the shining symbol of my unspoken crusade against the system, my unsung mission to stick it to the man.
Thankfully, my lofty but foolish ambitions were checked and dismissed. Realist knocking, I realized my motives were purely reactive, negating my sense of self in the process. My critical realization: misguided idealism doubles as naiveté, and ends up helping no one, least of all the unchecked dreamer. With a sigh, I pushed away my moment of near rashness, resolving to showcase my uniqueness in a manner that would actually paid tribute to it.
But there is a moral that emerges from my madness. And it is with this message that I encourage you, Stern readers (and the occasional unsuspecting male who has picked up this paper—I commend you) to begin this year. That moral: check instantaneous judgments.
You’ve heard it sung in platitudes, you’ve heard it preached by camp counselors, and you’ve probably heard it from your mom. When you judge others based on appearance, or even on some careless comment, you severely limit yourself. You limit opportunities to learn, possibilities to spark unexpected friendships, and chances to expand what you think and know, or think you know. Building walls limits motion, inevitably.
A personal anecdote that knocked this lesson into my mind, like a basketball to the stomach.
I have always fancied myself a non-judgmental person. But, when I sat down this summer at the airport gate, awaiting my group flight to Berlin, my furtive glances around at my fellow-trip mates returned disappointed results. Whether it was the distasteful male (now a good friend), loudly eating Oreos and discussing how many beers he would down upon arrival, or the female to his right laughing a little too loudly and frequently, or the pretty-boy one seat over sitting with feet-up, eyes shut, and iPod in, I do not recall. What I do recall is my split-second conclusion: this is not going to be a ‘social’ trip.
I look back at that moment with incredulity. My CJF mission trip to Berlin this past June was one of the most incredible experiences of my life on many counts. But one of them was the group of people with whom I was privileged to share this experience.
There were nineteen of us, and enough diversity among our small number for a group twice our size. We came from different backgrounds and circumstances, from the rightest right to the leftist left, but, somehow, we bonded seamlessly. Together we exchanged ideas, reflections, emotions, and laughter. We walked together through the Wannsee Villa where the Final Solution was conceived, danced together (quite literally—someone needed to tell our German DJ that Michael Jackson is dead) and prayed together in one of the only synagogues that survived the War. What united us: respect, and a willingness to put all judgments on hold long enough to hear another voice, see another person.
Now, the undergraduate community here at Yeshiva University is undeniably more outwardly homogenous than most. But when you start appreciating and allowing for differences, you begin to realize the wealth of difference that exists among our student body. The opportunity to learn from those who are different than you, in both subtle and fundamental ways, exists here as well, if we’re willing to take it.
As one of my peers commented on our Germany trip, what we experienced by having such a diverse group was ‘the closest thing to a university experience I’ve ever gotten at YU.’ University comes from a combination of the Latin roots ‘ūnivers’, meaning totality and ‘veritas,’ truth. Truth emerges from the consideration of many different vantage points, not the isolation of one idea.
One of my new friends from Germany has a nose ring. For now, I don’t see myself trotting over to the village anytime soon to get one. Hers will have to do for the two of us.