Interview: Deborah Feldman, UNORTHODOX

2012 at 5am     Posted by Rebecca Joines Schinsky

I raved about Deborah Feldman’s Unorthodox last week and am thrilled to share this interview with you today. Unorthodox is out now from Simon and Schuster.

 
Rebecca Joines Schinsky: You come from the Satmar Hasidic community. What are the other variations of Hasidic practice, and how is Satmar differentiated?

Deborah Feldman: Different Hasidic sects are named after the original towns that the first rabbi in the dynasty came from. Accordingly, the sects’ customs and traditions are rooted in the regional influences of those towns, and develop into more unique lifestyles through the generations. Some examples of other sects would be the Lubavitch, the Bobov, and the Belz. Satmar is primarily known for it’s anti-Zionist position, and for having the largest, more powerful Hasidic stronghold in the U.S.

RJS: Early in the book, you tell a story about hiding a nest of mice in your dresser drawer to prevent them from being killed by your family, who teach you that compassion for animals is misplaced–that it is more important to have compassion for the people you live with, who don’t want to be surrounded by mice. The story stands in as an illustration of the ways that important concepts got wired wrong in your upbringing–killing animals is compassion, women are at fault for men’s bad behavior, etc. Can you share a few more examples?

DF: I remember when I became enamored of Obama early in his campaign, I mentioned his name at a dinner table and people lambasted me for seeing a black person as a human being.

I wasn’t allowed to pet dogs or cats as a child, or be kind to the (non-Jewish) homeless. I don’t think those feelings were ever rooted out of me though.

RJS: Which lessons from your childhood have been the most difficult to unlearn or rewire as you’ve adapted to life in the secular world?

DF: I don’t think I ever knew an authentic relationship growing up. I never experienced a genuine connection with another person nor witnessed one between others. Relationships were these fake performances where everyone was very safe and played by the rules. Now it’s hard for me to trust that people really want to be my friend. I’m working on getting past that. 

RJS: Where do you think your feminist impulse came from? You certainly didn’t learn it from anyone in your family.

DF: I think it was my mom. Even though I didn’t know her growing up, I knew she had left. I knew she had made some radical choices. Subconsciously, I think that really influenced my desire to seek out knowledge. Later, in Sarah Lawrence, I read feminist literature for the first time and realized that the texts articulated and validated thoughts I had been having for a long time. It was certainly an epiphany.

RJS: You write extensively about the rules that restrict women’s freedom in Satmar. Which ones do you find most troublesome? Did you ever sense that other women in your community felt oppressed?

DF: Restricting education bothered me the most. Why should my brain have to go to waste, I wondered – after all, God gave it to me for a reason. I longed to be accepted for my innate curiosity and creativity.

Honestly, most women around me seemed pretty content. I can’t be sure if that was just a performance though, because I felt like I was under a lot of pressure to pretend to be happy as well. I had a girlfriend when I was a teenager who would confide in me that she wanted more, but it was a dangerous conversation and we didn’t have it often.

RJS: What about the men? Of your grandfather, who survived the Holocaust, you write, “I can’t comprehend how a person who comes from so much pain and loss can perpetuate his own oppression.”  What do you mean by that, and in what ways are men oppressed by Hasidic practice?

DF: My grandfather was very big on deprivation. I think he was following in the footsteps of the famed holy men who practiced self-flagellation etc. He never slept for more than an hour at a time. He ate crumbs even when the table was set for a lavish meal.

Not every man was like my grandfather, though. I think that most men would feel oppressed by the guilt that was constantly inflicted on them. From a very young age boys are admonished never to touch themselves (even when going to the bathroom so there is lots of spritzing on the toilet seat) or think lustful thoughts, so when the hormones kick in there is this crippling guilt and self-loathing. Also, being required to sit still and learn all day is very unnatural for young men; there is no athletic activity and no outlet for all that testosterone. That energy would come out in religious disputes and men could be violent over that because it was about God. So they could throw stones at women who broke the rules instead of playing soccer.

RJS: You are quite candid about your ignorance of sex and sexuality going into your [arranged] marriage and the ways in which your family and community violated your privacy and intruded into your marital bedroom, often with humiliating results. How does the Satmar community use the withholding of information about sex and Talmudic teachings about it as methods of social control?

DF: Couples become completely dependent on the community to achieve consummation and reproduction. Rabbis have to be consulted about everything. This makes it really easy for the community to keep tabs on every individual and place the necessary pressure on couples who show signs of straying from the norm. Fear of public shame is a powerful incentive in the community; it certainly made me want to submit without questioning.

RJS: Now let’s talk about books! Some of your earliest acts of rebellion involved reading forbidden books. What were the books that helped you find your identity and reshape your ideas about the Hasidic community?

DF: When I was very young I read fairy tales or books with traditional happy endings because I was waiting for mine. Later in adolescence I read about spunky female heroines who were rewarded for their rebellions and wished I could be one, then I became an adult and switched to real life. Jeannette Walls’ The Glass Castle made me believe that I could end my life in a very different place from where I started. Ayan Hirsi Ali’s Infidel gave me the confidence I needed to speak up fearlessly and expand my horizons.

RJS: Are there “losing my religion” memoirs that let you know you were not alone and gave you strength these last few years?

DF: There aren’t as many out there as one would hope. I read Escape, by Carolyn Jessop, and I was awed by her courage. I still don’t think I could ever be as brave as she was.

RJS: Recommend a few books for readers interested in learning more about the Hasidic culture?

DF: Nathan Englander is my favorite fiction writer in the whole world. He grew up around the Orthodox and writes these lovely short stories about the Hasidic world sometimes. In his collection, For the Relief of Unbearable Urges, he describes a Hasidic woman’s passionate relationship with her wig/hair.

Pearl Abraham’s The Romance Reader is a lovely novel about a young Hasidic girl’s coming of age. Personally, I love Naomi Ragen’s novels.

RJS: Finally, let’s imagine that your community had been willing to negotiate on some of its rules. Are there any changes that could have convinced you to stay?

DF: I don’t know if they would have convinced me to stay permanently (I can’t play the what-if game very well) but maybe I would have stayed longer if things were different. I still advocate for small reforms. Allow women to get an education, drive, and have careers. Allow them to be fairly represented in court rulings, according to Constitutional Law, nor Rabbinical Law. A little big of leeway can go a long way.

Check out Deborah Feldman’s blog and follow her on Twitter @Deborah_Feldman for more information about Unorthodox and her experiences leaving the Hasidic community.

 

 

Related posts:

  1. Quickie: UNORTHODOX by Deborah Feldman
  2. Memoirs and Truthiness: How Trusting Are You?