Modesty, such a lonely word

Having grown up traditional, I joined the legions of ultra-Orthodox of a modern variety here in Israel. I wore long skirts, covered my elbows, and one summer went so far as to subject myself to stockings with my sandals.

After another failed hook-up, a friend I was living with at the time suggested I take on THE mitzvah of the baal teshuva world – shomer negiah – the abstention of bodily contact between the sexes. This girl had been THE coolest girl in high school through college. Always one to emulate, and so….

I went all the way.

I stopped hooking up, dancing and shaking hands with men. I slowly de-sensualized myself and quickly began gaining weight as another barrier beneath my modest tent-like clothes. The girl who once aspired to be a nudist when jogging in a skirt.

I had crushes on boys, but didn’t move on them in fear of immodesty. I went on shidduch dates set up by friends, rabbis and the like.

Then this friend got engaged and confessed to sins of the flesh with the fiancé. I was angry at the hypocrisy.

Tefillin date

Over time I met more religious people who had grown up within the confines of the faith. The boys wore kippahs and tzitzit and made out with girls on park benches.

I learned about the tefillin date, whereby a boy brings his tefillin on a date, knowing that he will wake up in the girl’s apartment, and not wanting to forgo the daily commandment of morning prayers.

I started feeling duped and little by little rebelled.

I went running in sweatpants and dancing in skirts.

I still only dated religious boys. But rather than being shocked by their presence at parties, or sexual advances, I started living in their world.

I started wearing pants and later mini skirts and tank tops. No need to sweat anymore than necessary.

Shidduch? No thanks

Religious boys stopped wanting to go out with me. I wasn’t dressed appropriately, wasn’t modest enough. And while clothes don’t make the woman, my religiosity started to slip. I could no longer tell these men, while sitting over yet another coffee, that I aspired to grow in the ways of Torah.

My last shidduch date was two years ago. Mid date I realized that I was no longer suited for a man who aspired to wear black. I quickly had him pay, and went home. I wasn’t for him and it was finally apparent to me, he wasn’t for me.

An old friend of mine, married ten odd years, called the other day to see how I’m doing and let me know that I’m a sinner. “Abby,” she said, “you’re living a life of sin. You’re a sinner and what you do is wrong”.

I thanked her for her concern. And assured her, everyone is doing it.

Abigail can be contacted for advice, comments, compliments and ideas at [email protected]