Orthodox Judaism: "Thank You For Not Making Me a Woman"

Shira was the youngest of seven, the granddaughter of Holocaust survivors, and riddled with guilt. Because growing up Orthodox Jewish in Brooklyn, she wasn't supposed to question the life she'd been given. But she did. And the incessant amount of rules didn't help: Cover your knees. Cover your elbows. Don't wear anything too bright. Don't wear pants. Don't eat cheeseburgers. (Burgers are cool, though.) Don't question. Collars buttoned to the top. She even had to wash her strawberries a certain way. And then the blessings... A blessing the moment you open your eyes. A blessing before every sip of water. Another when you're done. A special cup to wash your hands before bread, no talking until you've blessed it, and a five-minute blessing when you're done eating it. (Pastries get their own blessing, of course.) But some rules weren't simply arbitrary. And as Shira got older, some rules cut deeper. Marry within your community. Cover your hair once married. Sit separately from the men. Accept that men mattered more. Their voices counted. Their presence counted. Their authority counted. Women were expected to cover up, quiet down, marry young and have babies. Shira is a singer, and in he…