Escaping My Religion Leah Vincent on the Katie Couric Show

Fox

Thu, Jun 06 2013, 10:13 am

sequoia wrote:

You can find a community that *most closely aligns* to your personal beliefs. Not perfectly, but almost.

Fox appears to say, at times, "Everything about the yeshivish world is absurd and often hurtful, but it's my community." Well... why? When you know perfectly well that in any normal school no girl would be made to feel bad if she didn't bring money for souvenirs, for example. Some people shop, others just browse. Duh. What's the big deal? Her daughter was singled out in such an unnecessary and hurtful way, and this is just one example among many. So... why be a part of it? What is the good? Especially when any criticism is waved away with a "oh how boring, the same stories all over again." "The same stories all over again" isn't boring, it's TRAGIC!

Let's examine what you're saying here:

On one hand, if I say, "My community really stinks at X, Y, or Z," then people immediately ask, "Well, why do you stay?" In certain contexts (e.g., in the process of psychotherapy), that might be a legitimate question. In the context of imamother, it's a classic blame-the-victim response.

On the other hand, if I say, "I don't think Problem X reflects the norm in my community," I'm accused of "discounting" legitimate criticism.

So it seems that I am neither allowed to criticize my community nor am I allowed to defend it. If I criticize my community, I'm a fool for remaining part of it. If I defend it, I'm naive about the real problems.

In truth, I am highly suspicious when anyone claims his/her community has no problems. Granted, I've never lived as part of a Chassidus, so I can't speak to that. But I've lived in a MO kehilla early in my marriage, and there were plenty of problems -- just different ones than the ones I face in the Yeshivish world.

Membership in a community involves a lot of factors. There are family connections; geographical constraints; individual tolerance, and many more.

This is true of our professional and geographic communities, too. I had always planned an academic career, but I gave it up because I literally couldn't tolerate the climate of political correctness (and hypocrisy related thereto) in the academic world. Someone else might have found that particular problem annoying or upsetting, but it wouldn't have made him/her leave.

When discussing marriage, my mother used to say, "You have to decide what you can put up with, because you're going to have to put up with something." I think the same is true of community affiliations. In a perfect world, we wouldn't have to declare ourselves, but that seems not to be the way things work. So all of us have to maintain a delicate balance between what we like about our communities; what we hate; and "up with which we can put."

Now, why do I find these stories boring? Because they've been told before -- and better! They are basically coming-of-age stories told against a background of an environment the protagonist finds oppressive. Whether you prefer George Eliot, Dickens, J.D. Salinger, or any of the gazillion movies with this theme, this is a well-worn theme in both fiction and non-fiction.

So, yes, I feel tremendous sympathy and empathy for what Leah Vincent experienced, and I feel great sadness that she saw no other alternative than to leave observance altogether. However, I don't think her account adds anything new. Believe me, I could probably add to the list of problems she experienced in her community.

The only real lesson I take away from these stories is the reminder that our children are independent neshamos -- they are not extensions of us. What we find tolerable or desirable is not necessarily what our children will desire or be able to tolerate. The real challenge is finding a way to successfully pass along our mesorah while simultaneously respecting our children and their own avodas Hashem and nisyonos.

lost

Thu, Jun 06 2013, 10:21 am

rainbow dash wrote:

Her story reminds me of an article in this wks Binah about a good girl who rebelled for just 2 weeks, after which she went back to being a good girl but unfortunately the rest of her live was defined by those 2 weeks.
The article is called Voices of Victory.

I really want to believe that Bina magazine did not publish a story the purpose of which is to shame girls into being "good girls." Please tell me we are better then this.

Fox

Thu, Jun 06 2013, 10:54 am

BlueRose52 wrote:

Fox wrote:

Notwithstanding the Mishpacha article, which, again, was a zeitgeist piece -- not a piece about advice for parents....

Can you please explain what you mean by this? I genuinely don't understand the difference. True, the article was reflecting a zeitgeist, but I don't see that as separate from advice. The advice people give reflects the zeitgeist of their community. I have no doubt that people take their cues as to how to behave from articles like this. And not just everyday lay people, but even rabbonim or other mechanchim would hear a perspective like this, coming from a respected mechanech and it would influence them as to how to approach this issue when people seek their advice on the topic. I really don't understand what you mean when you say it's only a zeitgeist piece and not advice. The whole tone of the article was advice, wasn't it?

IMHO, the purpose of the piece was to introduce a counter-thesis to the parenting concept of "unconditional love."

The article was simplistic, at best, and it was clear that the author had done no research whatsoever on the use of the phrase "unconditional love" as it is used in parenting (a somewhat different application than in theology, for example).

Personally, I found the article to be another entry in the "gosh darn it, nobody held with this newfangled nonsense when I was a young 'un" sweepstakes. Had the article appeared in 1970 or perhaps even 1980, it would have been a valuable addition to the conversation about parenting. Now, it's sadly out of touch and out of time. It's been long pointed out that there really is no such thing as "unconditional love" in parenting, and the definition has been considerably refined when used in that context.

In most contemporary parenting literature, the phrase "unconditional love" is usually used to mean, "respect your child and don't use your approval as a form of manipulation." Most of us know when we see the concept run amok in either direction: the good student who is terrified of getting a poor grade because his parents will be unhappy or the 4-year-old who isn't toilet trained because his parents don't want to "force" him.

I completely agree with you, though, that far too many parents and educators read articles like this and attempt to implement specific actions based on general thoughts. Which brings us back to the problem of hastily, sloppily-written op-ed pieces written by choshuve people. Serious editorial reflection takes a lot of time and money, and would significantly cut into the profit margins of these magazines. Clearly, based on the feedback, the article was barely proofread, let alone analyzed by someone with the knowledge and respect to say to the author, "Hey, did you actually mean what it sounds like you mean?"

One of the first things that I noted in Rabbi Horowitz's article is that he says he always tries to avoid giving "general" advice. However one might agree or disagree with various positions he takes, that statement boosts his credibility tremendously. Someone who says, "Here are my thoughts and experiences, but every situation is different," is a lot more trustworthy and helpful than someone, however respected he might be, scrawling down his frustrations with "modern" attitudes.

sequoia

Thu, Jun 06 2013, 12:42 pm

Fox wrote:

On one hand, if I say, "My community really stinks at X, Y, or Z," then people immediately ask, "Well, why do you stay?" In certain contexts (e.g., in the process of psychotherapy), that might be a legitimate question. In the context of imamother, it's a classic blame-the-victim response.

The context of imamother? Okay. I thought imamother was a communications tool.

Forget imamother. I'm asking in a human context. Why are you, specifically you, Mrs. Foxy Fox, part of your ultra-yeshivish community? (I say ultra because I live in an area which is also yeshivish but nothing like what you describe. Women wear color, etc).

It's a TOTALLY legitimate question. No one thinks you're a victim -- you're the least victim-like person ever -- or blames you as such. There is nothing, nothing illegitimate about the completely logical question, "Why are you a part of this community?" I've been wondering about this since like 2008. Davka about you, not about everybody else.

Trying to wrap my mind around what is wrong with asking. There are all kinds of answers: "Because my DH is," "Because it still aligns with my beliefs more than any other," "Because being constantly ticked off improves my middos," or a number of other responses. What is weird is proclaiming that the question is, for some undefined reason, unaskable.

marina

Thu, Jun 06 2013, 12:50 pm

rainbow dash wrote:

http://jewishmom.com/2013/06/06/why-leah-vincent-fled-judaism/

The best line which sums this all up well:

Quote:

When you hate the person who gives you a gift, no matter how beautiful and precious and meaningful the gift is, you hate the gift as well

yogabird

Thu, Jun 06 2013, 2:12 pm

marina wrote:

rainbow dash wrote:

http://jewishmom.com/2013/06/06/why-leah-vincent-fled-judaism/

The best line which sums this all up well:

Quote:

When you hate the person who gives you a gift, no matter how beautiful and precious and meaningful the gift is, you hate the gift as well

If I understand this quote correctly, by this logic every single frum person who was abused/neglected/bullied/consistently mistreated should be hating and thereby rejecting judaism.

Something tells me that is not the reality.

Fox

Thu, Jun 06 2013, 2:16 pm

sequoia wrote:

Forget imamother. I'm asking in a human context. Why are you, specifically you, Mrs. Foxy Fox, part of your ultra-yeshivish community? (I say ultra because I live in an area which is also yeshivish but nothing like what you describe. Women wear color, etc).

It's a TOTALLY legitimate question. No one thinks you're a victim -- you're the least victim-like person ever -- or blames you as such. There is nothing, nothing illegitimate about the completely logical question, "Why are you a part of this community?" I've been wondering about this since like 2008. Davka about you, not about everybody else.

Trying to wrap my mind around what is wrong with asking. There are all kinds of answers: "Because my DH is," "Because it still aligns with my beliefs more than any other," "Because being constantly ticked off improves my middos," or a number of other responses. What is weird is proclaiming that the question is, for some undefined reason, unaskable.

Oh, definitely not unaskable -- at least on the personal level. I have no problem sharing, but I'm sure many people would either feel their reasons were too private or they would have trouble articulating their reasons to themselves or others.

Like a lot of people, I suspect, I fell into the yeshivish world through a process of elimination, geography, and relationships.

When I got married, my DH attended a MO-ish yeshiva, and I would have probably categorized us as "just plain frum." However, we didn't live at the yeshiva -- we lived in a MO kehilla that was geographically more practical given my job at the time. We didn't have children yet, and we enjoyed the urban environment, etc.

Unfortunately, this experience with the MO world didn't result in a good fit for us. We increasingly found our neighbors reflecting values that we were actively trying to avoid: they were focused to a disturbing degree on signs of wealth; career success; being attractive; having an attractive spouse, etc. They tended to disdain anyone who wasn't a lawyer, doctor, or stockbroker, and they considered rabbonim and others in Jewish communal service to be "the help."

Am I saying that all MO communities or people are like this? Absolutely not. However, that was the only MO kehilla that would have been practical to join. The other MO communities were in suburban locations with housing prices far, far out of our reach at the time.

Now, the obvious question is? Okay, but Chicago isn't exactly Ir HaKodesh (as we all know, that's Brooklyn or maybe Lakewood!). Why not move? This brings up a geographical/cultural consideration. DH and I were (and are) avidly, rabidly committed to raising our family in the Midwest. This has less to do with having family nearby than the temimisdik outlook that is easier to achieve in the Midwest.

Meanwhile back at the ranch, my DH had formed a kesher with another rav and had switched kollels -- to a more "yeshivish" yeshiva -- which he loved, and still does.

I'll also add that, outside of Chabad, there is no significant Chassidish presence here.

To quote David Sedaris, "You meet someone, fall in love, and a few years later you find yourself eating from a completely different part of the pig." The pig analogy might be off for us, but whether you met your spouse at college, a coffee shop, an NCSY Shabbaton, through shidduchim, or through a b'show, your story is going to be pretty much the same. You get married, make certain decisions, and you find yourself . . . somewhere.

And that "somewhere" is going to have elements you love and elements that you hate but tolerate (and hopefully do some small part to change).

For example, I really loathe shallow people. Sorry. I know I should love them as Jews. But they really, really make me crazy. When I lived in the MO kehilla, there were plenty of shallow people. For example, I remember co-hosting a mesiba in the neighborhood. Although we lived in a tiny little apartment away from the lake, there were many people who lived in fabulous condos on Lake Shore Drive, and finding someone willing to provide the space for the party was like pulling teeth -- it was just "too much" for these women. The party was finally scheduled to be held in one of these condos: a three-story penthouse with a private acre-large rooftop garden. The entire time, the hostess complained about her husband's demand that she host the party given the fact that one of her cleaning ladies hadn't shown up that day. On and on and on! Sadly, she had plenty of company in this kehilla!

Now, I run into the same percentage of shallow people in the Yeshivish community. Instead of people kvetching about the horrors of maintaining mansions in the sky, I am privy to the constant ante-upping of chumras; the all-black dress code; and stupidity passing itself as piousness. To provide balance in my stories, I'll share this little nugget: I recently learned that some of the rebbeim at my son's cheder don't consider him as "frum" as other kids. Why? Because of his excellent English skills and vocabulary. As I explained to him, you have to be a pretty self-hating Jew to think that bad English and a limited vocabulary are inevitable without "outside influence."

There's not more or less shallowness in either community; it just comes packaged differently. So I've aligned myself with a community partly because of my husband's preference; partly because of our hashkafas; partly because of geographical considerations; and partly for lack of other alternatives. I don't deny how crazy the shallow Yeshivish folks make me, but I don't kid myself that things are necessarily different elsewhere.

Of course, one of the key criticisms of the Yeshivish/Chassidish veldt is the emphasis on conformity. Yup, drives me insane sometimes! But I didn't notice a considerable difference in the conformity demanded by the MO kehilla to which we belonged. The rules were different, but they were still rules! No learning full-time -- I can't tell you how many people harangued me about that! No wearing a shaitel -- that was considered "making a statement." Strict limits on "acceptable" careers, especially for men -- no plumbers, carpenters, or even teachers need apply. Oh, and having limited financial resources for whatever reason simply wasn't permitted.

Again, let me emphasize that in no way do I feel this experience represents all MO communities. But given the choice between two specific kehillas, we drifted toward the yeshivish one, even with its problems.

There are things that the Yeshivish world does well at in general, and there are things that my particular community does well at. There are problems that are common throughout the Yeshivish world as well as some limited to Chicago or even to my shul or block. I assume that the same could be said for MO communities as well as various Chassidish communities.

In my experience, very few of us are truly, 100 percent aligned with our communities. Particularly here on Imamother! Most of us, to go back to Sedaris, have found ourselves eating a different part of the pig -- okay, or cow -- as a result of multiple factors. Sometimes those choices involve our avodas Hashem, such as Chassidus or Zionism , but just as often they come about through family, school, where a job is located, or where you happen to put down roots. We find someplace we can put up with and we stay, griping all the while about whatever bee happens to be in our collective bonnet.

So that's the Fox story in a nutshell. I don't consider myself an ambassador for the Yeshivish world -- and by some people's standards, I'm probably not Yeshivish. Likewise, I don't expect MO, Chassidish/Chabad people to defend everything that goes on in their communities. I'm also not a big fan of "if . . . then" claims: "If you did X, then Y wouldn't be a problem in your community." Even if it happens to be true, it's not usually helpful for an outsider to point it out, and it often is the equivalent of "if only your hair weren't brown, you'd be blonde." Well, yeah.

Nor do I go around looking for bad things about other communities in order to feel better about my own. Were I to suddenly zap myself into a MO or Chassidish community, there would be certain things that would be easier and certain things that would be harder.

In one of the many threads about Chassidish communities, someone (IsraMom, I think) said, "If you're looking for differences, you'll find them. If you're looking for similarities, you'll find them." One huge similarity is that none of our communities is a utopia, and none of our communities provide all things for all people. It is sad when people leave observance altogether because of bitterness and/or lack of meaningful choices. May Hashem rebuild the Temple, speedily in our days.

Last edited by Fox on Sun, Jun 09 2013, 12:24 pm; edited 2 times in total

Fox

Thu, Jun 06 2013, 2:18 pm

marina wrote:

rainbow dash wrote:

http://jewishmom.com/2013/06/06/why-leah-vincent-fled-judaism/

The best line which sums this all up well:

Quote:

When you hate the person who gives you a gift, no matter how beautiful and precious and meaningful the gift is, you hate the gift as well

What a beautiful, concise statement! Every parent and teacher should look at this quote daily!

sequoia

Thu, Jun 06 2013, 4:36 pm

Fox, thank you for the interesting explanation.

I just want to add that it's not the nineties anymore, and these days, if you have a job, you're good! Attitudes towards plumbers, painters, and refrigerator repairmen have changed everywhere, including in communities, both secular and religious, that prize education and prestigious jobs.

marina

Thu, Jun 06 2013, 10:15 pm

I belong to a few off-the-derech FB groups and the stories are heart-wrenching.

There's a girl from a chassidishe family, for example, who came out to her parents last year, when she was 16. She's in foster care now, as a result. She's aging out of foster care, b/c turning 17 or 18 or whatever and has no where to live and is collecting clothing and furniture donations through fundme, a charity site.

That's just one story. One.

marina

Thu, Jun 06 2013, 10:30 pm

OTD groups are trying to get enough funding to set up some sort of runaway house for kids who were kicked out

That's how bad it is.

HindaRochel

Fri, Jun 07 2013, 4:40 am

It also happens in Israel; or children are sent to special schools that deal with "problem" children.

Isramom8

Fri, Jun 07 2013, 7:28 am

I feel really sad that this woman, Leah, experienced what she did. She is very bright and articulate. I don't think she's an idiot and an upstart. On the other hand, there seems to be a lot we aren't hearing, namely, the perspective of her family and community. It does make a difference to me that Leah was a Miller; they are stable and prominent as a leading yeshivish family, in good ways. That gives them some credibility. I don't buy wholesale, just because one member went OTD, that they're probably actually screwed up.

I love that Destiny album! Leah was not fair ot honest about it. It's not true that all the songs are about men, as one comment on the page with the article that refers to it mentions. And she got the focus on death part really wrong in its message. The message is of Kiddush Hashem even at the point of death, not of scaring kids into dying if they're bad. The Destiny album certainly educates kids on a deeper level than the more simple Paul Simon song Leah prefers. Her child may grow up to think that her mother's choice was not fully thought out. Or not.

MaBelleVie

Fri, Jun 07 2013, 8:17 am

marina wrote:

It truly is heartbreaking.

However, I'm wary of taking every story at face value when there clearly is a whole lot more going on.

momagain

Fri, Jun 07 2013, 9:08 am

Leah is married now, did she marry a Jewish man?

bluesclues

Fri, Jun 07 2013, 10:11 am

momagain wrote:

Leah is married now, did she marry a Jewish man?

Yes she is married to a Jewish man from a religious family.

UQT

Fri, Jun 07 2013, 2:56 pm

I too was horrified after watching the video. Then I realized who she was. Leah! I went to camp with her. Leah was quite a gifted child, she was as intelligent and gifted then as she is now (a Harvard grad!). Far beyond us intellectually, she had a hard time relating to other children. Anyone who has raised a gifted child can tell you that.
I was sure, after watching it, that she came from an extreme family, where all was not allowed. I know girls whose parents didn't let them read frum books and go wherever the rest of us were going. I thought she came from such a family.
Her parents are very normal. Her father is quite educated. She has a BIL who I believe is a lawyer. Growing up as a child of a Rabbi in an out-of-town community can be rough on children. They do need to be better than t heir friends who may not be shomer Shabbos. Her father wrote quite a long letter - I would love to see what else was on it. I'm sure they made sure to pull the most inflammatory comments and leave out the rest.
Leaving yiddishkeit over a sweater and college?! IF that is the best proof she can come up (no abuse, or hair raising stories) is proof enough that it's not that her parents are terrible people.
Yes, Leah suffered in her childhood -due to her personality, intelligence and OOT location, but let's not make her parents the big bad wolf.

balibusta

Fri, Jun 07 2013, 3:20 pm

UQT- what camp? What age she abt?

UQT

Fri, Jun 07 2013, 6:29 pm

CBY, 32ish

bamamama

Fri, Jun 07 2013, 7:02 pm

Something that people are failing to grasp is that some (many?) of these people who are OTD are knowledge seekers. At some point, they've opened Pandora's box and the house of cards fell apart for them - they uncovered some piece of knowledge that negates/dismisses enough of our mesorah that they can't come back. It's not necessarily always about a screwed up family or mental problems (though Leah certainly is the author of her own story so I won't dispute her testimony!).

I find myself in this position right now. I find myself still observing mitzvot but also asking myself "what's the point?". Arguments I've heard so far in favor of Torah and mitzvot aren't cutting it. I did read that it's impossible to convince a skeptic so maybe I'm stuck.

In any case, everyone who is wringing their hands and wondering why the OTD person just, nebuch, doesn't do teshuvah...I can guarantee that the situation looks very, very different from the POV of the OTD/Orthoprax person.