With my grandmother and my mom in mind, I chose a design for my tallit bag that represents the influence that women have had throughout my life as a proud Jew.

Particular emphasis is put on setting the table for these occasions. So much of my Jewish and familial identity is tied to these meals.

With all the joy in the room, I didn’t understand why my eyes would begin to water.

There is a point of tension for me in both being valued in the Jewish community and being devalued by the Torah’s discussion and treatment of women. Owning my own tallit reminded me that I am valued twice.

When I unfold my little silver candle holder and light the flames, I bring in the light of a commitment to practicing my Judaism alongside my feminism.

Even though Kiddush has traditionally been done by men and I was just a girl, I took it upon myself to make Kiddush each week. 

This is how we grieve: crying, laughing, brisket and Yahrzeit candles. Again and again and again.

My uncle had the idea that maybe I could weave a tallis of my own. But I didn’t want it to somehow invalidate my bat mitzvah.

As a teen with a Muslim-Palestinian father and a Jewish-American mother, the hamsa has always meant a lot to me.

For the past year, I’ve been reading the parasha each week. It's been fascinating, meaningful— and incredibly exasperating.

At the Hamburg synagogue, I found myself in a place literally built to go against the foundational egalitarian principles my Judaism had always been about.

My two identities and their literary traditions, Torah and magical realism, work together to shape my writing style.

I’m calling out a system that doesn’t make Jewish students feel seen at school—a system that doesn’t educate people on religions that aren’t the most mainstream ones in our culture.

I'll admit that my time as a camper was sadly tainted with anxiety and self-deprecation as I tried to navigate the toxic culture, and I currently see the same feelings developing in my young campers.

Discouraged and still reeling from the events of the past weekend, I took the story of Colleyville and the continued hatred against Jewish individuals in this country to our school newspaper.

After reckoning with my friend’s antisemitism, it’s clear to me that intersectionality can be a tool to fight this form of hatred.

We can acknowledge the horrors that our ancestors endured without letting that knowledge stop us from living fully and compassionately in the present.

The chance to have power over my own choices is an incredible opportunity that many people don't have, now more than ever.

In my view, Sophie embodies the notion of choice—a central feminist idea that is explored in the musical.

The film Jennifer's Body addresses themes of assault and exploitation without being obvious about it—which may have been a necessary tactic.

Queerness, asexuality, and aromanticism don't take away our ability to fulfill the mitzvah, "Be fruitful and multiply"; in some ways, they actually open up our world.

Ghost World is satirical, but is that fact enough to excuse the writing of the Jewish female characters?

While my first go at standing up to a man in a position of power may not have gone as planned, I've recognized in the events that followed the power of Jewish women, like Ruth and Naomi, to lift each other back up.

Let's talk about pretty privilege.

Throughout my many years of Hebrew school, I was taught that Israel was supposed to be my second home. After I traveled there, I realized this couldn’t be further from the truth for me.