What if there was a short film of my life with captions describing each stage of my relationship with Judaism, like Taylor Swift’s film for her ten-minute version of “All Too Well"?

If I were a can, and you were to pick me up off of a grocery store shelf and scan my backside for a list of ingredients, “white” would be first.

Shabbat at synagogue was the one place where my grief belonged, where I belonged, after my my dad died. 

As a Jewish feminist, I have a responsibility to further the movement started by the writers of Our Bodies, Ourselves.

This month especially, while remembering everything RBG accomplished, we should take the time to look into the lesser known parts of Justice Ginsburg’s long career.

It’s undeniable that our current beauty standards are unattainable. I think that contemporary activists can learn from Alix Kates Shulman’s approach to this issue.

Holocaust survivor and doctor Gisella Perl's story has long been unsung; learning her story can serve all of us in our struggle for reproductive rights today.

I think about Molly Picon, and how she utilized her love of storytelling to bring laughter to those who needed it, to foster pride and compassion in the Jewish community, and to fight to keep Yiddish theater alive.

Women can add, and have historically added, so much to Jewish culture and faith; I wanted this to be reflected at my camp, starting with the prayer books we read from.

From activists like Rose Schneiderman in 1919 to activists today advocating for the paid leave section of the trillion-dollar infrastructure bill in Congress, we've been trying to change the system.

As an athletic Jewish feminist, is attacking an uncomfortable situation assertively, but quietly, an effective protest technique?

Through Joyce Antler’s writing, I can access the work of my foremothers on reproductive rights and can follow in their footsteps.

As I familiarized myself with Emma Goldman's work, I realized that anarcho-feminist philosophy is so potent because both movements share the same goals.

As last year's election came and went and my disillusionment peaked, I recalled all of the Jewish women who fought to get the right to vote.

The Star of David and its history helps me understand the different layers of my Jewish identity; the symbol represents the different cultures we’ve embraced as part of the diaspora.

I'm no more or less Jewish than I'm Asian, queer, or just me. And so, when the world asks me, "What are you?" I say, "I am a Jew."

The woman who helped me onto the benches that day at the Western Wall helped me to begin to find my voice.

I’m the daughter of an immigrant family, and nothing appealed to my Soviet Jewish family more than the idea of invisibility.

As I look back on my Jewish feminist foremothers and their respective activist efforts, I see many parallels with Michelle Wu’s work on the Orange Line in Boston.

Mira Eras describes how a charoset bowl passed through generations of women in her family keeps her feeling connected to her mother's love for holiday traditions.

I decided that I, a thirteen year old, would convince the rabbi of my synagogue to change a rule no one else had successfully challenged.

There's a difference between being tolerated and being wanted and, for me, wearing a tallit proves that I’m wanted in the Jewish world.

"The mezuzah represents my identity as a Jewish feminist because of its emphasis on the act of welcoming."

For most of my life, I’ve felt like I’m not Jewish enough.

I’ve gathered that—to some—my presence as an openly Jewish, queer, feminist person is interpreted as a disruption that needs to be fixed.