Fitting In
Shpitzle Shtrimpkind2011
credit: dmc_fz7_az
For me, the focal point of a simcha is the challah. It’s only natural for me to head directly from the coat room to whatever smells crusty, and remain there, at least in mood, way past the badchen’s gig. My appetite is relentless.
Yeah, well, today as ever, I’ll just eat my watery vegetable soup here and leave the floating kneidle to dry.
Damn cooked carrots they call stew.
I blow over a spoonful and feel sorry for myself. All my life I’ve been trying to fit into a mold that’s too small to fit almost anyone naturally. All my life I’ve been following a world of rules to become someone I’m naturally not. All my life I’ve been denying myself certain pleasures because my mother would look me up and down and make me feel awful if I’d be who I am.
All my life I’ve been trying to live another life.
A first cousin comes over to our table to enthusiastically vinch mazel tov. Mma, maa. Cheek, cheek. “Mahazel Tuhuv! You look really good! Turn around. And this way. Wow. What are you doing?” She feels my waist to check for the garment of magic.
She plops down on the empty chair next to me, picks the maraschino off an untouched appetizer, and mesmerizes the audience by telling a ‘beferishe‘ story about a friend of hers that passed away from yene machlah and came back in the form of a bird to request that a $20 loan be repaid.
We all gasp. Seiz doo a bashefer of der velt.
“Unbelievable!” I exclaim. (Oh, for crying out loud!) “Din v’cheshben.”
It doesn’t take long for all the dead-visiting stories to come rolling, and I’m not there anymore. I’m looking into my empty plate, knocking the spoon softly into the poor kneidle to the musical rhythm, my left ear positioned in a way that suggests it’s listening, and off I am thinking about a subject I read on a blog and the ensuing comments.
I try to hold my facial gestures from moving with my thoughts. In my mind, I argue with the topic’s arguments, think about the mood of the discussion, and absentmindedly slip me feet out of those high pumps.
I perk up when I realize I’ve been spoken to. “Yeah, yeah. I know what you mean.” (I have no idea what you were talking about, my dear sister.) Wake up, I tell myself.
I look around for my kids, wave to an aunt, and spot my brother jerking his head sideways at the mechitsah.
My brother always seems to be bored with male companionship. At every wedding he signals for his wife twenty times. We’ve come to expect him to be hovering in that area. His wife, Paris Hilton, would make her way over to him in her clickity-clack way and halfway disappear on the other side, leaving her rear in the women’s section for tsnuis. I watch her, or what is left of her, and wonder about my big brother who doesn’t seem to find his place between his male counterparts. I’ve always assumed that side to be superior in social interaction.
My thoughts are already weaving a new web and then a blog about the mysteries of my brother when I realize everyone’s quiet. The kind of quiet that turns the music and all noise off. My sister Rosie O’Donnel shakes her head in Paris’s direction disapprovingly.
“Zee zayt ois a shrek! Ah shrek!” Her hands fly in the air with despair.
(What? Where? How do you mean? )
“Look at this little skirt she’s bursting out of. It’s ekeldig. It’s not even tsee dee zach. She looks like she’s wearing a pajama. Mommy eats her heart out when she sees her like this. I’m just plain worried. Zee glitcht with every day. I’ve tried to talk to her but her head is in the wrong places.” I was afraid Rosie was going to cry. She looked so sincere. No wonder she’s the family favorite.
I hand her a napkin to dab her eyes with.
“I know” (now), I nod like an old, sad lady. (C’mon. Glitched? She’s got her brains stuck in a clothing rack. I wonder what you would consider me had I not been sobbing along with your veygeshreyen.)
Barabara Streisand, the sister in law from Montreal can’t agree more. “He isn’t even the type for any of this. He was such a good boy. Zee hut eym fardarben!”
Azans!
All women ’round the table are now actively worried for the well being of our dear family member. For some reason, I feel like I’m on fire. I feel like they’re talking about me. For a change, I’m not bored.
I want to fit in. I want to be an insider in a community whose mold is too small to fit almost anyone naturally. I follow every program, and every exercise to become an eligible member of this celebrity society. I’m not brave enough to be entertainment, in a Paris way.
Hillary Clinton, a younger sister of mine, she always likes to share little darling bits of info that she coaxed outta you. “Uh, uh. Paris’ on birth control. I know for sure.”.
“WHAT?” I gasp. “Really? I thought she’s nursing clean?” (I can hear the rear end of my brain exploding in laughter, and wonder what set it off).
Barbara is already bent over the table probing Hillary for a source. Laura Busch, like always, tries to stop this. She won’t accept the loshan hora.
I hand my nagging son the whole basket of sour pickles and tell him to disappear. Nem. Gey shoin. I’ve got more important stuff to worry about.
Barbara Streisand sips some lemon soda. “My mother saw Paris on the bus the other day. She wasn’t wearing palm. Everyone looks at her. She looks very modern. How does she think she’ll do shedichum?”
Shedichum! Vey! God help ME!
I suggest to Barbara that maybe Paris should go to the rebbe for a kvitle (ha, ha, ha. not funny) so that she can find the way.
Rosie explains to me that there’s really little we can do. “You can tell everything about a person from her clothing. You can see that she wants fremdeh felder. Shpitzle, She’s erger than you think. It’s bad.”
“I see. I see.” (Okay, coward, this has surpassed funny. Can you for once, not act heart stricken?)
I can’t take this anymore.
Why can’t one be who one is?
I start at the challah. I tear off a chunk and chew with loud thumps. The hell with fitting in!
I won’t ever look like Rosie anyhow.
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Originally published on Shpitzle Shtrimpkind on 01/05/07, and reprinted here with permission. Authors have asked us to note that as the essays featured in “Best of the Blogs” document journeys of transformation, the author’s views may have changed since initial publication.
19 Responses
Two things I did not understand:
What does it mean to be “nursing clean”?
What does it mean to “wear palm”?
Oh, oldies of time of yore! This was written in 2007 on my blog. Sweet nostalgia. How different things were in my life back then! Blogging was such excellent fun.
Curious:
“nursing clean” is when a woman’s breastfeeding stops her regular menstrual cycle, resulting in an extended period of “clean”, or being kosher, in terms of ritual purity. A woman who “nurses clean” is exempt from counting days of separation from her husband and from going to the bath (mikva). Nursing clean is an enviable treat for religious women. I’ve heard it cited as reason why some of the women I knew wanted many babies— so they can breastfeed and not have to keep a distance from their spouse half of every month.
Palm stockings are the special, thick seemed type of stockings that Rabbi Teitelbaum (Teitelbaum is Yiddish for palm tree) designed for women to wear. I was taught that Rabbi Yoel Teitelbaum held it up in beth medrish on Yom Kippor and cried: “only THIS is what the women should wear” (he cried bitterly and the stockings manufacturer laughed heartily). A woman who changes from palm to a different brand or thickness openly rebels against the principals of tsnius by “throwing off the yoke”. A small scandal usually ensues and a whole community unites in a disproving gossipy cry. It’s the life or death stuff.
Shpitzle;
Are ‘Palm Stockings’ panty hose or stockings held up by a garter belt?
The old fully fashioned seam is incredibly eye catching and luring.
I guess Satmar are too heilig to consider that one.
did the Rebbe really endorse the stockings, or are you pulling my leg?
Curious — She’s fully serious. As she is about the stocking brand, “Palm,” named after the rebbe’s family name, “Teitelbaum.”
No myth, no sarcasm. Both of those facts are widely known in the Hasidic world.
Great hilarious piece of the good old blogosphere days.
On nursing clean term I’d add most Chasidic women who do not use birth control nursing clean is the only tool available for them to have at least a 2 year break between each child so they end up having only 8-12 kids not 15-18 as some in fact have. There’s an entire industry of pills and herbs claiming to help nursing clean.
Re Palm, I don’t think R’ Yoelish Tietelbaum held up it up in shull he wasn’t that stupid I also don’t think he ever endorsed Palm in public he did cry about ‘durchzichtiga shtrimp’ a lot saying those who wear them the Kiddush at home is not kosher etc.
Brilliant. The real deal, written by a person who was there.
I would just like to point out that today is the 32 anniversary of the passing of the satmar rebbe and we had this dinner in his memory with all the speakers going on on about his gadlos in learning and chesed. I would like to point out that most people calling themselves chassidim have not learnt his sefar “veyoal moishe” and most could not comprehend it; but I have learnt it and it seems to me that lot of his reasoning is flawed and his style long and not to the point. Concerning his chessed I would like to know how meticulous he was with paying back money he lent (I heard his funeral was delayed because of some outstanding debt. I would also like to know details about his appointment as Rav it the City of Satamar I have heard there was dirty play involved. weather he was clever as the previous comment seems to think , I have heard stories of him losing his cool in public on more the one occasion.
By the way I Love satmar because shpitzels and and palm stockings with a nude (seam ) make me hot.
Good old Shpitzel I would love to read some of more of your old blogs. Your blog used to be part of my daily start up process at work and when you locked it I was upset for weeks.
If you want to get seamed stockings you have to go to the chasidish kvartlech or a sex shop…
I saw a pic of Marylin Monroe with seamed stockings.
(maybe thats why she was called Monroe..)
the story of the palm shtrimp goes that the rebbe took one of the newly designed shtrimp and Stretched it upon his ‘heiliga hent’ and when he saw that you can’t see through his hand he approved it.
Btw, he himself used to say that its not the only kosher shtrimp and even those that are not as thick are ok.
As of his sefer, although there is much to argue about the points that he brings out there, the BASIC IDEAS on which he based his sefer are, have, far as I know, not yet been challenged, and every satmar Hasid knows them. When u read this article and the comments Pls say leili nishmas satmar rabbi, yarzeit is today 26 av.
Leil Shishi:
As one who used to give a shiur in Vayoel Moshe, I would say that you did not have the right approach to the sefer.
Even though he wasn’t infallible (and yes, he did have an agenda) if you would understand what his goal in writing was, his target audience, and the Hungarian derech halimud in general, it probably would make a lot more sense to you than it did.
In short: it’s 10% halacha/proof and 90% drush, and that is what it is meant to be.
To Kaf Hakela
You did not understand what I’m trying to say. it does not make a difference what type of style you use your reasoning has to add up.(Try His Question on The Hafloa in סי’ א מאמר שלש שבועות.tell me if it adds up. I can give you many more examples)How many mistakes can someone make and still be considered a חכם. What is the iq. of a man who would not believe that man could go to space (if the story is true)based on his interpretation of the פסוק, השמים שמים לה’. I generally believe that his Hashkofa is the true Toradik HASHKOFA (WHICH ONLY MAKES A DIFFERANCE if you believe the tora is true which most people here most probably don’t)
The point I’m trying to make is that although the Satmar Rebbe was very knowledgeable in Jewish law (סיני) he had a flawed sense of reasoning. (א קרימער עוקר הרים).You might want to point out that what I’m saying is all about intellectual reasoning and has nothing to do with how someone behaves in public. My answer is; that from experiences in religion and work a person’s ability to reason is immediately reflected in his behavior i.e. I had a customer who wouldn’t pay for a order his secretary incorrectly ordered saying it wasn’t his fault it was her fault and wouldn’t even pay for returning the goods. The famous story about how the rebbe stole the heater his father put in his room and gave it to his melamed .the story about how someone gave him money to his grocery bill and he gave it to an אלמנה till today i don’t know if the אלמנה needed the money more than the grocerer. In Short I think all the rebbe had was a chain the gift of the gab not unlike most leaders.
lel shishy, first of all, you can not base an opinion on stories, they are in most cases totally are partialy false. second, as i said before, the basics are rock solid, so it does not make sense to call him a קרומע עוקר הרים if you do not understand some of his questions. if you want to compare him to the other ungarisha gedolim like the rav of klausenbergyou you will find that he was far more reasonable then them.
i suggest you take a look in his שות דברי יואל which is more to the point, and i guess the reason is because there he does not mix hashkafa and agada with halacha.
i too looked forward to you blogposts.
when you stopped posting i was worried that you were silenced.
i’m glad to see that you are here with us.
shavua tov.
Shtrimp, you can’t leave us in the dark. Tell us how life changed since those days?
Oh, (or … oy) a lot transpired in the subsequent years that led me to leave the Chasidic community. I know I was silent for a long time, far too hurt and far too desperate to rebuild my life to care about the online community. For a long time I shut the web out and tried to recapture the innocence the blog stole or find a way to cope with my new worldview – a way that didn’t involve the unthinkable of scandal, loss of community standing, damaged family ties, divorce, fighting for custody, black and blue deep bruises to the heart, pain oh indescribable pain.
I know when I reappeared five years later I was already at a very different place. Passed the pain, on a path of new beginnings. I’d love to write about how I got here, what led to my leaving and how it went down, but I really value my anonymity and I fear that telling my story will reveal too much information.
But I love that some of you still remember those bygone days of uncensored writing from the very inside of the Chasidic mainframe. It helps me retain memories of a different time – memories that are too quick to fade.
Velvel Chusid, you’re right that the anecdote of Yoelish holding up the stockings was not in public. But he did strongly endorse the Palm stockings, whose manufacturers were Satmer Hasidim.
His schools mandated them. And he did say in public that number 70 stockings (the higher the number the thicker the stocking) were too translucent. I believe only Palm carried a thickness of 100 with seams, his two requirements for stockings. That clearly amounts to a Palm endorsement.
It’s quite believable that he did explicitly endorse Palm, but I don’t remember having read one. I did check in with my Satmer historians, and will report back.
Excuse me but don’t rebbes have anything better to do than massage women’s stockings? I’m a little worried that too much attention paid to stockings and bugs in strawberries leaves precious little time for such little annoyances like, you know, welfare fraud, shady real estate dealings and child sexual abuse.