My first reaction when asked to write an article about covering my hair was an uncomfortable, uneasy feeling. Sure, I cover my hair almost all of the time, and my babies’ early words were even “sheitel” and “tichel.” But explain and analyze how I feel about it? That seemed tricky. My next reaction, though, was curiosity- why would I blanch at writing down my thoughts on something I’ve been doing for 21 years, since my wedding day? I realized that I had never actually articulated why I do in fact cover my hair, but that I needed to do so, even to myself, if I wanted to pass this mitzvah down to the next generation. It is, after all, important to me that my daughters and future daughters-in-law will G-d willing instill this tradition into their own children with love and pride. I had some exploring to do. Why do I cover my hair? The challenges are clear, but what are the up sides?
When I was a little girl I thought my mother’s tichels (scarves) were the most beautiful things to dress up in. I loved to clomp around in her heels, with a tichel on my head saying, “Look, I’m a Mommy!” My sisters and I also loved to decorate the foam heads that my mother kept her sheitels (wigs) on with sparkly eye makeup and lipstick, so that afterward there would be a row of fancy ladies’ heads on top of her dresser. When my mother put on her sheitel, almost always with lipstick and a dressy outfit, I watched her transform from a daytime mother into a beauty queen. It was with this sense of possibility that I went to get my first wigs before my wedding, and since then I’ve pretty much enjoyed transforming my fine, short hair into something more glamorous, all the while trying to make it look natural.
Later, when I married and moved to Crown Heights, I found it relatively easy to cover my hair in a neighborhood where the majority of my Jewish neighbors wore wigs most of the time. All the best wig stylists were right at my fingertips. I didn’t have to drive 2 hours each way just to get my sheitel done, like my mother did. More importantly, I didn’t have to explain to anyone else why I wore a Sheitel. There were also Balei Teshuva, who had become religious of their accord and chose to cover their hair, and were a great inspiration. Whenever I went to Manhattan to shop or dine, though, I was extra careful to make sure my wig looked natural and stylish- I didn’t want to be stereotyped negatively as a “dowdy ultra Orthodox woman.” For the most part I felt successful at juggling being Chasidic and looking like “myself.”
A few years ago my husband and I decided to leave behind the harsh winters of Brooklyn for the sunny skies of Miami Beach. Thank G-d, it was a great move for us. There was a large Orthodox Jewish infrastructure so that my kids wouldn’t feel isolated and overly inconvenienced, but there was also a refreshing diversity within the Frum population that wasn’t so easy to experience in Brooklyn. All kinds of jews had learned to work together to build a community that functioned well. I got to know women that didn’t cover their hair, but were best friends with someone who did. Suddenly, there was n going under the radar. No matter how natural my wigs looked, most people knew I was wearing one. I had no choice but to own it. It took time, but I learned to be proud, not self-conscious, when someone assumed I was a religious Jewish woman by the way I dressed. I answered a lot of curious questions, and I learned to be open to the many different ways that Jews could be observant. I also began to understand, as much as I’d resisted the idea in the past, that I am an example of a Lubavitch woman, even if I’m not a Rebbetzin. Living here we see all kinds of Jewish tourists, from Satmar Chassidim who wear wool clothing head to toe on the beach, to teenagers who go everywhere in shorts and flip flops. Although everyone here is generally treated with respect and good manners, it’s impossible not to observe that the way people dress says something about who they are, where they come from, and what they are or aren’t a part of. When my husband wears his Kappata to shul each week he is bringing who we are to the table, adding our voice to the mix. When I wear my sheitel or tichel, it’s a message to myself, to my children, and to others that I am a Frum woman who covers her hair. The more I realize I am not invisible, and acknowledge that I have committed to this all the way, the more proud I become to represent my people, my history, and my place in the world.
When I asked my friend Sharon, who began covering her hair wearing beautiful hats and scarves at first only when she went to Shul, out of respect, what inspires her to cover her hair, she told me that she too finds that it strengthens her Jewish identity and commitment. Now a full time hair coverer, she observes, “ A man has a distinct way to show his Judaism, and we can do that too… When you have something on your head, it’s a constant reminder of who you are… it’s like my Yarmulka.” Sharon told me that when she was becoming more observant and considering covering her hair, a friend of hers suggested that a wig is perhaps immodest because it can beautify the wearer, attracting more attention to her looks. Sharon brought this question back to Gutal Fellig, the shlucha in Coconut Grove who had inspired Sharon to become religious. Gutal told Sharon to tell her friend to wear a wig for a day and ask her if she feels tznius or not.
“The point is to cover your hair!” Gutal, my aunt, later tells me when I go to her for more insight. She reminds me that when we wear our sheitels with poise, grace, and beauty, we affect those around us in a deep and positive way. “Hashem told us, ‘You’re royalty.’ Look at Kate Middleton- people became so enthralled with her. The Torah tells us, ‘You are Kate Middleton’.” Gutal herself is a living example of this philosophy. On shlichus for many years in a town where almost no one covers their hair, she always looks polished and elegant. “ Modesty is a behavior-the way you carry yourself is important. Tznius is about being attractive, not attracting.” She acknowledges that it isn’t always easy, and that with popular culture becoming increasingly more about exposure and stimulation, it’s getting harder to instill in our children the value of modesty and limits. “This generation didn’t get to hear the Rebbe- He encouraged us. The Rebbe raised us a level. He told us, ‘ You can be better. You can do more.’” She reminded me that just as dressing more modestly inspires us to behave with dignity and pride, becoming more lax about covering one’s hair makes it easier to relax other standards of behavior as well. I leave Gutal’s house feeling a deepened sense of both power and responsibility about covering my hair. The way I choose to do this mitzvah has very real consequences for my environment, ny family, and for myself. For some reason, it seems lighter now.
I think about my oldest daughter, on the cusp of adulthood. Soon she will have to parse this hair covering thing out for herself, and she will begin her own journey. I reflect on my own experience as a Jewish woman who covers her hair, maturing through learning and trying from simple acceptance into an honestly earned pride in who I am and what I stand for.
Joy & Blessings 