Do not profane your daughter by making her a harlot

Do not profane your daughter by making her a harlot. 

— Leviticus 19:29

My mother often threw away things without thinking. 

Once, she threw out a pair of my father’s socks by mistake. 

Once, she told me it’s easier to get rid of things than cleaning them. 

**

I was eighteen when I came to Israel. Alone, I supported myself by cleaning houses. I loved how my hands mindlessly scrubbed the sinks, the toilets. I loved the satisfaction of a spotless floor, that I was the source of its cleanliness. I even loved getting dirty, coming home with the smell of bleach on the cracked skin of my hands, my skirt covered in dust. 

I thought—Isn’t it magic? To be able to absorb dirt, while making things clean. Isn’t cleaning an extraordinary contradiction? Can filth ever be disposed of?

**

The woman I worked for made me sweep the floor three times before I could cover it with water and soap. Soon, I became disenchanted with cleaning. Even after pressing the broom into the corners till my fingers turned red, dust would always remain. I didn’t understand how, after all that sweeping, the water still turned so dark.

**

When I became religious, I covered every inch of skin from my collarbone down to my elbows, down to my knees. I believed this would make me a modest woman—a good, clean woman. Or, I believed that skin, like floors, could never really be rid of dirt, so it was best to hide it completely. 

It is easier to get rid of things than trying to clean them. 

**

My first memory of the word whore. I was fifteen. My father told me about the first time he fucked a woman. He was seventeen. Overweight and shy, he decided to go to a prostitute. He wanted to kiss her, but she said no. That’s off limits. Filthy whore, cold woman, he muttered as he recalled the story to me.

In my mind, a whore is a woman who tries to be clean, but somehow remains filthy. 

**

I studied at an all-girls seminary in the Old City of Jerusalem. In a class on Jewish dietary laws I learned that an object could be intrinsically pure or impure, regardless of the presence of physical dirt. I was amazed at this concept. Kitchen utensils can absorb impurity, become non-kosher or “spiritually defiled,” but usually can be cleansed. 

I learned that it is fire and water that can purify.

Whatever is used in fire shall pass through fire and then it will be clean; it must however also be cleansed with sprinkling water, and whatever is not used in fire you shall pass through water. 

— Numbers 31:23

The way the non-kosher food substance is absorbed into the surface of the utensil is the way it needs to be expelled. So, a pot used for stewing can be purified with boiling water, but a pan used for frying or baking can only be purified with fire—a blowtorch. 

**

I can’t remember what I had said or done, but I remember my father taking my jaw in his hand, squeezing it till my face turned red. I wish I could baptize you, cleanse your dirty soul.

I don’t know how I became impure. I don’t know if it is fire or water that can cleanse me.

**

Not all utensils can be cleansed. Earthenware can’t be cleansed. From the earth, the dirt. Once earthenware utensils have become defiled, they remain impure and must be broken. 

It is easier to throw things away.

**

The classes on Jewish modesty were simple. The rebbetzin would tuck in the tufts of brown hair escaping from under her headscarf, say—When a woman covers her skin, her soul is revealed. This is what you need to understand about modesty. 

I was wearing a skirt down to my ankles when a man walking by shouted—Zonah! Whore. In my mind, a whore is a woman who tries to be clean, but somehow remains filthy. 

**

When Judah saw Tamar, he thought she was a harlot, because she had covered her face. — Genesis 38:15

Judah didn’t recognize his daughter-in-law. Besides her fingers, not one inch of skin was showing. He assumed that the veiled woman was a whore. 

He turned unto her by the way and said—Here now, let me come unto you.

The rebbetzin said a covered woman reveals her soul. We learn this from Psalms—All the glory of the King’s daughter is within.

Inside. Inside her. Unto her. Let me come unto you. Inside you.

**

After four years of being religious, I started dating. My boyfriend and I were shomer negia—we kept the Jewish law that forbids unmarried men and women from touching. When we sat in his parents’ living room, he never sat next to me, always opposite. But when we were alone, he kept trying to undress me, even after I’d say no. 

He uncovered my skin, but he didn’t find my soul. 

Tamar replied—What will you give me that you may come unto me?

What will you give me?

**

When he was done, he wiped me with a plastic bag. When he was done, he was ridden with guilt. We can’t do this. We are unholy. But it kept on happening. I kept on saying—No, we can’t. And he’d say—But last time we did, last time you let me. His eyes were always on fire.

I don’t know how I became impure. I don’t know if it is fire or water that can cleanse me.