Shani--Chapter 5

Shani couldn't forget what the woman with the scarf had said.  "I was always told that the Torah makes us better people.  I'm not so sure anymore...."  Of course the Torah makes us better people, Shani thought.  The woman was just over-wrought.  A girl being pelted with rocks, even a pritzua, would have that effect.  And, sure, maybe as an outsider, some of this separation might look a bit bizarre.  But after all, women must be kept in their place so that the men can focus on their learning.  Still...Shani remembered a time when there were no women's hours.  Or at least she thought she could.
That night, after the kids were in bed, Shani sat down with her husband Yaacov.  Although the pressures of raising six children (keinehora) had driven Yaacov from kollel and forced him to earn a living, he still made time every night to go over the parsha and the Daf.  Once Yaacov returned from Maariv, Shani was confident that he'd be able to answer her questions. 
Shani relayed the events of the last two days.  Yaacov looked at her thoughtfully.  He knew about some of the "modesty squads" that patrolled Thirteenth Avenue, but, like many people, was appalled by the violence.  As Shani finished her story, Yaacov thought about how to answer her.
"Shani, you and I both know that hilchos tznius exist to enhance the kedusha of our community.  Look what happens in other areas.  Women dress with everything hanging out, like they don't respect their bodies.  And then they wonder why they get attacked and raped.  Same thing with this girl.  Maybe if she had been more careful..."  Yaacov trailed off.
"Are you saying that those boys should have attacked her?"  Shani had never known Yaacov to advocate violence.
"No, of course not.  Chas v'shalom!  I'm just saying that we have to be so careful.  There are men who must preserve their learning.  After their Torah learning protects the whole world.  If it were to cease for even a moment, the world itself might stop."
"But what about the boys?"  Shani asked.
"Those boys are just thugs.  Look at them.  They were out on the street in the middle of the day because they have nowhere to go.  The yeshiva's don't want them.  Most of them can't get a job.  So they make themselves important by throwing rocks."
"But why can't the rabbis do anything?"
Yaacov chortled cynically.  "Which ones?  You know Boro Park.  Besides all the Chassidishe rebbes, there's the Agudah, the Young Israel...the list goes on.  So many voices.  About the only thing they agree on is 'kol kevuda bas melech p'nima.' "
Shani had heard the quote from Tehillim repeated frequently since her days in playgroup.  It meant "The glory of a princess is inside."
Yaacov continued.  "No one wants to think that his wife or daughter could be attacked.  But we must preserve the kedusha of our community.  That's why we demand the utmost in tznius."
Shani reflected on the conversation she had earlier that day.  "But doesn't it say in 'Eishes Chayil' that 'her clothing shall be of fine linen and purple'?" 
Yaacov smiled at his wife indulgently.  "That's just a metaphor for a woman's status as a bas melech--a daughter of a king.  Just like a princess wears special clothing that befits her royal status, so to does a daughter of Israel wear refined clothing that does not draw attention to herself.  Refined clothing is not flashy with bright colors.  It's subdued."
Shani nodded.  You certainly can't get more subdued that black, grey, beige and white, she thought. 
"Is there anything else?" Yaacov asked.
"In the Torah, did Yaacov kiss Rachel?" Shani asked.
Yaacov pulled a Chumash Bereshis out of the seforim cabinet.  He opened to Parshas Vayeitzei, flipped a few pages, and handed the sefer to Shani.  "See for yourself."
Shani read the Hebrew, and found the passage that described the meeting between Yaacov and Rachel.  "Why did he kiss her?  I didn't think that was allowed."
Yaacov turned in shock.  "He did?"
"Yes, it says so right here."  And Shani read the Hebrew.
"I'll have to ask Rabbi Tannenbaum."
Shani rose from the couch.  "Coming to bed?" Yaacov asked.
"In a minute," Shani answered.  "I just want to read some more."
Yaacov nodded.  "Don't be up too late.  Kids have school in the morning."
Shani closed the sefer and followed her husband upstairs.

Shani--Chapter 4

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3
The next day, Shani boarded the bus with Moishie and his folded stroller in tow.  As she made her way to the back, she noticed one empty seat.  She hauled Moishie and his stroller to the back and sat down.  Suddenly, she heard a voice next to her.  "Hi."
Shani looked at the woman next to her, trying to place her.  Then she remembered the day before.  Sure enough, it was the woman with the brightly-colored scarf who had helped the girl.  Today, the scarf was a leopard-print, which seemed to match the woman's savage mood.  Shani settled Moshie and her purse on her lap, then turned to say a quick, non-committal "hi" in response.
"Can I ask you a question?"  the woman asked.
"Ask." Shani responded.
"Why didn't anyone help the girl yesterday?  It's been on my mind.  That poor girl was so scared, and hurt, and she got spit upon."
"You helped her," Shani pointed out.
"Yes, and I stayed with her in the emergency room until her mother could take her home.  She had five stitches in her head from where the rock hit.  The girl was so upset, she called Second Chances on my phone.  She wants to leave the community."
"I guess it goes to show you.  The girl is unstable and obviously not committed to Yiddishkeit."
"Really."  The woman pursed her lips.  "Would it surprise you to learn that she's an excellent student?  Or that she spends her Sundays with the Bikur Cholim?  Or that she's committed the entire Sefer Tehillim to memory?  But of course a yellow shirt and lack of opaque stockings means the girl was dirt under everyone's feet, right?"
Shani shifted her purse to the floor and looked away uncomfortably.  Moishie squirmed in her lap, but Shani didn't want him to run around in a moving bus.
The woman continued.  "I never expected this.  I was taught that the Torah makes you a better person.  But it seems like we care more about what we eat and how we dress than how we treat others.  The first time I heard a frum person use profanity or ethnic slurs, I was in shock.  Now it just appalls me.  Makes me wonder why I chose this."  Shani stared at her.  "Yes, I am a BT."
"Oh."  Shani responded. 
"My sister wonders what I was thinking.  Even I wonder what I was thinking.  She told me to bail after..." The woman loosened her scarf.  An ugly scar snaked across her throat.  "One of the sikrikim threw a piece of glass at me when I was on the street fifteen minutes after women's hours.  It's stupid.  There's nothing in our texts that says we have wear black tents and hide from men."
"Now, wait a minute," Shani interjected.  "It says in Bereshis that Sarah Imeinu was in the tent.  She was a truly tzniusdik woman who stayed indoors where she belonged."
"Oh.  I get it."  the woman responded.  "One of our Imahos stays in her tent during a heatwave--which is what most people would do--and now we all have to hide away.  I didn't know the Torah was made of rubber.  it almost needs to be to stretch that far.  Besides, didn't both Rivka and Rachel go to wells?  And when Rachel was there, didn't she get a kiss from Yaakov?" 
"No she didn't!" Shani snapped.
"Look it up if you don't believe me.  And as for the black, didn't Shlomo HaMelech say in Mishlei that the eishes chayil makes scarlet clothes for her household, and that her own clothes were of fine linen and purple?"
Shani couldn't think of a response.  Of course she had heard "Eishes Chayil" every Shabbos of her life, but had seldom thought about what the words meant.  Shani decided to look in her husband's seforim when she got home.
The woman pulled the cord, and the bus stopped.  "You know," she said as she squeezed past Shani, "I was always taught that the Torah makes us better people.  After yesterday, I'm not sure I believe that anymore."  And she was gone.
To be continued...

Shani--Chapter 3

Once the boys disappeared around a corner, women streamed out of the buildings they had hidden in.  Shani ran for the bus stop.  Baruch Hashem, the bus hadn't come while the sikrikim were out. 
The crying girl tried to get to her feet while holding the back of her head where the rock had hit.  Blood seeped through her fingers.  Once outside, Shani could see the girl better.  No wonder they had targeted her.  She was wearing a bright yellow t-shirt with sleeves that barely covered her elbow.  And her stockings were so sheer that one could hardly tell she was wearing them.  Of course they had no seams.  Silly girl.  Well, dress like a pritzua and see what happens.  Most women ignored the girl.  A few spat on her.  However, one woman, the one with the brightly colored scarf, ran over to the girl.  Bending down, she pulled the girl to her feet, reached into her purse and handed the girl a tissue.  The girl wiped her eyes and nose, while still holding the back of her head.  The woman pulled out a cell phone.  Who would she call?  911?  Nobody in their right mind would call those goyim.  Hatzolah?  If she caught the dispatcher in a good mood, he might send someone.  However, some dispatchers took a dim view of helping victims of the sikrikim.  Shani suspected that a few Hatzolah members were sikrikim themselves. 
Within a few minutes, the bus pulled up.  Shani lined up to board, holding Moishie in one hand and his folded stroller in the other.  She and the other women bypassed the mostly empty front seats and squeezed into the back with the other female passengers.  The elderly lady who had been accosted earlier looked for a seat, but in vain.  She clutched a pole, and braced herself with her cane.  Shani hoped the lady wouldn't fall as the bus swayed.
Shani was positioned in such a way that she could still see the girl through the bus windows.  A black midsized vehicle with a car service medallion pulled up, and the girl got in.  The woman with the scarf slid in next to her.  The car sped off in the direction of Maimonides Medical Center.    As the bus pulled away, Shani could still see the girl's bloody handprint on the sidewalk.

Shani--Chapter 2

Chapter 1
Shani didn't even think twice.  She grabbed the handle of Moishie's stroller and pushed him into the nearest store.  It turned out to be a sheitelmacher.  About a dozen women were inside already.  A few were getting their sheitels set, but the rest were hiding.  Two or three, including Shani, positioned themselves so that they could see through the cracks in the opaque gray curtains over the doors and windows.
About a half dozen young boys, with beards in various stages of growth, marched down the now-deserted street that had been a hive of activity only a few minutes earlier.  All the boys wore fedoras, dark suits, and white button-down shirts.  Shani could see their tzitzis flapping in the breeze.  Behind her, one woman was grumbling.  "It's not fair!  We still had 45 minutes left!  Why couldn't they have waited?"  A few other women were rolling their eyes.  Shani sighed.  Another woman spoke up.  "I'm going to miss my bus, and they're so crowded this time of day..."
"I have to pick up my Devory from playgroup..."
"I still have to pick up a few things for supper..."
"Can't they leave us alone..."
As the women complained, Shani looked at the boys.  One, whose beard hadn't even begun to grow, looked to be about the age of her Shmulie.  However, she knew from experience that, despite his youthful look, he was probably the most dangerous one.
The boys confronted an elderly woman sitting at the bus stop.  She had been too old or too tired to move out of their way.  They stood in her face and yelled at her, but Shani couldn't hear what.  Slowly, she got to her feet and turned around.  One of the boys reached in his tefillin bag and pulled out a folding ruler.  They held it up, nodded, and walked on.  The old woman sat down again, but not before Shani saw the tear in her eye.
Just when everyone thought they would move on, a girl came out of a bookstore basement.  As if on cue, the boys rushed at her.  Although Shani couldn't hear anything, she could see the anger in their faces as they surrounded her, screaming right at her.
"Thugs."  Shani looked right at the speaker.  It was a middle-aged lady wearing a bright scarf around her neck.  All over the scarf were printed turquoise and magenta flowers.  The scarf stood out even more over her requisite black suit.
"Sha," Shani whispered.  "They'll hear you."
"Who cares?"  the lady responded.  "On some level, you have to agree that they shouldn't be doing this.  They shouldn't go around tormenting people."
Another woman spoke up.  "My husband says that they're all vilde chayas.  They can't get by in yeshiva, they can't get a job, so they hang out together and make trouble."
"Poor girl..."  the lady with the scarf responded.  By now, the boys were in a tight ring around the young girl from the bookstore, and she was on her knees, crying.  Of course the boys weren't going to beat her up.  They would never touch a strange girl.  It rarely went beyond screams and taunts.  However, some of them were capable of real cruelty.  Most of the women in the area had heard stories of boys throwing bleach, garbage and even rocks at girls and women they considered immodestly dressed.  The ring broke up, and the boys sauntered away.  Before they rounded the corner, the youngest boy, the one about Shmulie's age, pulled a sharp rock out of his pocket and hurled it as hard as he could at the still-prostrate girl's head.
To be continued...

Shani--Chapter 1

*Note--this is the first chapter of a story I am writing.  It's meant to be dystopic fiction.

Shani Goldstein pushed her stroller down Thirteenth Avenue.  Around her, women were emerging from store basements, their purchases either clutched in their hands or shoved under similar strollers.  Shani had just ordered a dress from an exclusive shop.  True to form, the windows were covered with heavy gray cloth so that the men, going to and from shul and the bais midrash would not be distracted by either the mannequins or the customers.
Shani sat down on a bench to wait for the bus.  It was almost 2:00--the time for women to clear the street was less than 45 minutes away.  She had to get home anyway to start dinner and get her kids off their buses.  Her little son Moishie kicked his legs and giggled.  Shani smiled at him.  "Hello.  Aren't you cute, Moishie?"  Moishie giggled back.  "Mama."  Shani ruffled his curls.  He was growing so fast.  Already 20 months old, he could put words together.  He was also getting into everything.  Shani sighed.  Moishie would be her last baby.  He had been premature, delivered by emergency C-section .  Her doctor told her that another baby might kill her.  Normally, when they were getting close to two, another one would be growing in her.  But no more.  She sighed.  At least, baruch Hashem, she had seven healthy kinderlach at home.
From down the block, a cry sounded.  "Sikrikim!"
To be continued...