Misogynistic dillweeds--a field guide

Recently, I heard about a breed of males called "Incels," or involuntary celibates.  In other words, a group of unpleasant man-children who couldn't get a woman to have sex with them if their lives depended on it.  They chalk up their unpopularity to women going for looks or money, not noticing that it's their attitude and unwillingness to own their behavior that women find off-putting.  (Not to mention the double standard--these men are also the first ones to insult a woman based on her appearance or weight.)
There are so many groups now of men like these, it's hard to keep track.  So, I've taken the liberty of preparing a field guide, based on my own experience and research on Reddit and We Hunted the Mammoth:
"Nice Guy": This man dates occasionally, but not often enough to suit his tastes.  The women he dates tend to lose interest quickly, and start to agree with him that he's not good enough.  Popularized the term "friendzone," and has fallen hard for the idea that if he just acts "Nice," the object of his desire will fall madly in love with him.  Frequently calls coupled men "assholes," as opposed to himself, as in the following: "Women just want to date assholes.  Why don't they ever go out with me?  I'm a Nice Guy."  (This same Nice Guy will castigate the object of his attention as a "bitch" or "slut" when she turns him down.)  Annoying, but relatively harmless.
Pick-Up Artist (PUA): To this man, women are objects to be won by charm.  If that doesn't work, there's always persuasion.  To these men, "no" means "I'm just being shy; keep trying."  Best not to deal with this one without backup.
Red Piller: This man is the Pick-Up Artist on 'roids.  Popularized the term "pump 'n dump."  Spends much time trying to establish himself as an Alpha, dominant over women.  Castigates men who treat women with respect as "betas" and "fuckboys."  To take the red pill means to treat feminism as a destructive force in society.  Avoid. 
Men's Rights Activist (MRA): This chap has either been through a divorce or knows someone who has.  Swears up and down that he treated his wife like a queen, but she may see it differently.  His ex-wife got tired of his bullshit and hired a competent divorce attorney, winning a greater than 50-50 share of time with the children (whom he didn't really pay any attention to until now because parenting is a woman's job, amirite?) plus child support and whatever maintenance the law allows.  Because he feels he owes his ex-wife nothing, he grouses about paying to anyone who will listen.  He will probably avoid women at this juncture, since in his mind, they're only after money.
Men Going Their Own Way (MGTOW): These boys don't have a girlfriend, and often don't have a job, either.  This is of course, due to Teh Evul Feminists, who insist that women can do anything men can.  Believe MRA and Red Pill statements about women, often due to an inability to relate to women as people.  Have chosen to remove themselves from the dating game altogether because they aren't Fortune 500 CEOs with a hot trophy wife.  What they fail to understand is that they aren't really missed.
Incels: From "involuntary celibacy."  Incels are manchildren who, again, can't get a date (do I detect a running theme here?).  So, to make up for it, they want to put all the "sluts" (read, women who don't have sex with them) into a subservient role.  Loudly deride women for not staying in their "place," and espouse a hatred of women.  Idolize Elliot Rodgers, the guy who shot six women.  Handle with caution.

In praise of pickiness

Whether you call it "single" or "between relationships," I am at that fun little place called Not In A Relationship.  Kind of sucks.
What's even worse is the advice from the "smug marrieds."  Those people who have gone through life with a grand total of five minutes between relationships their entire lives.  They always trot out that trite line about "every pot has a cover" (what if you're a griddle?).  Or else they hand out the same three pieces of advice: "You need to get out more." (I'm in a male dominated field.  How much more "out" should I get?)  "Have you tried online dating?"  (Yes, I have.  Do you know how many online dating profiles are complete fabrications?)  And, my all time favorite: "You're too picky."
You're damn right I am.
Here's what "not picky" got me.  When I came to Brooklyn, I was 24 years old.  In other words, I was already staring down the barrel of spinsterhood.  Also, I was a BT, which meant that I was already getting "redd" to people deemed undesirable--not that anyone actually made these introductions.  So, I navigated the "single scene" knowing I had two advantages: 1. I was the youngest person in the room by about a decade and 2. I was the novelty.  I attracted attention, mostly from divorced men pushing Social Security eligibility.  If I dated even one man under 40, I would be surprised.  But hey, don't be picky.  Besides, I knew that within a year the novelty would wear off and I would lose the edge I had.
It was in this environment that I met Mr. X.  Sure, he was 55 to my 24.  Sure, he was overweight and not the most attractive specimen.  But hey, he had to have a kind heart to be giving rides to people and feeding stray cats.  And kindness was all that matters.  Besides, I shouldn't be picky.  After all, I wasn't particularly pretty either.  So we started dating.  And when he lost his temper and screamed at me, I overlooked it.  It was probably my fault anyway.  When I found out that he had been arrested for possession of a controlled substance, I overlooked it.  My past wasn't exactly spotless either, and past is past right?  When he tried to sodomize me during our engagement, I wrote it off as a misunderstanding.  I mean, he did stop when I called him on it.
Guess what?  My marriage to Mr. X was marked by his alcoholism, frequent emotional abuse, and eventually rape.  But hey, I made it down the aisle, and that was all that mattered, right?  I hadn't been picky.
I deserve so much better than that.  So do all singles who get that line thrown at their heads.  It doesn't matter why I reject someone's advances.  I'm allowed to set standards for myself.    There are far worse things than being single.  And being in a bad marriage is numbers 1-100 on that list.

Destigmatizing mental health--who benefits?

There is a bill in Congress that has passed the House, and I wonder how many of you have heard of it.  It's called the Helping Families in Mental Health Crisis Act of 2016, affectionately nicknamed the "Murphy Bill" after Rep. Tim Murphy of Pennsylvania.  Among its provisions is the "Compassionate Communication on HIPAA"--which basically means if you have a mental illness, and a family member--or your doctor--decides that you are "in crisis," your right to privacy goes out the window.
Meanwhile, after Carrie Fisher's death, we learn that she was a tireless advocate for destigmatizing mental illness.  A number of people started coming out last year as "mentally ill."  Destigmatization for the win!
But who wins?
The juxtaposition of these two events shows that we have not destigmatized mental illness at all.  What we have done is destigmatize mental illness treatment.  Specifically, we have destigmatized one particular treatment model--behavioral therapy and psychotropic medication.  But, as the above bill shows, we still see the mentally ill as unstable and incompetent.
Mental illness is not simple.  It's a festering, bubbling cauldron of trauma, loneliness, financial stressors, chemical dependency, marginalized identity, and living in a society that does not handle pain well.  Because it is so complicated, there cannot be a simple, quick, "one-size-fits-all" solution.  Unfortunately, the limitations of insurance, our culture's need for the "quick fix," and the idea that "doctor knows best" lead us to pushing the above model.  When it works, it works.  When it doesn't--then a complicated problem can become very bad very quickly. 
We know that this model works for the provider.  They have a steady stream of patients.  And we know it works for the various social service agencies who can pat themselves on the back and say that they are doing something.  But what of the patient?  What can the patient do when a medication doesn't work, or the behavioral model of therapy is a poor fit?  If they go with the program, they are wasting time and resources on a treatment that doesn't work.  If they don't--then their doctor can say they are "in crisis."  And the stakes are high.  So much rides on keeping a provider happy.  Those determined to be "mentally ill" can potentially lose their children, their jobs, their access to schooling, and their freedom.  And now, they can take away your right to privacy as well.

Do we really love the geeks?

Lately, there's been a lot of talk about "geek is chic."  Comic book movies are coming out at least once a year, shows like Dr. Who and the Big Bang Theory have sizeable followings, and computers are as much a part of life as televisions once were.  Geek culture appears to be in.
But what of the geeks themselves?
Being a geek has never been about specific fandoms or about black-rimmed glasses.  Star Wars may have been a geek obsession as a sci-fi movie, but it was also the highest-grossing film for its time.  I doubt it was because a handful of kids in glasses and calculator watches saw it over and over again.  True geekery is about single-minded drive.  It's about latching onto something and pursuing for its own sake.  And that drive is something that our culture doesn't always appreciate.
As an example, let's look at a subject that is poorly understood and somewhat maligned--mathematics.  Since I started studying mathematics, I've noticed that the response I get from non-math people when I bring up what I'm studying is similar to the response I would get from introducing a two-headed garden snake--revulsion mingled with awe that I would even go near such a thing.  Sad, really.  Hidden Figures may have been nominated for Best Picture, but I doubt that enrollment in math departments and calculus classes will go up as a result.  (The class I took with the highest attrition rate was Calculus 2).  Similarly, with computer programming.  Last semester, I took an intro course in computer programming.  Out of a class of 30, maybe half turned up for the final.  Most people dropped out because it was "too hard."
Our culture loves the end result of geekery more than the geeks themselves.  We love programmers for giving us apps and games for our phones.  Does that mean that we would want to talk to an actual programmer about languages and debugging techniques?  Sheldon Cooper is abrasive and obnoxious.  He's also a Caltech engineer who makes a buttload of money.  How many of my readers laugh at his antics?  How many of us want a real Sheldon Cooper in our lives?  We love us some Game of Thrones, but we also call George R. R. Martin a "fat fuck" when he can't get the next volume out fast enough to satisfy our curiosity.  (And let's be honest here.  How many Game of Thrones fans actually heard of A Song of Ice and Fire before the show came out?)
What we love about "geek culture" is when something is so well done that it goes mainstream.  Because with it comes status and money--the two things geeks don't really care about when choosing an interest.  Sure, we may want our manga to sell.  Internet videographers would love to be the next Nostalgia Critic.  But only so that we can support ourselves doing what we love.  Anyone who pursues a field solely to "get rich" with find the work a disappointing slog.  And those who have been successful only were because their passion made the product special enough to be appreciated.  And that passion may create some of the greatest works and theories in history, but it doesn't make for scintillating coffee klatch conversation.

A partner in hope

This is the story of a young woman with no family.  A naive girl, duped into marriage to an older man.  A young woman who endured years of abuse, then fled with her children.  To this day, she is embroiled in a custody fight, her husband menaces her, and she is just trying to obtain her Get.
No, it's not my story.  The young woman in question is fellow Brooklyn resident Rivky Stein.

Her story resonates with me, and also gives me hope.  Her Facebook page has close to 8,000 "Likes," and she's gotten a great deal of support from both anonymous donors and ORA.  

But as hopeful as I am, her story also makes me sad.  For all her supporters, there are many voices online (and perhaps in person) who would rather silence her.  Those who call her "unstable" or "crazy", or those who claim that she is playing the domestic violence card to win in court.  (Just read the comments.)  Those who claim her husband is a sweet, charming man who has been blindsided by a drama queen looking for a payoff.  

Let me say this: Having gone through a similar experience, I believe her.  Both the video and the documents she posted to her page make her husband sound like a more extreme version of Builder.  Moreover, since she was not legally married to Yoel Weiss, she can not put in any claims against his property or assets.  In other words, she gains nothing by lying.  She got an order of protection, which in Kings County is all but impossible.  That alone adds weight to her allegations.  

Rivky, this is for you.  You are in my thoughts and prayers, and I hope you receive your Get soon.

BT3CK

I have said many times that Judaism is not monolithic.  We divide along so many lines--level of observance, type of Chassidus (or not), country of origin, approach to chumrot, hashkafah--the list is endless.  However, most can agree that there are two types of Orthodox Jews--the type that were born observant, and the type that were not.
Oh, if only it were that simple.
I posit there is at least one other group besides the FFBs and the BTs (I include geirim in the same category as BTs--in some cases, a similar level of acculturation is needed.  Moreover, kiruv seems to have the most success with the least observant among the born Jews.)  This group is the BT3CK--third culture kids.  The FFB children of BTs and geirim.
These are the children whose parents have stumbled through Kiddush with the help of the NCSY bentscher (transliterated in italics).  The ones who learned Hebrew or Yiddish helping their kids with homework.  The ones whose parents are just a little more liberal.  Who listened to the Beatles or Metallica along with Lipa Schmeltzer and Uncle Moishy.  Or, at the other end, the ones whose parents drank the Kool-Aid and out-chumra everyone else, making sure they "do it right."  The ones those grandparents don't understand that Oreos aren't cholov Yisrael.  (See, it has the little U on it!  Why are you such a fanatic?)  The ones who have seen pictures of their mothers in jeans and their fathers bareheaded.  The ones who never visit aunts and uncles because "it might set a bad example."
Now, my children do not truly fit this category.  While Builder may be evil, he is still an FFB, and the Things have a nice big extended Jewish family which would like nothing more than to cut me and my evil secular influences out of their lives.  However, they are still the daughters of a coastal nomad and the grandchildren of some pretty laid-back products of the 1970s.  Will they fit in the world of frum Brooklyn?  Will they want to?  All I can do is make sure they follow the rules, try to love G-d, and hope for the best.

When there are no easy answers

Today, I was coming home from Barnes & Noble in Union Square on the F train (browsing is free).  A young man with a black lab boarded and began panhandling.  Normally, my rule is to give only to street performers and not panhandlers because I can't afford it.  However, this kid broke my heart.  He was dressed in such shabby clothes that the heels of his sneakers were worn down into a diagonal line.  He looked like he hadn't had a decent meal in days and smelled like he hadn't showered in weeks (hard to stay clean on the street).  And his dog didn't look much better--it was skin and bones, and too listless to move.  The kid was begging so that he could buy something for his dog to eat.  An older man on the train asked the kid "Why don't you get a job?"
Right.  Because the Employment Fairy is going to tap him with a magic wand and turn him from a down-and-out street kid into a professional with a middle-class salary and benefits.  Because companies are falling all over themselves to hire someone without an address, phone, clean suits and access to a shower.  Because the economy DOESN'T suck right now so that even middle-class, college-educated, experienced people aren't struggling to find and keep jobs.  All of this ran through my head at this sanctimonious pronouncement.  And, since keeping my mouth shut has never been my strong suit, I responded with the only thing I could say:
"You can't get a job without an address."
Suddenly, the train car came alive.  People who didn't know each other were suddenly discussing the dearth of social services available in what is supposedly the richest country in the world.  I even volunteered a bit of my own story--that I was fleeing an abusive marriage, and that there was very little available even for me.  Sure, there is shelter space--sort of.  Most shelters are full.  Sure, there is Section 8, and everyone assumed that an abused woman with kids would get to the top of the list.  Yeah, right behind the thousands of OTHER abused women with kids on the list.  And, unless Builder ponies up tuition like YESTERDAY, I will have no childcare and will end up homeschooling again by default.  This, of course, puts the kibosh on my plans to get a job and be self-supporting.
And then I thought how narrow the chasm is that separates this young man from myself.  If it weren't for the grace of G-d and the court system, I could be homeless too.  Sure, I'm sitting there in clean clothes, with a wig and scarf on my head, jewelry, makeup, manicured nails, an Anne Klein purse and a smartphone.  I look like any other middle-class person.  But who can tell?  Builder is only paying half his court-ordered child support every month.  I'm living in a house that isn't really mine.  The wig and scarf were bought prior to my marriage.  Queen Mom paid for the purse and smartphone.  The makeup is drugstore grade, and I do my own nails with Sally Hansen polish.  And the jewelry is street-vendor costume, all bought before I came to New York.  I'm no stranger to the condition of having the thinnest veneer of middle-class prosperity separate me from the streets. 

Dear Jew in the City

Recently, Orthodox vlogger Allison Josephs (also known as Jew in the City) published an article on Buzzfeed about ridiculous Orthodox stereotypes.  Now, some of them are not only stupid, but have been largely discredited even in the MSM (does anyone really believe that old "hole in the sheet" myth or that kosher means blessed by a rabbi?  And Manischewitz wine?  Blech.  Give me my Herzog White Riesling any day.)
OK, now I get to respond.
Dear Mrs. Josephs,
I read your article.  While every single point you made is technically true, it's not all a bed of roses.  Now, don't get me wrong.  I identify as Orthodox.  I love the Torah, and will keep it to my dying day!  Judaism is a beautiful religion, and there is a great deal of wisodm and kindness in in it.
However.
However, I must take issue with points 3, 4, 5, 6, and 11.  While it is true that many Orthodox women have fulfilling careers (among my friends are a medical editor and a college professor) and are not slaves to their husbands, do not be so quick to generalize.  Sadly, these stereotypes exist for a reason.  For example, a large majority of the women on my block have at least six children.  My next-door neighbor is currently carrying her ninth.  And these kids are...not that impressive.  (I used to think that I was the only one who got the "Boro Park Stare."  Who knew that it was a real phenomenon?)  Only two women on my block work outside the home, and maybe three have a degree from something that could be considered a real college.  (Unfortunately, there seems to be a growth in online diploma mills.  The degrees granted by these institutions can't be used for much beyond wallpapering the subway.)  As for the science--I know people even in my Modern Orthodox shul who interpret the first chapter of Genesis literally.
Again, I'm happy that you're happy.  I'm glad that being Orthodox doesn't interfere with your hip, urban, 21st-century life.  But this article erases the voices of those for whom Orthodoxy is as described.  Those who raise money for Weberman while silencing his victim.  Those who believe that the Earth really is 6,000 years old.  Those who suffer as agunot.  Those who lose their sons to divorce in a court system that still believes that boys go to the fathers.
I'd like to close with a true story about Elizabeth Cady Stanton, one of the founding mothers of the American suffrage movement.  While she lived in Boston, she loved being a housewife so much that she didn't understand why every woman could not find fulfillment in the domestic sphere.  Since she had good friends and good servants, she was happy.  However, after her husband moved the family to Seneca Falls, and she lost her good friends and devoted servants, she suddenly realized that being a housewife wasn't always pleasant.  This was the moment that she began to fight for suffrage.  While I hope that you never experience the dark side of the Orthodox community, please do not be so quick to discount it.
Sincerely,
AztecQueen2000

College--sex, drugs and Jesus Christ

It's odd that in joining this community, I found myself in a place where "college" has become a dirty word.  Those who attend invariably went to Orthodox institutions (YU or Touro), or completed a degree online in one of those bogus "seminary/yeshiva credit, life skills and CLEP tests take you from high school to a Master's in a year" institutions where I seriously wonder if they're accredited.
Often cited is the fear that college will interfere with one's hashkafa.  That the liberal professors with their teachings of evolution and hating Israel, combined with enough sex and drugs to make Woodstock look tame, will drive these poor kids off the derech.  Soon they'll be scarfing down bacon cheeseburgers at Friday night keg parties.  On Yom Kippur.  And it all comes from college.
Now, I went to college.  Real college.  And, yes, there was some of the "party school" atmosphere at the old alma mater, especially with Mexico and booze for the 18 and up crowd just a short drive away.  However, I was never pressured to try drugs.  I was never pressured to drink.  I only went on one date between freshman year and graduation, and spent the entire time fully clothed.  The biggest danger to my spiritual development in Judaism was...get ready for it...
Missionaries.
That's right.  While the druggie kids didn't care if I joined them or not, I could easily think of several people who tried to sell me on Jesus Christ.  From the guy in my first-semester Economics class who tried to sell me on the truth of NT prophesies (and any prophesy is true when it's written after the fact), to my freshman mentor who dragged me to The Rock church (pass the Kool-Aid), to my RA (who tried to tell me that even the best non-Christians were going to burn in Hell for all eternity--great way to make Jesus look like a jerk), to the man I dated for 18 months (although in all fairness, I was warned about him).  I had more people trying to sell me on Christianity during my college years than I've had trying to sell me on any other vice in my entire life.
So, please remember that the danger may not come in a keg, but in a book.  And prepare your kids for the missionary onslaught.

Stormtroopers or cleaning ladies

Recently, I had one of those discussions with Builder that make me wonder why I signed up in the first place.  I wanted to put Thing 1 in a Girl Scout troop.  Builder refused to allow it, since none of the kids were frum.  In fact, I think there was only one other Jewish family in the troop.  Now, this doesn't bother me in the slightest.  However, Builder doesn't want our children socializing with and learning values from "Goyim."
This breaks my heart.
There is a mindset that seems steeped less in Torah and more in paranoia, that the Gentile world should be avoided at all costs.  There is no "taking the fruit and leaving the rind" because there is no fruit.  At least, no kosher fruit.  So, what happens?  Children of survivors (and that would be about 90% of Hasidic Brooklyn) treat all Gentiles as potential Nazi stormtroopers.  (In fact, my initial mental reaction to Builder's refusal was, "It's the Girl Scouts, not the Hitler Youth!")  Other than the cleaning lady that comes once a week, few of my neighbors see Gentiles at all.
So, what is the outcome?  Children who grow up with this mindset have a mentality that all Gentiles are either rabid anti-Semites, or only fit to clean their houses.  Ethnic jokes and slurs abound.  Families even refer to their housekeepers as "the goyta," as though she has no name.  My friend CeCe, a Jewish woman of color, used to work at the Bronx WIC office.  Those Jewish families that came in for benefits would avoid her and her coworkers of color like the plague.  (Even though these African American and Latino Americans were working and not on benefits). 
My sincerest hope is that my daughters will grow up to see all people, whether Jewish or Gentile, as human beings.  Some are good, some are flawed.  But neither side is perfect.

It's more than socialization

Recently, Queen Mom had an idea.  Why not take the Things upstate for a week, rent a bungalow in a colony, and then, instead of just hanging out there, going out and doing all the fun, woodsy, outdoorsy stuff we want to do with them?  Go hiking, find a stable and go riding, maybe even do some fishing?  Sounds good to me.  Last night, I saw an ad for a bungalow that could be rented by the week.  When I called up, Builder whispered  "Ask about the people who stay there?  Are they Satmar, Skvere, Modern?"  So, I asked.
"What school do your kids go to?"  Seriously.  This was the woman's response.
Obviously, no one knows what to do with the homeschooled kids, but who knew?  Who knew that everything about you and your compatibility with others could be defined by Bais Yaakov vs. Prospect? 
Personally, I hate pigeonholing.  When I was in San Diego, I hated people pigeonholing me on the basis of my age and marital status.  So what?  After 21, age ceases to matter unless you're cheese.  And as for marital status, I've seen people get married at 18, and I've seen them get married at 80.  It says nothing about the person.  So, just because I'm single and 22, I can be written off as a kid?  I hated it then.  I still hate it.
Now, the only pigeonholing seems to be in the form of which bus you ride in the morning.  (Or, don't ride, hehehe.)  However, it can be determined, according to a total stranger, that I would or would not be a good fit because of something so insignificant as a school choice?  What if I lived in a place where there was only one school?  What then?
But this points to an even bigger problem.  There are too many wedges in the frum world as it is.  If we can get to apoint where we tell people "If you're not X, don't bother coming here," then we've already lost.  We're still living out the Churban.  And it will replay, again and again, unless we change our attitude.
Just a little something for the Three Weeks.

Of birthdays, cutoffs, and the reason for school

Over on Imamother, there is a post about kids who are born a few days past the cutoff.  Should you try to push them into the next grade or not.  The consensus is that the kid is almost always better off being the oldest in the class, rather than the youngest.  Older kids are bigger, more mature, more physically coordinated, and will have an easier time making friends and playing sports.
And now for something not completely different.
Thing 1 is a November baby.  Here in NY state, that means that she was born about 5-6 weeks before the cutoff.  She will be of compulsory school age in the fall (and I get to begin the paperwork saga that is the bane of every NY homeschooler's existence).  However, she is in a very unique position.  I happen to know two other November babies--both of whom were held back.  I've never held her back.  As a result, she was always in the older group--with the entering kindergarteners (or Pre-1A kids, depending on lexicon) at camp, with the Pre-1A crowd in her Sunday program.  She's also earned her siddur, and has worked her way through material appropriate for five-year-olds.  And she's not having any problems.  She's tall, well-spoken, and mature--even though she's young.  Had I held her back, she's be learning her ABCs instead of reading Little Bear.  She's be learning her numbers instead of manipulating them.  Also, I keep hearing about the social effects trumping academics.  Isn't school supposed to be academic?  Otherwise, it's just a six-hour a day social club.

The irony of being tifrosh min hatzibur

Lately, Ive been thinking a lot about why I stay.  I have a list of disagreements with the frum community--the bigotry, the arrogance, the materialism, the sheer unsustainability of the kollel lifestyle, the shoddy, overpriced workmanship (Builder excluded--he's an amazing contractor!), the Balkanization along sectarian lines...so, why I am still here?
Simply put, because these issues affect me on a very intellectual level.  For the most part, everyone I've run across--my in-laws, my neighbors, my former landlord, the people in the various shuls I've davened in--have been very nice and accepting towards me.  So, I've learned to smile a lot and keep the controversial topics for the blog.
And therein lies the irony.  I am separating myself from a community made up of very nice people.  True, I may fundamentally disagree with them on many levels, but as long as I wear the costume and keep my remarks non-committal, I can find acceptance.
For the most part.
To be continued...

Equal-opportunity disempowerment

There is a stereotype about fundamentalist women--whether Jewish, Christian, or Muslim--that we are perpetually barefoot, pregnant, and chained to the stove.  We are considered delicate little flowers, who dance attendance on their husband's every whim.  And we are married to macho creeps who dictate EXACTLY everything we think, do and say.
Now, I've never practiced any version of Christianity or Islam, so I can't comment on it's family dynamics.  However, I am a practicing member of fundamentalist Judaism.  And, I'm not sure that entire stereotype holds.  Particularly the part about the bossy, macho creep that we are (supposedly) chained to in matrimony. 
The truth is, I don't see men as having many more choices than women.  For the most part, Ultra-Orthodox women are better educated than their husbands, more likely to attend some kind of college, and more likely to attain a career.  Men have few choices, whether it's career path or even spouse (often, he's a victim of his parent's choices as much as his wife is.)  Many men can barely speak English--a real problem in the United States.  Often, his decisions about working, learning, level of education, what to wear, and where to daven have been made for him by his family or community.  Moreover, he's so busy working and learning that he has little time for his family, and not much input on how to raise them.  If he is Chasidic, then they go to school in their Chassidus.  Otherwise, the wife has nearly-complete decision-making power about child-rearing.  And these decisions impact him.  If his wife chooses an expensive yeshiva, he must pay for it.  (I actually know a family where the husband wanted to homeschool the children--and the wife vetoed the idea!  The kids have all been in school since the age of three, and the husband must pay for it.)