by Danya Ruttenberg
If there was one specific experience through which I came of age as a Jewish woman, it was my mother’s death my junior year of college. It happened much later than, perhaps, most of the other rites of passage described on these pages, but adulthood certainly hadn’t happened by means of my bat mitzvah—a fundamentally empty event involving a new dress, new bank account, and the same insecurities I’d had since before needing a bra. Over the seven years following that, I, like most kids who were raised with privilege, teetered on the strange border between childhood and adulthood—taking steps towards independence but not quite ready to stand on my own.
by Fiona Rosenbloom
by Danya Ruttenberg
by Ruth Andrew Ellenson
by Sonia Levitin
by Shulamit Reinharz
by Hannah R. Goodman
by Marilyn Sachs
by Anita Diamant
by Isabel Rose
by Sarah Darer Littman
by Nessa Rapoport
by Judith Katzir
by Valerie Zenatt