How old is deborah feldman

When my professors and classmates at college instantly treated me like an equal, and regarded my opinions as worth consideration, I basked in their recognition like it was the sunshine after a long rain.

I read newspapers and talked about politics, slightly surprised each time I was taken seriously. I asked questions without fear of repercussions; I made decisions without wondering if I was going to be criticised.

But while taking delight in my freedom, I also wrestled with sensations of guilt and rootlessness. I felt torn between wanting to be a part of the outside world and convincing myself that it was an impossible goal. This constant state of self-consciousness became an integral part of who I am and how I see the world. When that goes away, perhaps then I will be an official gentile. I did everything it took to blend in. I drank imported beer. I shredded my jeans. I listened to offensive feminist rap and watched independent films.

What made me different from the rest of the students was that I was four years older than everyone else, and when class was finished I went to pick up my son from daycare instead of heading to the pub. When I was 17 my grandfather arranged my marriage to a young Talmud scholar with golden side-curls and the beginnings of a beard.

That's how I came to be a single mother at such a young age. I'd like to explain that to everyone I meet who thinks I'm my son's nanny or, worse, a knocked-up unwed mother. But the story of a teenage girl who forgot to use protection is simpler than the truth, and I allow people their assumptions. Had my son stayed in the Hasidic community he would have been attending Hebrew school every day from nine to five, and he would very likely have grown up into one of those young men thrown into the real world without even a high school diploma to help them succeed.

Such deprivation in this age of opportunity is unthinkable to me. My son might grow up to be an astronaut or a vet. It's his choice. If he'd like to be a Talmud scholar, that's fine, too. But he'll have the opportunity to go to college if he likes, and we read books about hungry caterpillars without feeling a shred of guilt. I drove away from my marriage, and my religion, for good on the one eve of my 23rd birthday, with nothing but my son and some garbage bags filled with clothes.

I changed my phone number and address and didn't tell anyone where I was. To the people whose blood is the same as mine I am very likely lost for ever. God didn't seem to mind that I now uncovered my hair, drove a car or studied philosophy, but the Hasids sure did. I'd broken the rules and, like the actress on the poster, had proceeded to flaunt it by writing about it in a memoir. Those with the gall to break out of the community are expected to slink away in silence, to disappear into the netherworld of mainstream society.

Especially if the rebel is a woman. It is easier for men to find the means and independence to slip through the cracks in Hasidic society. Women are quickly tied down, made financially and emotionally dependent upon men and are rarely faced with opportunities to explore the outside world.

By and large, being ostracised does not pain me as much as being different. I pride myself on being unrecognisable; I like it when people try to guess what ethnicity I am and run the gamut from Lebanese to Native American. If you can't quite put your finger on where I come from, then I've done a good job. Truth is, no matter how great the jeans fit, or how sleek the cigarette looks between my fingers, I will never be able to erase the part of me that is Hasidic.

I have learned to be proud of that, but it took me a long time to get here. I have set down new roots, and I have discovered that my friends have become my family, supporting me in whatever I decide to do, and accepting me for who I am. And that, I have come to realise, is what family is all about. For more information, go to deborahfeldman. That is the future of Israel and anyone who has not confronted that truth is in denial and that denial is very destructive. Sign in. Log into your account.

Password recovery. Forgot your password? Get help. Jewish World. Updated: May 28, Deborah Feldman on her new life and family healing since Unorthodox. By Caroline Baum. May 28, Caroline Baum Caroline Baum has had a distinguished career as a journalist and broadcaster. Recent Reads.

Previous article Ex-Mossad chiefs speak frankly about taboo subject of assassinations. Next article Settler leaders claim to have map showing Trump plan for Palestinian state. Latest News. Jewish World Panel Picks - November 12, 0. Art installation recalls infamous pogrom; murderer of French Holocaust survivor gets life sentence; EU rights body criticises 'lack of adequate data' on antisemitism.

No doubt girls all over Brooklyn are buying this book, hiding it under their mattresses, reading it after lights out — and contemplating, perhaps for the first time, their own escape.

Feldman is featured in the Swiss-German documentary Female Pleasure and the Netflix original miniseries Unorthodox is loosely based on her autobiography. Netflix also produced a documentary, Making Unorthodox, that chronicles the creative process and filming, and discussed the differences between the book and TV series.

Her autobiography, Unorthodox: The Scandalous Rejection of My Hasidic Roots, tells the story of her escape from an ultra-religious community in Brooklyn, New York, and was used as the basis of the Netflix miniseries Unorthodox. Feldman started blogging and in published her autobiography, Unorthodox: The Scandalous Rejection of My Hasidic Roots, which became a bestseller.

Also in , she published Exodus: A Memoir. Her books have been translated into German, and well received by German critics, which led to her appearing on various talk shows on German TV. Once in school she "made a beeline" for a college degree to connect her with the outside world.

She began to speak out and "open my mind. In , she took her son, left her husband, and cut all ties with the Hasidic community. She lived for two months with friends, and consulted with lawyers to make sure she didn't lose custody of her son.

As of , Feldman had not seen or spoken to any of her family since Feldman says that the birth of her son was a turning point regarding staying in the Hasidic community: "I saw my future all mapped out I freaked out at the knowledge that I have the responsibility and guilt of putting everything I saw as my oppression into an innocent person.