JERUSALEM - It’s 6 a.m. and the sun is rising on an ultra-Orthodox neighborhood. Across the neighborhood, women stir their children from sleep. They make breakfast for their families and pack kosher lunches. They drop their children off at school or daycare. Their husbands head to the Yeshiva to spend their day studying the Torah. Once their family members are all in their designated places, the women head to the office for a full day of work.
According to the Central Bureau of Statistics, 78% of ultra-Orthodox women are employed outside the home. In ultra-Orthodox communities, it’s commonplace for men to spend their days studying the Torah, the religious text of the Jewish religion. The ultra-Orthodox consider studying the Torah to be the highest calling for men in their society, but men who study the Torah only earn a government stipend and another income is often needed to support a family.
Devorah Evron, the Director of the Elga Stulman Women’s Institute for Jewish Studies, said ultra-Orthodox women consider it their duty to support their families financially so their husbands can fulfill their holy duties. Evron is a self-proclaimed feminist and a rabbi although she prefers the term rabba. She wears a brightly colored dress and when she speaks, you can hear the hint of a New York accent, which is where she was born although she has called Israel home for decades. Evron explains that in the Western world, it’s widely considered progressive and feminist for a woman to be a main breadwinner, but in the context of Israeli society, that’s oversimplification.
“When you say something is a feminist act, it’s important to consider: is it an act that the woman chose to do or something that she feels obligated to do because someone told her to?” she said. “They feel obligated to live that way.”
Tzippy Yarom, a member of the ultra-Orthodox community is a software engineer and a writer. She sees her job as a contribution to her husband’s life’s work.
“I always longed for supporting a learning husband. It is my merit, my part in what he’s doing,” Yarom said.
Tzippy Yarom lives within an ultra-Orthodox community. She is the primary source of income for her family. (Photo by Fortesa Latifi)
Ultra-Orthodoxy is the most conservative form of Judaism. Ultra-Orthodox women cover their hair either with wigs or head scarfs because it is considered improper for a woman’s hair to be seen by anyone other than her husband. They wear modest clothing that almost entirely covers their bodies, except for their faces and forearms. Ultra-Orthodox men wear dark suits and grow out their beards. In ultra-Orthodox communities, mannequins aren’t used in store windows because they aren’t considered modest. In a cell phone store, “kosher phones” – phones without internet access – are for sale. The ultra-Orthodox publish their own newspapers, in which the they can only allude to the word “pregnancy” but can’t use it. They strictly adhere to a kosher diet. They avoid being alone with a member of the opposite sex and don’t touch anyone other than their husband or wife.
These strict rules make working in a secular workplace challenging for ultra-Orthodox women, as they struggle to find the line between respecting common workplace practices and holding true to these religious convictions.
“The main embarrassing issue is that I’m not shaking hands with men. Any new introduction or appointment begins with an apology for not shaking hands,” explained Malka Eichenstein, who works as an accountant at a secular accounting firm.
Nili Davidovitch experienced the same issues, which is why she founded Daat Solutions – a technology firm which exclusively employs ultra-Orthodox women. Daat’s offices are on the 10th floor of a bustling building in Tel Aviv. The noise from the city floats into the elevator, but inside of Daat Solutions, it’s quiet. In her office, Davidovitch sits behind her desk. Pictures of her family smile out from their frames mounted on the wall.
“It’s so much nicer. It’s not a matter or feeling secure. It’s a matter of feeling better, feeling at home,” she said.
Davidovitch said that it can be difficult for ultra-Orthodox women to excel in secular workforces. It isn’t that they aren’t given the opportunity, she insists, but that they can’t seize some opportunities that secular women can.
“When you say something is a feminist act, it’s important to consider: is it an act that the woman chose to do or something that she feels obligated to do because someone told her to?"
“The limit doesn’t come from the outside. The limit comes from within us. If someone says that she cannot be out of the house after 3 p.m., then that’s her limit. It’s the limit they’re putting on themselves,” she said.
As the boss in her own firm, Davidovitch makes concessions for the ultra-Orthodox women she employs that secular employers may be hesitant to do. The employees of her firm are allowed to come into work any time between 7 and 9 a.m. and leave between 3 and 5 p.m, which enables them to be home when their children get out of school. Only kosher food is allowed in the firm’s kitchen and any outside client meetings are scheduled at kosher restaurants. Because there are no men employed at the firm, the women don’t have to worry about avoiding handshakes. When Davidovitch tells clients before a meeting that her company is run by ultra-Orthodox women so that the expectations for behavior are already in place.
There’s a communal sense in the office, Davidovitch says. Since the women are from the same community, they can share stories of their families and lives and customs without feeling out of place.
One of Davidovitch’s main goals is to develop her business further. She hopes that people understand how capable ultra-Orthodox women are.
“I know that we can do it, but I want other people to see that we can do it as well,” she said.
At the end of the work day, ultra-Orthodox women pick up their children from daycare. They make dinner and do the laundry and clean the house. They play with their children and put them to sleep. They prepare for the next day and wait for their husbands to come home from Yeshiva.
For Malka Eichenstein, the lopsided weight of familial responsibilities is worth it.
“I do believe that the survival of the Jewish folk over history results mainly from keeping our tradition and learning the Torah,” she said. “It’s my pride and my donation to my family and to the Jewish folk as a whole.”