Leaving a Faith Tradition as a Woman in Her 30's
“The separation phase of leaving my previous environment broke my heart; but that breaking is necessary for an individual to be able to connect with what allows them to begin to rebuild.”
― Jamie Lee Finch, You Are Your Own: A Reckoning with the Religious Trauma of Evangelical Christianity
The Netflix series Unorthodox follows a young woman, named Esty (brilliantly played by Shira Haas) and her journey to leave the confinement of her ultra-orthodox community in Williamsburg, Brooklyn. While the religious tradition is different from my own, there is one scene that beautifully captures the full range of emotions that myself and I am sure many others have experienced during similar journeys.
In the scene, Esty joins a group of new acquaintances for a trip to the beach. She is dressed modestly and watches as the group begins to shed their clothing and run to the water. She carefully observes her peers as they play in the ocean uninhibited by the opinions of anyone around them. While she has physically removed herself from her previous environment, her mind and body still manifest those very orthodox religious traditions. She has on multiple layers of clothing including a turtle neck sweater, despite it being a warm day, and she is still wearing her sheitel, (a wig worn by married Orthodox Jewish women, covering the hair as a sign of modesty). I could see and feel the inner questioning of Esty desperately wondering what it must feel like to be free to act on her own desires?
In this moment, Esty makes what feels like the first decision for herself in her lifetime regarding her own body. She steps into the water, and you can feel the internal relief as she removes her sheitel, lays it in the water and lets the sun fall on her head for the first time.
Similar to the story of Esty, I grew up with strictly enforced rules for how women should behave and dress. In examining fundamentalist religion, specifically Abrahamic religions (e.g., Judaism, Christianity, and Islam), I am learning that there are many similarities in the ways in which the patriarchs of each of these traditions view and treat women. There are rules for what parts of their body should be hidden, how they should interact with men particularly their husbands, and for what role they should play in society. But before the rules were ever set in place, the very origins of most fundamentalist religions set the tone for women as translations of the Bible, Torah and Quran all gender God as male, inferring that women are not made in the exact image of God.
I hope to go deeper here another time, but over the last few years, I have curiously listened to the beliefs of those (beyond Ariana Grande) who believe God is a woman. And while I believe the same gendering concept would apply here as it does with the male version of God, moving beyond the idea of a (white) male God has been an empowering step towards viewing myself as being made in the image of God.
But back to the topic at hand, in my experience, women were required to adhere to a strict dress code in which the minimum was set by the organization’s highest level of leadership often laid out as a “Standard of holiness.” And one of the main components of this standard is that women are required to wear dresses or skirts of a modest length (usually with a hem falling at or below one’s knees). The biblical text used to justify this requirement is found in the Old Testament of the Bible in a series of regulations concerning daily life given by Moses to the Israelites.
Deuteronomy 22:5 (KJV) “The woman shall not wear that which pertaineth unto a man, neither shall a man put on a woman’s garment: for all that do so are abomination unto the LORD thy God.”
Interestingly other requirements laid out in this very same chapter such as not wearing wool and linen together, not using multiple types of seeds when planting a vineyard, and requiring a virgin to marry her rapist are discarded. Regardless, the origins of this belief largely stem from the rejection of the western cultural symbol of women wearing pants as a sign of feminism.
Another defining standard set for women in the United Pentecostal Church is that women are forbidden from cutting their hair. This is taken from a literal interpretation of various passages of scripture that refer to a woman’s hair as a covering. 1 Corinthians 11: 15: “But if a woman have long hair, it is a glory to her: for her hair is given her for a covering.”
While this isn’t a mainstream Christian interpretation, the concept of a covering on a woman’s head is also seen in different sects of Judaism and Islam. For some Orthodox Jews, a married woman should only show her hair to her husband in private as part of the sacred bond between a husband and wife. In some aspects of Islam the covering of a woman’s hair is a symbol of obedience and protection by Allah.
Additionally, women are also required to dress “modestly” as to not give the men in their life a reason to stumble in their morality. This not only means covering up your shoulders, arms, cleavage and legs, but also that women should not wear clothing that accentuates or draws attention to their figure. Again this concept of hiding a woman’s body is seen across multiple traditions, and beyond religion resonates throughout modern culture, as rape victims are often accused of “asking for it” if they are wearing revealing clothes.
The latter is often difficult for young women as the very idea of deciding, “does this draw male attention” is subject to the opinion of others both male and female. As a teenager it was rare to find an outfit that met all of the length and measurement qualifications and that I liked the way that it felt on my body. There are several occasions in my mind where I remember feeling confident in an outfit only to be pulled aside by an elder to tell me that either my sleeves were too short, the slit in my skirt was too high, or my dress was too tight. Like many women subject to society’s beauty standards, I have struggled with body image for most of my life. And only recently have I learned that it stems largely from being taught at such an early age that the very existence of my body was something to be ashamed of and to be hidden.
Suggested reading: The Wisdom of Your Body: Finding Healing, Wholeness, and Connection through Embodied Living by Hillary McBride
Because Pentecostals believe in a strict hierarchy of authority that is God > man > woman, deviation by a woman of these outward rules is believed to be a sign of her true spiritual nature. Thus women who push against these decisions imposed by men who do not have to comply with them, are viewed and labeled as rebellious. This system of adherence or “submission” to spiritual authority is used across the culture to reinforce all aspects of the system.
I feel I must caveat here, that it is not my intent to disparage religious traditions broadly, as I know many women who have found peace and fulfillment in their respective faith. However, it is my intent to relay that this fulfillment is only predicated by choice. Which is not often the case for many born into rigid structures. In the book that inspired the aforementioned Netflix show, Unorthodox: The Scandalous Rejection of My Hasidic Roots, author Deborah Feldman talks about how she was raised by parents who survived the Holocausts and joined the orthodox religious sect out of a sense of guilt for surviving when so many others did not. In my own family, there are differing reasons as to how my parents’ generation came into their own faith. For some, the tight knit community was a safe haven from broken homes that provided relationship, emotional support and structure. Children in these stories often grow up sympathetic to these reasonings, and use them to justify abuses and trauma in their own life.
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After leaving the United Pentecostal Church in 2016 at the age of 30, I suddenly found myself in a world with no rules as to how I should dress, wear my hair, or what my social routine should look like. It was liberating yet frightening all at the same time.
It was an odd feeling to be a grown woman struggling to get dressed each day. I had no sense of what type of haircut was good for my face shape. I had never been to a salon, and I had no clue as to how much a hair cut should cost or what to ask for from my stylist. As a person with mixed racial heritage, but who grew up thinking I was the same as my Caucasian blonde friends, I hadn’t had the opportunity to learn how to style my own hair. My first experiment was to go really short because I had had such long thick hair for my whole life.
This was not the best decision nor the greatest look for me. And looking back at pictures of myself from this time, I can see and feel the internal struggle that was happening. But I couldn’t express this struggle out loud to anyone because leaving the religious confines of friends and family back home, left such a gap for me in having someone to confide in or vent my frustrations to. I knew that if I vented to someone still in the tradition, it would be met with, “See, it’s not any better.”
I chose the example of hair here, but this same concept applied to all aspects of my appearance. The concept of dress pants was an absolute nightmare for my curvy figure. And I didn’t know how to properly use makeup, or have any since of what my skin care routine should be. Still to this day, I struggle with the fear of looking childish in my professional world. Because women are valued based on their appearance. When I got my ears pierced for the first time, I wanted so badly to ask for advice with after care instructions. However, I had to rely on google as I didn’t know anyone personally who had their ears pierced. Women are already held to so many beauty and body standards that are impossible to keep up with, and the addition of a life transition can be extremely lonely. So if you are currently going through it, know that you are seen. Your feelings are valid and very few people will have the courage to go through what you are going through. It is a time of breaking and unlearning that is necessary to get where you want to go.
And years later, I can confidently say there is light at the end of the tunnel. While I am still healing and learning, I can say that the newness of personal autonomy was worth the awkwardness and guilt I felt for leaving.
If I could go back and give advice to myself the first would be to allow more people into my journey. I was so afraid of receiving criticism and judgement from both family and friends that I felt I had to go through it alone. As I am writing this, I realize that while my husband was extremely supportive, this may be the first time that he is hearing some of my thoughts about this transition. Because I did not fully let him see this internal struggle. But I will never forget the first time that I opened up to a new friend about where I was in my life, and while she didn’t have any ability to personally relate, she was genuinely curious and asked questions without judgement. She ultimately helped me to see the bravery in what I was choosing to do.
The second thing I would tell myself, is “give yourself grace.” You don’t have to have it all figured out, you don’t have to prove anything to the world. Go at your own pace and let yourself enjoy the process of becoming. There will be plenty of trial and error moments, but this is a learning process that will make you a stronger person in the end.
“For many, this relational reconnection with themselves is a brand new experience of learning to trust and be connected with their body for the very first time. It speaks to the necessary unlearning process for many coming out of Evangelical environments because for so long the physical body was seen as something dangerous or guilty or of providing, at the least, false information about reality and, at the worst, a reason for eternal torture.”
― Jamie Lee Finch, You Are Your Own: A Reckoning with the Religious Trauma of Evangelical Christianity
