In my family, necklaces are more meaningful than any other piece of jewelry.

I find myself thanking all the authors I have read, my family, my friends, and every other Brave Girl out there writing advocating, and proudly showing their Jewish feminist identity.

I couldn’t stop thinking about how my classmates spoke about the Holocaust no differently than if they were talking about the mythology of an ancient civilization.

Even if I didn't agree with counter-protesters, we both engaged in a fundamentally Jewish act: protest.

I realized that my faults with Judaism stemmed from men’s interpretations of how women should behave, not actual law.

Just as the Havdalah service requires participation from each of the senses, I realized that my identities– a Jew, a daughter, a woman, a sister, and a feminist– would be integral as I entered Jewish adulthood.

Women can only access Judaism's power when we enter a space that allows us to engage with tradition in the way we see fit.

The moment I write with any vulnerability, I second-guess every opinion. Overcoming my fear and writing about my vulnerability has made me a better writer. 

Feeling like my value was my body—either as a commodity or as a distraction—robbed me of confidence and comfort.

Our society associates femininity with weakness, so was validating to learn that other members of my cohort had similar experiences with sexism.

Twelve years later, "Miss Rumphius'" message of exploring faraway places to find community still resonate with me.

Instead of siloing ourselves into a box, we need to break down those barriers and reach out to one another.

There are serious barriers to the classic, magical overnight Jewish summer camp experience.

The gendered nature of BBYO has made it more difficult for me to connect with my Jewish identity and to find a community where I feel like I belong. 

With programming that addresses and affirms our identities, we can make camp a relaxing and nurturing place for all.

The young Conservative women of my generation owe a huge debt to Rayla and the other advocates who paved the way for us.

I want to feel obligated to do mitzvot, not just be granted the ability.  

Neurodivergent people deserve to have the tools in their synagogues to connect with their religion in meaningful ways.

The amount of page time devoted to questioning a ruling that diminishes the status of deaf people represented, to me, that these rabbis recognized that physical limitations should not keep people from following the mitzvot.  

This is the beauty of Judaism: when one connects with others from different denominations, merging can be amazing.

Nothing is lost by encouraging and enabling different ways of accessing spirituality. If anything, people will learn a new tradition along the way.

My ADHD gave me a constant desire for emotional escape, which allowed me to enter a world where I learned about my Jewish foremothers.