Little White Lie

By Jenny Levison for Jewniverse

Lacey Schwartz didn’t set out to be a filmmaker, but a story too personal to ignore dropped in her lap. Little White Lie is her documentary film about her family history, secrets, and ultimately her decision to face—and tell—the truth.

Born into a white Jewish family in Woodstock, NY, Schwartz always looked different—i.e., darker-skinned—than the other people in her family. Her mother told her that she took after her Sicilian grandfather. As her high school boyfriend, who was black, notes in the film, “White people will believe anything.

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I Was Shamed For Breastfeeding in a Synagogue

B.J. Epstein for Kveller

I’m not a religious person, though being Jewish is meaningful to me. So when on a recent visit to see my relatives in the States, my wife, daughter, and I were asked to attend Shabbat services with them, we agreed. I thought it would be a nice opportunity to connect to my background. But by the end of the evening, I deeply regretted going, and I wish I didn’t feel that way.

The issue was not about the religiosity of the evening, or the specific prayers offered or songs sung. It wasn’t about the cheesy but sweet music played. Or even the lateness of the evening, considering we’d just flown from the UK to the US and could barely keep our eyes open. The issue, surprisingly enough, was breastfeeding.

For me, Judaism is about family. I think of Jews as being family-oriented (not, of course, that people of other cultures or religions aren’t also family-focused; I just find that Judaism means family to me). So I assumed that families, and all that families entail, would be warmly welcomed in synagogue.

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My Kids Live 10 Months For 2, and I Live For 10 pm

By Allison Cohen for Raising Kvell

My life is as a voyeur. In fact, social media has turned us all into complete voyeurs. We follow blogs of people we have never met, are cheerleaders for Team Ethan, and wait for the next post from Superman Sam’s mom.  Who hasn’t clicked on the Facebook page of the first person that broke their heart way back when? Not to mention trying to keep up with the Instagram pages of our kids and their 617 friends. Oh and all those beautiful “how to get beachy waves” tutorials—I keep watching, and it ain’t working. And, it is about to get much worse…

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I Hope My Daughter Questions Everything

By Shira Fischer for Raising Kvell


My 3-year-old daughter already knows the difference between dairy and meat. She saw our delight the first time she asked us if a meal was chalavi (dairy) or besari (meat) and now she can even choose the right silverware. She doesn’t yet understand all the details–but she knows there’s a difference. Yesterday we even went to the next level and discussed pareve (neither dairy nor meat), too.

Through these recent conversations, I’ve realized how much about our world must seem completely arbitrary to her, with names and categories she has to just accept–and she’s slowly learning to do so. No pajamas during the day–but no dresses at night. Why?

We brush our teeth and our hair but not our feet. Cereal for breakfast but never for dinner. Chicken for dinner but never for breakfast. Omelets for either. Why? Why? Why? It’s all equally confusing.

Soon kashrut (Jewish dietary laws) will be ingrained in her, like other cultural facts. Meat versus dairy will be categories for her, as will Shabbat versus the rest of the week, and clothes versus pajamas. This is fine with me. This is how our culture does things. One day, though, my daughter will suddenly realize the assumptions she’s making.Continue reading.

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