It’s hard being a nocturnal creature who’s scared of the dark;

Blasting bubblegum pop music in my ears to block out the sounds of my fellow night dwellers

It’s unexpected, being a soft nighttime person

Who finds companionship with the moths and frogs and the flowers who bloom in the moonlight

But at the same time, I’m scared of the dark

Scared of the monsters and memories,

Who lurks in the shadows 

Who waits for nightfall to curl their fingers around the doorframe

Because which are really the monsters, and who are just like me?

Misunderstood, nocturnal dwellers, hoping for a chance at communion in the dark

Sad, wide eyes searching

Long, spindly fingers grasping

How many of us are out there?

Unable to tell friend from foe

Because we’re so used to this lonesome paranoia. We seek to be free of it, yet it’s all we know

My nocturnal friend slowly pads behind me, a lazy shadow

Oversized paws, clumsy like a puppy waking up from a nap

Too large eyes that, at first, alarm you

Reminding you of their otherworldliness

But you soon find calming their slow blinks and dark irises grounding you when you meet their eyes

I am finding more comfort in my nocturnal friend

Finally, there’s less loneliness in my insomnia, a fellow being to take up space in the dark

The dark seems less scary with another to walk through it with

I began this piece when I first started learning more about the concept of modesty in Judaism. And added to it as I started covering my hair and dressing differently.

Written August 07, 2020

I learned to equate sexiness with skin and sexiness with beauty

I don’t see myself as beautiful without showing my shoulders, neck, cleavage…

Instead, when I cover my chest and collarbones, I feel uncomfortably young

I am reminded of when I felt scared and unsure of my own body

Reminded of old men telling me that my body is something to be tempting to men and nourishing to babies

Reminded of women telling me my body is something that men will take pleasure from, and forget to include me in the process

I never had control over my own modesty.

It was something dictated, thrown over me like an old beach towel, ill-fitting and uncomfortable

Rejecting modesty was my first time having what I thought was control over how others saw me and my body

But even that was quickly taken away

I thought that by rejecting what I was told was ‘traditional modesty’ that I was being powerful. That I was taking control.

Now I’m not sure.

Now, when I see and hear Jewish women share about modesty in a way that lets them decide for themselves, in a way that allows them to choose, in a way that allows them to control…

I want that

I was convinced that the idea of modesty, the way I had learned it, was inherently harmful. Was controlling, was oversexualizing women,

That it was teaching girls to be scared of their bodies.

Because I was scared of mine