As told to Dilvin Yasa.
“I was born and raised in an ultra-Orthodox Hasidic Jewish community in New York. I didn’t think we were at all unusual; it’s rare for those who live in insular communities to think they’re any different to others unless they have exposure with family on “the outside”.
Others who’ve left the community might tell you otherwise, but my childhood was filled with a lot of love, joy in God and close connections. Sure, I knew there was little flexibility in how we lived our lives. Once I turned 12 I was no longer allowed to ride a bike, for example, because it was deemed “immodest” but I’d take it around the back and ride where no one could see me. I could always be counted on to find a loophole.
In the secular world, children are told from an early age that they can grow up to do whatever they want. But I grew up in a world where everything is prescribed, from the clothes we all wear and which side of each garment you must step out of first, to the blessings you must recite before each activity.
Like most within the Hasidic Jewish community, I was expected to marry early. At the age of 17, I went on one date and our engagement was announced the following day. Not only did I not have a choice in the matter, I didn’t know what having a choice meant. I just knew if I said no to this guy, it would just be some other guy a month later.
I didn’t have the words for it back then, but in hindsight I must have known fairly early on that I was gender queer. Six months after the birth of my third child [Chani has children aged 24, 22 and 21, and is co-parent to her partner’s 22-year-old], I began seeing a therapist who turned out to be my saving grace.
Read the article by Chani Getter in the Brisbane Times.