Making Niddah My Own

I grew up only hearing about "those" Jews who slept in different beds. As a child in my Jewishly engaged but ritually unobservant home, the thought of having a separate bed from my future husband seemed crazy to me—almost as crazy as walking up the seven flights of stairs to my apartment on Shabbat and only eating in kosher restaurants, both of which I now do out of religious commitment. I was familiar with people who had different Shabbat or kashrut practices from mine, but the world of taharat hamishpacha—the sexual practices between couples as they relate to the woman’s menstrual cycle—was completely opaque. In a world where sex was a taboo topic, religious sex was even more so. I had vaguely heard of the mikvah, the ritual bath for purification, but I had no idea what it looked like or what it was for. It seemed as abstract to me as the sacrifices Jews once offered at the Temple in Jerusalem.

When I went to college and began dating my now-husband, the idea of being shomer negiah—not touching each other—never once crossed my mind. It was not something I or any of my friends did. However, by the time we were thinking of marriage four years later, taharat hamishpacha had become more concrete to us. Just as we had opted into the system of kashrut, even when inconvenient and frustrating, we felt that we also had to opt into taharat hamishpacha. This was much more challenging than kashrut because it was so much more personal, laden with meaning, and required reexamining so much of what we had assumed and learned about human sexuality and marriage.

This is not one of those blog posts that talks about how wonderful keeping the laws of taharat hamishpacha is. I am not going to tell you that this system saves marriages or makes sexuality holy. These things may or may not be true (and their truth may evolve throughout a marriage), but they held little sway in our decision to buy into this system as an engaged-to-be-married couple. 

Practically, theologically, and as a feminist, I felt very conflicted as I was learning about and opting into taharat hamishpacha. But I also found solace in learning about the women who came before me and left their marks on this tradition. I felt exceedingly grateful to be living and learning in a time when organizations like Mayyim Hayyim and The Eden Center exist.. The fact that yoatzot halakha—women who are experts in the halakhic practice of taharat hamishpacha and can make legal rulings about it—exist made this a system I could see myself living within.

I learned from a scholar and yoetzet halakha who encouraged me to recognize that taharat hamishpacha is a package deal, but it’s also not all or nothing. We studied the laws of separation during menstruation, not because menstruation is dirty (God forbid), but because this is what Jewish couples do—just as using stairs instead of an elevator on Shabbat is what Jewish individuals do. We learned about waiting seven clean days, the system of checking oneself for blood, and the preparation for mikvah. We learned about mikvah not as a way of becoming clean but as a way of becoming pure.

In a workout class recently, the instructor had us lay in a final resting pose and then transition into a fetal position to end the class. She said, “The final resting pose marks the end of class, and the fetal position marks the beginning of the rest of your day.” Lying there, sweaty and still breathing heavily from exertion, I thought to myself that this reminds me of my experience at the mikvah. My preparation and self-care before mikvah mark the end of my period of niddah, and the immersion itself marks my entrance back into my “default” state of being.

Did my husband and I keep every rabbinic stringency imposed on couples observing taharat hamishpacha from the first month of marriage? No. I am comfortable sharing that we took our time (and, in some ways, are still taking our time) adapting our relationship and our lives to this system. But have we chosen to buy into a millennia-old system that sometimes makes more sense than others because it is what Jewish couples do? Absolutely.

It is my goal and desire to help couples of all forms understand the package deal of taharat hamishpacha while remaining true to their individual and joint needs, desires, and sensibilities. Sexuality need not be taboo, and taharat hamishpacha need not be more opaque than kashrut or Shabbat. Let’s talk about sex, menstruation, and communication in intimate relationships. Let’s make taharat hamishpacha not only about restriction and obedience, but also about self-care, emotional intimacy, and mutual support. Let’s opt into a challenging system, but remain committed to innovation and customization. Let’s be ritually observant Jewish individuals and couples, but do it in a way that feels intentional, informed, and consensual.