Pitbulls and Pearls

This Passover season, one of the freedoms I’m striving for is the freedom to express my sense of self and the lessons of my lived experiences within the context of my own rabbinate. Not an easy thing – but quite liberating!

In that vein, I share this poem.

Chag Pesach Sameach – May each of us have the courage to free ourselves from that which bind us.

PITBULLS & PEARLS (Cross Posted to Pitbulls, Pearls & Pontification)

I never thought I’d be a woman who wears pearls
They’re so…
and I’ve never seen myself that way

I liked “funky things” as a teenager
I tried to be original
I tended toward the unique
and interesting
I hated wearing what everyone else was wearing

and I definitely would have told you that pearls were for grandmothers

But now I battle a daily awareness
I’m 32 but I look more like 23
I’m a rabbi but I look more like your daughter
or granddaughter
or favorite niece
or so they like to tell me.

My 5 foot stature doesn’t help much either
and I refuse to cut my hair in a bob….
so…I wear pearls
I LOVE pearls now
They’re my “rabbi-wear”
for any days when anyone might be in doubt
(although usually it’s probably just me)

I wear the pearls and I hide the tattoos
(shhh. Don’t tell!)

I wear heels and I still
have to stand
on the Bar-Mitzvah kids’ stool
so people can see me

I wear lipstick and suit jackets and I don’t always recognize myself in the mirror

I wear the pearls
and I walk my PitBull down the street
defiant and
contradictory and
loving it

The pearls are my armor
The pearls are my confidence
The pearls are nothing

In the end I’m a rabbi
in pearls
in pajamas
in my Birth-Day-Suit

My smicha doesn’t get tucked into my jewelry box at the end of the day

and yet

I wear the pearls
and hide the tatoos
and walk the Pitbull

Defiant and
Contradictory and
Loving it


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