Poor kriah skills, while less devastating for a frum girl than a frum boy, is still devastating

“We’re gonna do Sefer Tehillim,” one person wrote on our group chat.

“1-10,” came a quick reply.

“11-20,” was the next.

“21-30,” came right after.

And so it went.

I hope no one noticed that I didn’t volunteer.

I don’t say Tehillim for people. Not because I’m cold and selfish, but because my kriah isn’t fluent. It’s painstakingly slow. And I don’t have time, patience, or energy to face one of my failures.

“Her kriah isn’t the best — it’s a good thing she’s a girl.” A friend made that offhand comment about her daughter. I reassured her that it wasn’t a big deal, her learning future wasn’t at stake. She didn’t have to read Gemara, get an aliyah, lein at a bar mitzvah, or learn textually in any significant way.

I was lying. Poor kriah skills, while less devastating for a frum girl than a frum boy, is still devastating.