Frum girls have a unique road to adulthood

Becoming an adult is always a tumultuous process — all the more so for frum women, who are expected to make big decisions about dating, marriage, and their careers in a very short timeframe. This makes the road to adulthood unique for frum girls, realized Dr. Shira Kessler. Here, she shares the research and recommendations born out of a decade of her work

Chani’s Diary, April 2017

“You just don’t get it!”

I run to my room and slam the door. My parents never listen when I tell them what I want with my life. And why would they? Apparently, my life is completely planned out and I get zero say in it.

It all began with a simple comment. At dinner, Mom mentions that Mrs. Rubenstein’s daughter just got accepted into nursing school.

“How wonderful!” Ta says. “I bet her parents are proud. You know, Chani, nursing is a great career to help support your future husband and family….”

Yeah, if you enjoy biology and chemistry, which I don’t and never will.

“I’m sure they are,” I say, trying to keep my voice even. “She’s always had a passion for nursing, and should go into the field she’s passionate about, whatever that may be.”

“Chani, I know you want to be a teacher, but they don’t make any money!” Ta replies. “You’ve got to think about your future. Don’t come crying to me when you’re 35, debt-ridden, and deep into a life you can’t handle.”

I race to my room, trying to hold back my rage and my tears. It was hard enough figuring out what career I wanted to pursue, and now they don’t even agree with my choice. I’m expected to be an adult, but I constantly find myself being treated like a child.

I feel like the minute, no, the second I turned 18, the clock began ticking. You better know what you want to do for the rest of your life, and it must be chosen from the list of acceptable jobs. It’s almost like I was thrown into the pool of adulthood, and it’s swim… or sink.

A Safe Space to Share

I’ve sat across from hundreds of young women like Chani*, who are trying to make sense of the confusion, doubt, and turbulence they feel as they emerge into adulthood. My office is a safe space where they can talk about the most vulnerable parts of their lives.

During the initial session, we talk about why they’re here. Typically, it’s because they want clarity and guidance on how to better tackle the very real hurdles of adulthood. But even though my clients voluntarily sign up for therapy, they’re cautious, defensive, even skeptical.

“How can I trust you aren’t saying what I need to hear because I pay you for that?”

“You say all my feelings are normal, but are you just trying to be nice?”

“You mean other clients cry here? NO WAY. I’ll never let you see me cry!”

It usually takes a few sessions, but eventually, my clients will shed tears. The first time I see them cry, I look away to give them privacy. They’re not ready to completely reveal themselves yet.

Tears are a doorway in therapy. Crying is how they admit to me — but more so to themselves — that they aren’t all okay, that there is some pain. It displays the raw version of their feelings, rather than the “I’m fine” script they publicly announce.

Crying breaks down the barriers, moves us into the next level of trust, and gives me insight into their inner world. It shows me that they're now connected to their feelings, which will enable them to work through the pain. They’re now ready to look inside and find themselves. Each session opens a window to a deeper part of themselves.