The crisis isn’t about the number of people in shidduchim, nor their ages. The crisis is in how we view our singles, how we treat them

If you are among the majority in the frum community, married in your early twenties, you may have scoffed at some of the scenes in Stand By, shrugging them off as a work of fiction. But the reality about single life is that sometimes (to paraphrase a popular saying) the truth is harsher than fiction.

Throughout my single years, I would read the deep, pondering, pain-filled articles and letters to the editors about the “shidduch crisis.” I watched the math unfold, the statistics being calculated, as people wrote about the casualties of the crisis — those who would never get married. (Would that be me? I often wondered.) I read countless stories and portrayals of the proverbial “older single girl,” who sobbed each night into the already tear-soaked pages of her Tehillim.

And the entire time I would shake my head a little, and (if we are being really honest), roll my eyes. These people don’t seem to get it. My life is more than a tear-stained Tehillim, and I’m certainly not a crisis.

I spent over ten years “in shidduchim,” before getting married at the age of 32. Even now, I still feel like I identify with the older singles out there more than any other group. I guess our collective experience really changes us.

I’ve been saying for years, to anyone who will listen, that the crisis isn’t about the number of people in shidduchim, nor their ages. The crisis is in how we view our singles, how we treat them.

Single Girls v.s. Married Women

After speaking to hundreds of women in my online community about their experiences as an “older single,” I would venture to say that our community’s distinction between single “girls” and married “women” lies at the root of the issue. Traditionally, our communal expectation was, and still is, that we graduate high school, perhaps spend a year or even two in seminary, and then come home to date for a bit until we get married and move on to the next phase.

And that’s great… until it isn’t. Expecting this chain of events leads to the assumption that those who aren’t married in our community are really young. But when do we look past marital status to discover that we are dealing with grown adults? Many of us are educated professionals, business owners, and otherwise highly accomplished individuals.

[Mrs. Gutmacher tsked tsked reproachfully. “What do you mean, surprisingly? Who said a girl becomes an adult the day after her chassan breaks the glass? She’s as accomplished as any one of you girls. More, with that company she started.”]

So what do we do with a society that sees us as “just girls?” The women (not girls) I spoke with mostly agreed: calling us girls while calling our married (and often significantly younger) counterparts women is demeaning, and it devalues us as the strong women we are.

“Don’t let your self-worth be commingled with your relationship status.”

“Every time I get called a single girl, it makes me feel like that’s all I am.”

—Yocheved

“Getting married young doesn’t make you better or say anything about your character.”

Discrimination Is a Huge Problem

I don’t think it will really surprise anyone to learn that there are massive displays of discrimination against single women in our community. Some of it is intangible, as Chana reports, “It definitely feels like we are less respected.” Sheva agrees, “We are looked down on and thought of as less.”

Some of the discrimination is subtle, and seemingly minor. For example, Sarah Kayla, 30, reports that there are separate married and single chats for her high school and seminary classes. Numerous women pointed out that many shiurim are designated as “married women only,” even when the topic is completely unrelated to married life. Raizy said that she has even resorted to wearing a beanie to the grocery store to get better service.

[“Remember when we went to Stiletto and the salesgirl ignored you until we left? Well. I have a magic antidote in this bag that will 100 percent guarantee helpful salespeople at every store we go to in the center of town.”

She whipped out two knit beanies. She tugged the black one over her light-brown hair and tossed a gray one into Dassi’s lap. “Voilà!” said Shira. “We’re married!”]

My heart hurts from every one of the dozens of women who reported being seated at the kids’ table at a simchah, while married friends and family, many years their junior, were seated with the adults. “It’s like they don’t know what to do with you,” says Leah. Some women, such as Mirel, take things into their own hands. “I picked myself up and moved my seat.” Many others, such as Chavie, 31, take a different approach. “When that happens, I usually leave the simchah.”

[“Something crazy actually just happened to me,” said Aly, wiping the corner of her mouth with a flimsy takeout napkin and folding it primly. “I went to Megillah on Purim night at a new place this year. Usually I go to shul but someone on my block mentioned they were reading around the corner from me in someone’s house because one of the parents are sick.”

She punctuated this with a wave of a plastic fork loaded with kishke.

“Anyway, so I come in and sit down on the chairs they set up in the living room, and the room gets pretty full. The woman sitting next to me who I don’t know looks at me and says something like, There aren’t enough chairs for the ladies, could I help her bring some more in from the kitchen? So of course I said sure and go help.

“Oh nooo, I know where this is heading,” said Chayala.

“Yep. I’m in full chair-schlepper mode, and I notice that the lady who asked me to help ushers someone over to the seat I just got out of, and it was taken by none other than Miriam Kleinfeld, who is all of what, 21 years old? With a spanking new sheitel on her head, obviously. I used to babysit her! I helped her study for her biology tests, like five minutes ago. Can you even?” She was laughing, but there was a tinge of exasperation there that was real.

“Oh gosh, that’s nuts,” said Shira. “People really are so beyond clueless sometimes.”

“Take it as a compliment to your skincare routine,” quipped Chayala with a shrug.]

But some of the discrimination stories I heard were a lot more blatant, and even illegal. I heard from countless women who reported being turned down for an apartment rental, simply because they are single. Personally, when I rented my first apartment, the landlord was very concerned about “having to take care” of a “single girl.” They allowed me to rent the apartment in the end, because I had a married sibling nearby who could take care of me, in case an independent 27-year-old woman such as I, couldn’t manage on her own. I’ve also heard of women being refused a car lease because “Your husband needs to sign.” Some report that their father was able to sign their lease and save the day. But why do we allow it to get to that point in the first place?

The really upsetting stories were about jobs and pay.

[It was Thursday night, and the four friends were in Aly’s car, takeout containers on their laps.

“So,” said Aly, taking a long sip of her Diet Dr Pepper. “I spoke to my principal on Monday about taking off next Friday, since I was planning on going back to Chicago for Shabbos, and guess if she said no. And then on Tuesday, my friend Shani — who’s also a speech therapist — mentioned that she was making a siyum kiddush for her husband and asked for Friday off. And the principal said yes!”

Dassi gasped in outrage. “That has to be a joke Aly! Or like, totally illegal, no?” She dipped her pastrami eggroll into the sauce nestled into a wad of wax paper in the takeout container, and took a bite.

“It should be, that’s all I know. And I would totally think it’s a weird coincidence, too, if my other friend Aliza from work — who happens to be single, too — hadn’t pointed out that the single girls never get a Friday day off approved.”

Shira clucked sympathetically. “Uch, that’s so not okay.”]

I thought I’d seen it all, but I was shocked. Esther reported that in her large company, Yom Tov bonuses are only distributed to married employees. Molly reports that a nonprofit organization she worked for had separate pay scales for married and single employees. Countless stories came in about single women being made to work longer hours, “because you have no family to go home to,” about single women being passed over for promotions and raises because their married coworker, “needs it more,” and even people whose company couldn’t make payroll, so they were told they’d have to wait because, “the married people need to get paid.”

I don’t think it’s hard to figure out where all of this comes from, and the intent is likely not malicious at all. It all starts with an assumption. People assume that married folks are older, therefore more mature. People assume that singles don’t need the money because they live at home. People assume singles aren’t responsible, because they aren’t seen as adults.

[Chayala flicked several switches and watched the lights flood the 7,200-square-foot space. Thank Hashem for the success of the small business she’d worked so hard to grow. Her eyes landed on the brand-new HUIS sign she’d had installed just last month after the $25,000 rebrand had wrapped. The new logo was exactly what she’d envisioned; clean and fun, young, but still trustworthy.

Sales in the last month, especially the new stemware line and the under-sink organizers, were already proving the rebrand was worth the spend.]

People assume singles have lots of free time because they don’t have a husband and children. People assume that singles need advice and guidance to find their someone — from people who already have.

But isn’t it time to step back as a community and remember that assumptions boil down to a big pot of nothing? Everyone’s life is different, everyone’s path has twists, turns, and curves. Instead of grouping all singles together as girls, can’t we try to just treat all adults… as adults?

“I have a doctorate and the title of doctor, yet everyone, including patients that are half my age or even younger, feels that they can call me by my first name when the other married doctors are called by their proper titles.”

—Chavie, 31

“I have a PhD and I’m a published author, but none of that counts because I’m single.”

—Atara

Being Single Isn’t an Invitation for Intrusion

One of the hard truths about life as a single person in the frum community is that a huge percentage of our interactions, be it with family, friends, neighbors, coworkers, people at shul, or even random strangers start with the classic, “So are you dating anyone?” Imagine walking up to a married person you barely know and asking about the state of their shalom bayis.

Although it was many years ago, I remember exactly where I was when I received a phone call from a woman working for a chesed organization. She asked me to do thousands of dollars’ worth of free work to benefit her cause. She tacked on, “In this zechus you should get married.” I was speechless, and incredibly hurt at this invasion of my private life. She was trying to take advantage of my pain and life struggles. I remember wondering if someone would ask a person struggling to have children to do the same, as a zechus for a baby.

And from the stories I’ve heard, it’s clear I’m not alone in having my privacy invaded. I think the inherent problem with singles is that our struggle is very public. Everyone knows we are single, and everyone has a suggestion or comment.

Multiple women reported that they were instructed by shadchanim (some they hadn’t even met with!) to get new pictures taken, or to stop using a picture they liked, because, “You don’t look good.” Shockingly, a handful of women reported that they were told they aren’t married yet because they “don’t daven hard enough.” Another woman reported that she was told her opinion on a specific matter was “the reason you aren’t married yet.” I’ve written about this before, but countless women have told me that they were told they needed to lose weight to get married, or even, “If you really wanted to get married, you would have lost the weight by now.” In general, so many of the women said that speculation about why they are still single just plain hurts. Why am I single? Because Hashem’s plan for me is different for now.

And possibly worst of all, never, ever, ever, under any circumstances should you ever remind a single woman that their “clock is ticking.” Trust us, we know.

“One of my mom’s friends always treated me like an adult. When we spoke she never asked me about dating. She asked me about all my hobbies and plans. She asked me about my thoughts and feelings. She told me she loved hearing about all the things I was spending my time doing and how happy it made her. Never boys. We never spoke about boys. She knew my life was full with so much more than that.”

—Rivka, married at 28

“But he looks nice.” “Just give it a try.” “Try reaching out to ______.” “Send a better picture.” “Don’t your friends have husbands with single friends?”

—Shana, 27

“Someone asked permission before sharing about me at a shidduch meeting, I really felt respected by that.”

—Chaviva

Being Single and Happy Isn’t a Contradiction

It seems that some in our community, especially those who got married really young, have a hard time understanding that a single person can be happy and fulfilled, even while wanting more in their life.

[“Chayala told Rivka Gutmacher she wants to take a break. A break! I’m worried day and night that people are talking, and now I have to worry that people are whispering that my thirty-year-old daughter doesn’t want to get married? What am I going to tell people?”

Moish looked at her pointedly.

“What?” she said, the stress and concern not letting her intuit his expression.

Moish sighed. “What about Chayala, our twenty-eight-year-old daughter? Maybe we should be thinking about what makes her happy instead of what people are saying about her,” he said gently.

“How can she be happy if she’s all alone? She’s so stubborn she won’t even listen to a good idea if it comes up! And for that matter, did she discuss this ridiculous idea with anyone first, or is she doing what she always does, decide first and think later?” She was well and truly upset now, her face red, her knuckles white.

Moish got up to get her a glass of water. “Shaindy,” he said, firmly. “Chayala has been happy every day of her life, and she’s been single this entire time. She doesn’t have to make herself available for shidduchim every minute. Let her live.”]

Let’s go back for a minute to the proverbial image of the single woman staining the pages of her Tehillim (or maybe her pillow) with copious tears. The part of this picture that’s missing is that she might cry sometimes, but other times, she’s happy and fulfilled. Many of the women I spoke with said they found enormous fulfillment in their chosen careers. Many shared that volunteering for numerous chesed and tzedakah organizations has really given an extra dose of meaning to their lives. Others said they used those years to travel, see the world, and meet great people. And lots simply said they spent those years developing themselves as a person.

Many women, myself included, choose to find a place to live and really make it into a home. Getting nice furniture, wall hangings, and other creature comforts are all part of life as an adult, and don’t require marriage. Many choose to cook and host nice Shabbos meals, both for singles, but also for married family and friends.

[Mrs. Fried sat gingerly on the edge of Chayala and Dassi’s brand-new West Elm tweed couch.

“Oatmeal?” She sniffed. “Well, I guess you don’t need to buy practical furniture at this stage of your life.”]

And you know what hurts? When we are questioned or demeaned for doing these perfectly normal adult things. One comment I received often, which stung so badly each time, was someone hearing I was hosting a seudah and replying, “Oh, that’s soo cute.” As if I was playing house… in my thirties. Others have reported similarly: their apartment is “cute,” their furniture is “cute,” etc. And worse yet, Shiffy reports being asked point blank: “What’s the point of having a nice apartment if you’re not married?” The answer is simple. Being single is tough, making the most of our lives instead of waiting for marriage makes it all more palatable. And a handful of women reported that they attempt to host, but are told, “We’ll come when you get married.” Another thing we have to wait for?

As singles, it’s on us to create a full life. Shaina, married at 39, said it well: “I worked hard to make [life] fulfilling and tried to ensure I wasn’t sitting around just waiting for my spouse to show. It was still hard, but at least I didn’t feel like I was stagnating.” As a community, it’s our job to ensure a place and acceptance for our singles in the community as full-fledged adults with full lives.

When I asked what these women want the world to know about older singles, Rivka explained, “[Our] lives are already full. Getting married would just make it even fuller.” The vast majority of women I spoke with, about 70 percent, said their lives are (or were) meaningful as a single. A further 22 percent said that they found life meaningful, despite it lacking (the obvious) something. A mere eight percent said that their lives weren’t meaningful at all.

“It’s not a tragedy to be single. We don’t want your pity.”

“We are accomplished, successful, independent, and awesome humans. Marriage does not say anything about your inner value.”

—Sarah Kayla, 30

It’s a Balancing Act

I’ll be the first to say that as a woman in our community gets older things can get tricky. Dynamics change with her parents, her siblings, her friends, and more. Dassa, a mother of an older single, explained that learning to parent a single adult is tricky, and not something parents are really prepared for. With siblings, it gets tricky, too. Sisters and brothers go from equals (or even younger!) to a new, elevated position within the community.

[“Malky mentioned her news,” said Chayala simply. Her mother’s face fell.

“Oh, sweetie. I’m sure it’s so hard for you. Are you okay?”

Chayala leaned forward, and her eyes shone.

“Ma, am I okay? I’m more than okay! This is amazing! I’m thrilled for Malky, and this boy literally sounds perfect for her.”

Her mother’s smile was uncertain.

“Are... are you sure? I know we’ve discussed it in the past, but thinking something is okay in theory doesn’t mean that’s how you feel.” Her mother searched face for a long moment.

“Of course you love your sister, sheifelah. But it’s okay to have some mixed feelings about this, too.”

“I don’t,” said Chayala quietly, firmly. “Ma… do you?”

Her mother looked down at her Tehillim.

“Chayala, I’ve been davening for the same thing for as long as I’ve had you. All I want in life is for you — for all of you — to be happy. I want other things for you, too, of course, but at the core of it all, that’s all I want. And we live in a world where happiness could be tied up in a very specific package, and when that’s not the reality, yes, it’s painful for me. A mother wants good things for her children. And when it happens for one of you and not the other—”

Chayala didn’t let her finish.

“Ma, I love you so much. And I know that when it does happen for me, the happiness I feel will be amplified by you a thousand times. But I also know that me having to wait longer than I want to doesn’t mean that Malky should also. Ma, the plan Hashem has in mind for me is out of my control, but my happiness isn’t.”]

Friends struggle with keeping in touch, knowing what to say, and sharing meal invites. People from all areas of a single’s life struggle with setting them up without being insensitive.

When it comes to set-ups, the women I spoke with were pretty split. Many felt resentment toward friends and family for not trying hard enough to set them up. Others felt that being set up just because, “He’s single, she’s single,” was annoying, or even hurtful. A large number of women (myself included) feel that set-ups purely based on things such as age or physical features are really not okay. Someone once tried to set me up because, “He has red hair, just like you do!”

[“Hmm. I don’t really see myself with a nurse. But I appreciate you asking, Mrs. G.”

“Oh, come on, you can give the nurse a quick coffee date,” Etty chided. “What’s two hours? Maybe Hashem wants you to marry a nurse, you never know!”

Chayala grimaced. “I think I stopped going out on ‘you never know’ dates when I was twenty-four, and it was the best decision I ever made. Trust me, you get a sense for these things.”]

Here’s the general consensus: set us up thoughtfully, not with just any single guy, just because you want to feel like you’re doing something.

When it comes to Shabbos and Yom Tov invites, there’s also a balance. Firstly, it’s important to note that a common refrain I heard from so many women was that Shabbos and Yom Tov are the hardest parts of single life, and finding places to go each week is stressful, and even embarrassing. It’s even harder when someone is a baalas teshuvah or living far from their entire family.

So many women, myself included, have been given that seemingly helpful open invite. “Just let me know when you want to come!” If you learn one thing from this article, let it be this: saying that is the equivalent of saying, “I’ll never have you for a Shabbos meal.” There are, of course, exceptions to the rule, in the case of family and friends who are truly very close with the single. But if you’re wondering if you’re close enough to make that open invitation work, I’m sorry to say this, but you’re probably not.

If there’s a single in your life, especially one who hasn’t accepted your open invitation yet, it’s time to pick up the phone and invite them for a specific week or meal.

Another area where things get tricky is sharing. Again, the women I spoke with were pretty divided on this. A few women just really can’t handle hearing about their friend’s husband, kids, or anything else related to what they don’t have. Others want to hear every little detail. Mostly, however, the women I spoke with find the answer somewhere in the middle. Personally, I wanted to hear about my friends’ married life and kids, because I wanted to be part of their life, and that’s where their life was. However, I always drew the line at labor stories. Save that for someone else.

Yael proposed a great balance for this issue. “Tell us about your lives — including the husband and kids. But if you’re looking for someone to vent to, it’s not me.” And everyone agrees: please don’t hide your simchahs from us. It might hurt to hear that you’re having another baby, but it hurts more to hear about it from someone else.

Another sticky issue? Im yirtzeh Hashem by you.

[“Fancy meeting you two here,” she joked.

Aly grinned. “Im yirtzeh Hashem by youuuuuu” she gushed, and Chayala and Shira cracked up. Shira grabbed Aly’s hand dramatically. “Aly, you’re soooo special. Suuuuch a good friend. Dassi’s lucky to have you all these years.”

Aly rolled her eyes, still laughing. “Jokes, but all true jokes,” she said.

Chayala dabbed the corner of her eye, thankful for waterproof mascara and friends that made you laugh when you needed it.]

On the surface, it’s a brachah, and we should never turn down a brachah. However, Elisheva said, “I tried to count the number of times I heard it at my younger sister’s wedding, but I stopped counting after seventy.” It can be okay to say in certain circumstances. But use your sensitivity. And please think about it before you say this to someone who’s older than you!

“Im yirtzeh Hashem by you is a reminder that people look at a single and mainly see what’s missing in our lives.”

“When I got engaged I kept saying — “Simchahs for all” to everyone — because then it was applicable to everyone, someone married who wanted a baby, someone single, etc.”

—Sarah, married at 28.

So, What Now?

I asked the women what we, as a community, can do to improve. One answer I got over and over was, “We need a more inclusive community.”

People elaborated with many ideas and suggestions. “Treat us on merit not marital status.” “Be sensitive — take a minute or two to think before speaking.” “Understand that you aren’t married because you are better, and I’m not single because there’s something wrong with me.” “Treat us as an equal.” “Stop judging.” “Stop criticizing my choices.” “Don’t look at marriage as an accomplishment.” “Listen to me and validate without judgment.” “Ask about my life aside from dating.” “Make sure that not every conversation is about topics I can’t participate in.” “Just keep in touch!” “Celebrate my achievements, even though they are different from yours.” “Please don’t question our choices when it comes to dating or not dating someone.”

The problem with doing all of the “crisis” math and calculations is that sometimes we accidentally leave G-d and His plan on the wayside, and we leave His children out of the picture. I don’t know that every couple who got married older has the same clarity on their delay, but my husband and I both agree that we were clearly not ready for each other ten years earlier. Imagine if all those years I spent waiting would have been without judgment, without mistreatment, and without pain brought about by others’ lack of sensitivity?

[“She’s doing great, and Hashem sends everyone their bashert at the right time. And if you want to do something, you can try to be the shaliach for her, but that’s it.”

Or

“Isn’t it funny how he thought he would be able to change what was bashert for me? Only Hashem could manage that, it turns out. I feel like I keep realizing that all the worrying is such a waste of time. It’s true when I was single and it’s true when I was engaged.”

Chayala cringed and covered her face. “Not to make this about me, but that last bit feels like it is so about me,” she said.

Shira laughed. “I think it’s about all of us, that’s the whole point no?”]

Perhaps we, as a society, shouldn’t focus on our hand-wringing calculations. Stop talking about the crisis of time and instead focus on how we treat our fellow people. Let’s remember that shidduchim are b’yad Hashem. How we treat others? That’s all on us.

“People think they can say whatever they want when they see someone single.”

—Malka

There has to be a way to incorporate us into society more.

—Devorah,

almost 30

“One of the toughest aspects is the inherent lack of permanence in [single] life.”

—Mushkie, 33

“See me for who I am, not my lack of sheitel.”

—Batsheva

“It’s important to create more space for personal expression and diversity within the community. I think that the expectation that everyone should be a certain way is a detriment to all of us individually and as a community.”

—Mushie 33

(Originally featured in Family First, Issue 849)