A Tale of Two Mikvehs: What My Daughter’s Experience Gave Back to Me

A heartfelt, warm and friendly welcome into the world of tevilla. That’s what my daughter and I experienced, the evening before her wedding. Smiling mikveh attendants who warmly

embraced each of us and wished all the best, showering the bride-to-be with candy.

Throughout the visit, they demonstrated a harmonious balance between minimalistic

practical explanations and quick tour of the facility for my first-timer daughter and the utmost

Photo by Kateryna Hliznitsova on Unsplash

sensitivity towards her personal space and autonomy in defining how much guidance,

presence and involvement of theirs she seeks. The attendant who accompanied her to the tevilla itself demonstrated a much-appreciated combination of ensuring the requirements were met while respecting her privacy. Gently. Empathically. Kindly.

What a blessed, joyous first experience for my daughter, embracing her into the mitzva of Tevilla in a manner that will hopefully connect her to Hashem - and her beloved – with warm, wonderous ties of happiness and holiness, for blessed decades of fertility to come.

It was this very positive experience of hers – and of mine alongside her – that struck me painfully as so very much in contrast to my own tevilla experiences. Throughout her very sweet evening, I couldn’t help recalling the lack of privacy – invasiveness, even – which I experienced at most of my Mikveh visits. The prevailing paradigm deemed it acceptable, perhaps even imperative, that the attendant hand-pick stray hairs off my body. Feelings of shame and vigilance, alongside the sense that I was meant to appease the attendant and receive her approval, made my preparations a stressful, worrisome experience.

Will she approve my readiness to immerse? Or will I get sent back for more preparation with

a sense of failure? I trimmed my nails too painfully short, just to prevent criticism. It’s near

impossible in such a pressured and fearful state of mind to feel sacredness, a divine

connection or even have a positive connotation between the tevilla night and the special

renewed connection with your partner. I sadly admit: tevilla was never a mitzva of which I was

fond.

And I’d be surprised if my experience was outstanding, rather than representative of the

norm of my generation.

What has changed? I assume it’s a combination of multiple sociological trends, but I have no

doubt that the change is being brought about and led by activists such as Dr. Naomi Marmon Grumet, the inspiring entrepreneur who founded and serves as Executive Director of The Eden Center. The attendants my daughter encountered were trained. They received

guidance. They were sensitized and made aware of the woman’s experience as the heart of

it all. They approached the entire interaction with my daughter from a position of women

offering a holy, delicate and intimate service. They projected that they understand they are

there to help her to the extent she chooses to take them up on their offer and that she alone

remains in control of her experience, from A to Z. That made all the difference in the world.

A heartfelt thanks to you Naomi, for this amazing, immense labor of love of yours, and to the

entire Eden Center team and the attendants eager to learn and develop and provide a

beneficial, respectful, sacred experience, for generations of Jewish women in Israel and

worldwide.

“Faithful is your employer to pay you the reward of your labor” (Mishna, Avot, Perek Bet, 16)

May we all be blessed with Bsorot Tovot,

Dafna, mother of a sweet bride, lives in Jerusalem.