Balaniot Are People Too

When I was learning to become a balanit , one of the main messages that was woven through each session is that the women who come to the mikvah are people, each with their own story. As balaniot we rarely are privy to those stories: struggle with niddah/mikvah, a fight with her husband, a sick parent, infertility, stress at work—or anything else we carry with us throughout our day.

Photo by Rinku Shemar on Unsplash

Indeed, it was the meeting of my story (as a tovelet) and the balanit on that particular night that drove me to become a balanit in the first place. I wanted to create a better system and space for women, to give them an empowering experience at the mikvah, to give them freedom to form their own relationship with mikvah. (And I continue to do so, 6 years on.)

Very quickly I was able to fuse my intensions with the message from my course through the Eden Center. One Friday night I was working with another balanit (who wasn’t cut from the same cloth) when a tovelet came in 13 mins before the end of the one-hour shift. The timing seemed reasonable enough to me; not so for the other balanit and she was not shy in letting the tovelet know how she felt. Two thoughts went through my head that night: first, the tovelet is taking that reprimand into the bedroom with her and second, every person has a story. These two thoughts continue to shape the way I engage with a tovelet as a balanit. What happens at the mikvah matters. There is a flip side to that coin: the balanit is a person too, each with her own story. Likewise, the tovlot are not privy to those stories: some struggle financially, some are going through divorce, one lost a child, another is returning from 5 months of sick leave for a broken shoulder, many find the busy mikvah and the late nights difficult. I, personally, get to the mikvah at the end of a busy day, which includes a 5:30 am wake up, a full day at the office, afternoon parenting, dinner-bath-bedtime routine and any adulting that needs doing on that particular day. When most people would retire to their couch at the end of a busy day, I head out to the mikvah at least once, often twice, a week. It’s important to me. If I don’t show up, I cannot effect change. I have lots of other things in my life that are important to me too, like spending time with my husband, getting a good night’s sleep so I can be present for my children the next day, a clean kitchen at the end of the day—and a myriad of other commitments that the tovelet is not aware of. Life. Over Chanukah, I had agreed to work a shift one evening and unfortunately, I suddenly had a levaya to go to that night. I was very clear with the tovlot that came in to the mivkah closer to closing time that I had to close the mikvah 15 minutes early in order to get to the levaya on time. I happened to be working alone that night – unusual and unforeseen due to Chanukah and sick leaves.

I left a note on the door as well. Most women who came in after 8:15 pm were respectful of my commitment and time constraint. There were some, however, who were not. One woman in particular responded with “well, I made an appointment”. She said she was ready but still needed to do some preparations. I repeated myself several times that I was going to leave at 8:45 and her consistent response to me was that she booked an appointment. I gave her another reminder 5 minutes before I needed to leave. She finished preparing one minute before the time I needed to leave. I agreed to watch her immerse. However, her behaviour was not consistent with my request. She walked slowly from her room to the pool and took her time to immerse with long pauses in between each dunk. Of course I left late. All the while, another woman was banging on the door from outside, despite the note saying the mikvah will close early. When I left and told her the mikvah was closed (at this point 8:51 pm) she was quite angry.

Earlier this month, I had another similar experience: a woman called the mikvah to say she would arrive at 8:40 pm, ready to immerse. In fact, she arrived at 8:50 pm, with conditioner in her hair – knowing full well that the mikvah closes at 9:00 pm. After her schmoozing, shower, and immersion, she didn’t leave the mikvah until after 9:15 pm – with no apology for keeping me later.

I left the mikvah as a balanit after these experiences how I often felt as a tovelet in the early days: angry, frustrated, annoyed. Why am I here?? I do this for you! I leave my house after a 14-hour day for another 3-hour shift on my feet – for you. So that you can have the experience you want. Please don’t walk all over me in the process. Unfortunately, these aren’t isolated events. They happened almost every night.

Most of the balaniot I work with are over 60 years old. If it was your savta you were holding up to get home at 9 or 10 o’clock at night, would you behave the same way? If it was the library, the bank, or the Ministry of Interior, would you mosey on in at 5 minutes to closing time and expect to be seen? Would you get angry if they said no?

And then there’s the women who play the fine-I-won’t-go-to-the-mikvah-tonight card, fully aware that the balanit can’t or won’t deny her the opportunity to immerse on her official mikvah night – even if it means she leaves late.

I will add a small reminder to here to leave your room in the same state you received it: clean. The balanit is not there to clean up after you, to flush your toilet, to clean your hair from the sink. Would you make your savta pick up your wet towels? Didn’t think so. And it’s only considerate to your fellow tovlot.

Dearest tovelet, the balanit-tovelet relationship is a two-way street. Give me

the same respect that I give you. Remember: balaniot are people too.