New Republic [...] But Haredi men continued to
harass women in Beit Shemesh. Less than a year later, in June 2012,
Vered Daniel, an acquaintance of Philipp’s, went shopping in a Haredi
neighborhood. In a special effort to respect ultra-Orthodox
sensitivities, she wore a long skirt and blouse. Although modest by
modern-Orthodox standards, Daniel’s outfit marked her as someone who was
clearly not Haredi. When she left her car with her infant daughter in
her arms, Haredi men screamed at her for dressing immodestly and spat on
her. Alarmed, Daniel ran back to her car, locking herself and her baby
inside as the mob battered the vehicle with sticks and stones, shattering a window.
For
Philipp, the attack on Daniel was “beyond the beyond.” “Attacking a
mother with a young child in her arms—” recalls Philipp, her eyes
filling with tears. “She was completely helpless.” The incident drove
her to do something she would previously never have contemplated. Like
most Orthodox women, there was little about the word “feminism” that
spoke to Philipp. She did not consider herself political. But as
tensions grew in Beit Shemesh, she had started to follow the debates in
online women’s groups, “deep debates,” she says, “about pluralistic
society, tolerance.” It was, she says, “my first real exchange with
secular and non-Orthodox Israelis.”
The
day after Daniel’s attack, Philipp filed a police complaint over the
city’s failure to remove the modesty signs. But then, rightly sensing
that this would result in little change, she reached out to a woman from
a world completely different than her own. In doing so, she became a
pivotal figure in a clash between the ultra-Orthodox and a widening
coalition of women to determine the core values of Israeli society. [...]
Haredim have sought to drive “corrupt” elements out of their
neighborhoods by making them inhospitable places for those who are not
ultra-Orthodox. The victims of this strategy are usually women, whose
bodies have become the battleground in what is essentially a religious
turf war. And as Philipp and Vered Daniel learned, the harassment can
easily become violent. Miriam Friedman Zussman, a modern-Orthodox friend
of Philipp’s, says: “I never considered myself a feminist. I didn’t
think I had to be. Then suddenly, you start to say, ‘You want me to wear
what? You want me to say what? You want my daughter to wear what?’... It’s the boiled frog theory."
And so, for the first time, women like Nili Philipp have started to cross the secular-religious divide. [...]
Nili Philipp had briefly met, and liked, Erez-Likhovski when she had
testified before a Knesset committee on religious women’s issues. And
when she decided to fight back against the Haredim, it was
Erez-Likhovski she called. She knew she was doing something new. Most
Israelis would “never think that religious women would align themselves
with those radical feminist women from the Reform movement,” says
Philipp. “They would just assume we’d be good girls and listen to our
rabbis.” [...]