The mikvah lady stole my car

A mikvah is often referred to in English as a ritual bath. Mikveh, literally means a body of water and what it is is a small pool of water that hasn’t run through ordinary pipes. I don’t know what water they actually use – rain water? Doesn’t really make sense around here… What women do there is much more of a dunk than a bath. Its purpose is a sort of purification after a woman’s had her period.

I’m not sure exactly how old I was the first time I went to the mikvah. It wasn’t the same way in which the average Jewish woman first happens upon a mikvah (usually the night before her wedding) – it was with my mom. My dad was in the US Army and so we ended up living in some places that were less than convenient mikvah-wise. I remember going to the mikvah in Frankfurt, Germany – I must have been 9 or 10… Often, my mom had to drive long distances to the mikvah & since she couldn’t always get there at the standard times, they’d ask her to bring her own mikvah lady. Sometimes that lady (not that I was exactly a lady) was me. My job was to make sure that every last hair got under the water (I didn’t know at the time that I was supposed to yell “Kasher”, so I probably gave a thumbs-up or mumbled “good” or “OK”). I went with my mom quite a few times – in Atlanta, in Dallas and probably other places too. And when I got married at 20, it was my turn to go for it.

I bought myself a big, light green towel and went to one of the ugliest mikvaot (plural for mikvah) I’ve ever been to. I don’t remember much, just that it was kind of party-like and that I was excited that I was getting married. I knew to spread the fingers of my hand as I dunked and to cross my arms over my chest as I said the blessing.

More than twenty years have passed since that day and I’ve done plenty of dunking. Here's one mikvah experience (not necessarily a true one...)

It was a cold and windy December Wednesday. I’d been waiting to finally get to the mikvah, since my period had been everlasting. Four months earlier, I’d finally convinced O to ditch his wreck-of-a-car. He’d managed to sell it right before we left for London, which really made the trip better… we’d had just one car for a while and then, just about two weeks earlier, we’d finally bought a car we liked. It was a sparkling Ford Focus. Several years newer than his old wreck, and it drove like a dream. That was why I took it that night. It was so much more pleasant to drive than my clunky, old, VW bus.

I’d done the preparations at home, so all I needed was quick dip (or three). I undressed, took a quick shower and pressed the button to alert the mikvah lady to the fact that I was ready. As always, my belongings were hanging on the hooks next to the door. I’d never given it a second thought. I stood there making faces at myself in the mirror (mirrors always seem to have that effect on me) and waited. And waited. It was taking forever. I contemplated taking out my cellphone and SMSing O to complain, but I didn’t. Instead I waited. And waited some more. Finally, the mikvah lady knocked on the door. I opened it and answered her checklist of questions. No contact lenses. Yes, I brushed and flossed. Etc. And then I handed her my towel and stepped down the stairs into the mikvah.

The first thing I notice is always the temperature of the water and then, the direction I’m supposed to face (easy, since they hang the blessing on that wall). And then I get myself ready and dunk… blessing… dunk… dunk… After each dunk, I wait to hear the mikvah lady’s loud “kasher” (meaning the dunk was kosher) and after the third dunk, I make my way up the stairs, where the mikvah lady holds out my towel to me and starts blessing me with a multitude of blessings, some of which I don’t understand (and it’s not a language issue). She then walks me back to my little dressing room, where I try to figure out how to get my socks on without getting them wet (cleverly, I’ve now learned to take a little mat for my feet). I get dressed, brush my hair & make myself a ponytail. And then I leave.

I bounced down the steps, eager to get into my car. I looked left, to where I left it. Oh. Maybe I parked it on the right? Um… not on the right either… Hm. O’s going to kill me. It’s his new car and he loves it. I know what to do. I’ll take out my keys and press the ‘find car’ button on the remote control. Only my keys aren’t there.

I ran back to the mikvah barely breathing. I think I was half crying, half in shock… I noticed there was no one at the desk, where one of the mikvah ladies sat earlier. Thinking she must be cleaning one of the rooms, I ran between the open doors. Not a soul. “Hey, my car. My car’s been stolen.” I yelled. Finally, the mikvah lady (the one who actually dunked me) came out. I asked her about the other woman – where she was. She was just as surprised as I was that she'd disappeared. I asked for her name – she had no idea. She’d been sent as a replacement. Reluctantly, I called O, who came to pick me up in the clunky bus. We drove to the police station together to file the report. The police subsequently contacted the local Rabbinate, who had no clue who the woman actually was. She’d given a fake name and they hadn’t checked anything about her.

I have never felt so guilty.

Welcome!

For the past 21 years or so (minus 5-1/3 pregnancies & a while during which I was divorced), I follow every menstrual cycle with a dip (or actually 3) in the local mikvah.

A mikvah is known in English as a ritual bath - and yes, going to the mikvah is a Jewish ritual (not only for women, but that's another story) and it's a kind of odd one. The way it goes (to tell it as simply as possible) is a woman gets her period & counts 5 days of bleeding (even if she stops bleeding after 3) and then 7 "clean" days, during which there's no bleeding. On that night (after the last "clean" day), the woman sneaks off* to a place where she goes through a whole cleansing process (brushing & flossing teeth, combing her hair, shaving her legs, getting rid of dry skin, etc.) and then dips in a small pool of water that hasn't run through any standard pipes (I really don't get how this works)... Before dipping, you've got to take off all rings, earrings, contact lenses, necklaces, nail polish and anything else that isn't permanently attached to your body. (Going after tye-dying shirts - not highly recommended, getting that dye off your hands is nearly impossible.) Anyway, after doing this whole process, which takes about half an hour or so (I usually do it at home & then go) you stand in a little room and press a button to tell the mikvah lady you're ready. The mikvah lady is the woman who accompanies you to the little pool and checks that every hair on your head goes under the water.

It's usually during the time that I stand waiting for the mikvah lady to call me that I begin to think all sorts of thoughts. Some of them involve planning user interface for waiting women, others consider how many women are busy making faces at themselves in the mirror as they wait and yet others cause me to ask myself what I'm even doing there...

*Mikvah is a very private thing. You don't talk about it with people (even your kids) and so it seems somewhat mysterious. You're actually supposed to kind of sneak off. Every time, my kids ask where I'm going and I just tell them "out". One of them's figured it out (the wet hair is a dead giveaway), but the others are completely in the dark.

I'm here to share my thoughts and experiences and will be happy to post other people's experiences as well. Just email me. I'll make sure to keep it anonymous (and hopefully soon I'll set up a form so women can share their experiences).