About a thing
‘Cause every little thing
Gonna be alright
From an early age, I’ve curated playlists for my daughter’s moods; laid back music for winding down before bed, get up and go music, Yiddish music (yes, there’s a mood for that), fun music, you get the picture. A favorite is a spin on Bob Marley’s Three Little Birds.
It’s so untrue, though… isn’t it?
Every little thing isn’t alright for Faigy Mayer, for Faigy Grunwald, for the next Faigy who gets shunned by her community and doesn’t have the resources or support or friendship to pull herself out of a downward spiral. For the next Faigy who loses her child because she’s no longer frum, or seen as toxic to her own children because she wears jeans and uncovers her hair.
I’ve got community. I’ve got friends and work and food and children who like to see me every day. I’m not a lost soul, life for me is rich despite everything. But it’s always hovering, ever so close to the edge and ever so close to total collapse. The spectrum of ex-hasids is vast. Some of us are ok, and some of us aren’t. We live in the space that is in the in between, of coexisting joy outside and sorrow outside.
I didn’t know Faigy Grunwald. I didn’t know her own struggle, or her story. I cry for the people feeling her sudden loss acutely, harshly, genuinely.
I cry because I know she won’t be the last. I cry because nothing is going to be alright, even after so much progress.