The Boy in the Orthodox Bubble

Growing up religious, I missed out on a lot that other kids enjoyed. But looking back, I wouldn’t change it.

By Ari Margolies for Tablet Magazine

My bar mitzvah sucked. I’m 19, and I still haven’t quite gotten over it.

A standard Orthodox affair, it ran about three hours and was attended by a multitude of suited adults whom I had never really met. I got up on a pew in front of a few hundred people and drably finished a mesechta of Gemara, which was followed by a few speeches by rabbis talking about what a tzadik I was. I refused to don a black hat, unlike many of my friends, and abstained from participating in the dancing until I was overpowered and dragged into the hora by a several overeager rabbis. No girls, no games, no fun.

So, when I was recently invited to my friend’s brother’s Conservative bar mitzvah, I eagerly accepted. I had never been to one, and I wanted to see how the other side celebrated.

It was the epitome of joy and accomplishment. The bar mitzvah boy was the center of attention, multicolored lights shining all around, pubescent boys and girls flirting and dancing, party favors being handed out, and the latest pop music shaking everyone’s eardrums. I was leaning tentatively against a wall in the back, shaking my head in disbelief, jealousy, and sorrow, watching the kids raucously dancing and participating a variety of games. Seeing what I missed out on because of my rigid childhood depressed me immensely. Since I began to distance myself from the Orthodox world in the past couple of years, I have spent much time bitterly believing that I was robbed of a childhood, that I would rather have grown up like everyone else instead. This Conservative bar mitzvah was only confirming what I’d been feeling.

But then the party ended. And upon careful reflection, I realized that I was not cheated out of anything. Yes, the Orthodox aspect of my upbringing was unconventional, suffocating, and sometimes rather awful, but the things that seemed paramount to me at the time were, in the end, of no real importance. There is no denying that I missed out on much, but there was no void; normal childhood experiences were simply replaced with alternative ones. And looking back now at the ripe old age of 19, I can honestly say that I would not have wanted a “typical” childhood.

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