In the late 1960s, I began a journey “out of the patriarchy” towards territory unknown.

I was making a conscious decision to change my primary identity from ‘Jewish radical feminism’ to ‘feminist Jew.’

My critique was two–pronged: what Orthodoxy and feminism could learn from each other.

We who seek liberation from the oppressive structures that deny us the same economic, educational, and spiritual opportunities as the privileged among us need each other.

Like my mother and her father, my grandfather, I was both a committed Jew and a feminist.

‘How can we include you in the circle?’ replaced the boundary line keeping the ‘abnormal’ out.

The demand for justice runs through the entirety of Jewish history and Jewish tradition.

The more our voices are heard in song, the more we become our lyrics, our prayers, and our convictions.

[I]t expresses the hope, the expectation even, that we will all come together to rejoice in our heritage...

I recited these blessings as though they had been written a couple of millennia ago by the rabbis, rather than the day before, by me.

V–World is the lives our mothers never got to live.

Annette returned home that night with her mind ablaze and her heart pounding with excitement. A new Jewish door was opening for her.

As it turned out, in the spring of 1985, I was to be the first woman so ordained.

We wanted a fun magazine that portrayed women as diverse, smart, soulful, AND sexy—not airbrushed and anorexic—while still telling the truth. So, we created one ourselves.

From this point on, feminist approaches to sexuality were complex and multifaceted...

[T]he needs of Jewish women and girls in both the U.S. and Israel are still not high priorities for our community.

I believe that it took a group of women—including rabbis—to break through the Jewish cultural barrier that saw medical treatment as the only response to illness.

Jewish feminism provided the bridge from one shore to the other.

We knew that Jewish feminism needed to be suffused through all of Jewish practice so that it would be impossible to ignore.

I floated between moments of exaltation at what we were creating and moments of exasperation and tears at the difficulty of it all.

It was obvious that birth was a universal human experience and one that is central to women's lives. Why were there no images?

In a sense, my first protest took place in 1946 when I refused to learn Yiddish (a decision that I of course regret) but insisted instead on learning Hebrew.

[T]he idea of re–writing the Haggadah seemed startling and even blasphemous. Now, 30 years later, this re–writing has itself become part of an emerging Passover tradition.

In the early years of women entering the rabbinate, many women felt were welcomed to rabbinical school on the expectation that we would act like men.