Women Without Empowerment: Then and Now

By HADASSAH MAX

Parashat Mattot-Masei (Numbers 30:2 - 36:13)

There is a fascinating symmetry to this week's double portion Mattot-Masei, which both begins and ends by focusing on women. At the beginning of Mattot we read about the circumstances in which a woman's own vows, specifically her religious promises to God, may be ratified or annulled according to the will of her father (if she is unmarried) or according to the will of her husband (if she is married). To the woman who is divorced or widowed, the text speaks in no uncertain terms: any vows she makes "shall stand against her." In other words, the woman who makes a vow while in the control of a father or husband has no autonomy to make her own decisions; the woman who makes a vow without the "protection" of male authority makes commitments at her own peril.

The women we find at the end of Masei, the daughters of Zelophehad, also find themselves in a marginalized position. We have met these women before: in parashat Pinchas God decided in their favor when they vocally argued that in the absence of sons, daughters should have the right to inherit. But the ruling in Masei in effect changes all of this. To ensure that their land remains in the possession of their tribe, the daughters of Zelophehad - whose voices are never heard in the parashah - are required to marry only within their father's own tribe. While women are able to inherit land, this ruling renders it an inheritance in name only. And that is not all: the "ability" to inherit is something that controls them, rather than something over which they have control.

As I read these chapters in Mattot-Masei, I couldn't help thinking of some of the powerful women I had the opportunity to interact with last year in Cambodia. While there are multiple ways of choosing to read any text, I found myself imagining what the women I encountered might have thought if they were to hear or read the words pertaining to women in Mattot-Masei simply as they are written: without commentary, without historical or religious contextualization and without alternative interpretations.

My guess is that none of them would be particularly surprised to learn about the precarious position of women in other cultures and traditions. Yet my experiences with them also lead me to think that they would be far more interested in discovering how other women have managed to overcome challenges and oppression, in order to take control of their own lives.

Take Mart Prang, for example. She is a 44-year-old woman from Leanng Dai village, in northern Cambodia. We met outside of her home to discuss her involvement in an anti-domestic violence project organized by AJWS project partner, Banteay Srei.

Mart Prang told me that prior to Banteay Srei beginning work in her village, women were both verbally and physically abused by their husbands; men spent money on alcohol and karaoke while their families went hungry; husbands often accused wives who dressed nicely of looking for new husbands (while contrary to Cambodian law some men in the village had more than one wife). She also talked about how her own life had improved after so many people - women, men and the local police - were educated about preventing violence, and how villages were now cooperating in responding to cases of violence. In Mart Prang's own words: "Women are no longer alone in solving this problem in their families."

After some time, Mart Prang (who in addition to her anti-domestic violence work also sells groceries, raises 12 pigs, works in the rice fields, takes care of two children and, as a result of Banteay Srei's project, now serves as a liaison to the local government) turned to me and through our translator said: "But now gangs are a much bigger problem for us. Can you tell me how you prevent gang violence in your country?" We talked about the facts and the implications of this violence and of life in Cambodia in general: there are limited employment opportunities, especially for young, unskilled men living in villages; HIV is on the rise; and just as in so many other countries around the world, for many Cambodians drugs and violence appear to be the only viable alternative.

As I talked to Mart Prang, it became clear to me that it is she, and so many women like her, to whom we are referring when we use the term "women's empowerment."

Being an "empowered" woman in the developing world isn't a nebulous concept. It means learning to read and write, making sure your children are able go to school, and becoming an advisor to the local government. It means educating community members and encouraging the police to impose fines on perpetrators of domestic violence as a deterrent measure. It means doing all of this at the same time as working seven days a week to support a family, while constantly looking to the future and planning how to overcome the next challenge. It means having enough strength to break away from community mores and traditions, and to create new practices and systems.

Communities all over the world - not least the Jewish community - have a long way to go before women and men are truly empowered and equal. While the inheritance law in Masei fell out of use over two thousand years ago, as a result of the law against voluntary oaths in Mattot, women are traditionally still unable to serve as eydim (witnesses) in a Jewish court of law. Women are still dependent on their husbands for a get (a Jewish divorce), and the recent furor over the failure of the Jewish People Policy Planning Institute to include women leaders in its conversations is another example of just how much work the Jewish community must do before it can claim anything close to real equality.

Reprinted with permission from American Jewish World Service.