Among my heroes is a man named Doyin Richards. Doyin writes a fatherhood blog called Daddy Doin Work and recently authored Daddy Doin Work: Empowering mothers to evolve fatherhood. After the birth of his second daughter, Doyin took some time off from his corporate job to bond with the baby. While on leave, he found himself in a bit of a predicament. In a moment of what Josh Levs, author of All In: How Our Work-First Culture Fails Dads, Families, and Businesses--And How We Can Fix It Together, calls "maternal gatekeeping", Doyin's wife was nervous to leave the house without her doing her eldest daughter's hair. He assured her that he had it covered. With his youngest in the baby carrier and his oldest in front of the mirror, Doyin managed to snap a picture of himself while taking on this parental task. After sharing the picture with his wife as proof of a job well done, Doyin posted the picture to Facebook and it quickly went viral. Some time later, Doyin wrote for the Huffington Post that, "I have a dream that people will view a picture like this and not think it's a big deal." Recently, Doyin quit his corporate job to be a full-time "Daddy Doin Work".
One of Daddy Doin Work's projects is an Instagram feed where fathers can post pictures of themselves taking care of their children. The goal is to flood the internet with so many pictures of fathers parenting that it no longer seems like an exception to the norm. I have submitted several photos to Doyin over the past year or so.
One morning last September I awoke to a Facebook message from an Israeli friend. She and I spent a summer working at the same Jewish overnight camp a few years ago. It read, "Scott!!! You're in an article on a famous Israeli website! I was reading and suddenly saw you in a picture!" It seems that the Israeli site Mako.co.il was highlighting these "Pictures from the life of a Father" on its site. I clicked, scrolled, and saw this:
There I was. Tiara, skirt, purse, necklace and all. (Good thing the picture didn't show the toddler-sized high heels dangling from my big toes!) The caption reads, "And with this daughter they [fathers] know how to be twins when required." I am proud that more accurate depictions of fatherhood are being shared worldwide. However, let this also be a cautionary tale. The Atlantic and the Mediterranean are not too great a distance for images to travel in the internet age.
Medieval French commentator, Rabbi Shlomo Yitzhaki (Rashi) explains this verse with a parable. When one publicly embarrasses another, the offender must gather together those in front of whom he caused the embarrassment and approach the offended together to ask for forgiveness. Rashi goes on to say that this is not so with God. One's return to God is only between offender and Creator. Therefore, to "walk modestly with your God" means that there are some things that are solely between the individual and God.
With all of this in mind, I was disappointed to see this timesofisrael.com article pop up in my newsfeed early this week. It seems that Aly Raisman, the 2012 Olympic Gold Medalist stripped down for an ESPN video on body image and athletic focus. The article tried to convince us that though ESPN photographed Raisman completely nude, "she hardly shows 'it all'". I beg to differ.
During the Summer 2012 Olympics I was working at a Jewish overnight camp in Hampstead, NH. The vast majority of campers hailed from neighborhoods surrounding Raisman's hometown of Needham, MA. Reports of our hometown hero spread through camp all summer long. Campers of all ages bragged about their varying degrees of separation from the now famous Olympian. When we returned to Massachusetts later that summer, Needham had erected signs throughout its downtown area marking it as the "Home of Aly Raisman, 2012 Olympic Gold Medalist".
The local Jewish community also got in on the action. Raisman's Rabbi was quoted in various publications praising his Jewishly proud congregant. Everyone was talking about her floor routine to Hava Nagila and its serving as a dig against an Olympic Committee that had chosen not to hold a moment of silence in memory of the 40th anniversary of the Munich Massacre. It was hard to imagine a more deserving modern Jewish heroine.
Now, In the name of trying to teach that "imperfection is beauty", Raisman shows off her skills on the beam and rings sans leotard. While trying to send the message that we must embrace our flaws, Raisman says, “At the last Olympics I got two golds and a bronze, but I think more about the fact that I didn’t medal in the All-Around than the fact that I did really well. That kind of pisses me off—I always think that it’s never good enough. I almost fell and put my hand down; it was stupid, I never make that mistake on the beam." To be sure, I think it is perfectly natural to harp on our teeny flaws even when they fall among huge accomplishments. For me, doing so while naked is a little too natural.
It's not surprising that Raisman's exposé set me off. After all, I am trying to raise my daughter in a world where potential role models (men and women!) are encouraged to strip down by publications that are designed to tout their excellence at various athletic endeavors. I won't rant here about the many societal pressures on young women and how they are showing themselves at increasingly younger ages. I'll simply say that thrice in the past several months I have come home from clothes shopping for my daughter with shirts that seemed innocent enough for a 2 year-old in the front, but after washing discovered that I had overpaid for shirts with incomplete backs. As I try to teach my daughter to "walk modestly with your God", immodesty continues to rear its ugly head. This is by no means the fault of one open Olympian, but she didn't help the cause either. I don't mean to rag on Aly, but I am saddened by her choice.
The heroine who took the Jewish community by storm in 2012 could have shared her tradition's affinity for modest living. Aly could have told the world that we are all made in God's image (Gen. 1:27), muscular athletes and fluffy rabbis alike. Rather than learning to love her (imperfect!?) muscles, she could share how she's come to love her wholly perfect self. This is my wish for Aly and for all of us.