20 years since my Bat Mitzvah, Australian Jewish women have much to celebrate

I recently celebrated my birthday. My 30th was a big shebang, but when it came to turning 32 this year, I was like, "meh, just another trip around the sun”. But then, as I approached the big 3-2, it hit me – this was a milestone! Suddenly, I found myself reminiscing about a pivotal moment in my life: my Bat Mitzvah, which took place 20 years ago.

It's funny how such an event from so far in the past still resonates so strongly. Back then, I was just a spunky 12-year-old girl with a penchant for challenging norms and dreaming big.

My Bat Mitzvah was a pretty modest affair. While some of my friends had extravagant parties, I opted for an arts and crafts event with my classmates. I was in grade six at an all-girls Chasidic school. Most girls chose to do something fairly tame. Sometimes we baked challah, other times we made Havdalah sets. At my Bat Mitzvah, the Art Factory helped my friends and I make Shabbat candle holders with tissue paper.

A quick peek at old pictures show 12-year-old me surrounded by friends. I’m smiling widely, proud of the pearls my aunty from Sydney gifted me, and wearing a brown hat I had recently purchased from Pumpkin Patch, which I thought was very chic.

Looking back at those photos now, it's wild to think how much has changed in just two decades.

In the early 2000s, the landscape of Judaism was undergoing a subtle revolution, particularly concerning the role of women. While I was revelling in my arts and crafts Bat Mitzvah, some girls I knew were pushing boundaries by participating in women's Torah readings – a concept considered radical in our tight-knit Melbourne community.

Reflecting on those days, I can't help but chuckle at my youthful naiveté. My ultra-Orthodox friends and I would snicker at the idea of women reading from the Torah, dismissing it as silly and outlandish. Little did we know that we were merely products of our environment, soaking up societal norms like sponges. Little did I know where my path as an adult would take me.

The first time I ever saw a woman leyn from the Torah was at my friend Sarah’s Bat Mitzvah, where she held a women’s Mincha service. I remember thinking it was a little strange, but I was fascinated.

Growing up in a religious community, I was constantly bombarded with messages about how I should behave and what my role in society should be. During primary and secondary school, any plays that we performed would always depict women as mothers caring for babies or cooking and working in the kitchen.

But try as I might, those messages never quite stuck with me. I was always a bit too brash, a bit too outspoken, a bit too Nomi.

Back in my school days, trouble seemed to follow me like a stray puppy. I had endless opinions, enough chutzpah to fill a stadium, and a knack for backchat that could rival a talk show host. Following the group plan? No way! I was busy choreographing my own routine. And don't get me started on the uniform policy – I treated it more like a suggestion than a rulebook!

Yet, amidst the noise of societal expectations, my love for Judaism remained unwavering. While others grumbled about Hebrew lessons, I relished every opportunity to delve deeper into Torah study. Even as a 12-year-old, I found solace in the richness of our tradition, eager to absorb every nugget of knowledge like a sponge.

Looking back, it's clear that my formative years played a significant role in shaping the person I've become. Whether it was running for student office as a member of the red team or mastering the art of debating in grade five, those early experiences laid the groundwork for my future endeavours, including running (and losing) as a Teal independent and working professionally as a lawyer.

If you had asked 12-year-old Nomi what she hoped to achieve by 32, I'm not sure she would have had a clear answer. But I'd like to think she'd be proud of where I am today – a trailblazer in my own right, challenging conventions and paving the way for future generations.

As one of the first female Orthodox rabbis in the world, and the founder and president of the Jewish Orthodox Feminist Alliance Australia, I've made it part of my mission to break down barriers and redefine what it means to be a woman in Judaism in Australia.

It’s comforting to know that in the 20 years since my Bat Mitzvah, things have become better for Jewish women in this country. I know that when my daughters turn 12 and have their Bat Mitzvahs, they will be gracing a world with so many more opportunities than I ever had. They will be able to occupy leadership positions within Judaism and beyond, and will have exceptional role models to follow and emulate.

As I blow out the candles on my birthday cake, I do so with a sense of pride and gratitude for how far I've come. As I look to the future, I can't help but feel hopeful about what lies ahead. Change may not happen overnight, but with each small step, we inch closer to a more inclusive and equitable world.

So while 32 may not be a milestone birthday, 20 years on from my Bat Mitzvah I have witnessed a milestone of progress for Jewish women in Australia. And that is worth celebrating.