Under the sheitel

From modest dress to ritual purity laws, women who adhere to Orthodox Judaism have a set of rules that dictate how they relate to their bodies. Sometimes these practices can bring a sense of structure and relief, while also placing significant demands on those who follow them closely.

Here, three women talk about how the demands of Orthodoxy affect their body image.

Liat’s* relationship with her body took an unexpected turn when she began going to the mikvah each month. The traditional post-menstrual immersion requires women to be completely naked, stripping off Band-Aids, jewellery, nail polish, and make-up.

Growing up in Melbourne, Liat said her body image relied heavily on external validation and because the feedback was mostly positive, she felt comfortable in her own skin. Raised in a home “that wasn’t religious”, Liat decided to take on the mikvah ritual because it moved her when she was encouraged to go as a ‘once off’ before her wedding.

After Liat was married, she stopped hormonal birth control, and her skin broke out with acne. As she prepared for her monthly mikvah, Liat struggled to stand in front of the mirror without her makeup on; “I was ashamed of the way that I looked. My reflection didn’t match the way I’d viewed myself up until that point”.

In those vulnerable moments, Liat longed to hide, to put her make-up back on, to escape. But mikvah didn’t allow for that. When Liat became pregnant, it was a turning point in her attitude to her body. “I was afraid that I would give birth to my daughter, and she would look at me and think I’m ugly. That’s how I actually viewed myself”.

Before immersion each month, as Liat meticulously removed all the different external layers, she prepared to connect to the deeper layers of herself, to become acquainted with her “essence” or “soul”.  During these most vulnerable moments, Liat would sit in her pre-mikvah bath and “journal and sing and pray and cry”.

The preparation for and ritual of mikvah created a space of “raw honesty” for Liat, a period she now sees as a “bookmark in time where I was forced to confront the parts of myself that I wanted to avoid”. On those mikvah evenings, Liat “stood at the edge” of her fear and insecurity and “learnt to trust that I'd get through it”.

And she did. After Liat gave birth, “my body changed, but I was relating to it in a whole different way because I'd just given birth. I was just in deep awe of what my body could do”.

Returning to the mikvah upon the re-establishment of her menstrual cycle, Liat stood in front of the same mirror and saw herself anew. “I looked at my naked body in love. Wow. I could not believe the shift.”

Instead of shaming herself, Liat’s inner voice was saying “look at what my breasts have done, look at this belly. It’s hot. I just thought that being a mum, being somebody that someone could put their head on and be comforted by, that was the new sexy”.

Now, each mikvah immersion is an act of gratitude. “I just see my body as it is in that moment and I think, thank you.”

As an Orthodox Jewish woman, Sarah* embraces the custom of covering her hair except in the company of immediate family.

If it’s a bad hair day, she doesn’t mind but “if I’m having a really good hair day, then I can feel frustrated that I can’t just show my natural hair”.

For Sarah, hair is more than just an expression of beauty or confidence – it’s deeply intertwined with her sense of self and belonging, both in how she presents herself to the world and how she relates to her body in private.

Sarah navigates the complexity of hair covering by balancing scarves (tichels) and a wig (sheitel), each offering access to a different version of herself and her image. Wearing a scarf makes Sarah “very visibly religious”, whereas her sheitel allows her to feel “a bit more undercover and professional”. Asked when she feels the most ‘herself’, Sarah responds, “there’s the public you and the private you, and they’re both you”.

Sarah doesn’t perceive her public head covering as a burden or “something I've been pressured into. It’s my choice and the pros outweigh the cons”. She enjoys the freedom of dying her natural hair crazy colours knowing “only me and my family will see it” and the ease of not worrying about a bad hair day.

However, there are moments when covering her hair feels limiting. Some outfits, Sarah notes, “look weird with a scarf”. It’s one of the main reasons Sarah decided to recently purchase a good quality lace-top sheitel. “Sometimes you just feel ugly with no hair, like sometimes you just want hair. Maybe that’s a controversial thing to say.”

The desire to feel beautiful, to look and feel ‘normal’, especially in social settings, plays into Sarah’s choices too. “It was really nice to have the option of a sheitel after years of only wearing a scarf. It made me feel prettier somehow.”

In this way, Sarah’s hair exists as both an obstacle to and a form of self-expression. It's complicated.

Raised in a non-Jewish but conservative home, Madeleine* couldn't wait until she was allowed to wear a two piece: "I saved up for a bikini and as soon as I was a teenager, I wore it to the pool". She also recalls squeezing into "the tightest pair of Bettina Liano jeans that I possibly could" in her senior years of high school to fit in with her peers.

Yet, Madeleine often felt self-conscious about her body, wishing she could look like the girls whose curves seemed to arrive effortlessly. "My boobs really didn't grow until I had my first child." Madeleine longed to feel comfortable in her skin but never truly did.

That is until she began exploring converting to Judaism. It was a conversation with Dovid Gutnick at East Melbourne Shule which introduced Madeleine to the concept of dressing modestly.

At first, the idea of covering her body felt foreign to Madeleine, even restrictive. But as she learned more about the spiritual significance behind modest dress, she began to see it differently. Dressing modestly wasn’t about hiding – it was about embracing her body without showcasing it.

Madeleine started wearing long skirts, loose tops and layered outfits which were still very much 'on trend' and aligned with her eclectic aesthetic. At the beach, she chose oversized t-shirt dresses, allowing her to enjoy the ocean without worrying about how her body was being observed by others.

By 'covering up' Madeleine felt liberated from the pressure to meet societal beauty standards. The empowering choice worked wonders for her body image.

*Names have been changed to protect privacy.