Fallopian Falafel - אשת חיל Zine

2011-05-31T15:48:00.003+03:00

Welcome to
Fallopian Falafel online

Estrogenically delicious!
The spicy site with humus on the side

About the Zine
Fallopian Falafel – אשת חיל is a non-profit, Jerusalem-based feminist zine established in May, 2007. It deals with feminism in Israel, in all its forms of expression (third-wave, riot grrrl, religious movements, etc.), and it aims to spread awareness about the ongoing need for feminism to the Israeli public. It is worth noting that despite its secular leftist nature, the zine is neither anti-religious nor anti-Zionist.
Editor-in-chief: Hadass Ben-Ari

Latest Info

EXTRA EXTRA!! Issues 1, 2, 4, 7, 10 and 11 are now available for free PDF download! Check out the Archives.

May 31, 2011
The last issue of Fallopian Falafel is now published. And now that I'm listening to a sad classical guitar melody, this does not warrant an exclamation mark. However, the good news is that it is an absolutely explosive issue, so don't be alarmed if your processor has trouble processing the awesomeness of it. You can download the full version of it on PDF or order it from me.
It's been a great ride. I had an awesome time with all the contributors and the Riot Grrrls I've met throughout my zine-production and thank you so much to each and every one of you. Keep up with me on my blog here. Or send me some love here: fallopian.falafel@gmail.com.
With pink skull kisses,
Hadass.

February 28, 2011
It is with great regret that I inform you that I will be taking an indefinite hiatus from Fallopian Falafel – the zine that has been my rock, my shield and my sword for the past four years. It was a hard but eventual decision to make as I plan to focus all my spare time and energy on a much bigger writing project – my book. The decision is also based on my plan for self-publishing, and for that end, I need to save up as much money as I can and zine-publishing is not within my budget.
So, to the ISSUE at hand – the last issue of Fallopian Falafel must be an explosive one in order to go out in a BANG! The topic is therefore grrrlVIRUS. It will include articles on absolutely anything you want to get out of your system. GrrrlVIRUS submissions, Riot Grrrl and all things grrrl. Issues that have been covered, or those that have not, things that need to be said, drawn, photographed, painted, designed, composed… This is YOUR issue, YOUR say, YOUR territory. Invade it, own it, infect it. Kill the disobedient, enslave the weak.
- Religion
- Homosexuality
- Music
- International Woman’s Day
- Beauty/self-image
- Eating disorders
- Natural beauty products/recipes for home-made cosmetics
- Pop culture
- Female body
- The period
- Love/relationships/marriage
- Pregnancy and abortion
- Sexual violence
- Breasts/ bras/plastic surgery/cancer
- Virginity
- DIY
- Career women and homemakers
- Recipes
- Feminist men
- Riot Grrrl/grrrlVIRUS
- Feminist activism
The topics are unlimited, uncut and uncensored. So take control and smash the patriarchy with your pen. I want all your contributions for this finale.
Deadline: April 15, 2011
To end on a positive note, this is not a goodbye forever. The spirit lives on and the virus is spreading and evolving. I will still be calling on you awesome people for reinforcement for the revolution. And Fallopian Falafel may still be resurrected, because A True Riot Grrrl Never Dies.
With pink skull kisses,
Your badass editor.

January 21, 2011
Fallopian Falafel Issue 15 is finally out, dude! This special issue on feminist men includes submissions by both men and women, interviews with two self-proclaimed feminist men, some Judaism-oriented pieces on the topic, some pieces exploring the reality or the myth of feminist men, poems and more. The Riot Grrrl Corner is also dedicated to an Israeli male singer who likes to bluntly express his feminist stance onstage - Aviv Geffen! Check out samples of the paper copy here, and the respective articles here. To order this non-macho yet still muscle-pumping issue, go here. Or download a free PDF copy here.

September 19, 2010
Issue 14 on Kitchen Women and Career Women is now published! It features articles about juggling between having a career and family life, and how can we as women manage both while keeping ourselves somewhat sane! It also features a fun little cookbook with recipes provided by the contributors of the zine. Feel free to try them out as they all look awesome. Check out some sample scans and words of wisdom.

August 27, 2010
I was interviewed for the blog Zine Weekly! Check it out here.

June 30, 2010
Issue 14 of FF Zine is now open for submissions. The topic is Kitchen Women and Career Women.
Basically I am looking for articles about modern feminist views on "women in the kitchen". Whereas early feminists set out to prove that a woman can and should have a career, and said that women should get out of the kitchen and take to the streets, the modern view is that being a homemaker (which I find is a much nicer word than housewife) is already a full-time job. So as women today do have careers, some choose to be a wife and mother, and that there is no shame in either choices.
Here are some ideas for brainstorming:
- How is being a wife and mother a full-time job?
- What would you prefer, running a company or running a family?
- How can a woman balance between her professional life and family life?
- What benefits does having a career offer that having a family doesn't, and vice versa?
- Is being a Kitchen Woman really limiting? How can being a Career Woman be limiting?
- Culinary delights: I want RECIPES, people! I suggest that anyone contributing anything should include a recipe along with the submission, even if it's just some funky way of making an omelet. I want this issue to be a semi-cookbook! (Please keep it kosher - and if you're unsure about whether or not a recipe you have in mind is kosher, get in touch with me)
- Any ideas you may have, you are limited solely by your imagination!
As always, you may send in art, poems, articles, personal stories, fiction stories, cartoons, photography or any print material you wish to express yourself with.
Please remember that contributions are entirely voluntary, and every contributor receives a free copy of the zine.
Deadline: August 20, 2010
Send to: fallopian.falafel@gmail.com

June 22, 2010
Issue 13 on DIY is published! Or rather, photocopied, collated, folded and stapled *phew*. It features CD reviews, zine reviews, Sue's model Sukkah, my mom's Lechemoach, random Intermax comix, the dress Courtney Love wore when Frances Bean was conceived, a crapload of stars... and much more!
There is also a piece about Hannah Greenberg's new book "Oblivious to the Obvious: Wishfully Mindful Parenting." You can order the book here.
Excerpts of it can be seen here and read here. Since this is a DIY issue, there is no PDF version available for download. But the hard copy is much better anyway and it's much cheaper than the other issues - $1.00 or 3.50 NIS! Contact me at fallopian.falafel@gmail.com to get your very own copy.

May 13, 2010
Issue 12 is now published!!! The virginity issue is cherry-yummy, and contains mostly poems about virginity, and stories of cherry popping. It talks about how different women experience their virginity and their loss of it (or rather do not consider it a loss but a new way to experience their body and sexuality). This issue also focuses a little more on the "Falafel" part of the zine and includes a special segment on Yom Ha'atzmaut, the 62nd anniversary of the State of Israel.
View scans or read sample articles, or download the full PDF version. Or better yet, order your very own copy by contacting Yours Truly :-)

As an aside - do not forget to send your DIY submissions! Deadline: June 10. Contact me, or read below for more ideas/information.

May 3, 2010
Issue 12 is not yet published but will be shortly.
Meanwhile, here is a call for submissions for Issue 13 of Fallopian Falafel which will be all DIY!
For this particular issue, I will try my best to use the computer as little as possible, which means that Adobe InDesign will be nowhere in sight, and the entire issue will be laid out by hand, the authentic way of laying out a zine, with scissors, glue and a typewriter.
As always, you may send in art, poems, articles, personal stories, fiction stories, cartoons, photography or any print material you wish to express yourself with. And if you wish to contribute to the DIY cause, you can send it all in hard copy by snail mail, hand-written or printed on a deluxe vintage pink typewriter (preferably in black and white, because that's how it will be printed).
Ideas for this topic may include:
- What does DIY mean to you
- What can you do with DIY, and what are the limitations, if any
- Reasons why DIY rocks
- All things that can be considered DIY: writing, publishing, drawing, sewing, knitting, art, music, cooking…
- How can DIY help the feminist/riot grrrl cause
- All your DIY creations
- Any ideas you may have, you are limited solely by your imagination!
Aside from all that, if you are an independent writer, poet, publisher, cartoonist or musician, you are strongly encouraged to send a sample of your art (demotape, zine, blog, comics, or any other DIY creations) for review in this issue.

Contact me for more information if you would like to send me some DIY lovin'!
With pink skull kisses,
The Badass.

PS - I started a new perzine, called The Purple Myrtle Squeegy. It's a very different format, style and production method than Fallopian Falafel, in the sense that it's only me, and only DIY, no contributors, no comp, no printer and no Adobe. You may check it out here.

March 23, 2010
Fallopian Falafel is now accepting submissions for its 12th issue which will focus on virginity.
But before we get into that, check out the translation of the article on Fallopian Falafel and Hadass that appeared in Germany's Missy Magazine! Special thanks to Noa for the translation.
Back to the subject at hand. For issue 12 on Virginity, you may send in art, poems, articles, personal stories, fiction stories, cartoons, photography or any print material you wish to express yourself with.
Ideas for this topic may include:
- Sexual pressure women and girls are faced with
- Terminology (the effect of words such as prude, frigid, etc.)
- Chastity tools including rings, belts, contracts, etc.
- Religious views on virginity
- Reviews of books on virginity (I got a lot of suggestions for that one, so it's definitely acceptable)
- Where is the "loss" in "losing" your virginity?
- Medical facts on what is the hymen, what it looks like, etc.
- Cherry recipes for pies, cakes or whatever your culinary genius compells you to share.
- Any ideas you may have, you are limited solely by your imagination!
Please remember that contributions are entirely voluntary, and every contributor receives a free copy of the zine.
Send submissions to fallopian.falafel@gmail.com
Deadline: April 10, 2010 (I apologize for the relatively late notice)

February 17, 2010
Fallopian Falafel Issue 11 on Breasts is now published and is packed with super articles on all topics related to our bust - stories, poems and artwork about breast cancer, breastfeeding, bras, nipple piercings and more. The Riot Grrrl Corner features a band I strongly urge all you Riot Grrrl fans to check out - The Cathy Santonies. It also features an exclusive interview with Radio Santoni, lead vocalist and bassist of the band. Check out some excerpts or scans, or click here to order the issue.

August 29, 2009
Germany's Missy Magazine published a full-length article on Fallopian Falafel and the Riot Grrrl scene in Jerusalem (I think... it's in German, so I could only understand the pictures, hehe)
Check it out here.
Special thanks to Chris Kover, Sebastian Ingenhoff and Roland Wilhelm for the awesome job and promotion!
Missy Magazine official site.

Paper Copy of Issue 16

2011-05-31T15:28:00.005+03:00

Below are some samples of the paper copy of Issue 16. To see these articles in text format for easy reading, click here. Click here or contact fallopian.falafel@gmail.com to order the full zine in hard copy or PDF format.

Articles From Issue 16

2011-05-29T20:44:00.004+03:00

The following are sample articles from Issue 16. Click here or contact fallopian.falafel@gmail.com to order the full zine.

Fight Quarantine! (By Hadass S. Ben-Ari)
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The rise of the infamous grunge scene in Seattle and Olympia in the early 90s spawned a lesser known scene of powerful, outspoken feminists who decided to ditch their role as the girls on the sideline at punk shows, who will sleep with the band members once they are done smashing their instruments – and instead decided to take the center stage with their own band, and voice their feminist views along with their own distorted guitars and angry drumbeats. This was the Riot Grrrl movement.
In 2010, a Canadian grrrl with red hair and piercings named Clementine Cannibal decided to take the Riot Grrrl movement a step further by appealing to those who may not identify with punk music, and who may want to express their feminist views with other forms of art. This initiative spread like a virus and reached grrrls from all over the world – US, UK, Europe, Australia, Scandinavia and yes, Israel too.
GrrrlVIRUS has no leaders or followers. Every member who identifies with the movement defines it according to what it means to her. We are grrrls who do not believe in the patriarchic capitalist order that strives to pit us against each other. We are not competitive, we do not believe in grrrl-hate, we do not believe in jealousy. We may not agree with each other all the time, but the grrrlVIRUS infection allows us to respect, encourage, and love our fellow sisters, regardless of who they are and what they choose to do.
We also refuse to hate ourselves and buy into the consumerist notion that we are never good enough. What society views as our imperfections, we view as our power. The Mother Goddess blessed us with the ability to survive despite all the harassment, the violence, the humiliation, the abuse and the hate that we endure. The grrrlVIRUS is the gift of empowerment and beauty, and we invite every grrrl to partake in the viral love that we spread.
This issue includes words of wisdom from some of the infected army of grrrls and womyn I’ve come to know and admire, some flyers for spreading the virus, links to some virus-worthy sites, and a special Riot Grrrl Corner about Cochlea, who took part in the recent Slutwalk event in Ontario, and who also contributed the cover art for this issue!
Sprinkling much grrrlVIRUS-infected confetti and pink skull kisses to all of you!
Enjoy!

Regretfully, this is the last issue of Fallopian Falafel Zine, at least for a while. I am taking a break from it so I can continue writing my book. But the grrrlVIRUS keeps spreading and the Riot Grrrl spirit lives on. So this is not the last you’ve heard of me.
Cheesy as it may be, I would like to extend my sincere and heartfelt thanks to all the grrrls who contributed/supported this zine since its inception, and all the readers who inspired me to keep it up even if sometimes it felt impossible, either emotionally or financially. Thank you for sharing with me in this incredible ride. I look forward to seeing you all in Berlin for the International grrrlVIRUS event this October.
Auf Wiedersehen!
The Badass.

A Slut Is Born - Interview with Clementine Cannibal
Available only on hard copy. Click to order or download.

Hopeless Romantic (art by Laura Wady)
Available only on hard copy. Click to order or download.

Lust Lost (By Phyllis K. Becker)
Available only on hard copy. Click to order or download.

My Mother's Thumb (By Sue Tourkin-Komet)
Available only on hard copy. Click to order or download.

Gray (By Ariel Pamela Blacher)
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As I contemplated life,
one Friday eve
I began to sift my hands
through my dark curls--
the curls that have darkened
as time passed
while covered by hats
by scarves,
by snoods,
and wigs.
To my surprise
a wiry curl
landed in my grasp
“What is that?”
I asked myself....
its strange texture---
harsh and stiff
scared me slightly--
Oh, but I knew then and there,
it was a simple gray strand.
Gray, wiry, and thick,
the curl’s pure white gravity
seemed strange in my palm
as I held it in awe--
a simple strand,
a ticket to my adulthood...
Nor children
Nor husband
could prepare me for the change
of a simple gray curl--
my right of passage
to a world of knowledge
of reflection
of awe--
all in a simple wisp
clasped in my hand
I relished the power of the strand
and welcomed many more.

PMS Spree (By Hadass S. Ben-Ari - orginially written on my blog a couple of month before my Aliyah to Israel)
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The heart is a tyrant. A dictator. A fascist absolute monarch. It will never cede its place to logic or good judgment. My heart will be the one to take over my entire body and make of it whatever it wants. Every desperate attempt my brain makes to try and control me is futile. It is my heart that will keep me from eating and sleeping every time I get nervous or excited or scared shitless. I will continue feeling like shit, looking like shit and experiencing excruciating pain in my whole body for lack of nutrients and my heart will take pleasure in seeing me under those circumstances. And if I do eat, my heart brings it all back up again just to teach me a lesson. “Don’t ever do that again.”
If two weeks ago, I was going through an intense gluttony spree, now I’m going through an intense anorexia spree that is quickly becoming a binging and purging one. I’m fucking sick of having my head in the fucking toilet every two fucking hours.
So basically the two kilos that I managed to gain in the past six months, I lost within a week. And my weight will most certainly continue to decrease unless my heart stops beating or by some miracle my brain finally manages to overpower that spasmodic wad of muscle and blood.
I think the fact that my aliyah began sinking in now is better than if it would have hit me like a ton of bricks on the plane or once I’m actually in Israel. But again, this is my brain speaking, and in my psycho-biological hierarchy, the brain is but a mere peasant. And my heart is saying, you feel like shit, then start acting like it and looking like it.
Whatever, fuck, maybe it’s just caused by the swelling of my tits and ovaries.
Hmmm, the tits and ovaries are tyrants.

Forbidden (byline withheld)
Available only on hard copy. Click to order or download.

Locked (By Alejandra Gorino)
Available only on hard copy. Click to order or download.

Flyers! (By Hadass S. Ben-Ari and Deborah Kadishelby)
Available only on hard copy. Click to order or download.

things i have wanted to say lately but haven’t b/c i didn’t feel like i wanted to school some fool (By Raedy)
Available only on hard copy. Click to order or download.

School Norms: Innocent Enough to Be Eaten Alive (By Hannah Greenberg)
Available only on hard copy. Click to order or download.

It's Fore-Timed (By Sue Tourkin-Komet)
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It’s fore-timed that my fore-bearers
Fore-ordained my fore-name, and now
My eye-glasses and frames
Are not to be found–on my
Fore-head.
It’s fore-timed that now I
Fore-think with heavy forethought
Fore-warning you and myself that maybe we cannot go
Forward anymore?
Let’s meet in my foreyard
Standing guard, with our fore-sweat and fore-shows
Forereaching and foreshadowing the foreshocks
Of your handsome forelocks...all still
You’ve never preferred to be the
Foreman
And I’m too old now, to produce
Fore-waters and foremilk and all its’ ilk
Let’s forestall the bittersweet
Fore-scent, with less
Fore-speech, and wonder if more or less
Foreplay, is what is called for?
I’m neither forewoman nor fore-mistress
But stress is what I guess
Is happening in the geology of
Our fractures and our fissures
Is your foreskin to be found – in the ground –
Where you buried it here in Jerusalem?
And is our fore-world—for now—to be–
Never...forever?

Delivering a Baby Without Giving Birth (By Darryl Egnal)
Available only on hard copy. Click to order or download.

House Sitting (By Phyllis K. Becker)
Available only on hard copy. Click to order or download.

I Could Have Been a Riot Grrrl (By Luna Wrangler)
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View paper 2

Sixth, seventh, eighth grade.
Summers spent in swimming pools, backyard golf courses, dressing like nerds.
We ate taffy and played Atari, read Tiger Beat and made tattoos with Sharpie markers.
She tried to teach me to play the drums and bass, played tricks on me with disappearing ink.
She fell in love with a boy named Alejandro. And a girl named Jennifer.
We played soccer and smoked candy cigarettes, tie-dyed t-shirts, drew comics and told stories on car lot typewriters.
We wrote letters to The Dead Milkmen. We listened to Depeche Mode, The Cure, Siouxsie and the Banshees. Then later, Bob Dylan and The Grateful Dead. We fell in love with Ani DiFranco.
Our toes wore holes in our Keds. Then Converse, Doc Martens, Birkenstocks. Then back to Doc Martens. And finally back to Converse.
My step-sister saw her holding hands with a girl at the candy kiosk in the mall. She passed me a note in English but I already knew. It didn’t matter. I didn’t understand why it would matter to anyone. I told her it shouldn’t matter.
I buried my head in paper and ink, hands sticky with rubber cement, while she wrote songs and learned new chords.
I drew pictures and told stories. I made zines in my bedroom, composed poems and wrote a 200 page novel.
She graduated early.
I watched her on stage. New fans mouthing the words to songs I had known for years.
Corndog fights in the mosh pit at the Wow Hall, angry punk teens at the McKenzie Theater, sweating walls at the Armory.
I stood in the back. I left early and didn’t say hi. I became shy.
L7, The Breeders, Shonen Knife, Bikini Kill. Adickdid and Team Dresch. She opened for Courtney Love. Kurt Cobain gave her his pajamas.
Twenty years later and she circles the globe, makes guest appearances on Portlandia, plays ping pong in Brazil and sings with an Indigo Girl.
She is still a riot grrrl.
And I am still a writer.

Devorah's Legacy (by Talia Bat Pessi)
Available only on hard copy. Click to order or download.

Before There Was a Book (By Mindy Aber Barad)
Available only on hard copy. Click to order or download.

The Things We Do for Beauty (By Hadass S. Ben-Ari - taken from blog)
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“I guarantee you that by the end of the first half of this lecture, all the guys will leave, and by the end of the second half all the girls will leave.”
This is how our Chinese History teacher started off one of the lectures a few semesters ago. In the first half, he spoke about eunuchs, which sure enough made all the guys cringe because of the graphic description of how they were castrated. In the second half he spoke about foot binding, which all the girls thought of as being oppressive, and even more absurd while considering the fact that the women themselves bound their daughters’ feet, willingly. Chinese women in the past believed no man would want to marry their daughters if their feet were not bound. Somehow, although the women were all limping when they walked, the men found it seductive (note that this is an ancient Chinese practice which was abolished in the early 20th century. It is no longer practiced).
I feel the same about such oppressive practices as foot binding and female genital mutilation and whipping women for adultery and all the bullshit we hear about in Third World countries and such. I think it’s absolutely inhuman that women are treated this way, and I find it even more absurd that the women themselves (who are a majority in this world – is everybody missing that fact??) are letting themselves be victimized. I understand that most do not have the means to retaliate, but when women take part in their own oppression (such as the foot binding example above) they make retaliation that much more difficult.
Aside from that, I find it interesting to ponder on the following: How can we consider such practices as being barbaric when people from these countries can just as easily look at us and judge our practices just as harshly? For example, why is female genital mutilation wrong when a substantial part of the developed world’s population circumcise their boys (Jews are not the only ones)? I don’t mean to say that female genital mutilation is right, because I believe it’s utter cruelty. But who’s to say that male circumcision isn’t? And what about waxing? Women who wax their legs, arms, underarms, upper-lip, bikini line, and areas I didn’t even know existed, don’t see anything wrong with it. But it’s painful and women do it just as willingly as Chinese women bound their daughters’ feet, to make them fit into the status quo of what beauty is and to be seductive for men. The longneck women in parts of Africa destroy their back, shoulders and neck for beauty from early childhood. We view that as oppressive and barbaric, but we don’t see anything wrong with 10, 11, 12 year old girls wearing high heels which can just as easily damage their back on the long run.
We should probably look at the state of our society and the negative effects the status quo has on our population before dealing with other people’s business.
Peace, love and hairy armpits.

Whatever Doesn't Kill You (By Dr. Lea-Ora Leeder)
Available only on hard copy. Click to order or download.

Chain Email: Three Men on a Hike (Author unknown)

Three men were hiking through a forest when they came upon a large raging, violent river. Needing to get to the other side, the first man prayed: “God, please give me the strength to cross the river.”
Poof! God gave him big arms and strong legs and he was able to swim across in about 2 hours, having almost drowned twice.
After witnessing that, the second man prayed: “God, please give me strength and the tools to cross the river.”
Poof! God gave him a rowboat and strong arms and strong legs and he was able to row across in about an hour after almost capsizing once.
Seeing what happened to the first two men, the third man prayed: “God, please give me the strength, the tools and the intelligence to cross the river”
Poof! He was turned into a woman. She checked the map, hiked one hundred yards up stream and walked across the bridge.
Go ahead and share this with a woman who needs a good laugh and any man who can handle it!
“If at first you don’t succeed, do it the way your wife told you!”

Sluts Are Cool. Rape Is Not (By Hadass S. Ben-Ari - taken from blog)
Available only on hard copy... or on the blog. Click to order or download.

I Can't Keep On Breathing If I Don't Keepsake This (By Sue Tourkin-Komet)
Available only on hard copy. Click to order or download.

Trumpeters, Drummers, Dancers, Plus Elephants: Princes' Promises (By Hannah Greenberg)
Available only on hard copy. Click to order or download.

Riot Grrrl Corner - Interview with Cochlea
Available only on hard copy. Click to order or download.

Articles from Issue 15

2011-01-21T22:24:00.003+02:00

The following are sample articles from Issue 15. Click here or contact fallopian.falafel@gmail.com to order the full zine.

Fe-MAN-ist (By Hadass S. Ben-Ari)
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I make fun of men. It’s true. Sometimes I like to stir the shit and bitch about their insecurity-hiding-behind-macho attitudes, about how they’re clearly scared of our power but completely deny it when confronted head-on, and pull jokes about them.
But in reality, sometimes it’s because of those things that I love them. Knowing that they’re also human, they have their weaknesses, and knowing that yes, there are the feminist ones who know how to treat a woman with respect, without assuming that she can’t stand on her own two feet without holding on to a man.
The reason why I still make fun of them, I admit, is due to my own repressed feelings of anger, fear and insecurity. These feelings come up mostly after suffering a devastating heartbreak, or see my girlfriends suffer a similar episode, or experiencing any form of sexual harassment, or simply coming into contact with a man who wants to get between my legs and ignoring what’s between my ears. And another truth is that these incidents happen way more often than meeting a feminist man. A real feminist man, who doesn’t even need to proclaim it to prove his stance.
So at first, I wasn’t going to write an issue on that topic because I figured it may be too hard to find these feminist men and weed out the real from the fake. But then I came across zines that included some very clever rants by feminist men, and some other stories by women expressing their opinion on the topic. That’s aside from walking around Jerusalem and sometimes running into a guy wearing a t-shirt that reads “This is what a feminist looks like,” or being at the Jerusalem Rape Crisis Center fundraiser and coming across other such men…
It is necessary to recognize the men fighting for equality, because they’re the ones who will make the most significant, most radical change. Men are the oppressors, and only men can stop the oppression. So the more feminist men, the better, and we need to allow them in.
Sure women need their own space and this is what Riot Grrrl is all about – mutual support and love among women – but the real feminist men would understand and appreciate that. They would participate in the collective struggle against violence, rape and sexual harassment, by first making a change within themselves, and then serve as an example for others.
But they cannot do that if we alienate them. Being in touch with feminist women is what can make a man understand and respect us.
This issue includes submissions by men on the topic of feminism, an interview with two self-proclaimed male feminists, as well as some rants/monologues by women on the topic.
And this issue’s Riot Grrrl Corner is also dedicated to an Israeli artist who never misses a show without proudly announcing his radical feminist stance – Aviv Geffen!

Of Chauvenist Beasts and Radical Dykes (By Hadass S. Ben-Ari)
Available only on hard copy. Click to order or download.

Step Away from the Cave, Boys and Girls (By Dr. Lea-Ora Leeder)
Available only on hard copy. Click to order or download.

Short Note from a Feminist Toughguy (By Jesski)
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I was born with a learning disability; the medical term is “Y-Chromosomes”.
Luckily for me, my ancestors spent several thousand years doing things like writing the Talmud, describing relativity and kicking ass on various bad guys. So though I am slow, I am observant. One of the first things I noticed in life was that my father could lift a car. The second thing I noticed was that when my mother needed a car lifted she smiled and my Dad did it. “Ah-Chaa!!!” as uncle Phil used to say.
Yes, I have always been in awe of women. Mom was brilliant and eclectic. Grandma was brilliant and neurotic. It was always obvious to me that women were better. Not just because men suck (I’m a man, I can say it). But because they seemed to have that “Not a bull in a china shop” quality. Don’t get me wrong, many of my friends are men. They are loyal, strong, like to play and are basically happy....all the qualities you would want in a dog. I also like dogs very much but I wouldn’t date either. Dad pointed out that if you were really a tough guy you didn’t have to act like one. What percentage of women start the wars, bar fights and street gangs on this planet? Women just seem to bypass all that silly mucking about. They have natural abilities which they use with much more finesse than men. Sure there are exceptions on both sides but they are also brilliant in ways men can’t be. I respect women...OK love...OK adore them for their subtlety and power. What is more interesting than a female artist or rocket scientist? I don’t know either, probably nothing. So, why feminism?
Because feminism isn’t just an expression of female power. It is also an expression of male power. When we can unblinkingly accept women as equals, we free ourselves, too, because equality empowers both sides. We acknowledge a team up that G-d Himself created and we open the door to amazing possibilities. Ever wonder why Sarah laughed? Ever wish she had written a book? Or that Miriam or Esther had kept a diary? I do. We have allowed too much of the wisdom, love and strength of our women to slip away. Someday we will be the history of the Jews. How do we want to be remembered? More important, how do we want to live now?
Jesski is single, Jewish and a freelance writer, sculptor and snaplink worker in Tel Aviv. He enjoys physics and baking. (comments: nofatestudio@yahoo.com)

Feminism from a Male/Gender Queer/Trans/Whatever-the-Fuck-I-Am Perspective (By Royce Icon)
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Linked in Synch - Post Feministic Stance on Holy Union (By Joy Sherri)
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Blessing: Repossessing Sexuality as Holiness - Torah Portion Vayechi (By Shaya Kelter)
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View paper 2

As a child and adolescent in largely Christian America, I grew up in a culture in which sexuality is dirty, something to be ashamed of. “Dirty thoughts”, “dirty books” and “dirty pictures” were those that contained some connection with sexuality. The attitude linking dirty and shameful with sexuality has also seeped into Jewish thought among those Jews who for nearly two millenia have been living among the Christians. Christianity began in Israel as a Jewish sect but after Paul became a religion of primarily Gentiles and other philosophic influences, especially Greek, entered.Among them was the concept that the body and the soul are two separate entities and that the body is dirty and the soul is pure. An ideal in Christianity developed in which chastity, even for all of life became the ideal. To this day, Roman Catholic priests and nuns take oaths of lifelong celibacy.
The attitude towards sexuality in the Bible was very different. This Torah portion provides examples. “When Yisrael’s days drew near to death, he called his son Yosef and said to him: “Pray if I have found favor in your eyes, pray put your hand under my thigh – deal with me kindly and in truth: pray do not bury me in Egypt.” Genesis 47:29 Before Yisrael a.k.a. Yaakov (Jacob) dies, he makes his burial arrangements making his son Yosef swear that he will be buried with his fathers and then bequeaths his heritage to his sons in blessings. Just as Avraham, before sending his servant on a holy mission, had made him swear by placing his hand under his thigh, Yisrael in asking to be buried in holy ground, has his son Yosef swear while placing his hand under his thigh. The holiest organ in the Jewish male’s body is his circumcised penis. The “brit milah” (covenant of the circumcision) or in Yiddish “bris” marks the covenant between God and His people. The sexual organ is the instrument of progeneration, of new life, the very first “mitzvah” or commandment God gave to the human being, from the time of Creation.
Yisrael gives his blessing to each of his 12 sons and reserves his most tender blessing for his beloved Yosef including: “By your father’s God – may he help you and Shaddai, may he give-you-blessing: Blessings of the heavens, from above, blessings of the depths crouching below, blessings of breasts and womb!” Genesis 49:25 Two of God’s names are invoked by Yisrael in this verse. El Avicha – Your father’s God and Shaddai. El is masculine and Shaddai is feminine. The word Shaddai, one of the names of God, means “My breasts”. The breasts are a wonderful image for God because the breasts provide the suckling infant with all that he needs, just what he needs, but not too much. The word Shaddai can also be understood to mean She-Dai (that is sufficient). This is from the same word that we have in the song from the Passover Seder “Dayyenu” (It would sufficient). Shaddai is saying that God gives us what we need, just what we need, sufficient and not too much. It is a loving way of relating to God. Womb in Hebrew is “Rechem” which is the basis of another two of God’s names Harachaman (the Merciful One) and El Rachum (Compassionate God).
In this versus Yisrael is providing blessings of breasts and womb, the blessings of sexuality, which are also the regeneration of life and its loving sustenance.
Blessing is here giving of love. Blessing was very much part of Biblical life. Our times could also use blessing.
May we all be blessed with lives blessed with loving.

The Balls Behind the Pussy (By Jme Hash)
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This Is What a Feminist Man Looks Like - Interview with Shaya Kelter and Steve Goeke
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How to Be a Feminist Man (By Royce Icon)
(Photo by Shira Richter)
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To me, the easiest way to define Feminism is the belief in total and complete equality between the sexes. So to be a Feminist male you should believe in equality, and exercise that belief in your day to day life. That last bit is important, as simply stating you believe in equality doesn’t mean shit if you don’t practice it in real life.
And how do you go about practicing equality? Well, that’s simple; Don’t be an asshole! Treat women - and all people for that matter - with the same general courtesy and respect that you would want them to treat you with. Don’t make stupid generalizations about gender roles, don’t think of women merely as body parts, don’t act like a creepy stalker. Just don’t be a douche!
It really is that simple. It’s easier for some and harder for others, but it’s important. Not everyone is born with an egalitarian mindset, some have to work on it. If equality is a foreign concept for you, think about what you say and do around women, and try to see things from their perspective. Talk to women, make some female friends if you don’t have any, and generally try and gauge their reactions to your behavior, and seriously consider their input. And if you see people saying some sexist or misogynistic bullshit, call them out on it if you can!
The key to being a Feminist male is practicing and advocating equality between the sexes. If you can honestly say you do that, then you’re a Feminist in my book.

Me and the Minyan (By Leah Moses)
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Feminist MEN?! (By Dorit Shirim)
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Three Pillows (By Hannah Greenberg)
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מונולוג בוקר של אב לא אטום - שירה ריכטר
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Riot Grrrl Corner (By Hadass S. Ben-Ari)

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Paper Copy of Issue 15

2011-01-21T21:58:00.005+02:00

Below are some samples of the paper copy of Issue 15. To see these articles in text format for easy reading, click here. Click here or contact fallopian.falafel@gmail.com to order the full zine in hard copy or PDF format.

Paper Copy of Issue 14

2010-09-21T21:02:00.004+02:00

Below are some samples of the paper copy of Issue 14. To see these articles in text format for easy reading, click here. Click here or contact fallopian.falafel@gmail.com to order the full zine in hard copy or PDF format.

Articles From Issue 14

2010-09-21T20:32:00.003+02:00

The following are sample articles from Issue 14. Click here or contact fallopian.falafel@gmail.com to order the full zine.

Cooking Pot of Gold (by Hadass S. Ben-Ari)
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Up until recently, I was unemployed. I spent endless hours in the social insurance office, cursing under my breath while applying for anything that could keep me from starving to death.
It wasn’t always so. I used to work in a place where I felt like a doormat at best, and a two-dollar whore at worse. I was being yelled at for other people’s mistakes, ridiculed for any kind of creative initiative, ignored for any kind of protest, and taken advantage of due to my lack of beard and testicles.
So when I finally broke and quit that place, I traded in my empty spirit for an empty belly, and literally became a starving artist. Instead, I fed my many hopeless addictions – mainly writing and zine producing. But having no money, I was constantly anxious and depressed because I kept taking my parents’ money, so writing was not always enough to make me feel better.
So I went back to the doormat/whore place (ironically, a soup kitchen), which is where I’m at right now. I am also a part-time dog walker and an unpaid freelance writer for the Jerusalem Post… and an indie zinester on top of all that, which is not a job but not any less of an occupation than the others.
While I was out of a job, I couldn’t go grocery shopping as much but this gave me a chance to use the food items I already had to practice my cooking skills. I banged out some pretty funky dishes and made some rad baked goods for the first time ever. But now that I can afford to buy food, the fast kind comes in very handy when you work 50 hours a week. I have no time for cooking and settle for a couple of cookies for breakfast, a sloppily improvised sandwich for lunch and Minute Rice for dinner.
This got me thinking about this topic of career women and homemakers. How can a woman manage to work one full-time job, one part-time job, one freelancing gig, as well as make three decent meals a day, raise her kids and tend to all the household chores? And how exactly can anyone view that as anything besides miraculous that such women not only survive this lifestyle, but are actually happy with it, due to the accomplished feeling that it creates?
Although I still hate this fascist capitalist society with a passion, using money to keep people chained to their jobs like rabid dogs, there is something empowering about making your own cash and actually using it for your benefit. And ironically, it’s this very cash that, if used properly, can bring down the capitalist regime. Use it to print more copies of your zine and photocopy more anti-establishment flyers, and throw it in everybody’s faces.
And if you can make matbucha for Shabbat and serve home-baked carrot-cake cupcakes for dessert while you’re at it, that’s even better.
Find recipes for these dishes among many others in the mini cookbook included in this issue, alongside many other submissions by women and their take on work, kitchen and family life.
Plus, the Riot Grrrl Corner featuring an R&B song with a powerful indie twist – “Independent Woman.”

Meymers (by Hadass S. Ben-Ari)
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A Well-Rounded Woman (by Riotgrrrlaz - author of Little Girl Lost & Found)
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Working woman, mother, friend, and sexy goddess – these are all titles a woman today may have the honor of holding. Juggling all of these titles can seem to be an impossible feat at times and is certainly exhausting! But perhaps the most difficult feat is continuing playing the part without little or any recognition or appreciation. So why do we do it? Easy. Other people are depending on us and if we were to throw in the towel everything would fall apart...we are born nurturers.
The ability to even be a woman and have options other than being a homemaker is remarkable and therefore coveted. Women today are proud of their accomplishments, which can often result in a reluctance to ask for help for fear of being viewed as weak. To feel needed and desired can empower a woman; however, she also requires respect and support from the people in her life, especially her spouse/partner/lover.
In my own experience, a lack of respect and support has lead to burnout, extreme stress, and even resentment. Independence runs through my veins like blood, so asking for help from others is not in my nature…I would much rather suffer in silence than admit defeat. The lesson I have learned, though, time and time again is that if I fail to take care of myself I will be of no use to anyone else and I ultimately end up sending out a message of insecurity to others.
As women, and more importantly, as human beings, we must first love ourselves (inside and out) and learn to ask for help when we need it so that we can maintain and juggle all of our titles and remain sane (somewhat). With most families today having two working parents, some even working more than one job just to keep the family afloat, it is important to recognize that the raising of a family can no longer be a torch carried only by women. More and more, men are stepping up to the plate and taking on roles that were once predominately associated with women; child rearing, cooking, household chores like dishes, laundry, and regular household cleaning.
If there is one thing that feminism and the history of women has taught me is that there are no limits as to what we can do except for those that we create within our own minds. We can be super women that hold down jobs, continue our education, raise families, heal the wounds of friends, pleasure our lovers, and embrace our own needs, desires, and goals all with ease and grace.
I am a woman who works full time, has two children, a husband, and holds an AAS and BAS, which were obtained within the last five years. I enjoy and take pride in tending to and raising my family, but still manage to make time for myself and my love for writing and crafting. If I did not lean on my husband from time to time and make time for my own interests and needs, I fear that I would lose touch with myself, thus creating road blocks in reaching my own personal goals. At times I may have too much on my plate and I may be pushed beyond my limits, but in my opinion this makes me a well-rounded and strong individual.

I'm Always Happy to Slice Dry (by Sue Tourkin-Komet)
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Of Kitchens, Conventions and Other "Cookery" (by Hannah Greenberg)
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The Hierarchy of Love (by Tinamarie Bernard)
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Not Yet Washed Up and Not Yet Washed Out (by Sue Tourkin-Komet)
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Kitchen Woman? (by Mindy Aber Barad)
*featuring a flyer by Jenn Reid
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In 2006 I wrote that life as I had known it was redefined many years earlier by law school. “Good” became “out-did”; “win” became “show-off”; “smart” was telling the professor what he wanted to hear. “Brilliant” was only challenging the professor’s opinion on a case when you were a blood relative of the sitting judge.
Into such a world I had my renaissance as a loud voice with an aggressive manner that could push any otherwise reasonable person into oncoming traffic. I was the monster created in the ivory tower laboratories. And I broke out into a legal world where I could have an impact, 12 hours a day. I admitted even then that it was a negative impact, but better negative than none at all. My new definition of “good” was fierce, a bulldog.
It was at this time of my life that “they” decided it was time I started going out on shidduch dates. One guy was actually very nice, except that he said women didn’t need to work outside the home, yada yada. That was the end of my shidduch dates for a long time.
A year later I had met and married my husband, and we were expecting our first child. The question circling throughout the legal world was just how short, if any, a maternity leave I would be taking. Several colleagues even had the nerve to ask me straight out.
“I don’t know,” I responded. “It’ll depend on how I feel.”
Well, this answer puzzled everyone. It implied that I was open to the possibility of an extended leave, which further implied that I might actually be taking care of my own child full time.
And I did. And then we had another and another and another. I’ve worked part-time on and off.
Today, while I would not say that my heart is in the kitchen, I’ve come to appreciate that particular need in my family, and, gulp, in me too. Raise your hand if you can tell I’m ambivalent!

Occupation: Mother (a Hebrew piece; author unknown)
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I'm Hearin' in My Kitchen (by Sue Tourkin-Komet)
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Blessed Are the Foodies (by Dr. Lea-Ora Leeder)
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Chained to the Kitchen (by Dorit Shirim)
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At, On and Under This Table (by Sue Tourkin-Komet)
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Recipes! - An FF Cookbook, c/o the Zine Contributors

Matbucha - Moroccan Tomato Salad (by Hadass S. Ben-Ari)
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Every person in my extended family has a different way of making this salad, but it always comes out rad. My version is based on my mother’s recipe but somehow it still comes out different, yet yummy as anything.

Ingredients:

1) A big can of diced tomatoes
2) Olive or vegetable oil
3) Salt
4) Sweet paprika
5) One green pepper
6) One red pepper
7) Tumeric
8) Four cloves of garlic

Instructions:
Chop the garlic, green pepper and the red pepper. Spill the diced tomatoes along with the juice into a big enough pan, so that it doesn’t overflow, and mash the tomatoes as much as possible. Do not drain the tomato juice.
Add the garlic and the peppers, mix it, and then put it on the stove. As it’s cooking, add the oil, salt, and paprika. I don’t have specific quantities, but for a real Moroccan taste, use a lot of each. Use your own culinary intuition.
As for the tumeric, put just a tiny, tiny fraction of a teaspoon. Seriously cheap out on it. If you put too much of it, it will turn your salad yellow, which would be lame. The paprika should make it dark red.
Leave the pan uncovered and let it cook on a medium fire forever, or until all the tomato juice has evaporated, whichever one comes first. Stir it once every three to five minutes, and once the juice has evaporated, I would suggest you taste it and add more paprika or salt as needed.
An optional trick for an extra kick:
When my mom makes this salad, it always comes out great. But once, she left it on the stove for a little too long and it burned a little. When she served whatever was left of it at the dinner table, I was like “Holy shit! That salad ROCKS! What did you add to it?”
And she said: “Um, nothing. Actually, I burnt it.”
So I said: “YES! Keep burning it!”
So if you choose to burn it a little, it will add that extra kick and will really make the flavors come out. I let it burn for a couple of minutes then I turn off the stove, scrape the bottom of the pan and mix it with the rest of the salad.
Don’t freak out if little drops of your tomato salad jump from the pan onto your stove. It’s perfectly normal. You can always clean it after :-)
Serve it with bread, or use it for shakshooka with a fully cooked sunny side up.

Other recipes (Available only on hard copy. Click to order or download)
Including:
- Chocolate Coulant (by Judit Alonso)
- Gazpacho Recipe (by Dr. Lea-Ora Leeder)
- Channie's Vegetable Soup (by Hannah Greenberg)
- Dave z"l's Friend Steve's Stir Fried Tuna (by Mindy Aber Barad)
- No-Bake Cookies (by Riotgrrrlaz)
- Falafel (online recipe)
- Assorted Goodies Froom the Home of Annika Weimbs
- The 6-C's Recipe From the PMS Perzine (by Hadass S. Ben-Ari)

Riot Grrrl Corner (by Hadass S. Ben-Ari)
Available only on hard copy. Click to order or download.

Articles from Issue 13

2010-06-23T13:03:00.005+03:00

The following are sample articles from Issue 13. Click here or contact fallopian.falafel@gmail.com to order the full zine (available only in hard copy).

DIY-licious (Hadass S. Ben-Ari, feat. "Badass & Buxy" illustration by Anna Gopin)
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For those of you who have never come across an authentic DIY fanzine, this is essentially what it's supposed to look like - amateurish, ghetto, busted, cut-off, faded, and often times, colorless.
Originally, this is what Fallopian Falafel would have looked like from the very beginning had my ex-boyfriend not intervened and given me a crash course in Adobe InDesign. I quickly realized just how much easier it was to use InDesign than scissors and glue. I was therefore unable (or rather unwilling/too freakin lazy) to create anything more raw, with a greater DIY feel and look. But for this issue, I said a professional static look will not work. FF Zine deserves an extravagent twist even if some of my readers/contributors may feel a little thrown off at first. I have every confidence that they may quickly learn to love it for the very fact that it is very authentic, raw, intimate and every bit as poignant as the other issues.
I apologize in advance for the eye-sore, and please note that this layout is not a permanent deal :-)
About the topic itself:
DIY - Do it Yourself, for those who aren't sure - is anything we create. In the DIY culture of Punk Rock, it is anything we create without letting conventional guidelines limit us - Big Man Corporations, publication companies, commercial record labels, all of those who restrict us, our freedom of expression, and limit our ability to create.
Riot Grrrl culture is pure freedom, without limits, without guidelines, without a dress code. The rules of capitalism and popularity do not apply. Even talent is optional. Some say "I can't do it because I don't know how." That's absurd. If you are one of the priviledged few with the gift of literacy, you can write. If you have hands, you can play guitar. If you have a needle and a string or a sewing machine, you can sew. Hell, if you have the right tools, you can chop down a tree, fashion a pencil and make paper... and put out a zine!
As I said before - you don't have to be Proust to write, or Dali to paint, or the Mother Goddess to create. Your mind and your hands are powerful.
USE THEM!

Kurdt (article by Hadass S. Ben-Ari; art by Eli Dadon)
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My DIY Mama (Hadass S. Ben-Ari)
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Original Handmade Duckt Tape Wallets (Jane Danger)
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Stark Naked (Sue Tourkin-Komet)
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DIY Feminism (Debbie Snyder-Eliraz)
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Genesis - excerpt (Hadass S. Ben-Ari)
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With every passing day, I love DIY more and more. If I could be 100 percent DIY, my life would be perfect. I wanna be able to do everything, to make everything, to create everything… like the Mother Goddess creates the tools to create things, and uses these tools to create more things.
I wanna build my own house, sew my own clothes, use my own hair as stuffing for my embroidered pillows, keep using my typewriter and my pen and paper with ink that spills and messes up a page of a torn notebook, bake the best cupcakes ever in an old small vintage pink oven with rusty edges, use a worn-down walkman and a decrepit tape deck, endlessly play guitar until I activate my myotonia and make my fingers bleed, write so much that my hand twists up and freezes for a good 10 minutes and a blue or black stain forms on the side of my hand where my pinky meets its respective knuckle down the side of my palm to the side of my wrist…
But we live in a material, consumerist, capitalist shithole world, with a bunch of greedy assholes who are too stupid to notice that they're just a pathetic worthless product of a material, consumerist, capitalist shithole society, and that they're tools of the corporate government machine that propagates this lust for materialism, consumerism, capitalism and uselessness. They're the antithesis of DIY.
(The rest of the article is available only on hard copy. Click to order).

An Algebra-Geometry of a Dead Love (Sue Tourkin-Komet)
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The End of the Links in the Chains (Sue Tourkin-Komet)
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Book Publishing as a Seemingly Random Creative Act (Hannah Greenberg)
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DIY Grrrls (Alejandra Gorino)
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Back in the DIY (Shira Pruce)
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I'd Felt Like a Garden (Sue Tourkin-Komet)
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CD Reviews - sample article (Hadass S. Ben Ari
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Francis's Cemetary - HaShlooliyot (Hebrew Record)
For most bands that I see live, I usually say that you never get the full scope of what the band is about if you only buy their studio album. This goes for HaShlooliyot as well. The only difference is that their first record, Francis's Cemetary, is, in my opinion, the best representation of a live band in a studio album. That is, this record has as much character and attitude as the girls have onstage. Yet, they are still worth seeing live, because they're just too much fun.
1) Yoseftal Hospital: This tune has "single" written all over it. Very radio-friendly, yet still very HaShlooliyot-y considering the random simplicity of the lyrics that is the band's trademark.
2) Shoko-Shoko: Chocolate milk and cheesecake. Enough said!
3) Abarjil: Again, the lyrics can't get any simpler. Great rock n' roll tune.
4) Tzvika: This is a 40 second track in which the girls joke around while one of the members, Neta, is tuning her guit. Pretty funny even if you don't know your Hebrew.
5) Amsterdam: A slower tune where you certainly wouldn't expect to hear any profanity. But with HaShlooliyot, expect the unexpected. Still, quite a moving song; goes great with a relaxing smoke.
6) Andy: As much as I can gather, tjis is a song about alcoholism and eating disorders, but sounds too happy to be depressing, rather ironic.
7) The Couch: One of their better known songs. The lyrics sound like a story about a prostitute, but since I failed miserably at interpreting the previous tune, I'll just say: Great riffs, great beat, super harmony.
8) Digger: A friendly song to their cat. Beautiful and amusing. Makes you warm and fuzzy inside.
9) Ramona: Funniest song in the world, such a Shlooliyot song, super rad. Motherfucker!
10) Silence: Great acoustic riff, pretty melody and harmony. Beautiful.
11) Russian Post-Punk: The only English song on the album and my favorite ever!! It includes the hilarious randomness of the lyrics, fast beat shifting to slow and back to fast, and the best part - GRRRROWLS!!!
Score: 4/5
(Other CD reviews available only on hard copy. Click to order.)

Zines! (Hadass S. Ben-Ari)
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Viva La Menstruacion! (Hadass S. Ben-Ari)
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Punk Cunts (Hadass S. Ben-Ari)
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My Model Sukkah - Sukkat HaAliyot (Sue Tourkin-Komet)
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Click here to view Sue's sukkah in full color!

סוכת העליות - סוזן - סו - טורקין-קומט
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Art Night (Hadass S. Ben-Ari)
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Riot Grrrl Corner (Hadass S. Ben-Ari)
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Paper Copy of Issue 13

2010-06-23T12:52:00.004+03:00

Below are some samples of the paper copy of Issue 13. To see these articles in text format for easy reading, click here. Click here or contact fallopian.falafel@gmail.com to order the full zine (available only in hard copy).

Paper Copy of Issue 12

2010-05-13T21:54:00.004+03:00

Below are some samples of the paper copy of Issue 12. To see these articles in text format for easy reading, click here. Click here or contact fallopian.falafel@gmail.com to order the full zine in hard copy or PDF format.

Articles from Issue 12

2010-05-13T21:16:00.004+03:00

The following are sample articles from Issue 12. Click here to download the PDF version for free, or contact fallopian.falafel@gmail.com to order the full zine in hard copy or PDF format.

The Holy Hymen (by Hadass S. Ben-Ari)
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Virginity is something to cherish, something to protect and something to save for a special someone…
Or virginity is something fathers have an obligation to protect.
Or virginity is something for men to steal.
Or virginity is something divine that ought to be worshipped by believers worldwide.
How about virginity belongs to the beholder and can be used as he or she wishes?
Since this is a feminist zine, the topic will be limited to women only. But like all other issues, it seems like virginity is yet another aspect of a woman’s life that belongs to everyone else but the woman herself.
Society, for example, creates a thick cloud of confusion around virginity. On one hand, you should save your virginity until you’re married (clearly ignoring the fact that not all women choose to get married). On the other, if you’re not a virgin up to a certain age, you’re a slut. Or if you are a virgin from a certain age, then you’re a prude.
At least, these are the societal standards that I felt dominated my life and my body. Shame was a big part of it, as it has been with any other aspect of my life – I was ashamed of my body, ashamed of my inexperience, ashamed of my innocence, ashamed of men, ashamed of love, ashamed of my experience with sexual harassment, ashamed of my voice, ashamed of the fact that I couldn’t scream, ashamed of taking up space in the world, ashamed of disappointing my parents and using their money for substance abuse…
When my mom found out that I’m not planning on staying as virgin as olive oil until I get married, she was livid, and did what any good Yiddishe Mama does – made me feel guilty and made me tell my dad about it. So I was beyond ashamed. But I went ahead with it anyways, because if there was one thing I hated more than feeling shame, it was feeling innocent.
I starved for corruption, and starved for more with every slap I got. When I lost my virginity, I felt reborn. And although technically I had given it up to my boyfriend of the time, I felt like I owned it more than ever, because I used it to shape my body as I wanted it to be – feminine and hymen-less.
This issue is an attempt to reclaim our bodies, yet again, and our virginity, not as a loss, but as something that we own and control. It mostly contains poems on virginity, and stories of first-time love, and also on societal views of virginity.
There is also a rather unrelated segment that I decided to add in this issue, as a tribute to the Land of Israel and its 62 years of independence, which took place around mid-April this year. This segment includes my account of March of the Living and a couple of poems.
And if you haven’t already guessed the Riot Grrrl Corner band featured in the cherry issue, here’s a hint:
CH-CH-CH-CHERRY BOMB!
Enjoy!

Venus (by Hadass S. Ben-Ari)
Available only on hard copy. Click to order or download.

Broken Cherry (by Naomi)
Available only on hard copy. Click to order or download.

A Rebuttal (by Shoshana RK)
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The Cycle (by Deborah Kadishelby)
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In many religious circles, the use of tampons are prohibited for single women on the basis that this invalidates a woman’s virginity, and that nothing is supposed to pass through a woman’s hymen before her husband’s penis on the wedding night. This strict adherence to the concept of virginity reduces a woman’s marriageable value to her sexual purity. In this way, certain religious insistence of virginity seeks to limit a woman’s actions on every aspect of her life, including one which men know almost nothing abut, and indeed, have often traditionally been seen as dirty or unnatural. This source of life, this monthly flow is so constricted, that many women begin to fear their periods, are ashamed of their flows, and hate that which makes them women.

Of Romance, Cherries, Clichés and Sex (by Darryl Egnal)
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A Female Email Sent to a Male (by Sue Tourkin-Komet)
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First Time Awakening (by Debbie Snyder-Eliraz)
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Bodies...of...Water (by Sue Tourkin-Komet)
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Serial Virgin Dater (by Sandra Fragola)
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Life seemed better when I was a virgin. Didn’t have to worry about the pill, condoms, vibrators, pregnancy, dental dams, STD’s... Life just seemed so much easier. Kinda like having a buzz cut – just get up and go with no complications.
There are men out there that seem to think that being with a virgin is better...for them. There are lesbians out there that prefer being with someone who has never been touched by a man. It’s fuckin’ annoying is what it is. Seems like a conquest – who can get to you first and which “team” are you rooting for the most. It’s disgusting.
My issue is with straight men. In particular: my ex-boyfriend who would say to me, “If we ever break-up, I’ll still be the one that popped your cherry.” Who fuckin’ cares if you popped my cherry when the sex wasn’t that good in the first place?! Give me a great fuckin’ orgasm and that will be something worth talking about and worth remembering. “Oh yeah, your small cock is so great. I love it. Your small cock feel so large in my tight hole?” *rolls eyes* Whatever. When I wasn’t enjoying the sex with him or wasn’t crawling all over him, I was called a “prude”. Really? A prude? I hardly think so... You just have a small cock and I couldn’t feel anything. After we broke up and I started going out with my current partner, I bumped into my ex and the loser said this to my partner:
“Hey, you might be with her now but I’m the one who popped her cherry.” *insert eye roll here* What the fuckin’ hell?!?!?!?! Of all the fuckin’ audacity!!!!
“We shared a special moment with one another, a moment you won’t be able to share with anyone else.” Yuck, wish I could share it with someone else! *barfs* He is now going out with a girl who, surprisingly enough, is a virgin. He was bragging about it so I called him a “Serial Virgin Dater... You manipulate and deceive girls into believing that you care about them when all you really want is their virginity.” That offended him A LOT and he got really angry. Must have hit a nerve! He said he wasn’t going to stand there and be insulted (HA!) and left with steam practically coming out of his ears. Good riddance!!!!
Is it just me or do guys who have small cocks like to go after virgins and call what they feel “love” and “connection”? (Yeah, there’s a connection alright between your small cock and a girl who’s never been penetrated before. What a tight fit!)
Alright, I might seem a bit jaded when it comes to guys with small cocks and their intentions with girls who have never had sex before but really, who wouldn’t? Seems fuckin’ suspicious.
Like they have some sort of hidden agenda. And that hidden agenda is between their legs.

Losing It (by Anonymous)
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Fifteen & a-Half & Overly-Ripe (by Sue Tourkin-Komet)
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Virgin Births (by Dr. Lea-Ora Leeder)
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I am a single mother by choice of a beautiful six month old girl, and my child was conceived not the “fun” way, but through IUI. Some perverse part of me wanted Raphaela to be born on Christmas Day, so I could say that the sperm donor was G-d. Technically speaking, I did not have sex in order to bring my daughter into the world.
Recently, I have thrown myself back into the arena of dating, and was confronted with the odd question, can I still marry a Cohen? While I believe that much of organized religion exists to bolster the power of insecure and money-conscious men, this issue takes religious snobbery to the next level: a Cohen may only marry a pure woman, a woman who has not been tainted by a previous marriage, thus implying that only a virgin would be acceptable to those who some day may serve in the Third Temple. Those of the priestly class boast that they even have a special genome, distinctive only to men; in fact this gene can be found in many African tribal leaders who claim Jewish descent.
The Ultra-Orthodox expend a lot of energy to prove that their daughter is worthy for match making, that her hymen is complete. Woe to a Chareidi girl who fell off a horse as a child, she will end up unmarried and an embarrassment to her family.
I am not a divorcee, but my hymen is most definitely punctured, child birth will do that. One Cohen gentleman became quite angry and felt that he had been tricked into dating me when he found out I had a child; not that he was such a catch in any case, I wouldn’t want him sacrificing my lamb.
Is virginity biology or a state of mind? And should men really be the ones to decide?

Flashing & Flushing: First Love (by Sue Tourkin-Komet)
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Losing My Innocence in a Hotel Room at 14 (by Jessi Edwards)
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Virginity Smirginity (by Tinamarie Bernard)
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Unmade Angel (by Hannah Greenberg)
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Juvenile anhinga, whose flesh-colored tights
Without vambrace or even simple pauldrons,
Never crenellated, but constructed from fashion,
A singular regolith, that smalltime hustler, cries.

She’s not altered by inanition. Instead, receives
Immediate attention even when not readily, at the larche’s
Threshold, offering her breasts for public view,
Or otherwise, allegedly, sharing shelter with neighbors.

Whereas space visitors attempt fornication, their forked tongues
Making passage over the wee girl’s dimensions, regularly tickling
Her toes with mud, slime, worse, she’s no biological entablature,
Not a fool, ever.

Just a gal with a gist, an uncanny ability
To live between moments dirtied by cancer, poison,
Or portended escapes related to aliquot
Parts of power. Such women prevail.

Hence, the unmade angel, not the racewalker,
Gets good results due to “marvels” of character
While another young thing requires “minor surgery,”
An abortion, for a doxy aged thirteen.

Overstuffed chairs, chests, chattel make small waves
In compensation for virginity lost, refound, resold.
Street practices voluntarily adopted means little ones
Get left dreaming of nothing.

Here starts "We're All Blue & White" - Special Segment dedicated to Yom Ha'atzmaut

By the Rivers of Babylon (by Sue Tourkin-Komet)
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By The Rivers of Babylon I learnt to swim to
p e r f e c t i o n

By The Rivers of Babylon I learnt to type to
p e r f e c t i o n

By The Rivers of Babylon I learnt to drive with
c a u t i o n

By The Rivers of Babylon they advertise tablets
for eternal e r e c t i o n s.

But here in Zion–
I learnt to pray with e l a t i o n
I learnt to dance with holy a b a n d o n
I learnt to love to be a v e g e t a r i a n
I learnt to swim in perfect i m p e r f e c t i o n.

And here near Zion–
Moses broke The Tablets for eternal g e n e r a t i o n s.

Marching On (by Hadass S. Ben-Ari)
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Just Because (by Sue Tourkin-Komet)
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Riot Grrrl Corner (by Hadass S. Ben-Ari)
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Not From Adam's Rib

2010-03-23T20:12:00.004+02:00

Originally published in German in Missy Magazine (Germany), August 31, 2009, by Sebastian Ingenhoff, photos by Roland Wilhelm. Click here to download the original article in German. (Visit Missy Magazine's official site).
Translated by Noa Stemmer-Holtz

A feminist scene in Jerusalem? This hardly exists. Apart from Hadass S. Ben-Ari and her Zionist Riot Grrrl Fanzine.
The Zion square is considered the center of events in modern Jerusalem. Situated here is Uganda, a record shop with an integrated cafe, where you can relax, spend the afternoon, eat the best Humus in town and listen to music. On a bookshelf, local fanzines are on display.
Hadass S. Ben-Ari has also brought a few journals that she wants to offer for sale. The diminutive twenty-six year old manages from Jerusalem the feminist fanzine Fallopian Falafel. You can rarely meet her at the Uganda, because this record shop specializes in experimental electronic music; not so much her cup of tea. Hadass sits next to the window, sipping some water. She has black curls, wears a Heavy Metal-shirt and talks so quietly that it is quite difficult to understand her over the music. “The feminist scene in Jerusalem is small,” she says, “so small that you could say: almost non-existent.” In Tel Aviv there are a few bands and fanzines, but in the Holy City she is exclusive with her Fallopian Falafel.
Hadass’ parents come from Morocco, but they are Jewish. She was born in Israel before she moved to Canada at the age of eight. Fifteen years later a coincidence brought her back to Jerusalem. She experienced a positive cultural shock, fell in love with the city and decided to stay. After having completed her journalism studies, she now works in a soup kitchen, distributing food for deserving poor and homeless people. She does not feel like working for one of those glossy magazines that are, at the moment, dropping like flies. She is however not earning any money with Fallopian Falafel, but “instead I can write about topics that are important to me and I do not have to curry favor with anyone. I would simply not have such freedom as an employee in a magazine or a daily newspaper.” Fallopian Falafel is a do-it-yourself magazine that is published every few months. The website praises it as the “first and only Jerusalem-based fanzine bringing Riot Grrrl culture to the Holy Land.” So far nine editions have been published. Readers can download it for free on the website or order it from Hadass by mail for a small fee. The topics range from pregnancy and abortion – the focus of the current issue – over homosexuality and religion to feminism and the mentioned Riot Grrrls.
The Riot Grrrl-movement developed at the beginning of the 90’s in the USA out of the ruins of Grunge. Female punk bands such as Bikini Kill, Team Dresch or Sleater Kinney roughed up the male dominated punk and hardcore scene back then with their own bands. Around them developed a lively, do-it-yourself based scene, whose body of thought was spread by fanzines, such as the legendary Riot Grrrl which brought the movement its name.
Back then Hadass was still young and listening to Michael Jackson. At a certain point however, she started to get into heavy metal and punk and on this way she also discovered the music of the Riot Grrrls. Hadass eats kosher, fasts on Yom Kippur and defines herself both as a Jewish Zionist as well as a left feminist. She believes in God, but primarily in herself. The fixed rules of the ultra-orthodox Jews are, for her, just as suspicious as the nihilist melee of many punk bands. She wears a pentagram around her neck, a pentagonal star as a symbol of connection with the mystic Jewish figure Lilith.
Lilith was actually the first Riot Grrrl, a kind of an antihero to the biblical Eve. According to the legend, Lilith was Adam’s first wife, but she was not just made out of his rib but she was rather put by God on the man’s side with equal value. When Lilith beyond that denied being a sexual slave to him, she was sent from paradise directly to the desert. From then on the rumor was spread that she would ally with demons, sneak around houses and steal people’s children from their cribs. In order to protect themselves from her, people hung up pentagrams on their doors. But it didn’t help. On the contrary, according to a witch saga Lilith felt rather attracted by this pentagonal star.
This then explains the pentagram around Hadass’ neck. And it’s of course also because she is a heavy metal fan. By the way, the pentagram is also a symbol of Islam (seen mostly in green) and can be found, for example, on the Moroccan flag. The Star of David, the symbol of Judaism, looks the same only at first sight. With a closer look you see that it has six points, the twelve corners symbolizing the twelve tribes of Israel.
Hadass fights vehemently against the habit of demonizing religions per se. “All religions have something magical about them in one way or another. It is absurd to believe in something that you cannot see. But it is simply part of human nature to be absurd,” she says very existentialistically. She stands for a progressive Judaism that fights against misogyny and homophobia in all its manifestations and that also accepts feminist readings. For those reasons it is essential to her that Fallopian Falafel reports from as many perspectives as possible. In the issue about reproduction, on which she is working at the moment, there will be both positive as well as critical articles about the right of abortion, for example.
Judaism is for Hadass a religion in which women had always played an important role and in many aspects are equal to men. Women in Judaism were already protected by a marriage contract before this custom became popular in other cultures as well. Being Jewish is primarily defined through the mother, not through the father. Women also play an important role in public life in Israel, even in the army. On the other hand, there are still no female rabbis and in general Hadass sees a need for improvement in many aspects.
“There are so many synagogues in which women and men sit peacefully next to each other. However, apart from that, traditional communities still exist, in which women and men are separated through a curtain or some kind of a wooden fence to pray. The other day I was driving to Tel Aviv in one of these little buses and a young girl, maybe ten or eleven years old, got in and sat down next to an ultraorthodox Jew. It was the only empty seat. He demanded that she stand up and sit somewhere else. An eleven year old girl!”
Precisely because of these contradictions Hadass wants to stay in the capital city and not move to the modern Tel Aviv. She shows me a coffee shop in her neighborhood in which two years ago a “very well-known terrorist attack took place.” When entering we are scanned by a security guard. Jewish humor is very black and it’s probably the only way to get along with this absurd situation. I had already experienced that the day before at an electro festival in Tel Aviv. When a loud air raid warning suddenly went off backstage, a techno producer commented on my irritated look simply with a bored: “Don’t worry. In two minutes you’ll find your foot over there, your arm dangling in the ventilator and if you’re lucky, you may even be able to release some last human sounds.” Hadass guides me further through Jerusalem’s new town, past a few record shops, coffee places and tattoo shops. The scene is very straightforward. Because of this, it is important to her to build a network with other young feminists and queer-activists around the world. Unlike Tel Aviv, where you always see homosexual couples holding hands, it is not easy in Jerusalem as a same-sex oriented person. Once a year the Jerusalem Open House organizes a Pride and Tolerance march, which regularly needs to be protected by the police because of the Arab and Jewish hardliners, in seldom unity, throwing taunts and stones. Both Arabs and Jews curse homosexuality as blasphemy. Hadass marches with them and distributes her fanzine, although she is not lesbian herself. The parades in Tel Aviv, however, with their carnival atmosphere, rainbow flags and solidly united politicians and celebrities, she finds almost ridiculous. “Jerusalem and Tel Aviv are completely different worlds.”
We finish the day in a small restaurant next to the famous Jaffa Street, where a concert of the Tel Aviv Riot Grrrl band HaShlooliyot is taking place. While people are still eating at the surrounding tables, the four girls burst in and arrange their instruments. The majority of the guests don’t seem to be here because of the band and during the concert they calmly continue enjoying the popular sandwiches for which they came, but the quartet doesn’t care. The singer’s name is Lisa, “like the vegetarian of the Simpsons.” She and Hadass know each other by sight. Hadass wrote about the band in Fallopian Falafel. Lisa is a little hyperactive, talks a lot, laughs all the time and finds everything “sweet,” the rooms, the crowd, vegetarianism. We stand in the smoking section and converse completely mundanely about food and about the fact that Israel is a paradise for vegetarians.
"For a vegetarian it’s paradise," Lisa throws in, "but for the Arab population, Israel is anything but." She completely disagrees with the safety policy of the current government, but this would be a futile discussion. “So let’s quickly smoke up the biggest tumor in the world before everything collapses,” she says and scrounges a cigarette.
I better not ask what else is supposed to collapse today. The fact that the band plays in a disdainful restaurant instead of a chic club is, by the way, not something that Lisa finds unusual for Jerusalem. The city would rather offer religious sights than a broad cultural choice. Therefore it happens that one plays in a sandwich place. In Tel Aviv the case is completely different.
Lisa sings in Hebrew, her lyrics and introductions are very humorous, the people in the audience and even the band members are laughing again and again. They talk about the small dicks of their ex-boyfriends, but sometimes also about the never-ending politics. In any case, everyone agrees that in the past politicians of both genders have failed.
The current issue of Fallopian Falafel on the topic of pregnancy and abortion can be downloaded for free on the website fallopianfalafel.blogspot.com. Older issues Hadass sends for a small fee, digital or by mail (email to fallopian.falafel@gmail.com).

Appendix

First quotation:
Hadass believes in God, but primarily, as she says, in herself. The fixed rules of the ultraorthodox Jews are, for her, just as suspicious as the nihilist melee of many punk bands.

Second quotation:
Hadass does not feel like working for one of those glossy magazines. She is however not earning any money with Fallopian Falafel. “Instead I can write about topics that are important to me and I do not have to curry favor with anyone. Such freedom I would simply not have as an employee.”

Caption of the first picture:
The Uganda coffee place at Kikar square [mistake in the original] has not only the best Humus in town in its collection, but also discs and fanzines.
Caption of the second picture:
Riot Grrrl concert in a Jerusalem coffee place. The fact that most of the guests did not come for them but for the sandwiches does not bother the band.
Caption of the third picture:
The last issue of Fallopian Falafel was dedicated to the topic of love. This stays always [relevant] also between feminists.

Articles from Issue 11

2010-02-17T20:32:00.007+02:00

The following are sample articles from Issue 11. Click here or contact fallopian.falafel@gmail.com to order the full zine in hard copy or PDF format.

Ke-Tzitzim u'Frachim (by Hadass S. Ben-Ari)
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That passage from the Friday night hymn of Bar Yochai always made me laugh. In modern Hebrew it means “Like tits and flowers.” In the said hymn, however, it apparently refers to some sort of decoration… no understatements there.
On second thought, the original meaning of the word “zayin” is a weapon, but is currently used as a pejorative for penis. As such, I think that “tzitzim” might really mean decoration, but was adopted by modern Hebrew speakers in order to avoid using the word “breasts,” so they settled for “you know, those things that decorate women.”
The way straight men treat our mammaries is best described by the joke that compares toy trains with breasts – they are intended for babies, but grown men end up playing with them.
But women experience their breasts in many different ways. I, for example, always thought that if I were to audition for a lingerie commercial and my only competition was a washboard, the washboard would probably nail the part. So I decided to mold my itty bitties as I see fit – by getting them enlarged (slightly) and piercing my nipples. And although my family urges me to wear tight shirts and to arch my back (and that may be the only family who does), I like to preserve the mystery of my breasts under many layers of large death metal t-shirts and thick hoodies, and expose them only to select men who may be lucky enough to see them.
Aside from that, I am vehemently against bras. Breast-binding is like Chinese foot-binding. To all you big-busted women, common sense tells me that it is not your breasts but rather your bras that may be causing your back pain. Your breasts are not attached to your back, but by wearing bras you strap them to your back, like wearing a backpack forward. Besides, studies show that wearing bras can also cause breast cancer, so liberate your breasts!
As for nipples, they are MADE for piercings! I wish I had more nipples.
A materialist society like ours also treats breasts in different ways – the way that breasts are exploited in pop culture, the way they are displayed by Victoria Secret, or the way they are covered up as a religious woman’s secret, the way they are used as an object of ridicule or obsession by men and women alike, and the way they are propped up, enlarged, reduced, tightened, buckled, or squeezed together according to conformist norms.
But I believe that breasts transcend any conventional stereotypes that this materialist society may label them with. There is something much deeper than that.
The politically correct Hebrew term for breasts is “Shadayim.” Rabannit Hadass Badass says that this word contains the word “Shada’i” which is another name for the Mother Goddess often used to mean protection or safety, as well as the word “Shad,” which if written in Hebrew with no vowels can also be read as “Shed” that means a demon.
So holy or demonic, Shadayim have a power that us mortals have yet to understand.
In a sense, they’re holy because they sustain humans in the early stages of their life. And they may be considered demonic because those who have them are automatically at risk of being subjugated to offensive sexual innuendos (or worse) and at risk of getting breast cancer. It is no wonder then that the Hebrew word for cancer is “Sartan,” which curiously sounds like “Satan.”
This issue deals with the various aspects of breasts and the many important roles they play in daily life. It also includes some touching stories by breast cancer survivors, as well as some lighter stories on the adventures of nipple piercings, breastfeeding, breast terminology and more. Finally, don’t forget to check out the Riot Grrrl Corner featuring an exclusive interview with the Cathy Santonies.

The Breast Cancer Front (by Hadass S. Ben-Ari)
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On Breastfeeding and Middle-Aged Breasts (by Debbie Snyder-Eliraz)
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Breasts, Boobies, or Bubbles (by Tinamarie Bernard)
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A few weeks back, I took some punches from a handful of readers who didn’t like my use of the word, “boobies.” I learned to accept this; one cannot write a column without occasionally crossing someone’s virtues or values. At the time, my sister told me not to fret about it and do as Madonna does – use the criticism to improve my craft, which in this case, is writing about Modern Love. And one of the most important aspects of that is exploring intimacy, promiscuity and prudishness.
Some may find the word “boobies” loaded with unpleasant connotations. On the other hand, there are many people including myself for whom the term has always just been an informal alternative for breasts; it doesn’t offend me as a woman, mother or writer. As with most things, it depends on one’s intention. And I know that eventually, children ask questions, and we must answer. Just the other day, my toddler daughter began to pat my chest. Kneading me with her chubby little hands, she looked up at me with her big blue eyes and said, “bubbles.” Then she giggled, kneaded and snuggled some more. There is comfort in a mother’s bosom.
The truth is that breasts are both utilitarian and sensual, and it is impossible to separate the two. We live in a society obsessed with the female breast (nothing new historically speaking) – men ogle at them – some more subtly than others – and women respond with a variety of reactions. Pleasure. Irritation. Outrage. Arousal. Frustration. Confidence. Those who want to diminish the breast to function – the feeding of children – forget that women spend very few years reproducing and nursing. Those who react to breastfeeding with either feigned offense or confusion forget that breasts are more than sexual ornamentation.
Besides, our culture offers just one view of the female breast. Others have no problem with the bare bosom, and pre-historic societies often depicted them as round and large. Cleavage comes in all shapes and sizes. With more women – and at younger ages – getting breast reductions/augmentations in pursuit of the perfect pair of perky, I can’t help but think that teaching my children the word, “boobies” is hardly the biggest problem we face as a culture and society. Some may be embarrassed by certain words, and I accept that. But my bigger concern is that we impose shame when there should be none; that we pervert what is natural, and demonize what is sensual, and in the process forget just how fabulous the female breast really is. Breast, boob, or bubble – by any name, they are glorious all the same.
Tinamarie Bernard is a Modern Ahavah columnist, San Diego Jewish Journal and top-rated writer of sex, conscious love, intimacy and relationships.
View Tinamarie's column here.

Breast Plate (artwork by Mallory Serebrin)
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Betrayed by My Breasts (by Rivka Matitya)
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This article was originally published as a three-part post on Rivka's blog Coffee and Chemo.

I breastfed all my babies. You don’t even want to know for how long.
Once, in the locker room, a woman criticized me for bringing my little boy in to change, accusing him of staring at her breasts.
I was polite, of course, but I did point out that as a breastfeeding mother, with many breastfeeding friends, my son saw breasts all the time. To him, breasts were for feeding babies. That this woman thought a six year old boy would be looking at breasts in a sexual way is just sad.
“Breast” is not a “bad word” in our home. Even after I stopped nursing my kids, I volunteered as a breastfeeding counselor. (I still do, though I am far less active than I once was.)
I talked about breasts ALL the time.
So, when I learned that I had breast cancer, I felt betrayed by my body.
Breastfeeding lowers the incidence of breast cancer, both in mothers and their babies. I breastfed ALL my babies, for a LONG time. How could my breasts betray me like this??
My breasts were a source of life. My children lived on breast milk alone for anywhere between six months to a year (depending on the kid). Even after my kids started eating solids, breast milk was their primary source of nutrition. Later, it was a valuable supplement for them. When they were breastfeeding, my children almost never got sick. Breast milk was the elixir of life!
How could my breasts turn from a source of life to a threat of death??
How could they contain cancer???
I did not know how to look at my body anymore.
My body had betrayed me.
My breasts had betrayed me.
I needed to find someone else like me. Not just any other survivor, I specifically searched for other breastfeeding counselors or lactation consultants, who survived breast cancer.
I felt there was something special, and ironic, about being a breastfeeding counselor and having breast cancer.
Surely, someone who spends so much of her time talking about breasts, and handling breasts, must have a particularly hard time dealing with breast cancer.
I worried about my ability to continue counseling breastfeeding mothers. Would I be able to provide the same level of support? Should I resign, as a La Leche League leader, from our local organization?
I was not ready to close off that part of my life.
I spoke with other leaders from my area. They encouraged me to listen to my heart, and embraced me when I chose to stay.
Today, I still sit on our area council and assist in our local district. I also continue to counsel mothers by phone and in person.
Other leaders, who know me, know that I have breast cancer. I do not share that information with the mothers I help.
I never did find another breastfeeding counselor with whom to share my experiences.
That need passed.
I still needed to learn to live with my body again. When I was first diagnosed, I desperately wanted to “save my breast.”
The lumpectomy left my breast deformed and ugly. It also did not remove all the cancer.
Once I realized that a mastectomy was inevitable, I knew that I wanted reconstruction.
I teach swimming; I am in the locker room all the time; breasts are everywhere.
I am very open about my experiences, but it has always been my choice about when and where to share that information. I did not want the stares, or the pity.
So, I went to one of the best plastic surgeons in the world (thank God for insurance!!). I had a skin-saving mastectomy, followed by DIEP reconstruction, using my own tissue to rebuild my breast. I could still feel sensations on the surface of my skin. Eventually, regenerated nerve tissue created sensation within the breast as well. The new breast became be a part of me, not just some foreign object inserted into my body.
But, was that enough?
On the outside, I looked “normal.”
No doubt, that felt good.
But it took time until I could look at my body without just seeing all those scars.
It took a while before “the new breast” became “my breast.”
Eventually, the wounds healed and the scars faded.
Once again, I felt “normal.”
Normal felt good.
I was done with breast cancer.
My story should end here, but it does not.
Only a few months after I had put cancer behind me, a routine mammogram, and follow up tests, revealed devastating news.
What began in my breast, now resided in my bones, liver and lungs.
I no longer had to worry about my breasts.... I had cancer all over my body.
My journey into the world of breast cancer had only just begun.
With love and optimism,
RivkA
Please daven (or send happy, healing thoughts) for RivkA bat Teirtzel.

Feminist Breasts (by Alejandra Gorino)
Available only on hard copy. Click to order or download.

My Tittie Dilemma (by Shira Pruce)
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Training towards Adulthood (by Pamela Ariel)
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The Sucker Who Won (by Miriam Drori)
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Mastitus or, Breast Feeding Isn't Always Fun (by Leah Moses)
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Things I Wish I Could Tell Her (by B Bennett)
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Breast Milk, It Does a Body Good (by Dr. Lea-Ora Leeder)
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Nursing (by Dorit Shirim)
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One Small Star in the Whole Milky Way (by Sue Tourkin-Komet)
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The Mammogram (by Tinamarie Bernard)
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Breasts, Ear Lobes and Belly Buttons (by Hannah Greenberg)
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On Reading Audre Lorde's Cancer Journals (by Leah Moses)
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Topless Russian Bride (by Tinamarie Bernard)
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Artistic Breast Power (by Ectoplasm) and Goddess (artwork by Ectoplasm)
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The Shield (by Hadass S. Ben-Ari)
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It was back when I attended Montreal’s Concordia University that the horror took place.
A year before the incident, I was walking around slouching more than I usually do because I had just gotten my right nipple pierced, and seeing as I wasn’t wearing a bra, there was nothing separating my aching nipple from the inner surface of my shirt. Every slight brush of my nipple with my shirt made me quiver.
Whatever the media says about the dangers of nipple piercings clearly didn’t apply to me because a mere two weeks later, my piercing was healed.
I headed to the parlor once again to get it checked and to change my retainer for a beautiful shiny nipple shield.
Exactly 357 days later, on February 1, 2004, the world was rocked down to its foundations when (brace yourself) Janet Jackson flashed her nipple ring on the Superbowl Halftime show.
Shock! Gasp! Faint!
I walked into class the next day, and being in journalism school, all my colleagues were raving about it. The media had a field day and the newspapers were plastered with Janet’s embarrassed expression as she covered her exposed right breast, and Justin Timberlake standing next to her looking like a 13-year-old kid whose balls just dropped.
The incident was replayed endlessly in slow motion on media outlets nation wide, if not world wide, sometimes uncensored, but mostly with Janet’s boob morphing into a black circle or a blurred out piece of skin, as Justin tears off a piece of her corset.
Then the news came out that a federal investigation was in the works regarding the half-a-second long incident. Fines were levied by government authorities in the hundreds of thousands of dollars against media corporations who broadcasted the episode live.
I sat in class bewildered.
Seriously? A half-second boob flash is enough to drive the world into catatonia? I was going catatonic just trying to make sense of it.
Kids were watching that, sure. But parents don’t see anything wrong with letting their kids watch increasingly sexist commercials, TV shows, movies, and music videos on a regular basis. So it’s ok to let your seven-year-old recite obscene, chauvinistic and homophobic Eminem lyrics and let him watch commercials showing women in bikinis washing a car splashing water and throwing suds at each other, but if you let your kid see the hint of a nipple or, Goddess forbid, a nipple piercing, then you can expect a nice overdraft in your bank account.
Then, an even more confusing event took place. Justin Timberlake felt it was necessary to excuse the whole thing as a “wardrobe malfunction,” whatever that means.
First of all, I strongly believe that the whole thing was staged. Janet and Justin must have rehearsed that routine about a thousand times. The “shocked” and “embarrassed” expressions of the artists were also clearly staged – the acting was mediocre. And there’s always a five second delay in any live broadcast, so if it really was a mistake, the respective media outlets would have cut to (the supposedly not-as-sexist) commercials before the boob fell out.
Second of all, why apologize in the first place? I mean, personally I don’t like Justin Timberlake. His music is a generic regurgitation of pop, which is an already crappy music genre in essence. And, as an artist who worked so hard to rip off Michael Jackson (RIP), Justin is an absolute insult to the King.
But after that “wardrobe malfunction” statement, not only is he an untalented musician, he’s also a dyslexic liar. You simply don’t apologize for something like that. If a reporter sticks a microphone in your face and asks you to explain what the hell just happened, you say “I tore off a part of her top to expose her dazzling nipple ring so that everyone would know that breasts are what makes the world go round.” And that would have been the proud, ballsy, honest answer.
Finally, what kid out there has never seen a breast? So if it happens to appear on TV, full, beautiful, adorned by a gorgeous nipple shield, and that’s aside from the fact that Janet Jackson is a stunning woman, why soil your pants about it?
I pondered on how this whole event is a bit reminiscent of the Clinton-Lewinsky controversy. Did people seriously think that Clinton is a eunuch? Is he any different than other miniskirt-chasing dudes out there?
I watched the halftime show rerun for several days because that’s all they ever broadcasted on TV at that time.
I stroked my right nipple shield and thought about how cool it is that Janet and I have something in common. If I were as beautiful as her, I wouldn’t doubt the exposure for a second (or half a second, for that matter).
I couldn’t, and still can’t, believe that people made such a big deal about it. By reacting to this incident with such shock is exactly what demonizes the female body in today’s society, and kids who witness such a reaction from the adults, who are ultimately their role models, eventually internalize this issue and perpetuate it.
Wardrobe malfunction, my breasts.

Mother's Milk (by LaMesha)
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My name is Lamesha and I grew up drinking breast milk. I’m African American and the child of a teenage mama, so statistically speaking I am an outlier. Black women are the least likely to breastfeed. And teenagers? Not very likely. But somehow, somewhere, my own mother, after giving birth to me all by herself in the hospital at the age of 19, put me to her breast and I latched on. I have loved boobs ever since.
My own son Jake was born via c-section. After four days of being strapped down, monitored, poked, prodded, and drugged in the hospital, my body stopped working and refused to dilate. I hope this never happens to you. I hope as a woman you always feel like your body is yours and that you are in control and you feel complete, regardless of if you are a mother or not. I had my baby cut out of my uterus. Tied down to a bed, can’t feel my legs, doctors talking above me, shaving my vagina, and then “it’s a boy”, except I couldn’t hold him, I had to get stitches. I got the bikini cut.
I always knew that when I had babies I would breastfeed them so I went to the breastfeeding class, read the books and was all set to go, but after birthing him, and feeling like I had lost complete control, it became so much more important. I had to prove to myself that I was still in control of my body; that I was capable of providing for my own child, and that I could do something. When you have stitches in your lower abdomen, you can barely walk and are totally dependent on other people for everything for nearly six weeks, but I could keep my own child alive. That’s pretty damn important. I just wanted to feel good at something (and of course motherhood is all about competition).
I had to see him while I fed him so I rarely covered up my breasts. He was 5lbs 1oz at his tiniest and I was afraid to smother him. I didn’t care about people staring or where I was or who was around. Jake was hungry. He needed to eat now. Pretty soon we got really good at it, and I could talk on the phone, have him in the baby sling on my boob, cook dinner and have the TV blaring at the same time. I hooked myself up to an expensive electrical breast pump when I had to go back to work and pumped milk for him on my breaks and froze it. Infant formula was never an option for us and it stinks really, really bad. My milk made him smell good.
I leaked milk sometimes and wore nursing pads, I had to keep my bra on while I had sex because most guys don’t like breast milk in their face (but some do), and I had bras in many different sizes because some days I was more full of milk. My family did not support my breastfeeding, which is typical for black families in the U.S. and offered me formula or judgment whenever I fed Jake around them. They covered me in blankets and always asked when I was going to stop nursing him. My mom nursed my brother until he was nearly three so I wasn’t in any particular rush. Jake wasn’t either. We kept going. And going. And going.
I would like to thank my son for my size 34D boobs. They are no longer full of milk but occasionally he still wants to put his mouth there because he likes to snuggle and because he remembers getting milk from me but he’s almost four and doesn’t nurse anymore. We had a good run and I now feel confident in my body again. I kept my son alive. I made his food. I grew him inside of me and then I nourished him when he came out, all by myself.
I’m in a new phase now, where my breasts are sexual again and I must say that I enjoy this new part of my life. One of the least talked about things that make women not breastfeed is being able to separate the physical and sexual feelings they have about their breasts with being a mother, but society overly sexualizes breasts anyway, so this isn’t just a woman’s issue. Anytime someone’s mouth or hand is touching my breasts it feels sensitive, but I just have to think, “this is my son he’s eating” and understand that yeah it might feel good but I’m not a pervert and I’m using my boobs for their natural biological purpose. When I am having sex I have to think, “I’m having sex right now, this isn’t about my baby, I can enjoy this feeling, my milk may come down, but I’m still sexy”. And sometimes those feelings will feel very similar but it doesn’t matter. Eventually all nursing mothers get it. Your body is working, it’s responding accordingly to being stimulated. It can’t tell the difference between a baby’s mouth and a grown adult’s mouth. You have to use your brain.
If you ever have a baby and choose to breastfeed your child, I just want you to know that there is a community of women out there who will support you. We’re just under blankets or in the dirty public restroom or in the car or in the boss’s office pumping milk or feeding our babies so you might not know where we are. We will go to war for you. We will post thousands of pictures of our nursing babies on our Facebook pages for you. We have nurse-ins at airports for you, we will answer our phone in the middle of the night for you and if you get sick we will feed your babies with our own milk if you like. Please try to breastfeed, your baby deserves the best, and you are it. Your boobs are good enough. Trust them.

My "Breast" Asset! (by Darryl Egnal)
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Busted; Rhetorically "Out of Order" (by Hannah Greenberg)
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Insecurity to Nipple-icious (by anonymous)
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Nipple Shields for Dummies (by Hadass S. Ben-Ari)
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Riot Grrrl Corner (intro to interview with The Cathy Santonies by Hadass S. Ben-Ari)
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“Can’t Compete With Cathy Santonies!”
I first came across the Cathy Santonies when I started getting more and more into Riot Grrrl music and spent hours on MySpace every day going from page to page listening to bands that described themselves as Riot Grrrl or influenced by Riot Grrrl or had feminist messages in their songs.
When I heard the songs featured on the Cathy Santonies’ MySpace page at the time, I didn’t understand why they were not as well known as others I came across.
The Cathy Santonies has to be one of the most underrated bands in the scene and this is why I decided that it’s time to share their amazing tunes with my grrrls and readers of Fallopian Falafel.
Based in Chicago, this awesome-foursome features Radio Santoni on lead vocals and bass, Mojo Santoni and Jane Danger on guitar and vocals, and Kaylee Preston on drums. Their style and lyrics contain all the major elements of authentic Riot Grrrl music and the powerful message the movement is intended to convey. They describe their music as “a subversive mix of riot grrrl and cock rock.”
With such a description, I was convinced that a simple paragraph on the Cathy Santonies by Yours Truly would not suffice and so I led a short email interview with Radio to explain in her own words how the band started and its strong connection to Riot Grrrl.
If you’re ever in the Chicago area, you can catch them live, and I suggest you do. For gig listings, check out their MySpace page or official site.
In honor of their dedication to the raw DIY tape-deck magic that is Third-Wave Feminism, the Riot Grrrl Corner breast issue trophy goes to The Cathy Santonies!

Riot Grrrl Corner (interview with The Cathy Santonies)
Available only on hard copy. Click to order or download.

Paper Copy of Issue 11

2010-02-17T20:18:00.004+02:00

Below are some samples of the paper copy of Issue 11. To see these articles in text format for easy reading, click here. Click here or contact fallopian.falafel@gmail.com to order the full zine in hard copy or PDF format.

Order Issue 10

2009-11-25T21:31:00.007+02:00

Fallopian Falafel Issue 10 is a special issue on sexual violence, released on November 25, 2009, known as the International Day to Eliminate Violence Against Women.
The issue costs 7 NIS or $2.00 in PDF format. Hard copies are sold out.
Half of the proceeds made from this issue will be donated to the Jerusalem Rape Crisis Center.

Readers who order the zine in either formats will therefore:
1) Get to read the full copy of the zine (yes, all 50 wonderful pages of it!)
2) Get to choose between either alternate covers (see Nicole's cover here. See Shoshana's cover here)
3) Receive a free Fallopian Falafel sticker
4) Contribute to a very worthy cause!

To order a copy, please fill out the following form and email it to fallopian.falafel@gmail.com with the subject as "Ordering Issue 10".
(All fields are required unless marked otherwise)

1) Full Name:

2) Home Address (for the sticker):

3) Email Address:

4) Preferred cover: (Shoshana or Nicole)

5) Would you like an invoice? (Please note that this is a private zine run by one lady, namely me, so unfortunately this is not tax deductible)

6) Additional comments (optional):

After you have emailed your completed form, additional instructions on payment methods will be emailed to you promptly.

If you wish to contribute to the Jerusalem Rape Crisis Center without ordering an issue, please click here (you will be redirected to the "Support Us" section for the Jerusalem Rape Crisis Center at the homepage of The Association of Rape Crisis Centers in Israel).

Thank you for your support and generosity!

Articles from Issue 10

2009-11-25T20:56:00.007+02:00

The following are sample articles from Issue 10.
Please support the Jerusalem Rape Crisis Center by purchasing the issue in PDF format, by clicking here. Thank you!

The Deafening Side of Silence (By Hadass S. Ben-Ari)
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Some time ago, I went to a friend for a Shabbat lunch. There were about two dozen other women there. At some point during our various conversations, we got to the topic of sexual harassment. Somehow, we decided that every woman should introduce herself to the rest of the group – because we didn’t all know one another – by telling a story of a traumatizing or invasive experience she had. This is how every woman there introduced herself:
“My name is (name) and I was sexually harassed last week/month/year/yesterday/this morning…”
Every single woman there had a story related to sexual harassment on some level, subtle or overt. Although each one of us had a different history, different background, born in different countries, studied or worked in different fields, had different hobbies and talents, and unique appearances, we all shared the experience of sexual harassment.
Although we acknowledged the fact that men are not immune to this kind of experience, we also could not deny that this type of scenario could never take place with a group of men, where each one of them would have a story about being sexually harassed. The fact that all of us had a “random dude grabbed my ass on the bus” story was overwhelming… and eye opening as well.
I view sexual harassment and rape as one of the only crimes that do no discriminate. If you’re a woman, you’re in danger. Tall, short, skinny, chubby, old, young, religious, secular, classy, tomboy, black, Asian, Jewish, gay, straight – a rapist does not see the difference.
All these horrific stories on the news – a father raping his daughter while the mother stands idly by, a group of young men raping elderly women, 14-year-old boys sexually harassing girls in their class, a nun gang raped by a random group of men, a serial rapist on the loose – it seems to never end.
But until we can rise victorious in our battle against sexual violence or any kind of violence against women, we must first learn to overcome our own experiences by breaking our silence and be heard, so that these news stories will no longer serve as the golden shock factor coveted by media outlets worldwide, but as the real and potent reality that we, as women, face on a regular basis.
Silence is something that many women struggle with, me being one of them and I am still holding an inner dialogue with myself trying to figure out if and how to break the silence. But every woman should do so at her own pace and in a way that feels right, because being forced into any act is wrong.
Writing is a big part of healing in a lot of areas in my life as it is for many other women I know. So this issue of Fallopian Falafel serves as an outlet for those who want to make their story heard, those who are ready to break the silence, and also for those women and girls who may feel alone in their pain and need to know that they are far from alone, and that they may very well be a part of a majority of women who felt or are feeling that same pain and fear. It contains poems, fiction stories, actual accounts, and religious discussions on sexual violence. To end on a positive note, the Riot Grrrl Corner brings you Le Tigre’s “Keep On Living.”

A Time to Talk (By Hadass S. Ben-Ari)
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Safe Sex (By Arlene L. Alyehs)
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Some women practice safe sex.
They practice everyday—like playing the piano.
They had boyfriends at the right times,
In the right amounts and sequentially.
They demurred—or demanded condoms or got married.
They have children. They watch TV. They read in bed.

But for some women, sex was never, is never, will never be safe.
At two or three your stepfather, uncle or babysitter
Or the next-door neighbor
Puts your pudgy hand into his pants
And you feel something silky hot hard and then slimy wet
And he threatens you with whatever is most precious
Whatever you can’t afford to lose
Like your dog or teddy bear or your mommy or
Him.

And later—on the subway a stranger reaches under your skirt
And cups your buttocks while your
Mother or Father or nanny is reading The New York Times
And he gets off at the next stop

And you’re not quite sure what to say or to whom, or
If it really happened.

On dates you slide away from hands or grab them.
You refuse to kiss or kiss passionately.
You like hoodlums or girls only or older men
Or no one.

You read porno magazines, Kinsey, Masters and Johnson
The Hite Report.
You practice TM, liberating masturbation, yoga, Tai Chi,
Macrobiotics, aerobics, country dancing
You even practice sex.

But no matter how much you practice
You never get it right.
And no matter how many birth control pills, diaphragms, coils,
Sponges, condoms, douches you use
Sex is never
Safe.

Hearts Crossed Out (By Clementine Cannibal)
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A Separate Violence: Recalling Female Abuse During the Shoah (By Alana M. Sobelman)
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Why I Sang "Night Prowler" (By Tamra Spivey)
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Crime was a constant at Jabberjaw in Crenshaw. Friendships were born in the aftermath. One night when the PeeChees were playing two guys from San Pedro had their truck broken into: shattered glass everywhere. We waited with them for the police who, as we tried to flag them down, drove slowly by, laughing at us. They were both white, one was a woman.
After Jabberjaw closed, the two guys from San Pedro opened a club in a bleak strip of warehouses along Pacific Coast Highway: PCH Club. The first time we were asked to play there we went down to check it out and to my shock I had a full blown panic attack, something that never happens to me. I was sure I was going to die in a car crash or assault any second.
Later that night after talking it over with my best friend I figured it out. PCH Club and the area around it looked an awful lot like where I was taken in tenth grade when I was kidnapped, beaten, raped and nearly murdered. I was having a flashback.
The band wanted to cancel the show but I didn’t want to. I think we were opening for Red Monkey from the UK. I decided I wanted to face this down. I wanted to use the fear, harness it to my performance, and be rid of at least some of it. I found the two creepiest predator songs I could to make into my revenge song.
“Night Prowler” by Bon Scott’s AC/DC is known around SoCal as the Richard Ramirez song because it helped inspire the Hispanic satanic causing panic serial killer to call himself the Night Stalker. “Pacific Coast Highway” from Sonic Youth’s Sister CD is a Kim Gordon song about a predator in a car. Given the club placement, it seemed magical. I began seeing what I was doing as a ritual of catharsis.
The night of the show I wore a big black hoodie (when I sang Night Prowler PCH I pulled the hoodie over my head). It had silkscreened in white on the back of it the planet Earth and the words Terror Worldwide. When I put it on I thought of all the girls and women raped and murdered every day in the world.
At first as I sang it I was shaking and sweaty but as I began using the lyrics as my own words, as I imagined myself as the hunter, taking vengeance on a rapist, I began feeling an incredible amount of energy. By the end of the song I was relaxed, relieved, and happy even. People said I was glowing.

Honor Killing and Abuse (By Maha Ismail)
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The Shriek (By Sue Tourkin-Komet)
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Violated (By Ariel Blacher)
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Girls Scare Boys (By Shira Pruce)
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Picnic (By Yasmin Eshref)
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The Sexual Politics of Mental Illness (By Hannah Greenberg)
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Inside Job (By Arlene L. Alyehs)
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SANE: An Interview With An Expert
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Where's My Childhood? I Think it's Around Here Somewhere... (By Sandra Fragola)
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Happy, Sad, Angry, Victorious (By Shira Pruce)
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View paper 2

Happy, Sad, Angry, Victorious - not always in that order.
Jamie Leigh Jones is just one of the names you may or may not know. She is one of the women who made it to the news, as opposed to every other 1 in 6 women that survives rape or attempted rape in the US. Jones was an employee of government contracted KBR in Iraq when she was drugged and gang raped by coworkers. She was denied a fair trial, being “unable to sue KBR for sex discrimination in open court because KBR was one of many companies with government contracts that require employees to sign individual contracts barring lawsuits and forcing mandatory binding arbitration, where the company almost always wins.” (according to NOW). She started the Jamie Leigh Foundation for women who find themselves in similar situations.

Sad, Angry, Angry, Sad, Angry
President Moshe Katzav and his ongoing rape case barely make the news, despite the fact that he allegedly raped women repeatedly in his offices and hotel rooms. We await his sentence.

Happy, Sad, Angry, Victorious, Sad, Angry
In 2000, a religious cab driver in Jerusalem inappropriately and unwantedly accosted me during a 15 taxi ride. In 2002, I marched in my first Take Back the Night. We screamed, we marched, we were united, we were together, we were not ashamed. Fuck that taxi driver.

Happy, Drunk, Angry, Sad, Victorious
In 2004, I had a date that lasted too long. He refused to leave and nearly raped me. In 2008 I took course IMPACT at El Halev in Jerusalem. We screamed, we kicked, we battled, we learned, we changed, we got stronger, we are ready and we know what to do.

Angry
Four million women and girls are trafficked each year globally.

Angry
Every two minutes in America someone is sexually assaulted.

Victorious
Every time a woman signs up for a self-defense course, or joins a martial arts class, attends Take Back the Night, joins a survivors group, or prosecutes a rape - we win.

Support or volunteer at these organizations doing amazing work to prevent and support survivors of rape and sexual assault: El Halev, Jerusalem Rape Crisis Center, Women to Women Jerusalem Shelter for Battered Women. Be a part of the road to Happy and Victorious!

She Told on Him (By Sandra Fragola)
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The girl’s uncle tells her that no one will believe he touched her
She told on him
The girl presses charges against her uncle
She told on him
The girl testifies against him in court
She told on him
The girl’s mother, father and brothers are there in the courtroom supporting her
She told on him
The girl’s uncle hangs his head in shame
She told on him
The girl’s uncle confesses to everything
She told on him
The girl’s family disowns him
She told on him
The girl’s uncle is going away for a long time
She told on him
The girl celebrates for putting him away
She told on him
The girl feels justice has been served
She told on him because he thought he could get away with it….
She proved him wrong

Dans le ventre d'Eve (par Sylvie Berube)
In Eve's Belly (By Sylvie Berube)
In French and English
Available only on hard copy or PDF format. Click to order.

The Mysterious East (By Arlene L. Alyehs)
Available only on hard copy or PDF format. Click to order.

When the Bough Breaks (Song by The Agonist)
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Breaking Dina's Silence: The Biblical Story of Dina and its Significance (By Tamara Frankel)
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Riot Grrrl Corner (By Hadass S. Ben-Ari)
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Paper Copy of Issue 10

2009-11-25T20:45:00.007+02:00

Below are some samples of Issue 10. For the text version of these articles for easy reading, click here.
Please support the Jerusalem Rape Crisis Center and click here to order the full version in PDF format. Thank you!

Cover of Issue 10 by Shoshana RK

Cover of Issue 10 by Nicole Walker

Paper Copy of Issue 9

2009-08-01T20:51:00.009+03:00

Below are some samples of the paper copy of Issue 9. To see these articles in text format for easy reading, click here.
Click here or contact fallopian.falafel@gmail.com to order the full zine in hard copy or PDF format.

Articles from Issue 9

2009-08-01T19:30:00.006+03:00

The following are sample articles from Issue 9. Click here or contact fallopian.falafel@gmail.com to order the full zine in hard copy or PDF format.

Nine Moons of Pregnancy (by Hadass Ben-Ari)
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We all start at the uterus, attached to our mother with an umbilical cord, entering this world passing through the vagina (c-sections aside). I’ve never experienced pregnancy, and I’ve never given birth or had an abortion. But knowing that I have the ability, the power and the right to do all of the above is thrilling.
What I find ironic, however, is that although abortions are legal in Israel, it is such an enormous taboo in Israeli Jewish society, mostly because it is a society that encourages a high birth rate, praises parents who have a lot of children and pities those who don’t have any. This is true especially in religious Jewish societies where parents have something like a dozen kids, because contraception is also a taboo (and actually considered a sin in ultra-orthodox circles). It seems that even for the most desperate women in Israel who wish to get an abortion, it would be more painful and agonizing to terminate the pregnancy than to keep the child, because of these social pressures.
The way I see it, if the Mother Goddess, in Her infinite wisdom, decides that this little creature growing inside your body should skip this material dimension and move up to the next level, She will induce a divine abortion, i.e. a miscarriage. The Mother Goddess gave us the ability to understand that existence extends far beyond our limited perception of it. So that tiny creature never lived, never died, just made a quick visit to the material world and moved on to the next without really experiencing it.
But if you’re reading this, you are one of those who managed to survive a divine abortion. And surviving it means that while our mothers gave us our matter, and the Goddess gave us our divinity, both gave us the ability to know what is best for our body and soul, and gave us complete control over what this body and soul wish to create or not create. This is where our innate freedom of choice, bestowed upon us by the Goddess Herself, comes from. This complete control and freedom of choice is often limited or taken by jealous male-dominated authorities and patriarchic societies around the world who feel they have a divine duty to keep every woman in check.
I bet if men could get pregnant, abortion would not only be legal, it would be a right protected by a constitutional amendment, sponsored by the government, covered by health care and life insurance, and even sanctioned by religious authorities.
But men do not get pregnant. Women do, BECAUSE of men. So men are in no position to control our bodies. If I choose to be pregnant, even if I am not married, it is my innate biological right. If my Riot Grrrl sister decides to terminate her pregnancy, it is her innate biological right. And if my ladies around the world wanna use their ovaries to their full potential and have a whole load of kids, or avoid it through celibacy or contraception, it is also their innate biological right – to their body, their sanity and their life.
This issue includes both pro-life and pro-choice pieces, because choice extends to all levels of the pregnancy spectrum. It also includes a section on our grandmothers who gave us life, and also fought for our rights in the first two waves of the Feminist Movement. And as always, the Riot Grrrl Corner featuring the birth mothers of Rock for Choice, L7.
Enjoy!

The Mother Goddess is Pro-Choice (by Hadass Ben-Ari)
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Too Tiny for Her Buggy (by Sue Tourkin-Komet)
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Jewish Single Mom by Choice (by Dr. Lea-Ora Leeder)
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Non-Mom's Rights (by Shira Lynn Pruce)
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December, Not April (by LaMesha Melton)
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Clinics Can't Always Amend (by Hannah Greenberg)
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Choosing Life (by Ruth Tidhar)
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“Hello, is this Ruthy from EFRAT? I am calling from the hospital to let you know that I gave birth yesterday to a beautiful baby girl! When I think about what I went through to have her… What if I hadn’t gotten to EFRAT, what if I had done ‘it’?”
As the social worker for the EFRAT Organization, this is a phone call that I get several times a week from women who came to us for consultation at the beginning of their pregnancy, when they were trying to decide whether or not to have their baby. This time the phone call was from Rina (a pseudonym, of course).
Our story began last autumn, on a cool November Jerusalem day. Rina came to our office to ask our help in deciding what to do. She was in her mid-thirties, tall and thin with a pretty face and dark blond hair. Her hands were constantly and nervously twisting a tissue, wet with tears. She was pregnant, in her fourth month already, under enormous pressure to abort.
Rina was divorced with a 12 year old son. The son had been pretty traumatized by his parents’ rather ugly divorce and was in psychological treatment. Rina and her son had been living with Rina’s mother for years, ever since the divorce. Over the last few years, Rina’s father and two brothers died within a few months of each other in very upsetting circumstances. The mother herself was not well, both physically and emotionally.
The father of the pregnancy was a man that Rina had been seeing very seriously for over a year. He had urged Rina to stop using birth control because he wanted a baby with her and then they would get married, or so he said at the time.
When Rina became pregnant, the boyfriend had a total change of heart. He wanted nothing to do with Rina or the baby, in spite of everything he had said. When her family found out about the pregnancy, they were so mortified by the possibility of her being a single mother that they applied emotional and financial blackmail in order to force her to abort. Rina was asked by her mother to leave the house until she has an abortion. She stayed with different friends with her son, for a few days here and a few days there. Rina worked part time in a cosmetics shop, making minimum wage. She was unable to financially support herself and her son. Her ex-husband did not pay child support, nor did he visit his son.
After a few weeks of sleeping at different friends’ houses, she heard about the EFRAT Organization. She was absolutely at the end of her tether, ready to have an abortion totally against her inner wishes, only because of the pressure that was being laid on her. Rina was distraught, tearful and overwhelmed. She hated the idea of abortion because she really wanted the baby. I listened to her, commiserated with her and gave her, through the EFRAT Organization, a real chance at making her own decisions.
Again and again, I hear stories of women who are forced into having abortions by the men in their lives – their fathers, boyfriends and husbands. This is the case with over 95% of the women who turn to EFRAT for consultation.
Back to Rina - she received from EFRAT monthly financial help so that she was able to rent a room near her son’s school. Now that she has given birth, EFRAT will supply her baby with a crib, stroller, baby bath and EFRAT Baby Kit, including cloth diapers, clothing, a blanket, sheet, bottles and pacifiers. Each month for the coming year we will send her diapers and food. When she is ready to go back to work, I will refer her to her to our Family Rehabilitation Project which will help her pay for daycare. Throughout the pregnancy, she was in contact with an EFRAT volunteer who listened to her, encouraged her and obtained legal advice and food packages when she needed them.
In short, we were able to give Rina the support that she needed in order to do what she really wanted to do – have her beautiful baby.
I am hopeful that there will be some reconciliation between Rina and her family. Yesterday the mother came for a short visit. In our experience, once the baby is a real fact, the grandparents gradually come around and love the baby in spite of the beginning of the story.
EFRAT has been helping women make their own choice about continuing their pregnancy for over 32 years. We have 3000 volunteers in every town and city in Israel, many of them women who thought that they had no choice but to abort. After deciding to continue their pregnancy and having their baby, they were so pleased with the results that they feel the need to tell their story to other women in the same situation. Our volunteers befriend the women who turn to us and help them get the assistance that they need, both from EFRAT and from other local tzedaka organizations.
If you know of a pregnant woman who is trying to decide whether or not to have her baby, refer her to EFRAT: 02-6536212 or ruth@efrat.org.il
For more information, visit our website: http://www.efrat.org.il/

Children (by Yahm Reichart)
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Children are a problem for me. Not really a problem, but I find it difficult to connect with them for more than half an hour at a time. Children tend to gravitate towards me, they want to play with me, they want to talk to me, show me things. My dad always said it’s because I’m genuine in my responses. For example, when my niece was four and she wanted to play instead of eating dinner and began throwing a tantrum because I wanted to eat, I said, “I’m going inside to eat. You can come eat or not. Up to you. We’ll see about playing after dinner. Maybe. I’m not promising.” And then I just walked inside. She came after me, ate as much as four-year-olds do, and then when I didn’t want to play, she just let it go.
This is what kids need, say the people around me: an adult who says no and who stands by it. So, at least in this respect, people reason, I will be an excellent mom. And maybe because I don’t buy my nieces Bratz dolls but books with strong female protagonists for their birthday.
It stresses me out to think of being a mother. I can’t imagine myself being so selfless like a mother should be. (Or should she?) Why in the world would I live for someone else when I have worked so hard to live for myself, doing only what makes me happy? It seems like that’s a step backwards.
It’s quite a coincidence that this issue is about motherhood in its various forms because I recently found out that one of my sisters-in-law will be having a baby boy around Passover. After the good news that he’s healthy, (after she took a scary placenta test involving a camera going up her cervix with no anesthetic), she said that there’s an old wife’s tale that says that if a week-old baby boy pees on a woman, she’ll be able to conceive easier. (The power of the penis, eh?) So I immediately said, “Let’s make sure that DOESN’T happen” and we laughed. But I was uncomfortable at the thought of being a mother, even as a joke.
I suppose my uncomfortable feelings stem from not meeting with the societal expectations that as a woman I will (1) find babies and children cute, (which I usually don’t), (2) want to hold them and play with them (which I, again, usually don’t), and (3) want my own (which I don’t).
I have had many dreams where I’m happily pregnant, but when it’s time to give birth, I cry and beg to not have to do it. I wake up with tears in my eyes and all in a panic because the last thing I really want is a baby. I just want to feel what it’s like to be pregnant. I want to have a gigantic tummy to rub without being unhealthily obese. I want for people to be happy for me and my gigantic tummy because then it’s legitimate to be so large. But that’s it. No giving birth (vaginal or caesarian) or a baby to deal with afterwards.
I don’t have a solution to my uncomfortable reaction to comments about my assumed future desire for motherhood. I recognize that these feelings towards motherhood may change. Perhaps I will one day meet the right woman and I will want to be the “father-esque”-mother to her babies. Maybe I will donate my eggs for other women who are dying to conceive but can’t. Maybe I’ll be a surrogate mother. Maybe I will never have children and just be there for my nieces and nephews as the cool aunt who can talk about anything and likes to give books and tickets to rock concerts as birthday gifts.
In the end, I know that if I do decide to have children, it will be because I really want them and not because I’m caving into societal pressure to have them. And I’m fine with that because I think that’s the way it should be. Children should be born out of love, and not for any other reason. Yet, it seems that society is telling me, “Listen, your philosophizing is nice, but let’s be serious: you are a woman, therefore, make babies.” To which I can only respond with, “I am more than my uterus, fucker, so shut the fuck up.”

What's in a Name? (by Yasmin Eshref)
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I Miss Him (by Jessi Edwards)
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Choice for All (by Shira Lynn Pruce)
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Personally, I don’t get why people have kids. They’re smelly, they’re loud and eventually they leave you and rebel against everything you tried to instill in them. But I do believe in choice and if you chose to make smelly, loud babies, then, well, good for you, I guess.
The thing is, choice is choice. If a straight woman can choose to keep or end her pregnancy, if a straight man can choose to stand up and father the impregnation he caused, then anyone, no matter how they identify- lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender (LGBT) or straight - should be able to choose the same for themselves. Problem is, the LGBT community has less conventional, accessible, affordable and “socially accepted” ways of making this brave choice.
Adoption, insemination, surrogacy, shared parenting and other methods of having babies are becoming more available - although still not readily enough - to the LGBT community. Though often expensive and difficult, these methods have managed to sustain an awesome baby boom in LGBT communities all over the free world. And it’s really exciting
I’ve seen my friends begin and continue their families but I realize that having a close glimpse into the LGBT community is a privilege that not all people have, especially in homophobic, conservative Jerusalem. So let me let you in to a great world of colorful families.
As a fag-hag, I am honored everyday to closely know a community that, while contributing fully to society, including everything from paying taxes to serving in the army, is afforded less rights overall. Marriage is only the tipping point of the inequalities from access to proper health care and reproductive options.
The dream to be a parent, while not swimming around in my head at night, knows no socially constructed boundaries. My gay and lesbian friends are starting to plan their families along with my straight friends but it can be a struggle. Finding the right method, doing so with a partner or without, getting legal rights to your child, and in many cases, finding the money and legal measures to create or adopt your child - can be difficult. And seeing these struggles, I wish that I could take away the roadblocks between my giving, caring friends and the child they dream of. Because how could it be anything but natural for a person full of love, understanding differences and overcoming hardship, determination to accept all and be accepted, to make a great parent?
And then the baby comes. Now, most babies, we hope, come into the world to meet loving family and friends. But LGBT family babies are so celebrated by the community, still new to these great tiny little miracles. The grandparents, at the beginning of their child’s coming out process, possibly never thought they would see grandchildren. The parents worked so hard to make this baby and dreamed of it since long before it’s conception and delivery home. And friends, like me, can’t contain their happiness for this new tiny baby and know that it is going to be cherished, cared for, nurtured and accepted for everything that they are.
Having children is a choice that everyone deserves to make, without exception. Women in Iran and Mea Shearim deserve abortion rights. Gay men, lesbians, bisexuals and transgender men and women deserve the right to create and give a great life to a child, if they want to be parents. But more than deserving these rights, they are integral to allowing each person, no matter how they identify, to live the fullest life that they dream for themselves.
(Check out Shira's blog here)

Wardrobe Woman (by Yasmin Eshref)
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A crack in the two doors, the gap
A slit, pulled open and split
Housing a singular coat hanger
And a singular hanger on,
The next big thing, draped in red satin,
Is dripping down her thighs
Metal meets cervix then with a twist
The service is done, the mist
In the bathroom is her tears
There is no cutting of cord,
There is no Hollywood kiss
There is only blood and fears
Amongst the bottles of lotion,
The exfoliant, the toner
The moan of a lost mother
And then a lost daughter
Is lost over the rushing of water
And the mopping of towels
She is a women devoured
By lack of option
A woman devoured
By the strictness of God
Devoured by the constraints of
Bodily complications
Shocked by the sight of
What was.

לתינוק שלא נולד (אנונימית)
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Grand Mothers - a sample
The Uterine Connection (by Sarit Gayle Moas)
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So today is my birthday, May 28 and this, I believe, is indeed connected to my Savta. A girl’s connection is so uterus deep with her mother’s mom and I will explain why: It is known that the amount of eggs in ovaries are constant from the day we are born and gradually the amount decreases. This means, get this, that actually when my mother was a fetus in her Mother’s womb, the egg that was to become me was inside my mother’s womb, which was then encased in her mother’s womb. This means that my grandma is actually my ma! This means that part of me was carried physically in my granny’s womb along with my mother.
As today is my birthday, I feel it should be celebrated more by the parent who birthed rather than the person who was the object and not the subject of the birth. So actually, this day is also the day of my foremothers.
As we are the direct continuation of our mothers and grandmothers, we are on their shoulders, and we are higher, and thus see further – so that we may succeed in fulfilling our complete potential and theirs as they live through us and we continue to evolve and complete part of their tikkun and ours.
From Sarit Gayle Sarita bat Linda Joyce Ahuva bat Helen Hinda bat Esther Rivka Rivel bat Freyda. I wish on this birthday that I succeed in manifesting all they dreamt for, fix all they longed for as female human Jewesses.

The full section on grandmothers
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Riot Grrrl Corner (by Hadass S. Ben-Ari)
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Articles From Issue 8

2009-05-09T13:27:00.005+03:00

To read the entire zine, you can order or download it. The following are sample articles from the current issue (Issue 8).

Relationshit (by Hadass S. Ben-Ari)
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I’ve always had this love-hate relationship with love. As a child, I used to draw people with heads in the shape of a heart. One of my mom’s friends said I was a “love child.” I never quite understood what that meant because my barbies were too busy fucking Ken than actually being in love with him.
As a teenager, I was one of the most unromantic people in my circle of friends. When I watched Moulin Rouge with my friend, the part where the Nicole Kidman dies and Ewan McGregor starts crying, I laughed my ass off. My friend called me an insensitive prick. Not that I cared. After all, I lived up to my reputation.
Growing up, I was socialized, like many other girls, to follow the path laid out for me by… I don’t even know who – Fall in love, get married, have kids, and today, add another dimension to that, get a divorce.
Now, after seeing my girlfriends fall to pieces after being dumped by guys, time and time again, and watching my life fall to pieces as well after experiencing the same, I can safely say that my love-hate relationship with love is the only steady relationship I managed to maintain. Yet, in every wedding I’ve been to, people keep telling me, “To your wedding, soon!”
During one of these “heterosexual suicide pacts” (c/o Brian Kinney, Queer As Folk), the Rabbi read out the Ketuba (marriage contract), most of which was what the husband owes his wife should they ever dissolve the marriage. I turned to my mom and whispered, “So basically, a wedding is one big preparatory ceremony for a divorce?”
In today’s hypocritical society, it is no wonder why the divorce rate is on the rise. Yet people are still getting married. I say, let them fall in love. Let them get married. Let them fuck up their lives and the lives of their children by getting a divorce. Just don’t wish it on me. And no Yenta mother of mine can pressure me into it either.
My former boss once told me, “You shouldn’t be so bitter about marriage. Look at my daughter. She used to be just like you, and today, she’s 40 and still not married.” I say, good for her! Did he even bother to ask her if she’s happy?
I have been in relationships, and have dreamt of marriage. But after every heartbreak, I attempted to mend it with feminist literature, Riot Grrrl music, chocolate, self-punishment, self-worship, man-hate, and hibernation. The only thing I managed to do is to further suppress the pain, and close myself off to other potential partners in a desperate attempt to avoid more pain. But is there anyway to remain feminist and powerful and still be in a healthy, loving relationship with a man? Are we capable of giving ourselves entirely to our lover without feeling controlled, suppressed, used or powerless?
This issue contains a lot of bloody material, with the hope that some of the readers can relate to it. It is not a call to give up on love, and neither is it to encourage following the road laid out by your parents. This issue is an attempt to move beyond the pain of love, and have the ability to build a healthy relationship using your feminist values, and keeping your inner Riot Grrrl powerful even in love.
Enjoy!

Happily Ever After? (By Hadass S. Ben-ari)
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Ice Storm (by Merav Fima)
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Handle With Care (by Orit Hizme)
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Feminist, My Ass (by Hadass S. Ben-Ari)
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Divorcing the Disney Princesses (by Yerushalmit)
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Visit Yerushalmit's blog here!

One (by Hadass S. Ben-Ari)
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Poem on the End of Love (by Shoshana RK)
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Confusing Exploitation and Nurturing (by Dr. Hannah Greenberg)
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My Suicide Note (by Hadass S. Ben-Ari)
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The Gondolier's Song (by Roy Runds)
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“Ply your oar swiftly, O good gondolier,
Lest disaster and woe toward us draw near.”
Velvet clouds scudded ‘cross Venice’s skies.
Two forms were united in tears and in sighs.
She was pale and exquisite with black flowing tresses
And dancing dark eyes as she lavished caresses
On her beau with blue eyes and hair red as the dawn
And a smile as light as a sea bird airborne.
My heart burst with pity, my bony face twisted;
I pledged them my aid as my eager eyes misted.

“Ply your oar swiftly, our good gondolier,
For disaster and woe toward us career.
I sight in the distance a sail quickly nearing;
It’s Father’s foul face that we are so fearing.”
His face like a raven’s he strutted and ranted
And stormed at all daughters by devils enchanted.
“Return, for you drive daggers into my heart.
From Rodolfo I swore that you never would part.”
“He is base, he is mean, he’s a knave, he’s a fool.
Sooner than wed him I’ll gorge on toadstool.

“Ply your oar swiftly, O sweet gondolier,
Disaster and woe have toward us drawn near.”
Like Samson, who strove all his might at the wheel,
I strained to escape from the swifter boat’s keel.
“Daughter, return to the man that I chose,
Or I’ll scourge you and hang your fiend up by the toes!”
“Never!” She plummeted into the sea,
Was dragged down by the current and ceased to be.
Her lover then shot the old man through the head.
Muskets barked back at him. Both men fell dead.

Rough hands tore my tunic and biting ropes bound me.
Hot coals seared my eyes – I could no longer see.
They broke my stout oar and they scuttled my vessel –
But triumph is mine in the unequal wrestle!
When the rope snaps my neck at six the next morning,
I’ll bear in my heart those whose heaven was dawning:
Her dark, dancing eyes and her black flowing tresses,
Her soft, gentle voice as she lavished caresses.
“Ply your oar swiftly, O good gondolier,
Disaster and woe we will never more fear.”

A Different Strength (by Genevieve)
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Seven years ago I was one of many women attending an ‘International Conference for Women in Business’ taking place in Madrid, Spain. I found myself trying to stay awake as woman after woman wearing boring, black suits talked about their experiences running companies.
Anyways, I know you’re not supposed to focus on how women look, or how we dress... right? That’s the whole point. Women shouldn’t be judged by how we look but on what we do, just like men are. But still I found the whole environment way too corporate. The day continued and although I was impressed by the stories of individual women who managed companies, led people, took risks, and made decisions bearing ultimate responsibility, I still felt a bit bored.
By the end of the day, when boredom had turned to fantasies of sleep, I was snapped out of it by a Black woman who suddenly stood up and asked for a microphone. Yes, I thought to myself, finally it’s getting interesting. She said she was from Nigeria and she was wearing a traditional Nigerian outfit with bright colors and bold patterns. It was funky, ethnic looking, definitely not a business suit, and somehow it made her look powerful. Her vibe was deep, strong and confident. Then she said, “Ladies, the most important decision you can make is not about what to study, or which school to attend, or where to work, or what job to do. The most important thing you should do is to be very careful that you pick a good man to share your life with.”
The room literally started growling. Other women yelled out, “That’s not true.” Others just shook their heads. I actually think people would have been harsher if she had been from Europe. Who knows maybe they thought “Poor thing hasn’t been enlightened. She’s not a real feminist.”
At the time I had only been married a year, and what she said didn’t have a real impact on me other than that I appreciated her disrupting a generally non-eventful day. Seven years later, I can substitute her use of man for ‘partner’, and tell you that now that I am deeper in my marriage, with two babies, unless you plan to live your life as single, she is right. The most important thing a woman can do is decide who she is going to spend her life with, and whether that is another woman, another man, or another person in the spectrum of the GLBT group, who you permanently ‘hook up’ with will determine how free you are to remain an independent, strong and autonomous woman.
This idea seems counterintuitive, and acknowledging that the person you are in partnership with has such influence on how your own life unfolds may seem disempowering, and a throwback to more conventional ways of thinking. What I do know is that when my baby wakes up in the middle of the night, half of the time it is my husband who rocks him down to sleep. When my daughter needs her diaper changed in the morning it is my husband who changes her and takes her to Gan. From grocery shopping, to doing laundry, to cooking, we do these thing equally. OK, not cleaning. He sucks. Please learn to flush the toilet. But because I am not exclusively tied down to these endless, mundane, banal tasks that do take up more of your life the older you get, I can focus my energies on my own development.
Before I sound like I am advising women to make sure they find a partner who doesn’t mind cleaning, this isn’t my point. What matters is that we be in a relationship with someone who will struggle with us to make sure we are fulfilled and that our lives have meaning, and who in turn is worthy of us struggling for.
I can pursue another Master’s degree, advance professionally, pull off a V-Day fundraiser, and write for a killer magazine. Not because my husband is willing to split the chores, but because he supports what I believe in.
So, if we are talking about feminism and relationships, I agree with the Nigerian woman who stole the show. “Be very careful in choosing who you will spend your life with.”

The City Girl who Knew All About the Stars (by Mindy Aber Barad)
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The others were the earth
Their fingernails more familiar with soil than polish

But her heart belonged to the comet
Her eyes taught the girls all about what was overhead
The night lights

While they plowed their furrows
She dreamed.
After work she ruled their hearts
Taught them to turn their necks to see,
And smoothed their turned-up brows.

Leah's Sister, Rachel (by Sara K. Eisen)
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Frum and Feminine (by Phyllis Klughaupt-Becker)
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My Personal Story (by Bat-Adam) - in Hebrew (סיפורי האישי - בת אדם)
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Splashing in the Puddles (by Hadass S. Ben-Ari)
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Hashlooliyot (The Puddles), with Lisa Grin on lead vocals and guitar, Merav Shwartz on drums and vocals, Neta Ben Cnaan on guitar and vocals and Chen Naor on bass and vocals, is one of my favorite Israeli underground Riot Grrrl-style bands. First time I saw them live, they opened for another Israeli band I really like, LadyD.
I got to interview them prior to a gig they played in Jerusalem’s Avram Bar on March 19, Lisa said she heard on the radio that women mostly sings songs about love and men sing about everything else. Hashlooliyot set out to change that trend and avoid songs about love. In fact, even in the Avram Bar pamphlet that listed the band’s gig, it stated “No love songs and bullshit.”
However, they still believe love is great. Neta is getting married and their new album, which was released in April, is called Francis’s Graveyard, after Lisa’s former boyfriend, whom she has been with for four years before he succumbed to cancer and passed away at the age of 54. Francis was also the author of many of the songs on the album.
Hashlooliyot’s style reminds me a bit of Marla Hooch as their lyrics are random yet totally raw, and have an incredible sense of humor. They have songs about cats, chocolate milk, cold water, and my favorite – Tofu!
The Tofu song, says Lisa, talks about a boyfriend she had, who was all spiritual and said that tofu is healthy. At some point, his spiritual streak went to his head and he decided to become all orthodox. Lisa says: “A spiritual trend leads to another spiritual trend and before you know it, you’re living on the wrong side of Me’a She’arim” (i.e. one of the most Ultra-Orthodox neighborhoods in Jerusalem).
Lisa went on to tell me that she saw her now-religious ex in a grocery store, and he wouldn’t shake her hand, saying it may burn him. So she pinched his belly and he became all red.
In the pull-quote is the tofu song in all it’s lyrical glory (sorry to all you Anglos, but translating that song will butcher and decapitate it in cold blood). Stuff your faces, people!

טופו - השלוליות

פעם היה לי חבר רוחני

האמין מאוד שטופו זה בריא

כשסגנון השאנטי הפך לטרנד

הבריז הבנזונה והתחרד

טופו פרווה כשר למהדרין

איפה קונים טופו במאה שערים

אולי בקורס לחשיבה חיובית

ילמדו אותי מודעות עצמית

אני יודעת שאני זאת ליסה

אני יודעת שטופו זה איכסה

ועל הזין האנרגיות שלי

איפה קונים טופו במאה שערים

For more Hashlooliyot go to: www.myspace.com/hashlooliyot

Riot Grrrl Corner (by Hadass S. Ben-Ari)

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Paper Copy of Issue 8

2009-05-09T13:19:00.009+03:00

Below are some samples of the paper copy of Issue 8. Click to order or download the full version. To see these articles in text format for easy reading, click here.

Paper Copy of Issue 7

2009-02-14T12:15:00.012+02:00

Below are some samples of the paper copy of Issue 7. To see these articles in text format for easy reading, click here. Click here or contact fallopian.falafel@gmail.com to order the full zine in hard copy or PDF format.

Articles From Issue 7

2009-02-14T11:41:00.011+02:00

The following are sample articles from Issue 7. Click here or contact fallopian.falafel@gmail.com to order the full zine in hard copy or PDF format.

Velvet Revulva (by Hadass S. Ben-Ari)
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On the sixth day to the creation of the world, God was putting the finishing touches on Adam and Eve. He had two more human abilities left in His bag of creation to bestow upon the humans. He turned to them and said, “I will let you choose which one of you would like to have either one of these abilities. The first is the ability to piss standing up.”
Adam jumps up and says, “Oh, me! Please, God, I want the ability to piss standing up. I always wanted to be able to stand up and pee. It would be awesome!” So God says, “OK, Adam, you can have that gift.” Then God turns to Eve and says, “Well, Eve, I’m sorry, but for you, all I have left is multiple orgasm.”
So that’s how it happened that men got the shorter end of the stick, and may be bitter about it to this day. “If we can’t have multiple orgasm, we’ll have everything else – power, money, ownership, control, and of course the, ahem, wonderful ability to piss standing up.”
The main difference between a woman’s body and a man’s body is that, as a woman, you don’t need to see the sexual power to know that you have it. The man has it all on the outside, very visible, and grows bigger with sexual arousal. The woman’s reproductive organ is subtle and introverted but has a much greater sexual ability than its male counterpart.
Yet, as beautiful and as powerful as the female body is, it is so heavily intertwined with so many social issues, that claiming it as your own is often tricky. As a woman, walking down the street at night, you have to be alert and aware that you’re in danger because of your body. Walking into a religious milieu, even as a secular woman, you must also check that your attire properly covers any area of your body that may be offensive in such places if visible. When dealing with pregnancy, menstruation and various sexual health issues, you may find yourself at the mercy of gynecologists and various products that are of an extremely invasive nature, and your body will then suffer trauma or related risks of undergoing such insidious procedures. All of this, plus the social pressures suffered mostly by teenage girls selling their bodies to the status quo imposed by consumerist, anorexic, plastic beauty magazines, as well as the patriarchic social dogma perpetrated by the male-dominated authorities around the world, make it even more difficult to claim our Goddess-given bodies and our divine sexuality, and taking control of what is rightfully ours – our freedom of choice.
Due to the intricacy and the complexity that is the female body, many topics will not be covered in this issue due to lack of space, but will appear in future numbers of the zine. This issue is dedicated to our innate freedom of choice, and celebrates the female body and sexuality with articles on the vagina, related health issues, feminist religious pieces reclaiming the holiness and purity of the female body, the reproductive system, pregnancy, alternative menstrual products, and as always, the Riot Grrrl Corner featuring the founding mothers of Riot Grrrl - Bikini Kill.
Enjoy!

Vaginas Take the Stage - V-Day and the Vagina Monologues in Israel (by Hadass S. Ben-Ari)
Available only on hard copy. Click to order or download.

Consummation (by Roy Runds)
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Blooming beauteously
Trailing tender blossoms
Ecuding a seductive scent
She summons a suitor.
Goggling fishy eyes
Feast on her fairness…
What bliss to caress her –
Tentacles spring to sting
Entangle, crush –
Her slit swallows him…
The anemone waves contentedly.

How I Didn't Preserve Women's Dignity (by Smadar Shir)
Available only on hard copy. Click to order or download.

That Fibromuscular Tubular Track (by Hannah Greenberg)
Available only on hard copy. Click to order or download.

The Holy Grail (by Julie Feinberg)
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Have you ever had to go to your friend, co-worker, mom, and ask for a tampon? The question is always presented in a rather subdued tone accompanied by an apologetic look. We’re embarrassed. Even more embarrassing than asking a fellow female for a pad, is the amount of money we spend every month on various versions of Always, Kotex, no-name brand pads and tampons. But wait, our embarrassing experience is far from over. Not only do we end up spending obscene amounts of money on products necessary for monthly hygiene, we then go on to dispose of said goods. We do not recycle or re-use our tampons and pads. We happily throw them in the trash and open a brand new package that usually includes too much paper and/or plastic wrapping. But what’s the alternative? Stay home for 5 or so days and soak in the tub? Take birth control pills that completely obliterate your period? Be perennially pregnant or breast feeding?
There is a far less radical solution that has been around on the market for some years now, but one that still remains hidden from some unlucky ladies. The name is not exactly sophisticated; it’s called “the menstrual cup”. This product comes under many different brand names, but really remains the same in its original idea: the cup is made either out of natural rubber or hypoallergenic silicone. Completely reusable, it’s guaranteed to last for 10 years! The blood from the period is collected in the cup and then emptied out during a regular trip to the bathroom. No pads. No tampons. Not paying another dime for an environmentally unfriendly product. Never having to say “no” to going swimming during your period. Never having to lug bulky packages of pads and tampons on your vacation or worrying about going to the loo with a pad in your hand in the middle of a nice dinner at a fancy restaurant.
I don’t work for the makers of the menstrual cup. But neither am I employed by the makers of tampons and pads. And in the end, it’s our environment and our lifestyle that pay the price. So doesn’t it pay to have an alternative?

Blood and Water - A Feminist Wholly Holy Taboo (by Rabbi Elyse Goldstein)
Click to read the full version on the website extras. Or click to order or download.

On Celibacy (by Grace McGarry)
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I will be 22 in January. I am a virgin. I don’t have a problem with this. Quite the opposite, in fact – I’m happy to retain the V-Card as long as I can.I’m not a crazy person who wants to indoctrinate the world with any “abstinence is bliss” agenda or anything; celibacy is all well and good for some of us and not the answer for everybody, and I get that.I’m far from ashamed of being a virgin, but I wouldn’t call myself “proud” of it either – by which I mean I don’t go around publicizing this fact to everyone and their mother. From a private perspective, I consider my virginity an integral part of who I am at my core. I realize that’s not a popular opinion, but it is mine.My reasons for electing to remain celibate are extensive and messy and, frankly, irrelevant to the discussion at hand. (For the record, not one of them has to do with religious or moral beliefs.) Suffice it to say, they’re good ones, and if I were to begin a sex life right now, most of the rest of my life would completely fall apart around me.For some reason, people think I have a problem with being a virgin. Worse, others think I should have a problem with it. When people hear I’m a virgin, the IQ of the conversation drops by about 25 points, and suddenly I lose all credibility on any “adult” matter in their eyes.There’s a lot of talk about not judging people based on their sexual history and choices, but it seems to only apply to one end of the spectrum. There’s a lot of talk about embracing the “outer limits” of sexual lifestyles and practices, but next to none on respecting the fact that some people have a range of sexual interests the width of a human hair. Tolerance is encouraged at one extreme, while the other extreme is left unacknowledged at best, mocked at worst.If I have to hear one more line of omg you’re such a prude oh grow up already tell us how you really feel but it’s really fun you’ll understand when you do it don’t take it so seriously it’s just sex for God’s sake, I’ll scream. Arguing the individual points is possible, but moot. Belittling my choice, belittling that part of me, by default puts me myself down. I am tired of it. In my tenure in women’s health, I’ve counseled women for abortion #12, seen 13-year-old mothers, treated women who chose not to disclose STD status to their partners until they’d been reinfected five or six times over, and had patients who chose to have unprotected sex with multiple partners knowing the risks full well, and I did not deign to pass judgment on those decisions; what makes my choice so deserving of judgment and self-righteousness?If someone hears I don’t have sex, I don’t want to be extolled for virtues I don’t possess, nor do I want to be condescended to like a 17-year-old with a crush who just can’t wait to grow up. I just want my sexual choices to be respected as I respect those of others. It’s not an unreasonable request.

A Tale of Two Births - How I Empowered myself and My Vagina (by Genevieve)
Available only on hard copy. Click to order or download.

Warm and Wet, Just like a Prayer (by Maggie)
Available only on hard copy. Click to order or download.

Tips for the Owner and/or Handler of a Vulva (by Yahm Reichart)
Available only on hard copy. Click to order or download.

Virgin Territory (by Phyllis Becker)
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A bride. A Kallah. Our parents met and talked about when the wedding could be, discreetly mentioning, “Well, the date depends upon the bride, of course.” I was surprised. They never left anything up to me before and I almost said it didn’t matter but then some comment I’d heard when my cousin was a Kallah made me hold my tongue. I felt my face burning when I realized they were referring to my cycles. I was shocked! How dare they mention such a personal thing in front of the fathers, in front of my young Chattan – did he understand the implication? How could he, when I hardly understood. All my life, my mother assured me that when I needed to know something, she would tell me. I’ve had so many questions and so few answers and some questions I didn’t even know how to ask. How could I know when to set the wedding date months away to make sure it wouldn’t conflict with my irregular monthly bleeding? What horror that such a personal issue would be discussed at all! I know that I will have classes with the Rabbi’s wife to learn how to be a good Jewish wife and mother. Maybe she will answer my questions but how will I ever face such conversations?
Religious girls never ever talk to anyone about their bodies. Even when my breasts started to grow and it really hurt the way they pushed out and my undershirts would rub the tender buds so painfully, making me so conscious of my body that I wore double layers of shirts and an over shirt to hide the shamefulness of it all, I never said anything and none of my friends did either. When my mother told me about the monthly cycles, I was really interested but she hushed my questions with quotations about the wonder of G-d’s work and the holiness of our ability to share in the creation of life. When the bleeding did start and reddish-brown clumps dropped into the toilet and left streaks in my panties, I would throw the underwear into the trash rather than face the shame of the laundry basket. I did learn to manage to be discreet, so much so that it never occurred to me that someone actually bought the necessary pads that I found in the low closet in the bathroom.
I had never even consciously touched my ‘private places’ although there were nights when my hand would be between my legs and I would get up to ritually wash my hands three times on each hand, before going back to sleep. Now, I was a bride and the Rebbetzin was explaining about checking myself for stains so that I could count clean days before going to the Mikveh, the ritual bath, before the wedding. I was to wrap a small bit of cotton around my finger and insert it into my most private place, where the blood came from, to check for stains. I just couldn’t while I was fascinated at the idea. It was so tight, I couldn’t get my finger in beyond my fingertip. I tried wetting the cloth, and tried with soap and I could just slightly push my finger inside. This was my vagina, virgin territory, sacred cavern waiting to be explored. I thought this can’t be right. Is this what all the women did every month for a week after their cycles, counting seven clean days to be able to dunk into the holy mikveh waters to be suitable for their husband to make love to them and to pray for a baby to grow inside the hidden place? How could a baby come out of this tiny passage? It was all so confusing but I felt too stupid to ask. I grew bolder, seeking the warmth of my secret passage with my finger, finding that sometimes, if I just touched a certain way, my lower stomach would do a little flip and I would try to make that happen but was never sure what caused that sensation. I began to imagine my Chattan lying with me, making sweet love to me, holding me and stroking me and then I would imagine him touching me, there, and that funny feeling would come again, coupled with fear and excitement. I wondered what he was learning in his classes. There were so many laws but I think that what I was discovering all by myself was the most fascinating.

Alternative Menstrual Products: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love My Period (author requested name be removed)
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If I had read that title a year ago, I would have cringed, so I won’t hold it against you if you do the same. I’d never heard of any alternative to disposable products, and I was utterly disgusted when I found out that the alternatives were washable. However, giving reusables a chance has really changed how I feel about my body, so I guess some revolutions just have to be bloody.
Why bother looking into alternatives at all?
Reduce waste: Disposable pads and their wrappings are not biodegradable, and plastic tampon applicators are a leading component among washed-up beach trash. Reusable products last for 5-10 years and are either biodegradable or recyclable.
Save money: A disposable pad or tampon costs about $.25 per use. A cloth pad or a cup costs less than $.10 per use. I determined that I spent $50 on pads/tampons in a year...

Visit the Website extra to read the full article and many more vagina goodies!

Riot Grrrl Corner (by Hadass S. Ben-Ari)
Available only on hard copy. Click to order or download.

FF in the Media

2008-11-19T19:28:00.013+02:00

Click here to read "Fallopian Falafel: ...bringing Riot Grrrl culture to the Holy Land." - Grrrl Zine Network, January 2008, by Haydeé Jiménez & Elke Zobl.

Click here to read "A conversation with Hadass Ben-Ari, zine queen" - Jerusalemite, October 26, 2008, by Simone.

Click here to read "Riot Grrrl fuzes feminism with Zionism in pioneering publication" - Haaretz English edition, Anglo File, November 7, 2008, by Raphael Ahren.

A student paper in Italian published a brief about Fallopian Falafel. Click here (PDF) and scroll to page 5 to read "Femminismo Dal Dolce Sapore medio Orientale" - Corriere del Universita e del Lavoro, December 2008, page 5, by Amanda Coccetti.

Click here to read "The Zine Lives: Why the 90s aren't as dead as you think." Jossip, February 18, 2009, by Drew Grant.

Click here to read "Nicht Aus Adams Rippe" - Missy Magazine (Germany), August 31, 2009, by Sebastian Ingenhoff, photos by Roland Wilhelm. Click here to read the translated version. Missy Magazine official site: http://www.missy-magazine.de/

Click here to read Hadass's interview for the blog Zine Weekly, August 27, 2010. A segment about Fallopian Falafel was also included in the book "Fanzines" by Teal Triggs who runs this blog.

The Fans Speak Up!

2008-11-19T18:52:00.011+02:00

"Let me start with what I didn't like about your new issue. Nothing. As for the stuff I salivated over, oh my god girl, you are the coolest. Yr zine really has such an awesome I'm-professional-and-put-together vibe, but still I-totally-own-you-with-my-creativity. I thought all your contributors had something interesting to say." – Lucy of Danger! Hole Zine.

"It is so interesting… i can understand the issues that u are defending i respect ur work! U have a real women worth!!" – Lissette from Dominican Republic.

"Before I read it, the first thing I noticed was how nice it looks-I love the cover and the layout-you did such a good professional looking job! All of the artwork in it is really nice, I love how you put artwork throughout it! I really enjoyed all of the articles… I really related to it." – Amanda from New York.

"I'm so excited by the prospect of starting to build a certain infrastracture for the Feminist queer culture in here. Kudos!" – Melissa from Tel Aviv.

"I think its great. very controversial and a kick in the face" – Angela Gossow from Sweden.

"I totally loved the zine! It was so, so refreshing to see some independent media in my mailbox for once." – Marissa Blaszko from Connecticut.

"omgggggg fuck fuck shit fuck =DDDD WOAHHHHHHHHHH i goooooot the zineeeeeeee omgomgomg thanks so muchhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh i cant believe its so beautiful thank you so sosososoooo muuuuuuch seriously....
i got homeeeee and i saw this package i didnt know wot was in it and omg when i sawwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww it i almost fainted... i really wanna buy all editions, its like a bible." – Alejandra Gorino from Bolivia.

"I'm really impressed: I like the empowered women's voice you bring out and the articles." – Or Efrat from Israel.

"You chicas rock my socks! A GINORMOUS fan (I even put the Fallopian Falafel sticker up at my cubicle at work)" – Yahm Reichart from Jerusalem.

"It's good to have genuine feminist reading material around for my daughters. It's been years (like since I made aliya in 1981) since I've seen this type of mag. It gets my thumbs up… this was a mainline injection of feminism for me, showing me it's alive and well." – Miriam Erez from Israel.

"Wow! Good for you for empowering other women...I love writing for you 'zine. You get the word out on topics others shy from." – Channie Greenberg from Jerusalem.

"This is what the internet should be about, the posting of thoughts and issues, so that all can see, take them in, and just maybe make this world a nicer place. You zine was a very pleasent surprise to me, well written and to the point and I look forward to your next issue." – Robert Johnson from Tennessee.

"[One of the articles,] 'Once Upon A Barbell", I can identify in so many ways. And everytime I read it, I feel really okay with the music I choose to listen to, how I choose to look, etc..." - Heather Jacobs from the U.S.

"I think Fallopian Falafel deserves an ovarian ovation." - Orit Hizme from Jerusalem.

"I was in such a GOOD MOOD from YOUR DIY mag. that I went off to The Gym in an extra high mood even though essentially I felt tired + burnt-out!" - Sue Tourkin-Komet from Jerusalem.

*Send your comments/reviews to fallopian.falafel@gmail.com

Articles From Issue 6

2008-11-17T20:11:00.008+02:00

The following are sample articles from Issue 6. Click here or contact fallopian.falafel@gmail.com to order the full zine in hard copy or PDF format.

Pop Goes the Zine (by Hadass S. Ben-Ari)
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Popular fairy tales have mostly the same elements – a stunning beauty cursed by an evil witch until a handsome prince comes to her rescue. Popular superheroines in comic books share many of the same features – flowing hair, high heels and gigantic breasts.
Sure, it’s great to have these incredibly toned women kick ass, but exaggerating their physical assets is quite generic, as a woman’s body is something that is heavily exploited in pop culture and media. And sure, Disney’s heroines have all affected us one way or another, but their passive nature, which causes them to fall under the spell of an evil witch or under the spell of Prince Charming, makes me wonder if girls don’t deserve a more powerful role model.
This is why we feminist indie zinesters look to the culture of DIY for expression and entertainment. There is nothing better than getting your hands on a demotape put out by a band that refuses to abide by the rules of popular record labels, and keeps its music as raw and honest as it was originally intended to be.
When you send an article to a popular newspaper, the editor will slice and dice it, butcher and shred it beyond recognition before publishing it. Your byline will still be on it, but the piece is clearly no longer yours. DIY zines will rarely edit anything, if only for size or grammatical purposes, and your article will keep the same explicit, bold message it was intended to convey. So DIY is a means one can use to avoid being sold out.
However, pop culture is still a part of our lives one way or another. Whether our parents read us popular children’s stories before bedtime, or if we watched popular movies or grew up with Sesame Street or the Muppets, or even if we played with Cabbage Patch dolls or G.I Joes, popular culture affected us no matter how indie-vegan-feminist-anarchist-pothead-hippy-punk we may be today.
This issue features various elements of pop culture in all its forms: art, films, poetry, music, dolls, plus a special interview with Alissa White-Gluz, the lead vocalist of Canadian Death Metal band, The Agonist.
Enjoy!

Not Your Typical Mona Lisa - A Study of Frida Kahlo's Legacy (by Merav Fima)
Available only on hard copy. Click to order or download.

Life in Plastic (by Hadass S. Ben-Ari)
Available only on hard copy. Click to order or download.

Homage to Wonder Woman
Available only on hard copy. Click to order or download.

Ain't Got No Vagina - How Cunt Changed My Life Forever (book review by Yahm Reichart)
Available only on hard copy. Click to order or download.

Homage to Tank Girl
Available only on hard copy. Click to order or download.

Girls Will Be Grrrls - Pop Culture and Its Influence on Young Girls (by Nicole Walker)
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"OMIGOD, that MILEY CYRUS she is like... so UGLY she went all GOTH what a freak!!”
This is an acidic comment spewed from the mouth of my 10-year old neighbor, as we stood in my driveway discussing the music she liked as I tried to force, er, I mean give her, a CD of a local female-fronted band called “The Joys” (www.thejoys.ca). She refused so I asked, “Well what kind of music DO you like? Do you like Miley Cyrus? Do you like Gwen Stefani?”
You see, I get all my pop-culture information, not from the TV, not from the radio, but from the few nine-year old girls I know. My best friend is 40 and I am 28. She has a daughter who is 10 and occasionally I will flip through her “pop” magazines all about boy-bands and girl pop-stars. I spend a lot of time with my 10-year old neighbor - she’s a good kid. And I am slowly but surely chiseling away at her pop-culture knowledge and inserting empowerment, compassion and feminism. Quite a good way to spend a Saturday afternoon, don’cha think?
Women in pop culture - in this article I am talking about major label musicians/actors. The Miley Cyruses, Jessica Simpsons, and anyone who graces the covers of the mainstream magazines. The gossip generators, fashion moguls, and TV-interviewees of the current time. The ones whose names are on the tip of every young girl’s tongue. The ones who schill fashion accessories and clothing at your local Wal-Mart. These women (although some are still in their teens, of course) affect the lives of girls in a myriad of ways - their opinions are weaved into the culture because their stories are published and broadcast into the lives of our girls daily. We live in a celebrity-obsessed society and these images and ideas are absorbed - but the question is: how does it affect us as women? What do these pop culture divas teach us?
I think you could divide the pop-culture women into two categories. The empowering, educating women who use their fame to enhance the lives of their fans, and the ‘fluff’ girls who only smile and nod and do what they’re told. It’s important that we take the time to help girls recognize and separate the ‘fluff’ from the ‘good stuff’.
So when my neighbor decided to spit her acidic opinion on me about Miley Cyrus - (which coincidentally is quite ironic, considering who she said it to - a pierced, angry, fashion misfit who only listens to said “goth” [heavy metal] music and dresses mostly in camo, black, and skulls!) I couldn’t help but question her judgmental attitude and caustic insults. I asked her questions such as: “Why do you judge her based solely on her image - when I was asking you about her MUSIC?” “Don’t you think she is entitled to dress/look however she wants, as long as her music is fun to listen to?” “Would you like it if you got a new hairstyle and someone judged you by it before even knowing you?”
To which, of course, as a 10-year-old faced with such ‘adult’ questions - she promptly wrinkled up her nose and looked at me, rolled her eyes back and sighed. Then she made an excuse and said she suddenly had to go home. Well, at least I tried! I planted one tiny seed in her brain to think about which side of the fence she’s going to place the women in pop culture. What characteristics does she look for in a pop culture idol? How does she feel about the women she reads about - can she separate the ‘fluff’ from the ‘good stuff’? And will she think twice before she chooses her next CD - or her next insult? I am optimistic my seed will grow.
Let’s hope next time I offer her a CD she’ll be more hopeful and adaptive to learning more about the women in the band than just what color their hair is or whether or not they are ‘goth’. As an update, I’ve given her a No Doubt mix CD and told her all about Gwen Stefani and how she’s a great role model because she’s extremely talented, driven and has founded her own businesses and is doing very well for herself. She agreed, yes, Gwen Stefani is worthy of respect. And off she ran, up to her room to listen to the CD on her own. We’ll work slowly towards the Ani Difrancos. Maybe when she turns 11. :)

Sisters (by Sara K. Eisen)
Available only on hard copy. Click to order or download.

Daughter of the Barricades (by Roy Runds)
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Sympathy for Cinderella's Step-Mom (by Leah Moses)
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Juno (by Leah Moses)
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Cunterrific (by Hadass S. Ben-Ari)
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A vagina is truely a work of art. In fact, this is probably why a small underground group of people began creating art using the female genetalia as their main subject, and named it Cunt Art.
It was only during that Cunt Art exhibit in Tel Aviv that I actually found out there was such a movement called Cunt Art, which actually began in the 70s. Yes, it’s literally various depictions of vaginas in various mediums and different contexts.
The exhibit I went to was in this small intimate bar called Ashmoret, on Rotchild street, Tel Aviv.
The usual summer weather of Tel Aviv set the atmosphere quite well for a night of looking at vaginas - hot and moist.
Anyway, there were some beautiful painting and sculptures, photographs and slideshows of various collages depicting vaginas or naked women.
Along with that, they had live presentations, women talking about the history of Cunt Art and what it represents - power, beauty, depicting the vagina not for pornographic means but as something beautiful and strong that should be respected, celebrated, adored, etc. - and also some very moving poetry readings.
I also got a couple of booklets in Hebrew about it. One is a collection of interviews with women talking about their experiences with their body, their sexuality and their vagina (kind of like The Vagina Monologues).
The second is about body hair - an issue I personally struggle with, and wish I had the courage to ignore really.
There were clearly many women there, many lesbians, and a surprisingly high number of men, one of which was my cousin! I love seeing a nice turnout of men (especially straight men) at a feminist event. I think something like that can only happen in Tel Aviv because it’s much more open and liberal than Jerusalem, for example.
Jerusalem... well for one, Jerusalem would probably not have such an event to begin with. I would have LOVED to see a presentation of The Vagina Monologues or some feminist exhibit or anything related to the female body in the Holy City. But God forbid the orthodox community caught anyone depicting the impure part of the woman to be displayed in the public forum. This is immodest! It should be hidden because it is used for immodest purposes like intercourse and menstruation.
Immodest purposes, my ass. The only immodest thing about it would be if these closed-minded men were to look at these paintings, run home and jerk off, clearly not understanding that these paintings are not meant to be pornographic but represent something very important and crucial in our twisted society.
Vaginas, however, are still taboo. It is considered a dark place, moist, hairy, smelly, scary and sometimes even mysterious for those who haven’t yet managed to find the clitoris.
Of course, there are those (men) who see the vagina as the complete opposite of that. My cousin is one of those people and we’ve had a very long and interesting discussion about the event afterwards.
Another guy is my ex. When we were together, he all but worshiped my cunt. I won’t go into details, but it was unbelievable.
Back to the immodesty claim - what about the power of the vagina to bring life into this world? Would the orthodox community also consider that impure? These people have like 12, 13, 14 kids in their family, they clearly worship their wife’s vagina in one form or manner, because these men couldn’t begin to conceive (forgive the pun) the agonizing pain of childbirth.
Cunt Art deals with all issues pertaining to the female body in general and the cunt in particular. There were depictions of birth, rape, masturbation (which made up most of the paintings), and they were all different but significant in their own way.I tried researching the history of Cunt Art and found very random and very vague articles. So I’m happy that the organizers of this event managed to pull off this event and have a pretty big turnout as well, and have me among the crowd :-D

TaDa! (by Mindy Aber Barad)
Available only on hard copy. Click to order or download.

McWorld (by Hadass S. Ben-Ari)
Available only on hard copy. Click to order or download.

Your Opinion!
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As mentioned in the intro, an indie band can remain as raw and honest as it wants to be on its various demotapes and underground gigs. But if such a band signs with a popular record label, how will your opinion of that band change, if at all? If the band becomes popular, does it ultimately mean that the band sold out? Can a band ever stay true to their sound if they emerge from the underground and conquer the mainstream? Is it possible to be popular and still remain raw?
Send your comments to feedback@fallopianfalafel.com

Riot Grrrl Corner - Interview with The Agonist's Alissa White-Gluz (by Hadass S. Ben-Ari)
Available only on hard copy. Click to order or download.

Paper Copy of Issue 6

2008-11-17T19:53:00.012+02:00

Below are some samples of the paper copy of Issue 6. To see these articles in text format for easy reading, click here. Click here or contact fallopian.falafel@gmail.com to order the full zine in hard copy or PDF format.

Paper Copy of Issue 5

2008-07-25T14:37:00.010+03:00

Below are some samples of the paper copy of Issue 5. To see these articles in text format for easy reading, click here. Click here or contact fallopian.falafel@gmail.com to order the full zine in hard copy or PDF format.

Articles From Issue 5

2008-07-25T14:01:00.008+03:00

The following are sample articles from Issue 5. Click here or contact fallopian.falafel@gmail.com to order the full zine in hard copy or PDF format.

Underweight is Overrated (By Hadass S. Ben-Ari)
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You know how people like to say that beauty comes from within, and not to judge a book by its cover and all these wonderful, catchy clichés?
I don’t know about you, but this must either be a myth or I’m surrounded by complete hypocrites.
I’ve been underweight for as long as I can remember, not because of any social standard of “visible ribs are beautiful” but because of some genetic reason. Being born skinny and staying that way pretty much until today, I would hear that beauty comes from within, while others told me that for me it would be impossible because there probably is no space within me where beauty could dwell. In fact, they said that if I still have all my inner organs, I must be defying some basic law of physics.
Not funny.
Other members of my family, just as thin as I am, would ridicule me for being skinny by “imitating” me building muscle by exercising with toothpicks.
Not funny.
Others would “imitate” me by eating a grain of rice and hold their belly saying “Oh! I can’t eat anymore!”
NOT FUCKING FUNNY!
I’m getting pretty sick and tired walking into a gym and getting looks of sarcasm that say “Wow, girl, you need to lose weight PRONTO!” Or looks of blunt honesty that say “Get the hell out of here, burn one more calorie and you die!”
My point is that if there are any girls out there who want to lose weight, believe me that being underweight is not a walk in the park. Disdain and ridicule will follow you wherever you go, so you might as well dress and look the way you want to, and be damn proud of it too. Getting plastic surgeries, going on all kinds of weight loss programs, packing your system up with enough pills to stock up a pharmacy will not make you happy. Happiness comes from within - the same place where true beauty comes from. It’s by loving and accepting yourself the way you are that you will be truly happy and truly beautiful.
This issue includes poems about beauty, an article on the spiritual and psychological factors that may affect body image, a piece on body art, a discussion with Angela Gossow and her views on feminism and female empowerment, a piece on the influence two very different girl camps have on their campers, and of course, the usual Riot Grrrl Corner with the Lunachicks and their take on the social standards of beauty.
Enjoy!

Beautiful in Spirit (By Hadass S. Ben-Ari)
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The Goddess of Love (By Merav Fima)
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Oblivious Face Lift (By Evangeline Avittan)
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Imagine lying on the cutting board, your anesthesia has yet to come to fruition. After two years of researching different doctors to cut up your face and put it back together again you are finally living your dream of a face lift. Before the anesthesia you have met your doctor’s assistant, another doctor, you are impressed with all the concern and obvious care put into your surgery. This man you have chosen to trust is standing over you scrubbed in and he believes you are under. Then you hear this conversation between him and his assistant. Doctor, “I’m going to take a shower now, you know where to make the incisions. I’ll be back before she is out of recovery.” Assistant answers, “No problem.” You start to mumble, the only protest possible when you are half way under, then a gas mask is put over your face.
Plastic surgery can be a wonderful thing for many people. In no way, shape or form would I suggest anyone not do something which could change the way they feel about themselves. I heard this story first hand from the woman who was on the table. I decided if I ever feel the need to have cosmetic surgery, I would make sure it is performed by a close relative or friend.

Metal Girls on Rebel Girls (Angela Gossow and Hadass S. Ben-Ari)
*Excerpt
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The following is a discussion between Angela Gossow, the lead vocalist of death metal band Arch Enemy, and Hadass Ben-Ari, editor of the zine you’re reading. The discussion began as Angela’s response to the previous issue of Fallopian Falafel, which featured an article about her, and turned into an exciting and inspiring dialogue through back-and-forth messages on Myspace.
Horns up!

Angela:

Hello Hadass,
I am not a feminist. I am an equalist ;-) I haven’t spent one minute in my life even considering I have less strength, chances and talents than a male human being. I was very lucky being raised in a non-traditional household, where my mother owned the business and clearly was the boss and my father was employed and never even tried to outdo my mother, or take the power.
I think being feminist is straining. Trying to be ‘better’ in everything makes it way too hard. I have no intentions to try and match these muscle boys in my gym. You know. And they should never try to beat me in communication skills... I am a black belt in the martial art of discussion and argumentation, hehe.
A strong woman sets her goal right in front of her eyes. And she will get to it, no matter what. She will force tradition, machos and social hierarchy into its knees and move mountains. But I understand there are many places in this world, where feminists are still needed to pave the way. Germany and the whole of Scandinavia are very advanced. We have a [female] German chancellor. Us women are breathing down the northern European men’s neck. We are very close. And this is why I can live in the freedom of being equal. I don’t need to be a feminist anymore. I just need to be me.
‘Just’ is wrong here though. Being one self is the toughest challenge of it all.
So, I vary a bit from the ‘female metal’ movement. I want it to be METAL. And that’s that. I am a MUSICIAN. My gender comes 2nd. I am not a growling kitty. I am an outgrown Bengali tiger and the females are known to be the most vicious.
BE A FREEDOM FIGHTER. And your gender comes second.
Revolution begins,
Angela

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Aerobics (By Mindy Aber Barad)
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A Brother's Love (By Lillian Pinkerson Aronin)
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My brother always loving me
Showed me how to treat my body
To refine myself into something better, into somebody
No diet, No trainer can shape the soul
Or relinquish the blubbery blanket the hides-
Hide-like diamonds forced from coal
My brother always loves me

I thought I sat alone upon the desolate knoll
A nobody
Until his caring made me see that anybody
Can be as special as they want to be
My brother always loving me

Lipstick or Drumsticks (By Hadass S. Ben-Ari)
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Yesterday Downtown (By Sue Tourkin-Komet)
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The Old and the Beautiful (By Hadass S. Ben-Ari)
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My hairs are turning white. It started around the age of 17, actually. Since then, every time a white hair emerged I pulled it out after a long rant about how I’m getting old by the minute. Today, I’ve decided to embrace my white hairs as a sign of wisdom rather than geezerness. My fear is not that I’ll become an old, wrinkled, gray-haired lady but that I’ll become a bitter old, wrinkled, gray-haired lady. I think that the earlier a person learns to admit and accept the fact that time leaves its permanent marks, the happier he or she will be as an old person.
I also think that today’s commercial consumerist society has a lot to do with the state of mind of the elderly. Probably ignoring the fact that the elderly make a substantial part of it, society begins by pushing them aside to retirement homes where they sit and pray for a painless and speedy expiration. It also encourages the ideal of everlasting youth with all the commercials about anti-aging creams, hair color products, libido-enhancing pills and all that bullshit. It takes a lot of guts to grow old with dignity in a society that is openly scared shitless of this misunderstood age group.
Speaking of commercials, they remind me a lot of doctors. How do they know what’s good for me? How does anybody know what’s good for me. It’s all a big conspiracy. Shampoos, soaps, body lotions, toothpastes, tampons, prescription medicine, fucking laundry detergents... am I just supposed to take the TV’s word for it? I’ve used this Neutrogena anti-dandruff shampoo for two fucking months and the only thing I managed to get out of my scalp is its natural moisturizer. As a result, my scalp is itchy as hell and fucking dandruff is still there.
All these products introduce more useless shit into your system (which will harm you on the long run) than protect it against “harmful” natural material. All these toothpastes and mouthwash and floss and toothbrushes do not fight gingivitis or whiten your teeth. It’s all a big fight against nature, and nature will have its way, like it or not. Your teeth will become yellow, your gums will hurt when you eat, and bleed when you brush, and your teeth will end up in a cup of water by the end of the day. And your hair will become white. The roots will show two days after you dye your hair.
To be completely free, we have to first give ourselves permission to feel free – with our body and for all its imperfections. Fat, white hairs and wrinkles are all elements which make us human. None of us are getting any younger, so I better start learning how to cook and knit like my grandmother.

Of Lice (By Dr. Hannah Joy)
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Beauty Comics (By Maha Ismael)
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Once Upon a Barbell (By Hadass S. Ben-Ari)
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Your Opinion
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Walking in the Desert for 40 Years Without a Mirror - Sista Manna (J. Sherri)
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No I’m not a yenta,
live and let live
sista. my kind hasn’t been
named yet, though maybe scorned woman
might come close.

wind dried tears.

I sit with homeless kids
and feed their dogs
I have jagged bit nails
and I’m very happy
with my worn, shorn, sappy
corny looking clogs and mismatching socks.

rainbow interlude..

I sit and drum I yowl at the moon
sometimes the sun
and sometimes a cloud
if the energy like sap rises.

breathing green.

I’m white on the outside and
black on the inside and side more
with the shvartzes you despise
and have no patience for.

no respect.

I smoke weed and carry a
walking stick stained with blood
of my hand tripping
on a jagged stone.

soothing hand.

I shift words
and worlds with my vision,
laugh rarely but when I do
it’s full blast like the rains
that fall in the Catskills.

must find shelter.

Birds are my brothers
Trees my sisters and mothers
and I’ve got One Father
in heaven who rules over my existence.

roots are deep.

I drink in manna and dew,
food is foraged, skirts
in tatters, hair under cover for no one to
see but me and the Shechinah.

bless me mama.

I listen to my own voice and get chills
and for double pleasure
listen to the silence that stalks
the night. and yes, it’s true that you
can hear the Hebrew letters forming.

world on fire.

Into universes through the trickling,
building in triangular realities of One
time, matter and space squeezing through
with light as their force and essence
and goal.

primal energy eternal.

Shape shifting tomorrow
and now in this moment
they will flow washing over me below
and I have no direction Home.

show me how.

Stumbling, walking in the desert 40 years
bringing up the end with the infirmed
the flocks of black sheep,
the sacrificial goats and the newborns.

we are chosen.

Represented by glances, dances
and clucking tongues, reflected
in copper mirrors
slow learners,
fire burners,
I’m just bringing your lost kids home.

on a prayer.

Riot Grrrl Corner (By Hadass S. Ben-Ari)
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Articles From Issue 4

2008-03-07T23:54:00.010+02:00

The following are sample articles from Issue 4. Click here or contact fallopian.falafel@gmail.com to order the full zine in hard copy or PDF format.

Growling Grrrls of the World (by Hadass S. Ben-Ari)
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Talking Out Walking On - the Spiritual Emancipation of Rural South African Women (by Hadass S. Ben-Ari)
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Her World (by Sarah I. Illouz)
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Death Metal for Life! (by Hadass S. Ben-Ari)
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Grrrls Take the Lead (Full Version) (by Hadass S. Ben-Ari)
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Grrrls Take the Lead - Riot Grrrl Section (Excerpt) (by Hadass S. Ben-Ari)
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Bikini Kill (Riot Grrrl)
Is it really necessary for me to tell you gals why this band kicks major chauvinistic ass? Being the leaders of the Riot Grrrl movement, and screaming slogans like “We’re Bikini Kill and we want REVOLUTION GRRRL STYLE NOW!” they managed to break into the male-dominated punk scene and encouraged other members of the ovaries community to get involved in the DIY culture of punk music, tune their G-string (and all the other guitar strings) to the sound of Riot Grrrl, bang their aggression out on drums, and express whatever they wished right from the core of their beautiful being. Lead vocalist, Kathleen Hanna, is such a prominent figure within the Riot Grrrl movement that limiting her to one band would not be enough to get the full scope of the woman and the legend. Therefore, Riot Grrrl fans were blessed to have her in various other projects including Julie Ruin and Le Tigre. But no female band, as hard as they try, can ever measure up to the band that started it all. All hail Bikini Kill! “Just because my world, sweet sister, is so fucking goddamn full of rape, does that mean my body must always be a source of pain?” – I Like Fucking.

Bratmobile (Riot Grrrl)
The beauty of Riot Grrrl is that you don’t even need to sound good or be too talented with your instruments to have a band and get on stage. This is how bands like Bratmobile got to the forefront of the Riot Grrrl movement. Neither they nor Bikini Kill had any elaborate drumbeats or mind-blowing guitar solos because that was not the essential purpose of third-wave feminism. Their voice is also not exceptional, but the amount of emotion transmitted through all aspects of their music and the message of the lyrics is tremendously palpable and empowering. And, I mean, Bratmobile is just awesome. “A boy is good for nothing, can’t give you nothing, I’m sick of nothing. And all the girls that sing along go ‘Yeah, yeah, yeah!’” – Gimme Brains.

L7 (Grunge)
This all-female band emerged from the infamous Seattle grunge scene of the early nineties, and it seems to me like they’re one of the better known Riot Grrrl bands. There are many people who have no idea what Riot Grrrl is but know L7 pretty well, whatever that means. In any case, the lead singer, Donita Sparks, is now involved in other projects, but L7 remains her most popular endeavor. L7’s music differs from other Riot Grrrl bands as their guitar riffs are cleaner and don’t have much static in their recordings, which makes their sound more radio-friendly, and Donita’s shrieks are far less gut-wrenching than Kathleen Hanna’s. However, this does not diminish from the band’s powerful female fury, and their lyrics are just as liberating. “That knife in my back has fingerprints that belong to you. I got a grudge that I’m holding for as long as I live, because you lied to my face and that’s something that I can’t forgive.” – Fuel My Fire.

Lunachicks (Punk)
Pure, unapologetic punk is what describes these badass bitches. With songs about PMS, eating disorders and beating men up to a bloody pulp, Lunachicks made it to the Riot Grrrl scene without even describing themselves as such. Their quick drumbeats and head-spinning riffs is what truly sets them apart from other Riot Grrrl bands, as their style really is just raw Rancid-style punk – and so is their image. Lead singer, Theo, has these insane sleeve tattoos from her shoulders to her wrists. With their disordered hair, makeup and clothes, all members of the band made themselves into dirty garbage barbies that came to life to wreak havoc on a society that made the clean, pretty pink barbies the ultimate models for little girls – just as the cover of Pretty Ugly suggests. And now the theme song I was named after: “She’s big and bad and she’s not afraid to show it, she’ll take you down like a motherfucking bullet.” – Badass Bitch.

The Distillers (Punk)
Yet another pure, raw, and unapologetic punk band. Unlike the others listed above, this band is female-fronted, and the other members are dudes. But if Angela Gossow is my wife, Brody Dalle is the woman I’m having an affair with. They’re rather popular, mostly because Rancid helped them get where they are (lead singers of the respective bands were an item until a while ago). Their video for “Drain the Blood” got relatively a lot of airplay. Their music is miles away from Bikini Kill’s style and is definitely more elaborate in terms of riffs, solos and background vocals. The lyrics, however, remain similar. Brody deals a lot with teenage angst and rebelling against societal norms, but also with body image and growing up as an outcast. “Give me an award, I conquered food again. What else is better in life than to purge my pain? If I cut, I won’t look like that. If I cut, if I cut, I won’t feel like this.” – Sick of it All.

Israeli Ladies Take the Lead - A Review of LadyD's Gig in Jerusalem (by Hadass S. Ben-Ari)
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The Hellcat Is Out of the Bag (by Marissa Blaszko)
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Riot Grrrl Collage (by Alejandra Gorino)
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Sappy (by Hadass S. Ben-Ari)
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Riot Grrrl Comics (by Maha Ismael)
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Calling All Strong Aggressive Females (Your Opinion)
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The Gits - The Legacy: Synopsis of the New Movie (by Tamra Spivey)
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Queer Control Records - Join the Revolution! (by Hadass S. Ben-Ari)
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One of the perks of running a feminist publication is getting free stuff from people who want promotion. A while ago, I received a package from Queer Control Records including info about the company and a couple of CDs of the kind of music they promote. OK, so it’s a press kit, but hey, free music! Free really great music, actually.
This queercore label from San Francisco represents only a limited number of bands so far. However, the queercore genre is well represented as the label provides exposure to bands whose music differs quite a bit from one another. These bands include Pariah Piranha, 8 Inch Betsy, Oi-Gays, Tough Tough Skin, and Fruit Punch.
Pariah Piranha is an all-girl trio that has recently released its first record called Feel My Face Noise, and would be more appropriately called In Your Face Noise. Tara Gordon’s scruffy voice is a bit reminiscent of Kurt Cobain, but this is what gives Pariah Piranha’s music its potency and power. It appears that QCR contributed much to this band’s exposure as they are scheduled to appear in Baltimore’s Ladyfest. Nice going gals!
8 Inch Betsy is a band I’ve actually heard of before I heard of QCR. I would categorize them as a Queercore Riot Grrrl band, maybe because their name kind of reminds me of Tribe 8, although their music is different. Their record, This Time, Last Time, Every Time, was also released recently. This all-girl trio has previously opened for major bands like Gossip, and played shows along with legends such as Bitch and Lezzies on X.
What I love about Pariah Piranha and 8 Inch Betsy is that their music has heavy distortion filled with emotion, whether its anger, love or hate. Maybe this explains the name of Pariah Piranha’s record – it is not just random noise for the purpose of being loud, but involves a lot of emotion and personality. Unlike several other indie queercore bands, 8 Inch Betsy and Pariah Piranha’s songs are very radio-friendly, and would easily get more airplay if this genre was not so taboo.
Oi-Gays just sounds like a band that has a lot of fun. Their name should already tell you something about their style. Fruit Punch sounds like a band that Beavis and Butthead would love to watch on MTV, and would say something along the lines of “Whoa! This kicks ass! Hehehehehe…” And Tough Tough Skin’s music combines elements of pure punk and Riot Grrrl (and the QCR package even says metal), and although they have enough material for a record, they have not yet released one.
QCR is currently on a West Coast tour and is taking all these bands along for the ride. Every band’s MySpace page has a long list of upcoming tours promoted by their record label. And if you live on the West Coast (in the States, that is), you should totally gather your fellow queers, get your tickets, rock your pants off, and then write a review of the show for Fallopian Falafel if you can even find the words to describe the experience, and I wish you the best of luck!
That being said, I think we can expect to see a lot more of these bands, and a lot more of QCR. Hopefully, the label will continue to pursue their goal of bringing us “the best music you haven’t heard… yet!” and bring to the forefront more such wholesome queercore bands.

Riot Grrrl Corner - Arch Enemy (by Hadass Ben-Ari)
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Paper Copy of Issue 4

2008-03-07T23:39:00.014+02:00

Below are some samples of the paper copy of Issue 4. To see these articles in text format for easy reading, click here. Click here or contact fallopian.falafel@gmail.com to order the full zine in hard copy or PDF format.

Website Extra For Issue 7

2007-12-29T22:23:00.009+02:00

The following are some words of wisdom that did not make it into Issue 7 about the Vagina due to lack of space.

Alternative Menstrual Products:

How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love my Period

Author requested name be removed

If I had read that title a year ago, I would have cringed, so I won't hold it against you if you do the same. I'd never heard of any alternative to disposable products, and I was utterly disgusted when I found out that the alternatives were washable. However, giving reusables a chance has really changed how I feel about my body, so I guess some revolutions just have to be bloody. Why bother looking into alternatives at all?
- Reduce waste: Disposable pads and their wrappings are not biodegradable, and plastic tampon applicators are a leading component among washed-up beach trash. Reusable products last for 5-10 years and are either biodegradable or recyclable.
- Save money: A disposable pad or tampon costs about $.25 per use. A cloth pad or a cup costs less than $.10 per use. I determined that I spent $50 on pads/tampons in a year, but got enough reusables to last ten years for the cost of two years' worth of disposables.
- Be comfortable: Cloth pads feel just like regular underwear, unlike plasticky disposables, which are known to cause rashes from air-tight barriers, super-absorbent gels, and fragrances. Cups are completely internal (unlike a tampon's string) and do not dry out the delicate tissue of the vagina, so there is no discomfort from removing it before it's full.
- Keep it simple: Reusables don't need to be replenished on a monthly basis, so you can't run out. In addition to never having to walk the "aisle of shame", with a cup, you don't need to carry any special "supplies" during your period!
- Stick it to the man: The mega-corporations that make disposables are run by men who seek profit over the environment and women's health. Cloth pads and cups are made by small, women-run businesses you can be proud to support.Cloth pads are similar to their disposable counterparts in function, but that's where the similarities end. Somewhere between the thickness of a maxi and an ultra-thin, cloth pads use layers of cotton, hemp, or bamboo fabric rather than wood pulp-derived gels for absorbency. Instead of adhesive on the underside of the pad to keep it in place, there are wings that fasten around the gusset of underwear, though some find wings unnecessary with snug underwear. In place of the air-tight plastic sheet at the bottom of disposables there may be a layer of breathable, moisture-resistant synthetic fabric or natural wool, which results in a distinct lack of odor compared to disposable pads; again, many cloth pad users find this barrier unnecessary because of cloth's superb absorbency. As opposed to mass-marketed one-size-fits-all disposables, cloth pads come in a great variety of sizes and shapes to suit every menstruator, not to mention the choices in outer fabrics, from fun prints to lush velours.
Reusable pads only require a little more effort than disposables. As a busy student, I put my used pads in a small, waterproofed bag until I get home, and, when I have a chance, I rinse my pads in cold water, then let them dry until I wash them with the rest of my laundry. However, my method is not the only one; some cloth pad users soak their pads before washing, while others hand wash and air dry in the sun, but special care isn't necessary, and many just let their pads dry until laundry day. The only rules are to never use chlorine bleach or fabric softener, as they reduce absorbency and the lifetime of cloth pads. To learn more about cloth pads, visit http://www.clothpads.org/, and if you choose to make a purchase, search for "cloth menstrual pad" on Etsy.com or eBay.If you prefer an internal option, consider the menstrual cup, which, unlike tampons, collects rather than absorbs menstrual flow. Held in place by the pelvic floor muscles, it can be left in for up to 12 hours at a time with no risk of toxic shock syndrome, even for light flow, though most cups can accommodate more fluid than any tampon holds.
In spite of the learning curve, using a cup can be as simple as, if not simpler than, using tampons. The cup is folded into a compact size, a little bigger than a tampon, to be inserted into the vagina, where it unfolds and forms a seal with the vaginal walls. To remove the cup, the seal must be broken and the cup refolded somewhat, at which point its contents can be emptied, either into the toilet or shower. Then, the cup can be rinsed or wiped down with toilet paper and reinserted.
Cups range from $15 to $50, but are most commonly around $30 and come in three basic diameters: small (40-42mm) for pubescent bodies, medium (42-44mm) before childbirth, and large (44-46mm) after childbirth or over age 30. In order to choose the cup that fits you best, you may want to explore your body: Is your cervix high or low during your period? Do you have strong or weak pelvic floor muscles? Is your flow particularly heavy? If you're interested in learning more about cups, check out menstrualcups.org, and then choose from the following brands:
- The Diva Cup (http://www.divacup.com/; Canada): high-capacity, long silicone cup, sizes M+L

- Femmecup (http://www.femmecup.com/; UK): single-size (L), silicone cup

- The Keeper (http://www.keeper.com/; USA): latex cup, sizes M+L,
- Ladycup (www.ladycup.eu; Czech Republic): soft silicone cup, sizes S+L, 7 colors

- Lunette (http://www.lunette.fi/; Finland): high-capacity, flat-stemmed, stiff silicone cup, sizes S+L

- Miacup (http://www.miacup.co.za/; South Africa): flat-stemmed, pink silicone cup, sizes M+L

- Mooncup (http://www.mooncup.co.uk/; UK): silicone cup, sizes M+L

Blood and Water: A Feminist Wholly Holy Taboo
By Rabbi Elyse Goldstein

Theologian and teacher Elizabeth Dodson Gray noted, “Women’s bodies may be the hardest place for women to find sacredness.” Our society sends negative messages to women from earliest childhood about the expected perfection of their physiques, and the disappointments of any flaws in the female form. The Torah, then, especially in Leviticus with its focus on menstrual and birth purity, seems to impart the same kind of unfavorable sense. However, what happens when we reject our own received biases—feminist or otherwise— and recast patriarchal assumptions about menstruation? Can we form a contemporary feminist view of these so-called “taboos?”
First, a word about “purity” and “taboo.” What the Torah deems as tamey (impure) or tahor (pure) are not actually attached to cleanliness. These words are ritualistic words, meant to designate those in a physical/spiritual state able to enter the sancta or center of the cult (in Torah times, the mishkan, and in later times the Temple), or those unable. Those who cannot are “taboo” and the thing which causes them to be unable to enter is also “taboo.” Anthropologists note that “taboos” are the system by which certain objects or persons are set aside as either sacred or accursed. Such objects or persons inspire both fear and respect. Mary Washbourne writes, “Menstruation symbolizes the advent of a new power that is mana or 'sacred...' A taboo expresses this feeling that something special, some holy power, is involved, and our response to it must be very careful.” We immediately associate the word “taboo” with a negative connotation— a Western assumption, for sure. Taboos in non-Western thought are often something powerful that you don’t mess with.
A mixed metaphor of fear and power, contact and avoidance actually dominates all the Torah’s passages around blood. Blood, which is to be avoided in the realm of eating and sex, is the same substance which atones for the community in the sacrificial cult, and binds the individual male child to the Israelite covenant through circumcision. Blood both sustains and endangers; it is the medium of plague or deliverance. Thus blood has, like every potent symbol, the double quality and the twin potential of birth and decay, purity and impurity.
So too with menstrual blood. We who are so normally uninspired and unaffected by our bodies should reject the negative connotation of taboo and explore, instead, the positive and sacred aspect. Surely a religion which has a blessing for an activity as mundane as going to the bathroom should have a blessing for the coming and going of menstruation. Since the male composers of the liturgy, living in a world where modesty was central and women’s bodies were a mystery at best, were not able – or more likely, not willing – to imagine such a blessing, we must be the first generation to do so.
I’ve been writing about and teaching my b’rachah for menstruation for over thirty years. I reinvented the difficult and offensive morning blessing in the Orthodox prayerbook which appears as “Blessed are You, Adonai our God, Ruler of the Universe, who has not made me a woman.” (Traditionally women say “who has made me according to Your will”). Each month, at the time I get my period, I say, "Baruch atah Adonai, eloheinu melech ha-olam, she'asani ishah: Blessed are You, Adonai our God, Ruler of the World, who has made me a woman." It is always a revolutionary moment, as the slightest change in wording, changing the negative "who has not made me a woman" into the positive "who has made me a woman" affirms my holiness and sanctity within the context of menstruation, not despite it.
I believe it is possible to rescue the aspects of mystery inherent in menstruation. We can emerge with a sense of the mysterium tremendum of life and death which is in our corporeal female selves. Let us not say we are clean or unclean; we are instead "in a time of power" or "finished with the time of power." Think of menstruation as a time of intense electrical charges – the charge of life and death – pulsing through your body. Perhaps you need space and time to “neutralize” yourself. I particularly like the notion of choosing non-contact with men during those days. Note I say choosing, and not having it forced upon me.
It is true that most, if any positive notions of menstruation as a powerful symbol of life and death became clouded over with ideas of female filth, pollution, and sexuality. Today, women separate during their menses because they are forbidden to their husbands. We have lost the element of holiness, retaining only the element of taboo. Blu Greenberg writes, “It falls to this generation of women... with a new sense of self, to restore that element of holiness to our bodies, our selves.” We read in Zechariah 9: “Raise a shout, Fair Jerusalem...You, for your part, have released your prisoners from the dry pit, for the sake of the blood of your covenant.” It does not say "the covenant of blood," but rather, "your covenant of blood," suggesting that all "daughters of Zion" have that covenant of blood. It is through menstruation – from puberty when we accept our responsibilities as Jews through the elder years when bleeding stops and wisdom starts – that the entire world is saved from the dry pit of death in which there is no water, no womb, no regeneration, no rebirth.
I see menstrual blood, then, as women's covenantal blood, just as the blood of brit milah, circumcision, is men's. The possibilities for rituals around this abound. For women have a brit inscribed in our flesh as an everlasting covenant: not just once, at eight days, but every single month, and the Torah, in its ancient and perhaps awkward way, attempts to remind us.
A word about male blood. Lets start with the command to circumcise: God further said to Abraham, “As for you, you and your offspring to come throughout the ages shall keep my covenant. Such shall be the covenant between Me and you and your offspring to follow which you shall keep: every male among you shall be circumcised. You shall circumcise the flesh of your foreskin, and that shall be the sign of the covenant between Me and you. And throughout the generations, every male among you shall be circumcise at the age of eight days… Thus shall My covenant be marked in your flesh as an everlasting pact. And if any male shall fail to circumcise the flesh of his foreskin, that person shall be cut off from his kin; he has broken My covenant.” And God said to Abraham, “As for your wife Sarai, you shall not call her Sarai, but her name shall be called Sarah. I will bless her, indeed I will give you a son by her. I will bless her so that she shall give rise to nations; rulers of peoples shall issue from her.” (Genesis 17:9-16)
Perhaps no commandment in the Torah is more difficult, more divisive, more perplexing and more male exclusive than circumcision. Is it possible for feminism to save it, to inject into this male covenantal ceremony some sense of meaning other than the lame jokes and awkward silences? Yes, if we allow ourselves the power of modern midrash, and expand our understanding of symbolism and metaphor in the ceremony.
Scholars all agree that circumcision may be one of the most ancient tribal practices we have recorded. We know from Biblical and other sources that the Egyptians, Ammonites, Edomites, Moabites all practiced it. Among most it was done at marriage or puberty, as a “sacrifice” to insure fertility. The Talmud calls both a groom and a baby ready for the circumcision by the same word – chatan. The ancient link between removing the foreskin and marriage is further established in the Biblical account of Zipporah and Moses. In Exodus 4:25, after circumcising their son to ward off supernatural danger, she flings the foreskin and cries, “You are a bridegroom of blood – chatan damim – to me.” What is significant in the Hebrew manifestation is the move from adult circumcision to infant circumcision. Its connotations of sexuality and fertility are now enlarged by levels of spirituality. What was a tribal rite to insure fruitfulness now becomes a Divine command, incumbent even upon those who may not live past childhood into marriage, even upon those who may prove to be infertile. Circumcision now becomes a ritual of cleansing through blood, as women expereince a ritual of cleansing through water. The foreskin is the extra piece which defiles, which is fruitless, non-useful. Like the “uncircumcised” fruit of trees which cannot be eaten for the first three years (called orlah – the same word for foreskin), the foreskin is unripe, a sacrificial non-necessity. The foreskin taints, as Ibn Ezra comments on Genesis 17, verse 5: “Blessed is God...who commanded Abraham to circumcise before Sarah got pregnant, that his seed might be purified.”
But what of Sarah? She is neither commanded to circumcise nor to be circumcised. If the cutting of the genitals was meant to insure fertility, then surely women- for whom fertility is the guarantor of status – should have to undergo something similar. And if this mark was a sign of restrained sexuality, as I will suggest later, then it is even more striking that the ultimate assurance of female sexual restraint – clitorectomy – is not commanded, nor sanctioned, nor even mentioned. Sarah shares in the blessing but does not have to physically sacrifice for it. If Abraham’s circumcision will signal new fertility, then Sarah’s name change signals the end of her barrenness. As he will be the father of multitudes, so too will she.
From Sarai to Sarah entails dropping one letter-the yud- and replacing it with another- the hey. This change was not seen as arbitrary by the commentators. The Hebrew letter hey with the accent of “ah” underneath is a symbol of the feminine ending, as in, for example, yaldah: (girl) or na’arah ( young woman). The commentator Kli Yakar suggests, “Before this episode Sarai was barren, not able to give birth, like a man. The masculine yud was exchanged for the feminine hey. “
Perhaps there is here a hint of a brit of the womb? In Genesis 17:15-21, God reiterates just how crucial it is that the Jewish covenant be founded through the offspring of Sarah, not Hagar. “My covenant I will establish through Isaac, whom Sarah will bear.” This is directly juxtaposed with Abraham’s circumcision, a few verses before. Is this Sarah’s brit? All Jewish women, now in that Sarah-lineage, are automatically covenanted. Brit milah is now only half of the covenantal picture; lineage through Sarah is the other. In the words of Moshe Adler, “Every Jew, whether born Jewish or a convert, must pass through the womb of a Jewish woman, or its ritual equivalent, the mikva.” Blood or water. If you miss that womb at your birth, you must recreate it again through the waters of the womb- the mikva. Perhaps then women do have a brit inscribed in their flesh as an everlasting covenant: we see that in covenantal blood not just once, at eight days, but every month. Wouldn’t it be possible for girl children to be named at eight days or at birth but “brought into the covenant” at menstruation? Since at the brit milah one of the prayers said assures us that “in your blood you will live”, for women, that life-giving blood is menstrual. The same blessing could be said, now with new meaning!
Another possibility. Could it be that women are considered already circumcised? In the Talmud, the question of whether women may perform a brit milah arises. Rabbi Yochanan says yes. To understand this controversial answer, Rashi does a word play on Genesis 17:13, where it says, “surely one must be circumcise“ to read “one who is circumcised must circumcise.” Women are considered ones who have been circumcised! Why? Perhaps simply by virtue of being Jewish. Perhaps simply by virtue of being members of “the tribe”? Or perhaps physically- through their blood, through their womb, or by the very fact of their anatomy being already open, exposed and uncovered, as the penis is after the foreskin is removed?
In fact, male circumcision makes men more like women, by removing the foreskin and “opening up” or revealing the genital . Women bleed monthly from their genitals and do not die. They experience the power of life and death within their own body. Men get to do it just once, at a “like woman” moment. As Zalman Schacter-Shalomi wrote: “Taking my child to the bris is a sacrifice. It is a death that is not fatal.” Same as niddah, the monthly “death” of the uterus.
And now, let’s examine the possibility of the male birth experience.
Women already know the incredible bonding moment that occurs through the act of giving birth. From our own body comes forth new life, born in water and blood, a primordial encounter with creation itself. No matter how sensitive, how involved, how sympathetic, a man can never physically participate in that mystical encounter. Or can he?
Myriel Crowley Eykamp, in an article entitled “Born and Born Again” Ritual Rebirth by Males”, suggests that nearly every religious culture in the world- Eastern and Western- have some sort of initation ceremony in which there is “...a reappropriation or taking-over of the birthing act by the male priest...One must not only be born again, but born again of the male.” Ritual rebirth by males is almost a universal religious phenomena. On one side, that can prove universal religious misogeny. But on another level, it can prove the universal deep longing by men to be birthers themselves. Most do it by water. We do it by blood, parallel to the blood of the actual birth.
There ought to be a moment when the birthing experience is shared, when men birth through blood, when they bond as powerfully physically as women do. If we see childbirth as a metaphor for nurturing and caring in relationship, males can experience that firtshand. If a father “gives birth” at least symbolically to his child, he is taking equal responsibility as a giver of life. Of course, we will need some rebirthing through the father of girl children as well! I await a parallel ceremony.
To be “born again of the male”, at least in a heterosexual relationship, is to allow the father to recreate the mystical bond with Genesis that is truly partnership with God. Men cannot experience labour and birth and the knowing that comes with it. After holding life inside me for nine months, nurturing and feeding through my own veins and arteries, and then giving birth three times, I knew that I had to let go and allow my husband the same powerful moments. Indeed, since I had three sons who were that closely bonded with me, I wanted to let go and allow my son to enter the world of men. But at their bris, I was convinced it was a safe world, a world of male sexuality defined and limited.
Anita Diamant, in The Jewish baby Book, writes, “If God had asked Abraham to remove a flap of skin from his elbow and the elbows of all males of his household, bris would probably not be the emotionally loaded commandment it is...The fact that the mark of the covenant is surgically imprinted on the penis dramatizes the fundamental importance of the act...since Freud, circumcision has been interpreted as symbolic castration.” Circumcision is purposely upon the organ that gave the baby life, which may one day perpetuate more life. Symbolic castration is not so terrifying seen within the context of metaphor and interpretation.
Circumcision as a symbol of disciplined sexuality is also not wholly new. Already the medevilist Maimonides saw the rite as reducing sexuality to a manageable level. It is today that we sorely need this idea repromulgated. Jewish views of sexuality are in accord with the notion that sexual pleasure is mutual, that force is violence and not love, and that human sexual encounters must be based on sanctity and not strength. Therefore we can suggest that circumcision functions not only as ritual initation but also as the communal setting of boundaries to male sexuality.
Zalman Schachter-Shalomi writes, “Perhaps something destructive and “macho” gets refined by a bris, directing a man away from pure instinct and toward prudent judgement...Maybe Freud was right about the dominating power of the libido: if so, it makes sense to take that absolute power away from the penis...So much of what happens in sex is covenantal. Perhaps this is why Covenant has to be imposed on this organ from the very start.”
We cut the organ which can symbolize love or terror, endearment or violence. Here is a ceremony in which we metaphorically pronounce the limits of the male organ, to all gathered, publicly. It is as if we say to this child, “We who are gathered here charge you- as your father used his organ in love to produce you, so you too are expected to sanctify yourself, to restrain the power of your maleness.” And it is fitting that men do this to men. That message can help make women feel safe- at the very least symbolically- that our community, at least in theory, rejects an unbridled masculinity. We publically acknowledge that male sexuality is moved from the spectre of casual, hurtful, or non-committal to the sphere of the holy, the whole, the good.
For me, that is why an equivalent ceremony for girls of drawing blood, from whatever place suggested, has never moved me. Do women need a brit of blood? In our society male violence is still the norm, based on phallic authority and the fear that phallus can instill. It is the male organ which needs “blood-letting” and not the female. Can those few drops of covenantal blood be seen as “kappara”- atonement- for male control? Let them be seen as the “white ribbon campaign” of Jewish men, toward the cleansing of violence in a patriarchal world., Let men teach men- father to son-of vulnerability, of exposure. Let it be seared into their consciousness through their flesh.
Let our boys be entered into a circumscribed world of men whose sensitivities are increased as their phallic-centred power is decreased.
The common, popular notion is that men are created “whole” and perfect and circumcision negates that. In Judaism it is just the opposite: men are born imperfect and removing the foreskin makes them whole. In losing some male power, in “sacrificing” some of that male ego, in uncovering and revealing themselves in their most susceptible parts, men are made more human.
Blood and water: the stuff of life. Messy? You bet. Complicated? Yes. Taboo? Absolutely.

Badass Musings on Blood
By Hadass S. Ben-Ari

I would give anything to see a man deal with his period if he ever got it. This is probably why a Jewish man thanks God for not making him a woman (as part of the morning prayer). In her book "Living Out Loud" Anna Quindlen ponders on how a man would deal with childbirth, or rather, how he probably wouldn't.
It's a known fact that women can stand pain better than men. I heard of many cases, for example, where men who got their nipple pierced fainted or threw up right after the fact. I got my nipple pierced and the worse thing I did was scream as I was getting it done. Many people who work in body art parlors can attest to the fact that men are pussies when it comes to handling pain.
So who's the weaker sex now, huh?
The only thing I learned about the period before I actually got it was what a tampon looks like when it goes inside you. We had only one session of sex-ed on the period in grade five. The speaker gathered all of us in a circle around a cup of water and said.
“OK, I’m gonna do this only once, so everyone watch.” She dropped the stuffed wad of cotton into the cup and the cotton immediately expanded. It looked like a small cottony atom bomb.
We were never told anything about PMS. That is when the real atom bomb goes off. . I suffer from PMS. However, I rather enjoy the comfort I find in it. It's very therapeutic to let your feelings run wild every month or so. We are human beings and our rage is real, we are not crazy, and we have the right to feel negative feelings.
Another thing we were never told is why the fuck is it called the Period? Just because we get it once a month does not make it a period. Neither is it a punctuation mark. Neither is it a class in high school.
I vote for changing the official name of the period to "baby blood". Men, and even some women, are repulsed by the idea of blood flowing out of the vagina for a week. But they probably wouldn’t be if they consider this blood as the purest kind, which gives an unborn baby the nutrients it requires to come to term. People tend to forget that every human being, for nine months inside his mother’s belly, has fed on his mother’s period blood.
Hence, baby blood. It’s more direct than “period” which is such a vague term and doesn’t mean anything, or means too many things at once if used alone. Period.

My Aunt Flo
By Hadass S. Ben-Ari

Ahhh, how great is it when scientists and gynecologists keep coming up with new and innovative ways of suppressing women?
I mean, first the vagina exams. If you wanna find out more about why these exams suck, watch the Vagina Monologues.
And now, enter the new era of no menstrual cycle. That great miracle pill that not only keeps you from getting pregnant but also keeps you from getting your period. And get this, it also keeps you from PMS'ing.
Fuck you harder!
The way I see it, it's yet another chauvinistic conspiracy. Only guys can come up with shit like that. Thinking with your dick causes you to go out of your way in order to keep women from having their period so you can fuck them whenever you please, and we can no longer use the "mensies" defense.
No need to get your balls in a twist. Soon enough, they'll also create a pill for men that will MAKE them menstruate. Or better yet, keep the birth control purpose and make a pill for men that will keep them from producing sperm. How bout that?
Heaven forbid. Women are the ones who get pregnant, so they should be the ones taking the pill, and suffering the side effects, which are curiously similar to the symptoms of PMS - including breast tenderness and depression.
I like getting my period, and I like PMS'ing, why is it so hard to understand?
It's natural. Just like producing semen is natural for men, and sweating while fucking your brains out is natural for everyone, bleeding for a week every month is natural for women. Fucking deal with it.
Peace, love and bloody shitcakes!

Dear Vagina

By Hadass S. Ben-Ari

Dear Vagina,
It has been an honor and a privilege to own you for the past 23 years and I am looking forward to many more years of urination and penetration to share with you.
Please forgive me for having underestimated your power. I know I am hard to please but I have realized that you are enthusiastic and charismatic and you are a good team worker. Recently, you had the chance to meet my new breasts and I could feel that you agree to cooperate with them and with my ass to give me as much pleasure as possible even if my future male sexual partners may be lame in their performance.
I want you to know that in return for your services, I will do my best to find a partner who will know exactly what buttons to push so that you could just lay back, chill out for a while, come and go as you please, and you won't have to work too hard to please me.
I think that from where you are, inside my pants, surrounded by the pelvis from the top and rather large thighs from both sides, you cannot get the full scope of what the world really is and what your true position is in terms of status.
The truth is that 52 per cent of the world's human population owns vaginas. Some are bigger than others, some are hairier than others, some are blond, others are brunettes while others are reds, some are very unfortunately circumcised, but all are vaginas nonetheless. The male specie in this world own a very scary mutation of a vagina and the fact that it's bigger probably made them think it's more powerful. But when the world realized women are a majority and that they can get multiple orgasms either clitoral or vaginal, can stand the pain of childbirth, and that the blood that comes out of them once a month is the same blood that every living being was feeding on for nine months inside their mother's belly, men became scared shitless that their big tools may not measure up to a woman's sexual power. So instead of working harder to please the ladies, men decided to take the easy way out by building a patriarchic system of oppression by undermining us, cutting our salaries, sticking us at home and making us into cumdumpsters and baby factories. It needs to be acknowledged that some men believe, like women, that this is wrong and something needs to be done about it and things are slowly beginning to change, but we're not quite there yet.
So you see, dear fuzzy bunny, whatever a dick tells you, whatever it calls you, do not forget that it is saying that to make it feel better about itself. Men may be afraid that other men may have bigger cocks than them, but they are scared shitless of what women have between their legs. If a dick ever pisses you off, feel free to flex your pelvic muscle around the motherfucker and pull it off.
Hypothalamus sends its regards.
Love you, girl,
Hadass.

Relevant links (provided by Yahm Reichart)

- Menstrual cups:
http://www.keeper.com/
http://www.divacup.com/
- Menstrual pads:
http://www.etsy.com/
www.livejournal.com/cloth_pads
- Sea sponges
http://sew-in-love.com/menstrual-sponges.html
- Gardasil vaccine against the Papillomavirus (causes cervical cancer):
http://www.gardasil.com/
- Vibrators:
http://www.goodvibes.com/
- Vagina-friendly online community:
www.livejournal.com/vaginapagina
- Cervix pictures:
http://www.gardenoffertility.com/cervix.shtml
http://beautifulcervix.com/photos-of-cervix/
http://beautifulcervix.com/about/

Paper Copy of Issue 3

2007-12-29T21:48:00.005+02:00

Below are some samples of the paper copy of Issue 3. the full version. To see these articles in text format for easy reading, click here. Click here or contact fallopian.falafel@gmail.com to order the full zine in hard copy or PDF format.

Articles from Issue 3

2007-12-29T21:32:00.006+02:00

The following are sample articles from Issue 3. Click here or contact fallopian.falafel@gmail.com to order the full zine in hard copy or PDF format.

The One True Goddess (by Hadass S. Ben-Ari)
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Religion is a significant aspect of Israeli society and serves to shape much of the country’s socio-political makeup. Three different religions consider it to be the Holy Land, each having its own connection to the land through history and holy sites.
In a democracy, it’s nice to be able to have different beliefs and share this common holy ground (the Israeli-Palestinian conflict notwithstanding). However, religion and its social structures appear to be anti-democratic in and of themselves as all three religions in Israel – Judaism, Christianity and Islam – contain aspects that suppress women, often attempt to control their behavior and actions, and at the extreme even demonize them.
There are religious women who believe that religion does quite the opposite and believe that it serves to empower them. I personally think that, in essence, they’re right. If we believe in God, and believe that both man and woman came from God and are created in His/Her image, then religion is essentially a fair system for the benefit of men and women alike.
However, today’s society is lead by men. Just like there is an overwhelming majority of men in a position of power and in the government, there is also an overwhelming majority of male religious leaders. I have yet to see female rabbis, priests and sheiks. It is this patriarchic order that took religion and adapted it to serve its misogynistic purpose. The women who say they feel empowered by religion have been conditioned by this patriarchic order to believe they are being empowered and have internalized their secondary status within their religion.
To change this, women must retaliate with the same system that men have adopted. That is, women must take religion and practice it in a manner which will serve their own purpose. Use religion as a tool of empowerment, and refuse to submit yourself to the will of male leaders, because in God’s infinite wisdom, there is no place for suppression and segregation. And in fact, there are aspects of religion which do praise and empower women.
This issue presents both positive and negative aspects of different religions, focusing mostly on Judaism, and has pieces on important female figures and female deities, as well as the regular Riot Grrrl column on a female Israeli folk trio with beautiful music for the mind and soul.
Enjoy!

Religion Above and Beyond (by Hadass S. Ben-Ari)
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Hashem's Art (by Sarah I. Illouz)
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You Shall Love With All Your Heart (by Merav Fima)
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Letter to Daughter Who Has Left the Derech (by Anonymous)
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Burn the Witches! (by Hadass S. Ben-Ari)
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Profile: Ayaan Hirsi Ali (by Anthony McIntyre)
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A Post-Script to the Talmud (By Hadass S. Ben-Ari)
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View paper (part 2)

Back in Canada, I saw this film on ARTV, called “Kadosh” (Holy). It was obviously in Hebrew and filmed in Jerusalem but because TV viewers are too lazy to read subtitles, the producers translated the film by dubbing it.
The movie is about two sisters living in an ultra-orthodox community in Jerusalem, probably around Me’a She’arim. One of them, Rivka, was married to this guy for 10 years, and was having trouble getting pregnant. The second, the younger one, Malka, was in love with this religious guy, Yaacov (but apparently not religious enough for the community to accept him) and she was forced to marry this other guy she didn’t love, Yosef.
I personally don’t know much about these religious communities but I hope to GOD that what I saw in this film was nothing more than a twisted exaggeration of these people’s reality.
In a nutshell, Rivka’s husband was forced to divorce her (after his father convinced him he was living in sin because his wife cannot bear children, so his seed goes to waste) and marry another woman to have kids with her.
A couple of times in the movie, it was mentioned that the Talmud says that a woman who cannot bear children is dead, or is not a woman. That was infuriating to say the least. Ironically, in the movie, it turned out that Rivka was perfectly fertile and her husband was the one with the problem, but it was unclear whether anything came of that at the end of the movie. Is an infertile man a dead man, too?
The younger sister, Malka, finally married the guy she was not in love with, since the choice wasn’t up to her in the first place. Their first night together disgusted me even more. The husband was a complete animal. He stripped his wife of her virginity with the utmost violence and cruelty. He covered her mouth with his hand suffocating her cries. It wasn’t love-making, it wasn’t fucking, it wasn’t even rape. It was worse than rape. It was “voluntary” rape. The woman didn’t even try to fight him off. It was as if it was her duty to serve her husband and satisfy his sexual needs as well as give him a child. Whether it was the intention of the director or not, the image of this violent act looked like a machine - a perfect baby factory.
Later on in the movie, Malka sneaked out of her house in the middle of the night and went to meet the man she loves and slept with him. She came back the next morning to find her husband with a belt in his hand and he eventually beat the living shit out of her.
Again, whether this is the reality of Israel’s ultra-orthodox communities or not, I have no way of knowing (thank God). What I do know is that this is not the way God intended it to be. God gave the Jewish People the Torah to live by, not to suffer by. And I don’t know if these fanatics teach their sons that the Jewish marriage contract literally states that a man has to satisfy his wife. He has the obligation to SEXUALLY satisfy his wife. And if he doesn’t, she has the right to divorce him.
Another thing that I know is that if you’re a woman and you walk by Me’a She’arim with pants, or a short sleeve shirt or a short skirt, you’re gonna get stoned (as in have stones thrown at you). If you drive by the area during the Sabbath or any High Holiday, you’re also gonna get stoned.
I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: you can have your own beliefs all you want. This is what living in a democratic country is all about. But if you hurt other people in the process, you deserve to burn in Hell. There are extremists in Israel on both sides of the spectrum (religious and secular), and they’re always at each other’s throats. I like to think that I’m somewhere in the middle. I wear pants but I keep Kosher. I fast on Yom Kippur but I have premarital sex. I believe in God but I also believe in myself. Basically, I use the religion the way I feel comfortable without hurting myself or other people in the process.
This message is not only for Jews but for anyone who feels any kind of belief or a connection to a divine entity. Religion and spirituality is a beautiful thing in essence. Our ability to believe in a higher power that cannot be seen is what separates us from the animals. It is when people abuse of these beliefs, and use them to hurt other people through socio-political means, that they become animals themselves.

The Mechitza (by Hadass S. Ben-Ari)
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Eshet Chayil (by Hadass S. Ben-Ari)
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God Is Coming-And She's Beautiful (by Hadass S. Ben-Ari)
(Excerpt)
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Lilith (Judaism):
Lilith is a very complex figure since many define her and her myth in different, often contrasting ways. She is believed to have been Adam’s first wife, and was created by God, and not from Adam’s rib, and therefore she was his exact equal. She refused to have Adam dominating her, and refused to lay under him during sex. Adam complained to God about Lilith’s insubordination and God eventually banished her from the Garden of Eden. The myth goes on to say that in revenge, Lilith mated with Satan, and became the mother of all Incubi and Succubae (male and female demons). The Talmud depicts Lilith also as a night demon. I think that if Lilith would have remained in the Garden of Eden and been accepted as Adam’s equal, many of the religious folk who argue that men have the right to dominate women because women are nothing more than a rib, would have no more substance for their argument, and we would be a step closer to being released from the chains of patriarchy. Hail Lilith!

Shekhina (Judaism):
Shekhina is more of an entity than an actual deity, which is why she is never described in any clear way. In the Talmud, she is described as the presence of God on earth. But although, in Hebrew, God is referred to and described in male terms, God’s Shekhina is of a female gender. The Holy Temple was built in order for God’s Shekhina (God’s presence) to dwell among the Jewish People. Dr. Ilil Arbel of Pantheon.org describes Shekhina as a maternal entity: “Shekhina represented compassion in its purest form, and despite being, officially, the female side of God, she was visible and audible as a feminine entity in her own right. A beautiful being of light, whose most important function was to intercede with God on behalf of her children.” The three Patriarchs Abraham, Isaac and Jacob, as well as Moses, his brother Aaron and his sister Miriam, when their time came, they were too pure to be taken by the Angel of Death, and so Shekhina released their soul with a kiss. The Kabbalah says that it was Shekhina who carried Moses to his secret grave. Dr. Arbel elaborates on the Kabbalah’s statements about female entities: “The Kabbalah greatly elaborated on the theme of the feminine aspect of God. She would appear… as the glorious figure of Shabbat Hamalka - Queen, Bride of God, celebrated every Saturday by Jews all over the world as they light the Sabbath candles. And by tradition, the candles must always be lit by a woman.” (http://www.pantheon.org/articles/s/shekhina.html)

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Minim-E (by Hadass S. Ben-Ari)
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Regurgitation (by Sandra Fragola)
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Oh Catholic Mother,

I am not your little girl

I am not your barbie doll

dresses and makeup won’t do.

Oh Catholic Mother,

I am not your little slave

I was taught to use my mind

not to put it into a grave.

Oh Catholic Mother,

How pure you seem to be

Looking so angelic

as you lie to your wide audience

Oh Catholic Mother,

I have become your ‘bad daughter’

My sister sneers it in my face

as she bends over and kisses your ass

Oh Catholic Mother,

my father has called from far away

it was his birthday yesterday and I didn’t call (Bad Daughter!!)

Answer me this: Will he march in my queer pride parade?

Oh Catholic Mother,

How you sat and told the story to my inlaws

The dream you had of me, the one where you “lost your little girl”

I sat there, saying nothing, while on my mind was one thought: Revenge.

Oh Catholic Mother,

How you taught me to be ashamed of everything that I am

Remember how you cried on the couch because your husband had left you

And so had I.

Oh Catholic Mother,

Pristine is your house

Cleanliness is next to Godliness

A dust bunny is a shame.

Oh Catholic Mother,

Hide your true self

your filthy self from everyone

I am not blind

Oh Catholic Mother,

I will come knocking

we will have a chat

I won’t be denied any longer.

Oh Catholic Mother,

my heart deserves happiness

everything you taught me about myself is a lie

and you will know it.

Oh Catholic Mother,

Why do you think I ran away?

You do not understand me

I have lived my life in shame.

Oh Catholic Mother,

my own communities reject me

I am not allowed to hold a grudge, am not allowed to be this angry

I should be put on prozac.

Oh Catholic Mother,

I cannot live this way any longer

you hate cats because you believe they have no souls

I am the shame you turn your head from.

Oh Catholic Mother,

my sister and I have exchanged verbal attacks

while you stood there saying “Stop it. It’s Thanksgiving.”

No. I won’t be silenced any longer.

Oh Catholic Mother,

my depression has turned into Rage

my inner Self screams to be heard

A True Riot Grrrrl Never Dies.

Where Is Miriam on the Seder Plate? (by Yael Levine)
Available only on PDF version or hard copy. Click to order.

Leonardo Was a Feminist! (Excerpt of Dan Brown's "Da Vinci Code")
Available only on PDF version or hard copy. Click to order.

Riot Grrrl Corner (by Hadass S. Ben-Ari)
Available only on PDF version or hard copy. Click to order.

Donations

2007-08-29T00:02:00.004+03:00

Donations
Support the zine by making a donation. Any amount helps!
Send amount through Paypal to:
Hadass16@hotmail.com

Thank you!

Articles from Issue 1

2007-08-23T11:52:00.004+03:00

The following are samples from Issue 1. Contact fallopian.falafel@gmail.com to order the full zine in PDF format.

Untitled (by Mor)
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Ovaries, Shawarma and All the Good Stuff (Intro to the Zine by Hadass S. Ben-ari)
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It was basically in the Diaspora that I was exposed to third-wave feminism and the culture that comes along with it.
Your eyes are like doorknobs smeared with margarine having suffered severe regurgitation from a donkey struck by lightning.
With my Aliyah, I searched for a similar venue for feminism in the Holy Land. I began with Riot Grrrl and realized there wasn’t much of that hardcore feminist punk in Israel, if at all.
May you always dream of faded arteries struggling to swirl around tumbleweed as it straddles about dusty book shelves canonizing hallucinogens in lines devoid of all significance.
I moved on to feminism in general and noticed that Israeli women are smarter and more mature than they are given credit for and thought it was ridiculous that these women are not being heard. This is how Fallopian Falafel - אשת חיל Zine was conceived.
I seldom pray to stick marshmallows on the pointy edges of your pelvic bone articulating acute sanguinity over an impulsive bladder.
The zine is a non-profit, Jerusalem-based feminist zine. It serves mostly as a catharsis for me (for the sake of my ego and self-preservation), but also for any other woman, Israeli or not, of any religion and religiosity, to use this independent form of press and freedom of speech to her advantage.
Your jaundice reminds me of plague-inflicted tectonic plates shunting its Dark-Age professions into a highly intricate society of newspapered black holes.
The zine deals with feminism mostly in Israel, in all its forms of expression (third-wave, riot grrrl, religious movements, arts, etc.), and it aims to spread awareness about the ongoing need for feminism to the Israeli public. It is worth noting that despite its secular leftist nature, the zine is neither anti-religious nor anti-Zionist.
Voodoo fire dances remind me of hollow puppets in torn Nazi attire caught in the synthetic fibers of their own demise.
The contributors are Jews, non-Jews, women, men, from Israel and abroad, from different backgrounds in order to give the Israeli public a little bit of every aspect of feminism in hopes to create a more complete image of the movement.
In case you came across any bizarre statements in bold, please contact the editor. These statements occur when the zine is being hacked by a more stoned version of me.
That being said, enjoy the zine!

Palestinian Woman Teaches English and Peace (by Gil Zohar)
Available only on the full PDF version. Click to order.

Take a Moment (by Sarah I. Illouz)
Available only on the full PDF version. Click to order.

No Mas (by Hadass S. Ben-Ari)
Available only on the full PDF version. Click to order.

Stolen Word (by Hadass S. Ben-Ari)
Available only on the full PDF version. Click to order.

Riot and Scream (by Hadass S. Ben-Ari)
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Assets and Liabilities (by Loolwa Khazzoom)
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Lobotomy (by Hadass S. Ben-Ari)
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The Reclamation of the Term Slutt (by Jenny B. Cerridwen)
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What does slutt mean?
It means not having to explain, justify, submit or apologize for my actions
It means being able to explore, enjoy, enchant and engage with whom I want
It means screaming Bikini Kill at the highest peakand feeling deep down inside
It means acknowledging and resisting that feeling deep within me, that I have been told, taught, socialized and demoralized to believe that I am wrong, bad, drrrty or weak
It means feeling proud and strong
It means getting my rox off
It means getting mine
It means loving me for me and loving those I love for them
It means no regrets but experiences, no devaluing but growth
It means safety and responsibility
It means freedom and life
It entwines, intertwines, rejuvenates and de-suffocates
It denies labels, prejudices, patriarchal and heterosexist oppression
It creates safe spaceIt says “fuck you” to those who are so ensconced in their four walls of judgement, hatred, fear and false sanctity that they have lost their true humanity
It means lust, it means love, it means truly feeling what we have been forced to deny
It means saying no and meaning it
It means saying yes and loving it
It means creating spaces for my mind + body to explore, share, transcend and learn with another
It means not having to feel shameful, unworthy, putrid, dejected
It means no longer having to feel guilt or disgust or deny my rights in my position as a woman
It means breaking through, disrupting the political and religious doctrines, which blame, label and subjugate the woman’s body
It means loving my body for whatever shape or size it is and movement it makes
It means knowing and questioning and subverting
It means resistance in so many ways
It means choice
It means love
It’s what slutt means to me

Breaking Stereotypes (by Hadass S. Ben-Ari)
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A while back, I went to see a play called “The Fairies are Thirsty.” Originally written in French by Denise Boucher in 1978, the play is about the three stereotypes society attributes to women – a whore, a housewife and the Holy Virgin. Throughout the play, these three women describe, through alternating monologues, their pain and the suppression they feel playing their roles, and are desperately trying to break away from these stereotypes. All three of them feel their bodies and their sexuality are being suppressed by a male-dominated social order.
This social order presents them as asexual beings. The housewife is deprived of sexual pleasure because her only function in sex is to serve and satisfy her husband; the whore is deprived of it since men use her body for their pleasure and not hers; and the Virgin Mary is always covered up, no part of her body is ever exposed unless it is one of her breasts when she is depicted as breastfeeding baby Jesus.
The play also shows that the patriarchic society uses women for sex even when they are being represented as asexual beings. In a particularly controversial scene, the Virgin Mary refers to her immaculate conception of Jesus as an act of “divine” rape and she curses God for impregnating her.
Since the play was written around the time of the feminist movement, it was used as flamboyant feminist art, especially in Quebec where the play originated, and caused a stir.
However, one cannot deny the fact that these stereotypes still persist today. Whatever a woman does, she will be labeled under one of those three stereotypes. Depriving women of control over their bodies is made obvious by the enormous number of reported and unreported cases of rape in both the developed world and the developing world, as well as by the controversy about abortion rights.
There are all these various organizations fighting for women’s rights, and civil rights, and fighting racism and ethnophobia and homophobia and about an endless number of them fighting anti-Semitism. And although, theoretically, there have been some changes, can we really say that in practice – within society and the mores of a democratic state – there really is a difference between nowadays and yesterdays?
The way I see it, people’s attitudes towards various minorities can be best described by a statement made by Brian Kinney, the main character in the TV series Queer As Folk: “There are two kinds of straight people in this world - the ones who hate you to your face, and the ones who hate you behind your back.” And I think this is true not only for homosexuals but for any social group in this world. This is why we haven’t made any progress. The only steps we’ve taken which could only remotely be categorized as progress are more appropriately categorized as covertness or hypocrisy.
This is why stereotypes persist: homosexuals are still HIV-ridden fags; people of color are still drug-peddling criminals; Jews are still fat and cheap, plotting world domination; and women still serve as sex tools, succubae, baby factories and punching bags.
Democracy may have successfully made it illegal to deny the Holocaust and gave women and social minorities the right to vote. But it has unsuccessfully suppressed the voice of chauvinists, anti-Semites, bigots and homophobes in all levels of society.
If Bush spent more time on fixing up his own country and less time bombing the living shit out of other countries in the name of “Democracy,” maybe this world could be a better place and maybe the list of stereotypes society attributes to women could include “business woman,” “president,” “fighter pilot,” and “Riot Grrrl.”

Riot Incarnate (by Hadass S. Ben-Ari)
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Non-Classroom Notes (by Sue Tourkin-Komet)
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1. Freshman Year 1966-1967
{a} S.G., pronounced Ess, Gee, bragged quietly, that she
cut-out large circles in her t-shirts, so that when she
smoked pot, with other hot-shots, she flopped
her naked breasts out of their portholes for public consumption
{b} S.G., the same one, pronounced Ess, Gee, bragged proudly
that when her Daddy, a prominent gynecologist did his rounds
at Private High Schools, in nineteen-sixties, he'd circulate 5 or 6 devices
at Show & Tell “B.C.” sessions,* and he'd gladly
get back only two or three, after his lessons

2. Sophomore Year 1967-1968
{a} Getting straight A's, after I nearly
flunked out the previous semester, guaranteed me a transfer
to the Hebrew University of Jerusalem
{b} I kept my detailed colored map of Israel
on my Mid-West dorm room wall, and daily, subliminally
learned all, unconsciously, and consciously, the curving roads and
few highways of my new-country-to-be

3. Junior Year 1968-1969
{a} L.G., pronounced Ell, Gee, of Michigan, had to drag me
not kickin' n' screamin', to The Kotel** 'cause
I felt too profane to pray at the Holy Places
{b.} Keeping “Kosher” in my non-Kosher pots and pans
was The Beginning, forevermore of my
keeping Kosher in my Kasher'd pots and pans
thereafter-more

4. Senior Year 1969-1970
{a} States-side, wearing pastel full pantie-hose
with a long thick mini-skirt, helped me put-off
a “rabbinical” student, with his snub-nose
he aimed to relieve me of all my clothes,
and have pulled it all off in the name of G-d-knows what--
but my ethics and my reflexes, were stronger than his

{b}Terrible, unforgivable that it happened only 40 miles away
yet to this day, Kent State Massacre
“had” to happen, for me to hasten, to pack my bags
and run back again, to The Land of my destination,
to my Homeland Nation, Jerusalem.

*B.C. Sessions = Birth Control sessions
**The Kotel = The Western Wall

Riot Grrrl Corner (Regular column on Riot Grrrl culture, by Hadass S. Ben-Ari)
Available only on the full PDF version. Click to order.

Paper Copy of Issue 1

2007-08-23T11:34:00.003+03:00

Below are some samples of the paper copy of Issue 1. To read these articles, click here.

Copyright

2007-05-21T18:06:00.003+03:00

All material on this site is subject to copyright restrictions

© Copyright 2011 All rights reserved to Hadass S. Ben-Ari, editor and founder of Fallopian Falafel – אשת חיל Zine. Rights to the contributions remain the rights of the author(s). Any use of the material on this site or the zine, in whole or in part, without prior authorization is strictly prohibited.

Credits

2007-05-21T18:05:00.017+03:00

Editor: Hadass S. Ben-Ari

Contributors of Issue #15:
Hannah Greenberg
Dorit Shirim
Royce Icon
Dr. Lea-Ora Leeder
Joy Sherri
Jesski
Shaya Kelter
Jme Hash
Shira Richter
Leah Moses
Laura Wady (Back cover)

Special thanks to Sue Tourkin-Komet and Shoshana RK for the suggestions on feminist men to interview!

Layout and design: Hadass S. Ben-Ari
Cover design: Nicole Walker

Thank you to all the wonderful contributors for making Fallopian Falafel kick that much more ass!

Contact Info and Links

2007-05-21T17:59:00.005+03:00

Aside from Falafel, we feed on your feedback. So cook up some tasty comments and send them our way!

By e-mail:
All inquiries: fallopian.falafel@gmail.com

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Submissions and Letters

2007-05-21T17:58:00.036+03:00

Submissions:
Submissions to the zine may include (but are not limited to) feature stories, personal essays, poetry, short stories, op-eds, rants, reviews, recipes, and visual art pieces (photography, drawings, paintings, cartoons and caricatures, comics, collages, etc.). News articles will be accepted provided they are newsworthy and recent. Please make sure the submissions appeal to the target audience in some form or manner.
Submissions to the zine may be in Hebrew, English, or French.
The editor reserves the right to edit submissions for clarity or space. However, any major changes made will be discussed with the author prior to publishing to preserve the message of the piece as well as the author’s freedom of expression.
I don’t want to sound like your teacher but no plagiarism please! Any use of external material must be credited to the original author or source.
For now, submissions are purely on a voluntary basis.
Contact: fallopian.falafel@gmail.com

Letters to the Editor:
Both positive and negative letters are accepted. However, slanderous letters or letters attacking a particular group will not be accepted. It’s as simple as that.
The editor reserves the right to edit letters for clarity or space.
Contact: fallopian.falafel@gmail.com

Order or Download

2007-05-21T17:56:00.023+03:00

Please note:
- Issues 1, 2, 10 and 11 are available only on PDF format. You can download the PDF for free from the archives section.
- Issue 10 of Fallopian Falafel is a special issue on sexual violence and is dedicated for raising funds for the Jerusalem Rape Crisis Center. Although the PDF is available for free download, you may still purchase it and help support the Jerusalem Center. Click here and follow the instructions. Thank you!
- Issue 13 is a DIY issue not available in PDF. Hard copy costs $1.00 or 3.50 NIS.

Download:

Download the PDF version of Issue 16 - special issue on feminist men - for free! (available only for a limited time)

Order:

You can order the zines by contacting the editor at fallopian.falafel@gmail.com, providing your mailing address and the number of the zine you want.

For hard copies:
Every issue is US$ 3.50 or 10 NIS, and shipping costs may vary depending on the destination of the package. View the archives for samples of every issue.

For PDF version:
Every issue costs $1.00 or 5 NIS in PDF format.

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Send payment through Paypal to the following address:
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You will still need to contact me personally (fallopian.falafel@gmail.com) to let me know what issues you want, your mailing address and also to find out what the shipping costs are.

Paper Copy of Issue 2

2007-05-21T17:55:00.005+03:00

Below are some samples of the paper copy of Issue 2. To see these articles in text format for easy reading, click here. Contact fallopian.falafel@gmail.com to order the full zine in PDF format.

Articles from Issue 2

2007-05-21T17:54:00.003+03:00

The following are sample articles from Issue 2. Contact fallopian.falafel@gmail.com to order the full zine in PDF format.

This Issue Is Totally Gay (Intro to the zine by Hadass S. Ben-Ari)
View paper

You think feminism, you automatically think lesbian, right? Hairy dyke equals man-eating feminist, bla bla bla...
Us feminists know better. We know that one is not necessarily related to the other, and many of us feminists may also be as straight as an arrow. However, this stigma seems to stick, but not because of society’s narrowed stereotypes. But because just like the struggle for women’s rights is still important today, so is the struggle for gay rights, which is why I think that it’s appropriate to say they somewhat go hand in hand.
There still is a way to go with both movements but especially with the struggle for gay rights in Israel, and more specifically in Jerusalem where the religious community goes shithouse every time the Jerusalem GLBT organization, Jerusalem Open House, plans a parade.
Pride parades in Jerusalem are therefore not the same as they are in Montreal, Toronto, or even Tel Aviv. Authorities in Montreal do not have to dispatch 7,600 SQ officers to keep the peace. Authorities in Toronto do not need dozens of cops on motorcycles, Mounties and trucks for detainees. The Red Cross – or rather the Magen David Adom – in Tel Aviv does not need to send 45 ambulances with 200 crew members to the site of the parade.
But in Jerusalem, they do. It’s no fun being out and proud when the religious community is growling at you, calling you names, foaming at the mouth, threatening to kill you, attempting to kill you... And so, authorities do send out thousands of cops and hundreds of other officers and emergency personnel for the protection of those who try to promote love, tolerance and democracy against the promoters of hate, discrimination and fascism.
This issue of Fallopian Falafel focuses primarily on the struggle for gay rights and also features reviews and opinions about pride events in Israel. It also deals with the relationship between feminism, riot grrrl and the gay community elsewhere in the world, such as a review of the riot grrrl scene in Dublin and an interview with the Brooklyn-based, queer/riot grrrl band Marla Hooch.
Enjoy!

Finally, Some Breathing Space (by Sandra Fragola)
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View paper (part 2)
View paper (part 3)

Bisexual. Bisensual. Bi. Queer. This is who I am. I’ve tried to deny this. When first coming out as being Bi about 10 years ago, I was met and regarded with a lot of negativity from both sides (gay/lesbian and straight). The reactions were: “If you go out with a guy, you owe it to him to tell him right away that you’re Bi.” “You’re not Bi. You’re either gay or straight. Being Bi is like being a light-skinned black person....Pick a Side!” “You won’t stay Bi for long. You’ll come to our side, eventually.” “Wow! You’re like one of those porno chicks!”
No one cared to ask what being Bi meant to me. No one asked me how I saw myself. As friends they were supposed to be supportive, or at the very least try to understand. A very small part of me knew they weren’t seeing me – they were seeing themselves. Nonetheless, I became uncomfortable with myself and decided to pick a side. I was aware/had heard how damaging it could be to pretend to be something you’re not or to suddenly switch “to the other side.” But I felt alone. In a community of people, I felt alone. I didn’t realize then, as I do now, that people were telling me how to feel and most importantly: Saying how I should love.
The only support I received was from the “Bisexual Women’s Group.” Even that was not enough to keep me from “switching sides” for I had unconsciously made my choice. The amount of Biphobia everywhere just made it unbearable. So I just decided to “try” and put all my emotions into women even though my feelings for men kept surfacing like a dead body. I recall meeting my first girlfriend, who is Bi, and saying to her,”Yeah, I’m a lesbian.” All the while pushing my true self down into a storage space. With my second girlfriend I made a point of identifying myself as a lesbian, “coming out” to friends as a lesbian, hanging out more in the gay and lesbian community, even went so far as going to a lesbian support circle and listening… listening to the story… the story of a “lesbian” who left her girlfriend for a man only to never be seen again in the community. Pushing myself out of the “storage space” and into a bottomless pit.
If I even wanted to say that I’m Bi, how could that be done? It felt like myself was lost, screaming to be found. Screaming for me to find it. I remember my “friend” Adele, who is a lesbian, said “Bisexuals have the best of both worlds. They don’t know what it’s like for us (lesbians). Why is it that women who say they are Bi only go out with men?” I agreed with her while myself continued screaming to be found. A hard shell started to encase my body. It wasn’t like drowning. It was much worse. The very fact was that I had done this to myself… a slow strangulation. The only way to stop the strangling, to stop the suffocating, the anger, and the irritation and to make peace with myself would be to come out as Bi.
Some people would say, “You came out THREE TIMES!” While others would say, “You’re confusing us! Make up your mind!” The thing is, my mind is made up… was made up a long time ago. I have not come out three times. I’ve come out once – my true Self – As being Bi. To say that I’ve come out as a lesbian isn’t true because it’s not who I really am. This has been a hard lesson or a gift I didn’t see coming and didn’t see myself wishing for. It has been hard to live with this… what I’ve done to others and to myself as well. Suppressing/repressing who I really am. To see me would mean me allowing myself to be seen and I’m not ready to do that. I feel stuck. Caught between two worlds: the truth and the illusion. As stupid or pathetic as this may sound, I feel I deserve this... to be stuck here, screaming inside myself. To be lost forever. Is this Biphobia? Do I even deserve to be comfortable with myself? To love again?
No one seems to understand what their labels and assumptions can do. How I ended up hating myself and who I am so much. And then changing myself into someone I wasn’t. Being Bi to me isn’t about a 3some or a porno where girls have sex with girls and then have sex with guys. Being Bi to me means the ability to be attracted to/have feelings for/fall in love with men and women. It’s not all about sex. It’s not all about what goes on in the bedroom (or anywhere else). It would be like saying what makes a lesbian is that she has sex with women. Or what makes a straight person is that he/she has sex with a member of the opposite sex. How fuckin’ limiting is that? Is this what I’ve been reduced to? My affections go way beyond sex… Sex is present but to say that’s all it is would be limiting my emotions. What about holding hands, kissing, smiling that knowing smile, glancing at someone or just feeling something?
I’m not some straight male porno fantasy. I’m not here for your pleasure. My emotions go beyond satisfaction. I’m here to feel for and most of all: Love. To show the world how you can love more than one person. That you can be attracted to/have feelings for/be in love with a woman who cuts her hair really short, has very small breasts and people mistake her for a guy. Or endless variations of women because there are so many variations… or a man who wears a dress, makeup and heels. Or endless variations of men because there are so many variations. Being Bi does not mean I’m straight. Being Bi means that I’m queer. It also means that as I get older, the definition and what it means to me changes. For I am poetry in motion. I am Love in motion. Emotion. Thanks For Asking!!!
“One does not engage in sex because one realizes one’s responsibility to the human race to procreate. One engages in sex because it is the natural thing to do. It is built into the genes. You obey a biological imperative. The biological imperative is not to guarantee the survival of the species, but to experience the Oneness which is the true nature of your being. Creating new life is what happens when Oneness is achieved, but it is not the reason Oneness is sought. If procreation were the only reason for sexual expression – if it were nothing more than a “delivery system” – you would no longer need to engage in it with one another. You can unite the chemical elements of life in a Petri dish. Yet this would not satisfy the most basic urges of the soul, which it turns out, are much larger than mere procreation, and have to do with the re-creation of Who and What You Really Are. The biological imperative is not to create more life, but to experience more life – and to experience that life as it really is: a manifestation of Oneness” - “Converstions with God” by Neale Donald Walsh.

Pride Poster (by Simon Williams)
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When Riot Grrrl Meets Camp (by Anna Leach)
Available only on the full PDF version. Click to order.

Holy Matrimony in the Holy City (by Gil Zohar)
Available only on the full PDF version. Click to order.

Pride Debate - For and Against (by Andrew Friedman and Rachel Kessler)
Available only on the full PDF version. Click to order.

Tolerance Is Holy (by Hadass S. Ben-Ari)
Available only on the full PDF version. Click to order.

מצעד הגאווה בירושלים, יוני 2007

View paper

Excerpt from interview with Naama Levitzki from Jerusalem Open House View paper

על הציבור החרדי וההתנגדות למצעד הגאווה

א"ח: מתוך ה"אני המאמין" שלך באתר הבית, את מדברת על "קידום הדיאלוג בין הקהילה ההומו-לסבית עם כלל הציבור הירושלמי" – זה כולל גם את הציבור החרדי בירושלים?

נעמה: כל הציבור הירושלמי – כל המרקם המורכב שיש בעיר הזו – חלק מההתנדבות שלי שאני ממשיכה לעשות עכשיו כחברת ועד זה, למשל, ההרצאות. שרות ההרצאות זה שרות של מתנדבים ומתנדבות, שבאים לציבור הרחב, מי שמסכים לדבר איתנו בעצם. זה יכול להיות בתי ספר, משטרה ועובדים של שירותי בריאות. אנחנו מנסים להגיע לכל מקום, ואנחנו מנסים ליצור שיח פתוח סביב הנטיה המינית. אז הקהילה החרדית היא גם כן חלק מהמרקם בירושלים. יש גם חרדים שמגיעים לבית הפתוח, ואני גם באופן אישי הייתי בקשר עם כמה מהם.

א"ח: איך לדעתך אפשר לעודד יותר סובלנות בתוך הקהילה החרדית הדתית?

נעמה: אני חושבת – א', חשוב לי להגיד שהמתנגדים או האנשים שמתגלים בחוסר סובלנותם לקהילה ההומו-לסבית, בי וטרנס הם לא רק יוצאים מהקהילות החרדיות. יש לא מעטים גם בקהילה החילונית והדתית לאומית, שהם מתנגדים מאוד קיצוניים.
הבית הפתוח הוא ארגון, שגם מספק את צרכי הקהילה וגם מוביל בתחום של שינוי חברתי. המאבק שלנו על היראוּת במרחב הציבורי הוא מאוד חשוב, מפני שהרבה מההתנגדות נובעת מבורות, מחוסר ידיעה של עובדות, מסטריאוטיפים ומדעות קדומות. ברגע שאנחנו יוצאים לחלל הציבורי ורואים שאנו כאחד האדם, לא סוטים ולא חולים, אין לנו קרניים על הראש ואנו אנשים כמו כל אחד, אז זה מקדם את המאבק.
זו דרך ארוכה. קודם כל, אתה צריך להיות במגע עם מה שאתה מפחד ממנו. הם לא אוהבים את המגע הזה במצעד הגאווה, אבל אני חושבת שזה יוכיח את עצמו גם במגזר החרדי... למשל, היתה לי פגישה עם ראש מינהל חינוך ירושלים, שהוא דתי... ובתור מישהי משרות ההרצאות, רצינו לקדם להיכנס לבתי ספר. הצעד של החינוך וההסברה הוא צעד משלים, שהכרחי לקיים אותו.

א"ח: במצעד הגאווה האחרון היו הרבה שוטרים ואבטחה: 7600 שוטרים ל-3000 צועדים. יש הרבה שטוענים, שזה ביזבוז כספי המיסים של הציבור.

נעמה: כן, וכשמאבטחים כל מיני הפגנות אחרות או צעדת ירושלים או מה שזה לא יהיה, אנחנו לא נשמע טענות כאלה. דבר שני, אנחנו לא גרמנו לאלימות, שבגינה צריך לאבטח אותנו. אי אפשר להאשים את הקורבן באלימות שמופנת כלפיו. יש פה בהחלט איזשהו מהלך של "הומופוביה מתוחכמת", שבה מאשימים את הקורבן. זאת אומרת אם לא היתה אלימות, אם הציבור החרדי הקיצוני לא היה יוצא לרחובות ואם הוא לא היה מאיים, אז לא היינו צריכים את כל ה-7000 שוטרים האלה. אני חושבת, להגיד שזה עלה 7000 שוטרים - כשיש כאלו איומים עלינו - זה מחיר הדמוקרטיה, והדמוקרטיה צריכה לשלם על זה. אני מקווה שבשנה הבאה לא תהיה כזו התלהמות ואלימות, ונוכל לצעוד בבטחה עם פחות שוטרים מסביבנו.
דבר שני, "רק 3000", "רק 4000", "רק 2000", "רק 5000 אנשים" - זה מבחינתי לא המימד להצלחה. המימד של ההצלחה זה עצם קיומו של המצעד במרכז העיר, וזה ההישג ויישמנו את ההישג הזה. זה היה בסימן שאלה גדול, לאור מה שקרה לפני שנתיים, כשהייתה הדקירה, ואז אמרו אי אפשר לאבטח ואז מה שקרה בנובמבר, כשהתפשרנו על אירוע סטטי... גולת הכותרת היא שצעדנו בירושלים, במרכז העיר! לא היתה התלהמות, הכל עבר בשלום, היה מצעד מאוד מכובד ומאוד ראוי עם כמות נכבדת של אנשים וזה הישג מאוד מאוד חשוב לקהילה.

Me'ah She'arim following the Riots (photo by Simon Williams)
Available only on the full PDF version. Click to order.

Riot Grrrl Corner (Intro to the interview with Marla Hooch by Hadass S. Ben-Ari)
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I first heard of the queer dance-punk band, Marla Hooch, only this past year but they’ve been around for a while.
Based in Brooklyn, this electrifying group made of charismatic members – including Soraya Odishoo on lead vocals, Jenny Maurer on guitar and vocals, Sarah Strauss on bass and Sandy Levering on drums – played for several years in bars, clubs and in events and benefits such as Ladyfest.
Their music is mostly of a humoristic nature with simplistic melodies, which perfectly fits their lyrical style. Some of their songs also focus on sexual themes using obscene language, which I find makes their material much more potent despite their efforts to not take themselves too seriously.
All these being the reasons why they deserve this issue’s Riot Grrrl spotlight!
I conducted an interview with Jenny and Sarah about their beginnings, their future plans, their music and their thoughts about the Riot Grrrl aspect of it. Their responses serve to illustrate the stimulating nature of their provocative music.
(To read the full interview order the full PDF version of the zine.)