I am writing to express my profound outrage and disgust regarding an article titled “Pre-Date Meditations” by Eli Hoffmann, published in the Family First section of Mishpacha magazine, dated June 4, 2025. The piece, appearing in a publication aimed at women, is an insensitive and narcissistic rant that shamelessly trivializes the experiences of countless girls and women navigating the dating world, particularly within the context of shidduchim. Hoffmann’s self-absorbed narrative—detailing his routine of dates with a detached, almost mocking tone—reveals a staggering lack of empathy.

We’ve just come through the Yom Tov of Shavuos, a time that celebrates the most defining moment in our history: Kabbalas HaTorah. For seven weeks, we counted the Omer in anticipation of that moment, striving to prepare ourselves. For generations, Yidden have stayed up through the night of Shavuos immersed in Torah, reaffirming our bond with Hashem’s most precious gift. And now that the Yom Tov is behind us, the question is: what lasting change will it leave within us? In recent years, our community has increasingly promoted the idea that the ultimate goal for a ben Torah is to remain in full-time learning for as long as possible. Limud Torah is presented not just as a value, but as the only value.

I write as a recent high school graduate preparing for a year of seminary in Eretz Yisrael. Like many girls my age, I am filled with excitement, gratitude, and also questions—about life, about myself, and, more immediately, about what it means when I am told that I must now only wear navy or black tops, with no other colors allowed. Over the past few months, a number of seminaries have quietly changed their dress codes to require rigid uniforms or limited color palettes. The stated reason?

This past Shavuos night, I witnessed something that deeply disturbed me—and it wasn’t just the emergency unfolding on my block. A Hatzalah call had brought flashing lights and urgent voices into our quiet street. But as the dedicated responders worked to assist someone in distress, what stood out most was the crowd that quickly gathered. Neighbors poured out of their homes—still dressed in Yom Tov attire—watching the scene as if it were a public spectacle. Some stood and stared. Others whispered and pointed. One child even walked up to the very door of the house where the emergency was taking place, trying to get a closer look. The Hatzalah member on scene asked—not once, but countless times—for space, for privacy, for dignity. Those pleas were largely ignored.

By any standard, summer camp is a serious financial undertaking. Between tuition, travel, supplies, tips, and extras, most parents are shelling out thousands of dollars for the privilege of giving their children a few weeks of fun, growth, and independence. And most of us accept that. We do it out of love, commitment, and the hope that our kids will thrive in a warm, structured environment. But now, the camp I signed my child up for this summer sent us a handbook, which informs me that I must use a system to send emails to my child — at a cost of $1.00 per email, with a minimum purchase of $10.00. This isn’t just unfair — it’s outrageous. In case you forgot, email is free. It’s free to send. It’s free to receive. It’s not some proprietary technology or specialized courier service.

I recently came across the advertisement in a very well-known weekend magazine promoting an upcoming charity baseball game, aimed at “raising awareness” and funds for an institution that provides financial literacy and coaching. On the surface, this seems like a noble cause. But dig even slightly below that surface, and the entire premise starts to reek of hypocrisy—and frankly, insult. Among the event’s proud sponsors are several corporations whose executives are making tens of millions of dollars annually, while the workers they employ, many of whom are the very “target demographic” for this charity—are barely scraping by.

As a therapist working in the Lakewood community, I recently attended a professional networking event, hoping to connect with colleagues in the mental health field. Instead, I walked away with something far more disheartening: a growing sense that basic social skills—simple decency, acknowledgment, and presence—are disappearing among professionals in our community. I attempted to strike up a conversation with another therapist. She paused, saying, “Hold on, let me just say bye to them.” I waited—but she never came back. No follow-up. No courtesy. Just… gone. This wasn’t an isolated incident. I’ve begun to notice a troubling pattern—not just at events, but in shul, at simchos, even at everyday interactions.

I write with disbelief regarding a policy recently introduced in a local frum school: a “Free Pass” initiative that exempts students from a final exam if they raise or donate $550 to a designated organization. Encouraging chesed and tzedakah among our children is admirable. But linking a mitzvah to an academic incentive is, at best, misguided and, at worst, a distortion of the very values we claim to uphold. Tzedakah is not a bargaining chip. It is not a ticket to privilege or a means to bypass accountability. It is one of the foundational mitzvos of a Torah life, meant to be done lishmah, out of a pure desire to help Klal Yisrael—not in exchange for skipping an exam. This policy does more than blur the lines between ruchniyus and reward—it erases them.

By all moral accounts, this should be simple. The Orthodox Jewish community stands at a critical juncture as New York City’s mayoral race heats up. On one side: Mayor Eric Adams—a proven friend who’s stood up for us when it mattered most. On the other: disgraced former Governor Andrew Cuomo—a man whose policies killed thousands and whose lockdown-era rhetoric fueled antisemitism well before it became hip for college kids to run around in keffiyehs. Yet somehow, instead of locking arms with the mayor who had our back, some in our community are cozying up to Cuomo. It’s an outrage, a betrayal, and a chillul Hashem. Let’s not dance around the truth. Andrew Cuomo’s COVID-era nursing home policies led to the deaths of 15,000 elderly New Yorkers.

Back in November, Yeshiva World News published a controversial mailbag article titled “Why I’m Voting For Kamala Harris Over Donald Trump, And Why You Should Too.” Many of you will remember it—not necessarily for its content, but for the uproar it caused. The writer made a compelling, if unpopular, case: that Kamala Harris represents a steadier and more principled approach to foreign policy, while Donald Trump’s decisions are more impulsive, more ego-driven, and more transactional than ideological. He warned that Trump’s alliance with Israel wasn’t based on shared values, mutual respect, or any enduring strategy—but rather on whether leaders “like him” or not. And he concluded, quite boldly, that this type of relationship was risky and unsustainable.