I write in response to Monday’s incident in Beit Shemesh involving police violence against Charedi protesters, as well as the subsequent investigation. While I unequivocally condemn any form of police brutality, I believe it’s important to understand the context of the event being protested and the community dynamics at play. The protesters were not rallying against some harmful policy or oppressive regime—they were protesting an event designed to help young Charedi men acquire valuable skills for the workforce. The programs highlighted at the event offered education in areas like programming, bookkeeping, engineering, and healthcare—honest professions that enable individuals to support their families with dignity.

My brother died when I was ten. He had cancer, and I couldn’t stop it. I couldn’t prevent his death, no matter how much I wished I could. But you, on the other hand, have the power to protect your child from an avoidable tragedy. There’s one simple step you can take to potentially save your child’s life: buckle their seatbelt. I know, some of you may be thinking, “This doesn’t apply to me” or “What’s the big deal?” But the reality is, I see too many children not buckled up when they should be. I understand that we can’t control everything, and as adults, we sometimes make poor decisions. We text and drive, we take risks. But children shouldn’t have to pay for the careless mistakes of their parents.

In recent years, I’ve noticed two parallel trends that are hard to ignore, and I can’t help but feel a sense of unease as these developments unfold. One trend involves frum baalebatim—individuals who have been incredibly successful in business—who seem to be engaged in an ongoing race to outdo each other with displays of luxury. Whether it’s the increasing use of helicopters for short trips or private jets for longer hauls, this competition for status and wealth is becoming more and more extravagant. What was once an occasional luxury has now become a routine for some, elevating the already feverish competition among the “one percent” of the Jewish community. Simultaneously, I have also been following the emerging space race among secular billionaires.

I would like to express my concern regarding the current approach to chinuch in Bais Yaakov schools. It seems that the focus has shifted from cultivating a genuine love and passion for Yiddishkeit to transforming these subjects into academic exercises. For many students, this learning feels like just another subject, burdened with challenging tests and heavy memorization. Unfortunately, once they graduate high school, many girls lose interest in continuing to cultivate their connection to Torah and mitzvos. In contrast, yeshiva high schools for boys take a very different approach. The emphasis is on fostering a love for Torah, encouraging students to internalize the teachings.

Several months ago, YWN published an editorial following a tragic incident in Lakewood where a mentally unstable woman took the lives of her two children. The piece called out those gossiping about the story under the guise of “spreading awareness.” At the time, YWN faced major backlash, accused of vilifying well-meaning people, ignoring those trying to make a positive difference, and misjudging our community’s response to the horrific event. I heard both sides of the debate and found myself on the fence. Rather than choosing a side, I decided to sit back and observe. With all the noise and supposed “awareness campaigns” surrounding the tragedy, I wondered if anything truly positive would come from it.

I often see anonymous letters posted on your platform addressing issues within our community, and I felt inspired to share a thought that I believe could lead to positive change. Am I the only one noticing this problem? When I explain the shidduch system to those outside the frum community, I often find myself embarrassed by its glaring flaws. The concept of the shidduch system is beautiful in theory, but its execution has become bogged down by unhelpful technicalities, causing unnecessary challenges for everyone involved. One particular issue seems to have a simple solution. Many boys and their parents express feeling overwhelmed by the constant flood of resumes they receive, often lacking meaningful context or thought.

Dear Klal Yisroel, Tu B’av is here. I see that there are many inspirational speeches and tzedaka campaigns going on as well as tefilla events. It is truly heartwarming to see how deeply we care about the plight of our daughters, granddaughters, sisters, neighbors and friends; may these tefillos etc. bring positive results with many shidduchim b’karov. I would just like to bring to the attention of my dear fellow yidden that Tu bav was seemingly primarily a day of hishtadlus. Therefore, along with your tefillos, don’t forget to do your basic hishtadlus by reaching out to shadchanim, family and friends. As much as these actions usually leave one feeling that they accomplished nothing, it is still worthwhile. Keep in mind that all you need is one boy and one girl.

As we prepare to once again mourn the Churban and the unfathomable tzaros that klal yisroel has faced in galus – both previously and currently – I believe we have to take stock of what our connection to the Churban is, and what sort of mourning we actually observe on this saddest and most somber day of the year. Chazal say that Tisha B’Av should ideally be observed for two day, but instituting it as such would be a גזירה שאין רוב הציבור יכולים לעמוד בה. But I am wondering if this is truly something that still applies today. Today, Tisha B’Av for many people means watching specialized videos and programs created for this day. In fact, there are so many of them, nobody could possibly get through all of them in a single day. As such, maybe Tisha B’Av should be for two days?

Dear Parents of Children who lost out on a camp experience, This summer, while we mourn the recent tragedies in Eretz Yisrael, let’s not forget the displaced families facing an uncertain future. Many of our American children are likely experiencing disappointment due to cancelled plans. Here’s an opportunity to turn those feelings into something powerful: Tefillah. Tefilos of tinokos shel beis raban hold immense strength. Let’s empower our children to channel their emotions into heartfelt tefillos for those in Eretz Yisrael facing a similar summer – no camp, no familiar home. Instead of dwelling on frustration, let’s teach them to re-direct their feelings into empathy and connection to Hashem.

Dear Frum World, I am writing to you filled with the feelings of rejection and ostracization that only a survivor (of childhood abuse) trying to live in the frum community experiences. People tell me I cannot speak about my experiences because it’s “not tznius;” “people can’t handle it;” “it’s inappropriate;” “that doesn’t happen in our community;” “it’s a lie;” “it’s uncomfortable;” “everyone goes through struggles and pain- you don’t need to shout yours from the rooftops,” etc., etc.  Please. I get it. If you think it’s uncomfortable to hear it, imagine what it’s like to have to live it. But, if you can’t handle hearing about it, how can I be expected to handle living it?