I’m a 46-year-old woman working for and with men, many of them half my age.
It’s a job I accepted soon after making Aliyah. For 20-plus years I’ve been a journalist, entrepreneur and communications director. I’ve written and published hundreds of articles, hired and lead teams, created a women’s magazine, and developed strategy for startups.
Most importantly, as a Jewish woman I am building my connection with G-d, trying to infuse Torah into my daily life, and raising four children according to their unique gifts.
But I took on the full-time role of content and copywriting, filling in for someone on maternity leave. I loved the mission. I loved the people. Though I only go into the office once of twice a week, I’d come back alive with creative vigor. And I even liked the online meetings in between. I’d look at the faces on the screen and feel good about the team I was working with.
But then things suddenly shifted. The founder went overseas for the summer, as did the person who hired me.
In the meantime, they laid off employees, and it’s a small company so the impact feels intense. These are good people trying to do good work for the land and people of Israel, but there’s a recession and inflation going on simultaneously in the U.S., where most of our donors live. Times are tough for everyone.
Much of the days are now filled with meetings focused only on data and numbers. I come away from the office now feeling like I’m numb inside, then travel 2.5 hours north back to my children.
Our company WhatsApp messages include pictures of our leader smiling with politicians and wealthy potential donors, with no mention of what’s going on or words of inspiration.
One of the casualties of the layoffs is a talented woman who had become my favorite colleague and a friend. Another employee offloaded his donor relationship responsibilities onto me through an email. And I’m getting assignments from seven different people, without anyone being aware of the big picture.
It’s not that I mind taking on more work. I like to feel needed and productive.
And I was reminded that as a new oleh I should be grateful to have a job, a good salary, and a company that allows me to work remotely as a writer. And this is probably true. I want to be grateful.
But my mental and physical health were suffering, and I was losing sight of the impact we are having. But the bottom line is that I was losing myself. I keep asking, “What does G-d want from me?”
A little idealism and inspiration can go a long way.
Perhaps it’s the story of all immigrants throughout history who had to take professional steps down in a new country. Or all employees who do what others tell them in order to keep getting a paycheck, while their real talents go unused. Or all women over 40 trying to remain relevant among millennials in a male-dominated organization.
I want to continue to help other women–and myself–realize our strengths, to do what we love, to feel appreciated and supported.
I’ve been offering no-cost coaching and consulting to female Olim and potential Olim. Partly because I want to help women like me, but also to help me feel more connected.
I need to know that I’m having a positive impact.
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As Rav Yisroel Salanter would say, “If even one person is affected by your words, that is a success, and if that one person is you, that is a miracle.”
Mindy Morasha 