So TheFatLadySings wrote this awesome diary and in the comments the all too common misunderstandings of what the laws of family purity are all about came up. There are all kinds of fantastic resources on the internet about mikvah for women and the womens mysteries behind it - that is not for me to discuss or really look at as a man. What I can talk about is my feelings and what I have learned as an engaged male preparing to build a kosher home.
My future spouse is an amazing woman. Crazy - she's going to live with me on a boat and sail across the Pacific - but amazing. I'm very blessed to have found her. One of the agreements of our engagement was that we would live in a Jewish home. Shabbos, kashrus and family purity are the cornerstones of that.
Jewish marriage is a contract. Literally. The ketubah spells out in detail what I am offering her, what her rights are and the contract itself is her property. You can argue that "the Patriarchy" is the architect of the contract - but you still have to explain why it's her property and documenting her rights and privliges. So - what does she get? Charge of the home, clothing, sexual satisfaction, (yep, it's in there in black and white - HER sexual satisfaction) fidelity, support for the household expenses and any children, gifts on holidays, the highest standard of living he can supply and alimony. What does he get? The chance to fulfil the mitzvah to be fruitful and multiply and the option not to grant her a divorce. That second one is shitty, but it's pretty much the only legal power a man has over his home in Jewish law. That is another diary however. When I went over to propose a dear friend of mine gave me a reminder - "The ketubah is a man's shame. We must give her a contract because we are unable to naturally live up to the standards she holds."
So the laws of family purity are the ones where people get confused most often. When a married woman begins her period she seperates herself from her husband from the beginning until 7 days without discharge or spotting after. That evening she will go to the mikvah and perform her immersions and then resume sexual intimacy with her husband. That's the basics of it - the detailed laws themselves are an entire tractate of Talmud. But lets get to the practicality of it and how it is actually done in this modern day and age.
The first thing to know is that it is perfectly normal and expected for orthodox couples to have two beds. Their sizes and configuration vary, but in any home where the laws of family purity are followed, there are two beds, even if its not obvious. I should also mention that not everyone who considers themselves orthodox follows this practise and there are people who are not orthodox who do. This is a private mitzvah. One might discuss it with a close friend, but it's not a casual topic of conversation.
Now I've seen a number of configurations from two twins to two queens in a room, beds that have a lever mechanism to push them apart or together, one couple where the husband slept in the guest room or on the couch, another where she had a deluxe air mattress she put in the guest room for herself each night. Again, this is a private mitzvah, so whether your wife is niddah or not should never be obvious from your home. If you do the two bed set up you always have two beds, even if you are only using one. If you have one bed that seperates it is always together when guests are over should someone wander in looking for the loo or their coat. They might assume you practise the mitzvah, but they should never be able to tell where in the cycle you are.
There is no PDA in the orthodox Jewish world. We have a mitzvah called Shomer Negiah - guarding the touch - where you only touch adult members of your family of the opposite gender in the privacy of your home. You and your wife do not kiss at the door or hold hands walking down the street. Frum Jewish teens do not make out in the halls - they don't hold hands either. We just don't do PDA. It's rude. It also is an indicator of where in the niddah cycle married people are - so it's just not done.
Why is it an indicator? Because when a woman separates, she separates. No touching means exactly that. Put the car keys on the table and I pick them up. Put the baby down and I pick her up. I will put the plate down in front of you, not hand it to you. It's not about dirt, it's about dignity.
You are an autonamous person. I do not own you. I am not permitted to touch you because I feel like it. You belong to yourself. That is what shomer negiah means. That is what we teach our sons and daughters - to respect themselves and each other. Girls in particular take great delight when they understand the power they have. Packs of them roam the halls of the schools and the shuls, giggling as the boys pull back against the walls to make room and not touch them. They are not afraid to use or test their power, they do the same to the single men. We raise our daughters to embrace power, not to fear it. Day schools are often co-ed, boarding schools tend to be single sex. Women and men have their own social activities - often in the same building on related subjects, but women in one area learning the practical and mystical from their perspective and men from ours. Single women and girls are not obligated to daily prayer but often do it anyway. Some women have created their own weekly minyans away from men and read from the Torah for each other. There is much that is hidden from outsiders.
Gendered space and the sacred mystery of ones own sex are important in Judaism. Naming kiddushes for infant girls on par with a bris are all the rage in the chassidic world nowdays - someone pronounced that a girl who is not celebrated might not make the best match because her parents are deemed impious. Joint kiddushes are thrown for single women who were born after the custom came into vogue to help them find their best potential match - there they can grill the potential groom and possibly several members of his family to determine if he is acceptable to speak with again. If he merits a second meeting they will discuss customs, goals, expectations on family size, preferred shuls and schools, food, work and family holiday traditions. A third meeting is generally a precursor to announcing an engagement if the families agree. Women pick mates in reality in Judaism.
There is some advice I was given when I got frum as I was already fairly old for a bachelor - always look for a woman who holds at the level you aspire to, not where you are now. Women are the ones who set the tone for the level of religious practise, not men. If a woman doesn't prepare for Shabbos, a man isn't going to have Shabbos. Not because he's incapable - most bachelors can manage some level of basic cookery - but because he isn't going to insist if she doesn't. Same things with family purity - if she doesn't want to go to the mikvah - chances are he's not going to push the issue.
Separation is a real factor in the cycle of life of the Jewish marriage. I can't brush her hair before bed. We can't snuggle. I can make tea for her but not rub her back. I can sympathise - but I am not allowed into her sacred space as a woman. She is not mine and this time is not mine. It is her time for herself and her kind. I do not intrude there and I cannot get there because it is not for me.
But I can dream about the day she will return to our bed and I can see her full of life and peace - this is a new woman, different than the one who went away into the secrets of the moon - but built from her strength and herself and their secrets. I can look forward to the little things I miss like brushing her hair and the touch of her hand against mine; the private space we make together in our home as a couple away from the community. She is a woman, a being unto herself. Like a moth to a flame I am drawn to dance and admire her and reflect her glory. No matter where we go, community or not, our home is upon the mayim chayim - the living waters. She will always have a mikvah and I will always imagine her rising naked from the water reborn sacred and mysterious each month, this powerful woman who shares my life. How lucky a man am I.