I have long seen myself as the dissident daughter of an orthodox father, a truant who broke her father’s heart by turning my back on his cherished orthodoxy and living a more experimental way of life. It is therefore a delicate matter, this fascination of mine with the Other Daughter – the good girl – the one whose father did not call out after her in censure, the one whose aptitude for learning was cultivated on her father’s knee, the one who no doubt offered both her parents much solace.
Typically, I am way alienated by the goody-goody girl, she who is overly acquiescent to the established order. It would reassure me in my chosen identity if Dr. Avivah Zornberg with her soft tones, sparkling eyes and high-buttoned blouses were someone I might dismiss.
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