In the ultra-Orthodox world in which I grew up, real power is wielded almost without noise. It does not march in demonstrations and does not cry out in the main headlines. It moves quietly, like steady heartbeats, and is carried by the women who hold the foundations upon which our community rests.
And yet, history shows one clear thing: when women rise, everything changes. More than a hundred years ago, on the Lower East Side of New York, Jewish mothers—devout and modest—took to the streets in protest of the rising prices of kosher meat. They did not wait for approval or blessing. They knew that when there is no ability to feed the children, silence is no longer sacred—it is dangerous.
Their courage changed the rules of the game. It proved that even those perceived as weak and invisible can, in a moment of truth, turn into a historic force. Their story reminds us that every great popular movement began with a small step of mothers and sisters who refused to remain silent in the face of injustice.
This truth has not changed.
Ultra-Orthodox women today carry on their shoulders a large share of the community’s weight: economically, educationally, and spiritually. They are also its gatekeepers, and only they have the legitimacy to ignite change from within.
And yet, when Israel stands before existential threats—attacks from without and deep divisions from within—I ask myself: why do we hear the public cries of the religious-Zionist and secular mothers, whose sons serve at the front, while many of the ultra-Orthodox mothers—even if they pray with broken hearts—are absent from this national discourse?
This is not criticism. It is a call. The unity that Israel needs, shared service, mutual responsibility, cannot be dictated from outside. It will not come from the Knesset, nor from the Supreme Court. It must be born from within the ultra-Orthodox world itself, and it can be led by the women who know the soul of this world better than anyone else.
Women who can plant in their husbands, their brothers, and their sons a sense of national mission that strengthens their faith—and does not threaten it.
I am not calling for rebellion. I am pleading for partnership. For courage. For action. I write this not by virtue of my professional role, but from my heart—as a woman who grew up inside the ultra-Orthodox world and chose, out of love, to become a bridge: between communities. Between faiths. Between worlds.
If we truly listen to women, if we give them the space to lead, not only in quiet sacrifice but also with visible strength, perhaps we will discover that they hold the key to the change Israel so deeply longs for.
This article was originally published in Hebrew in Israel Hayom.
