Tuesday

March 3rd, 2026

Inconvienient Truths

Masquerading As Feminism: The Purim message turned on its head

 Rabbi Avi Shafran

By Rabbi Avi Shafran

Published March 3, 2026

Masquerading As Feminism: The Purim message turned on its head

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On Purim, observant Jewish men, to varying degrees, imbibe strong drink. And Jewish women do their best to keep the men safe and anchored in civilization. The holiday thus may not seem very female-centered. But, in truth, it is.

Not just because its hero is a heroine, and that the holy book about the historical event it commemorates is named after her, but because the Book of Esther, or "Megillas Esther" (generally called "the Megillah"), verily revolves around femininity.

Achashverosh, the pliable, preposterous monarch we meet at the start of the narrative, is a poster child (perhaps better, poster adolescent) for male chauvinism. His 180-day drinking party, as the Talmud describes it, was a bacchanal of arrested-development "good ol' boys" acting like louts. And it entailed the debasement, and eventual dispatching, of his queen, Vashti.

And the next action of the foolhardy king was to organize the antithesis of true respect for women: a beauty contest – a compelled one, yet.

Achashverosh, moreover, ends up being manipulated by a woman, our reticent, modest heroine Esther, and he is led by her to dispatch the Jews' mortal enemy, Haman, saving her people from his evil plans.

But there's even more here, too, and more subtle. Mordechai, Esther's cousin, the Talmud teaches us, was miraculously able to physically nurse the baby Esther when she was orphaned. Thus the male hero of the Purim story is rendered in a way something of a heroine himself.

Surprising and sublime thoughts like those are lost, however, on many people, certainly those who imagine they are somehow taking a stand for womanhood by celebrating, of all people, Vashti.

According to Jewish tradition, Vashti enslaved, beat and humiliated Jewish women and forced them to do work for her on the Sabbath. Hardly the stuff of a feminist icon.

What seems to have endeared Vashti to some is her refusal to obey Achashverosh's summons to flaunt her body to his male drinking partners. But that, according to the Talmud, was out of vanity, not feminist pride; her body betrayed her at that time, breaking out in something like severe acne (or, in one opinion, sprouting a tail).

Yet, one contemporary pundit declared: "Saving the Jewish people was important, but at the same time, (Esther's) whole submissive, secretive way of being was the absolute archetype of 1950s womanhood. It repelled me. I thought, 'Hey, what's wrong with Vashti? She had dignity. She had self-respect.'"

Well, self-regard, anyway.

Another writer describes Vashti as "a brave woman who risked her life for her beliefs," seeing the Megillah's message as, "Women who are bold, direct, aggressive and disobedient are not acceptable; the praiseworthy women are those who are unassuming, quietly persistent …" and laments (cue the smelling salts) "the still-pervasive influence of the Esther-behavior model."

And yet another advocate calls Vashti "a foremother in the best sense of the word — assertive, appropriate, courageous."

Although it's hardly the first time it has happened, it's still sad to see a carefully preserved Jewish historical tradition sacrificed on the altar of a contemporary ism.

In their blind capitulation to the contemporary notion of feminism, the Vashti-embracers mangle the Megillah and mistake a malevolent oppressor for a role model. Sadder still, they entirely miss the genuinely feminist, if countercultural, example of Esther: that her true power came not in adopting the social trappings of masculinity like assertiveness, self-regard and obstinateness but in the embrace of traits often considered feminine, like modesty, selflessness, faith and courage.

It's a message that doesn't easily resonate with many today. But it should.

Rabbi Avi Shafran serves as Agudath Israel of America's director of public affairs. Before assuming his current position, he served as a Jewish studies teacher in secondary schools for nearly 20 years. He studied in Israel and at Ner Israel Rabbinical College in Baltimore, receiving his rabbinical ordination from the latter institution.

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