Back in August I reviewed Deborah Feldman's memoir about her Vaginismus and escaping the rigorous life she was tied to in Williamsburg, Unorthodox, which the popular limited series on Netflix was based on. Now I have listened to the sequel, Exodus, detailing her travels after leaving with her young son and how Vaginismus shaped her dating and sexual relationships in her 20's, so I've come here to review it as well.
I was surprised to find the fleeing to Germany which takes place in the 2nd half of Esty's story in the Netflix series did in fact occur in Deborah's life, just not at the same time and speed presented in the TV show. Deborah spent time not only in Germany, but also New Orleans and close to home in Manhattan. I felt after listening to Exodus that the characters she meets in the series were based off of the people she partied with in NOLA. There she had the opportunity to get drunk for the first time, fall for an alcoholic that led to a doomed long distance relationship, and take in all of the sights and sounds of the jazz infused, party lifestyle of the swamp city. There was a memorable moment when a black man mistook her for white and ran into her, obviously intentionally, but then they struck up a conversation where she explained that she was actually Jewish. He was homeless and hadn't eaten in a few days so she ended up buying him a steak for dinner. It was a good example of how we make snap judgements of people we pass on the street and how a little kindness goes a long way.
I definitely related to Deborah's descriptions of the predicaments you get yourself into with men you assume you won't fall in love with, for one reason or another. She described 2 relationships in particular in her mid 20's where she assumed the dudes were dumb as doornails, the types of guys who don't read books and can't hold a stimulating conversation, so they would be perfect friends with benefits, but then the unexpected happens. You get to know people better and sure enough, you fall. There's always something different about them that ends up attracting you, holding your attention, and providing chemistry which keeps you coming back. Then it all explodes because of the red flags you were trying to ignore. There's a particularly harrowing scene where she is role playing with her German lover that he is a Nazi and she is a little Jewish school girl. It's kind of hard to listen to, but she explains how this time lapse for the sexual situation helped her feel power, yet also imagine what it must have been like back then. She had a poignant line about how she came to realize that she purposefully entered into relationships that were somewhat unattainable, where they were separated by distance, to keep herself emotionally distant in addition to the physical part. Growing up closed off and then suffering from Vaginismus made it very difficult for her to open up to people later in life. It was just easier to play it safe from afar. I think many women like us can relate to that feeling, though that's where her and I differ. I've always been an open book, for better or worse.
My favorite 2 lines in the book were:
“Now my vagina was the new tool of oppression in my life,” and
“I have lots of anxiety. I’m pretty neurotic, if you consider being afraid of life neuroticism.”
These were said during therapy to her hypnotist who was working with her on mindfulness and learning to let go of her anxiety and wish to control things. The oppressive vagina comment hit me like a ton of bricks because it was such a truth bomb. I rarely read anything that feels so much like a thought from my own brain about my battle with my nether region. I constantly say things like "if I'm going to be cock blocked it's going to be from my own body, not *insert whatever here*," or "why does my vagina hate me so much?" These kinds of negative thoughts easily flood your brain during the low moments on this journey, like when you have a set back, your period comes unexpectedly, or you have a bad sexual encounter. The list goes on and on. Sometimes I think retraining your brain and learning to feel empowered about what your body can do and how your vagina will thank you if treated properly is the single most difficult part of all of this. It's like you know it's meant to stretch and accept things without pain, you know people deliver 10 lb babies naturally, and you know there are women out there who do enjoy penetration, and yet it tends to feel like our bodies are somehow "different" and have it out for us. It's a hard habit to break having a disconnect between your upper and lower half. It's almost like phantom limb syndrome in reverse, where your mind has chosen to believe that something is missing when it's really there the whole time. Trust that your body is capable and will listen to you when you give it grace.
The second statement, on fear, is also very relatable to those of us with Vaginismus. Neuroticism is defined as "the trait disposition to experience negative affects, including anger, anxiety, self‐consciousness, irritability, emotional instability, and depression". For those of us who have an irrational fear of penetration it is often uncovered that we fear other things in life, too, whether that be taking risks, having a lack of control over situations, or social anxiety. I know I suffer most from a fear of lack of structure. Not having a schedule and spontaneity really freak me out. I'm not sure if that stems more from a fear of the unknown or just a general sense of wanting to control my surroundings, but it definitely impacts my daily life, and in turn, my Vaginismus. It's always a work in progress to learn how to let go and live a bit more freely. I'm glad to hear, from reading her memoirs, that Deborah has been able to. Having these flings where she unexpectedly fell for men she didn't want to at least taught her that her body was capable of pleasure in ways she was never able to experience with her ex-husband. Her restrictive childhood and adolescence shaped her into an afraid, defiant individual who had to relearn how the world works as a young adult in a totally different atmosphere to be able to connect appropriately with her body enough to experience true intimacy with another person. People who read her books should have hope that it can turn out the same way for them, after leaving a toxic situation for a healthier one, even if only temporarily before moving on to something else. It can be a very eye opening experience to leave what you know and create your own adventure.
Deborah's 2nd memoir also goes into her journey trying to come to terms with her Hasidic roots through retracing her grandmother's steps in Berlin. I didn't find that the version I listened to focused on this too much, but she has now rereleased the book as Exodus Revisited: My Unorthodox Journey to Berlin, adding 50% more material, so the newer one probably expounds more on this. I also didn't feel like I took away very much about her experience as a single mother in those early years. Her son is mentioned throughout, but he doesn't play a huge role and feels like more of a side character. What I loved most about this book was just the prose in general. Her writing style has matured with age and experience and I found it more captivating. There isn't too much of a plot or linear pattern to this story, but her language carries a weight that keeps you engaged and wondering where she'll end up next. I recommend it for anyone who is curious about her life, anyone with Vaginismus, or anyone who has left a repressive religion.