On this new stage of my journey, my father is no longer the center of my healing process; I now know we each have our own inner work to do.
I looked into her eyes and just knew. There was an instant recognition that she had experienced something that should never have happened. Something about her tone, her posture, her fluency in the language of surviving assault triggered my own awareness. And she wasn’t alone in the room, far from it. I stood in front of a room of Jewish teenagers, self-selected participants in a conversation about #MeToo and spirituality, grateful for the bravery of the community’s leaders who invited me to facilitate such a raw, important conversation.