Advice to the Second Gentleman from a veteran male ‘rebbetzin’
Nobody knew what to call me either. Just over 30 years ago, I walked into a synagogue in Venice, California, met the rabbi, Naomi Levy, and felt my heart pound. A year-and-a-half later, we were married. She was my Kamala. Back then, women rabbis weren’t as scarce as Black-Indian female Vice Presidents-elect, but they weren’t…
 
	 
	 
	 
	 
	 
	 
	 
	 
	 
	 
	 
	 
	 
	 
	 
	 
														 
														 
														 
														