As a young ultra-Orthodox girl, she marched her friends into military order exercises, but only at the age of 25, after experiencing life-changing upheavals, did Hadas Stiglitz fulfill her dream: join the Border Patrol.
Two months ago, just after she celebrated her 25th birthday, Sgt. Hadas Stiglitz completed 17 weeks of intense training and became a Border Police officer. Wearing uniform, exacting order exercises, saluting her commanders with tense footsteps, and singing the national anthem aloud.
Follow Israel Hayom on Facebook and Twitter
But even in the imaginary script of that special day, which she constantly ran in her head, her parents and siblings were not sitting in the stands. Also, there were no baskets loaded with the flavors and smells of a home – which she missed so much. Stiglitz knew that her family members were refusing to accept the ultra-Orthodox girl's decision to become a Border Patrol fighter.
But when the day of the graduation came, in mid–March, the coronavirus pandemic ensured that Stiglitz would experience no exception to her friends. The grand ceremony was moved from the maintenance corps at Tel Hadid to the Yitzhak Rabin Border Patrol Training Base in the Judean Desert, without the presence of hundreds of families, without playing the police orchestra and with no famous speeches and exercises.
After receiving the warrior pin, Stiglitz was notified that she had been selected as the regiment's outstanding soldier, and was immediately promoted from the rank of a policewoman to the rank of second sergeant. "I made it big time," she said excitedly at the end of the ceremony. "I'm proud of myself for completing the long road. I got so much criticism for the decision to enlist, and here I am, the regiment's outstanding soldier."
"It was precisely the intimacy of the ceremony that made the matter more personal and exciting. Suddenly, I was equal. Nobody's parents came. During basic training, we went through one big 'melting pot' procedure. I met Christians and Druze, Bedouins and Ethiopians, and many secular soldiers. Where else would I get the opportunity to meet so many people in such a short and intensive time?"
She was born in Bnei Brak, the sixth of nine children. When she was ta toddler, her family moved to Modi'in Illit, and Stiglitz was educated at Beit Yaakov School, which follows the teaching of the Lithuanian ultra-Orthodox stream.
"No TV, no computer, lots of board games, lots of field trips around the country, and lots of playing outside. At school, I was a dominant student, and a very friendly one: cheerful, playful, and full of energy. Always checking boundaries.
"I was always independent, too. From the fifth grade, I started working; I always had the inner extinct that I needed to take care of myself. I babysat, collected recyclable cans, sold candy at recess, worked in a store, and later was a certified lifeguard at the pool. I loved being a lifeguard."
At the age of 17, she traveled with her friends to the recruitment office to sign an exemption from military service – "for reasons of religious recognition".
"There was no talk of military or any type of national service between us, it was out of the question," she recalled, presenting a photo from the day she waited in the recruitment office. "I see in this picture a girl who dared to dream of the military, but realized she would never enlist because that's the way it is; because at 18 I'm supposed to graduate high school, get married and start a family". There are very clear goals to be met, and an army service is out of the question."
But secretly, Stiglitz would express in her personal diaries, sometimes by writing in acronyms so that no one could understand, her continuous dream of serving in the army.
"I don't really know how to explain it, but the idea of serving in the military was always in my head," she said. "My uncle, my mother's younger brother, was the first ultra-Orthodox officer in the Air Force, and when we went to his officers' graduation ceremony, I was thrilled with all the energy the ceremony brought with it. I was captivated by the uniform, the 'left–right–left,' the saluting.
"I drove all my friends crazy after that. During recess and any time possible, I would parade them in the halls and courtyards. In 11th grade, I've experienced a certain disappointment in school, and my parents asked me how they could make me happy. In reply, I asked to go see an air force cadet inauguration ceremony. That's what a 'Super Religious' girl asked her parents for as a consolation gift."
Subscribe to Israel Hayom's daily newsletter and never miss our top stories!
"They ended up taking me to the airbase. And I'm sitting there in the crowd, ecstatic about everything that's happening around me and telling myself, 'I should be there, too.' The army has always been a dream, but everyone around me taunted me: 'Are you crazy? That's impossible'. As an ultra-Orthodox girl, the way we were told was best to protect the state, was through keeping the values of chastity and modesty and by giving birth to as many children as possible. I really did want to keep my country safe, but as a soldier."
At the age of 18, as expected from a young girl in the Haredi community, she went on dates with preteritive husbands. "But I didn't connect to the idea [of starting a family right away]. The path chosen for me was predefined and I didn't understand where I was in this whole scenario, where was my choice.
"Then the pressure started at home, tensions rose with my brothers who did not agree with me. Why should I get a driver's license? An ultra-Orthodox girl who drives can drive to shady and questionable places. These arguments devastated me. I had a hard time with asceticism and in the extensive pressure to 'worship'. I couldn't understand why it's impossible to do these acts happily and willingly, to observe Shabbat in a more cheerful way. In general, I always looked for some breathing room."
She decided to attend Ofakim Seminary, a boarding school, where she could also study music therapy ("I always loved writing and composing songs, I very much enjoy playing and singing"). To this day, she plays the guitar and the piano, by doesn't own her own instruments.
After two years, Stiglitz left the seminar. She could not handle the pressure to marry. "From the moment I left there, I started to change which today I realize is a process that started even earlier," she shares sincerely. "I shortened quite a bit the long skirt, replaced my 'kosher' phone for a smart one – all sorts of things that were 'heaven forbid' for my family. Once I felt my thoughts and opinions had no place and could not be shared, I realized I had to leave. Within one day I left for Jerusalem."
In the capital, as part of her interest in the security world, she studied investigative studies at the National Investigations and Security Unit ("It's a college that offers courses and training in interesting areas"), worked as a lifeguard in a hotel and rented an apartment with roommates. "During those days, I read Noa Yaron–Dayan's book – 'Shira Geula', which is about an orphan girl from her father, who leaves her mother and her ultra–Orthodox husband, and moves to Jerusalem. This book touched my soul. It was the first time I ever read about the famous 'Kikar Hachatulot' ['the Cats square') and 'Hezroni's Zula' (Hezroni's hangout place). Both located in the center of town." (See frame)
"I went out searching for the 'zula' and found a warm and cozy place, with a colorful and unique range of people – and great music for the soul. I finally felt like I could breathe. In Jerusalem, I felt more alive and my external image continued to change. My skirts became even shorter, and my sleeves have also shortened. But the truth was I didn't like myself because of that, to say the least."
Q: Why not?
"Because you can go crazy with what goes on in the brain. From the extreme changes you go through, between being completely free, and the strict halachic demands. You're constantly at odds with yourself. So many subtleties that you're accustomed to from the day you were born, and then suddenly, you stop it all – and the sky doesn't fall on you. Still, you feel a complete sinner. This can lead to great distress for former religious people."
After the Jerusalem period, which lasted six months, Stiglitz briefly returned to her parents' home ("I wanted to save some money"), and in the winter went on a short mission to Zhitomir, Ukraine, and served as a Hebrew teacher for girls in the Jewish community there.
A mere 10 days after returning from Ukraine, she flew to Thailand, an exotic destination, which she says has always fascinated her. "I flew by myself, and there I got a broad perspective on life. After two months of traveling, I came home a different person."
Q: What changed?
"I was exposed to the world and started to understand it. But I mainly understood how much I loved my country. When I had time to think, the idea of military service resurfaced in my mind. There, I finally decided I wanted to enlist. Although I was 23 already, I wanted to join the IDF. There, I felt, I can break out and put all my skills into practice. "
Stiglitz returned from Thailand with every intention to enlist, but then her plans changed beyond recognition. "I met a soldier from Givati [Brigade], an ultra-Orthodox fellow who enlisted".
"All of a sudden, through him, I lived the army vibe, the dream. I wore his uniform, put on his Givati beret – and I constantly took pictures of myself. I was so happy because it was clear we were on the road to marriage. But two weeks after he was discharged, we broke up, unfortunately.
"I was heartbroken, and with it came the feeling again that I had no home. I remember driving to a forest to be alone, and precisely at that point, when I was broken and helpless, I realized that all these years I was preventing myself from fulfilling a dream, because – 'here I am soon to be married' – and then, I decided, enough!"
After separation from the boyfriend, Stiglitz was at a fateful crossroads. "I realized that I had to choose life and not lose myself." Then the proposal to OU's 'Dror apartment' came (see the end of the article).
"Through a good friend I met at 'Hezroni's Zula', I found an apartment Pesach time last year, in the religious community of 'Psagot' in the mountains of Benjamin. Once I entered the apartment – I immediately felt at home. This was a caravan that had a beautiful panoramic view which overlooks the Moab Mountains. I needed the open air so much."
"In my first conversation with Talia, the counselor at the apartment, she told me: 'This place is designed to let you spread your wings and fly on your own.' I didn't even know I had wings. In the apartment, I found a listening ear, someone who is always there for me so I can pick myself up and recalculate my life's route. No one bothered me there; nobody demanded or expected anything from me. I planted spices and vegetables in a small garden, constantly looking after them. It did me good working in the garden."
Slowly, she admitted, she felt the sun rising again. "At the apartment, I was helped in connecting my broken parts. At that time, I started working with elderly women who have cognitive disabilities. They loved me unconditionally and broadened my heart. From Talia I learned how to manage a religious, well–behaved, observant family – her private family, together with making new friends.
"While talking to Talia and the psychologist available to the apartment, my interest in the army rose again. I told them that despite my age, 24, I cannot miss the experience and do not want to give up my duty as a citizen of the country I love so much."
Stiglitz inquired all the details herself and arrived at the recruiting office in Jerusalem, where, she said, they were excited to hear her story. "With shaking hands I signed off, canceling my military exemption, but I never felt so complete with myself."
Q: When did you tell your parents about the decision to enlist?
"It took me a while to tell them about canceling the exemption, and when I let them know – they had a very difficult time with the information. They didn't understand why I needed it and how I can benefit from it, but at that point I already decided I wouldn't let anyone rob me of the dream."
Following the cancellation of the exemption, Stiglitz was called in for the standard military screening like all young recruits.
"It was clear to me that I was aiming for meaningful service. I dreamed of being a commander at the 'Chavat Hashomer' base, commanding at-risk youth who were conscripted. My second option was to be a Border Police officer."
Q: How did you get to know these units in the first place?
"I learned about the Border Police through the [Kan] documentary reality series 'Jerusalem District' and I totally saw myself serving in their combat units. The action that the roles portrayed matched who I am."
In November 2019, she officially joined the Border Patrol. "The unbelievable happened. My parents did not attend my inaugural ceremony as I expected, but my sister came with my nephews, and Talia came with her whole family, and Rabbi Avi Berman, CEO of OU Israel also attended. I felt more loved than ever before".
Talia Gefen (30), manager and counselor of OU's 'Dror apartment', says: "I met Hadas only a year ago when she first arrived at the apartment, exhausted and powerless after a very big crisis." The apartment usually lists four young girls who want to leave the bad place they are in life "and move on to a more meaningful life, utilizing their talents, strengths and abilities. It all happens in a very open and free atmosphere, almost without rules, to make it clear to the girls that their choices in life completely belong to them and help them take responsibility. It's not in vein the apartment is called a 'Dror apartment' (Freedom apartment) ".
"Slowly Hadas gathered herself again, and together we built a schedule of going out to work. She is a very talented girl and everything she touches is gold. She has a very special and charismatic personality. "
Geffen, whose path with the OU organization began at the national service she did at "Hezroni's Zula", is the sister of the Major Bnayah Sarel, who was killed in Operation 'Protective Edge' in southern Gaza Strip. Lieutenant Hadar Goldin and Sergeant Liel Gideoni were killed together with him.
Hadas reminded me many times of Bnayah," Geffen said emotionally. "Beyond vitality and charisma, Hadas has this character trait that if she wants something – she will surge into it without too much thought. My brother was this way too. I kept warning her that in the army she couldn't say everything that came to mind, and the last word would always be from the commanders; because I remember it very significantly from Bnayah. At first he found it difficult to get along in the military framework because of this unique trait, and in the end he found his own way to bring himself in the most loyal way to the system. At Hadas' graduation ceremony, I felt like a proud mother."
Stiglitz started basic training with friends in her platoon, most of them being six years younger. Due to her personal circumstances, she was recognized by the military as a "lone soldier".
In her first meeting with the platoon commander, the commander told her: "Hadas is a binding name in the Border Patrol", referring to the tragic story of the Maj. Hadas Malka, who was killed in June 2017 in a clash with terrorists near the Nablus Gate in Jerusalem. Stiglitz , who did not know the story of Malka's heroism, was very excited to follow in her footsteps.
A week before the basic training graduation ceremony, and before the coronavirus virus shut down the entire country, I met Stiglitz and her commanders. She had just returned from physical tryouts to the Border Police's elite unit, which she did not complete, to her regret.
"The main thing is I know I tried. My knees are completely worn down", she smiles. "I really hope I can pull them together for the rest of the training. The tryouts were tough physically. I was ousted in a stage that required intense physical effort, but don't think of me that way, I am very strong.
"Throughout basic training, I found myself being asked repeatedly the question of how come I only got drafted now, so at a certain point, I gathered the whole company and told them I came from an ultra-Orthodox family.
"I wish my parents could understand the fact that me wearing a uniform and pants, doesn't reflect at all on my values. I don't define myself as former religious. I still observe Shabbat and keep kosher, very much believe in God, and when I'm not in uniform I don't dress in an exposed way. In my inner essence, I'm still a religious girl. Everyone calls me 'Rebetzin Stiglitz' here. A friend even joined me, and we observed Shabbat together on base. We attended the synagogue here which was delightful."
Q: You are older than all the recruits at the base, and most of your commanders, too.
"I respect my commanders, and it doesn't matter how old they are. In my platoon, there are girls who call me 'mom,' and when they miss their parents, I talk to them and help them overcome. I also had a moment that I was very sad and wept endlessly into my pillow. There was a certain time when everyone was on the phone with their parents – and I was the only one who wasn't. That feeling of deep loneliness broke me."
Q: You now seem strong and motivated.
"Thanks to this wonderful corps and my wonderful commanders. I feel like I have a new family that takes care of me for everything. I don't give up on them nor do they give up on myself. They trust me, believe in me, my heart grows in the face of this fact."
Q: How do you get by financially?
"All my life, I'm used to being independent and supporting myself, then all of a sudden, because of the army service, I can't work. There were days in basic training that I couldn't afford shampoo for my hair, but thanks to the support of my commanders, I learned to speak up, and not be shy. My commander took care of everything I needed, including allowing me to use my mobile during the day".
Stiglitz commanding offer Tzahi Sofer, said she "has very high motivation and is very opinionated and physically strong. She's always first, pushing and supporting those in difficulty, sweeping the department after her. The other girls come to her for sage advice, take comfort in her, to soothe the difficulties, and she always has good and wise words to say. We do not give her any discounts, except for the fact that she cannot be punished for not being let out for the weekend and staying on base for Shabbat."
After basic training, Stiglitz was placed with the "Bazelet" (Basalt) company of the Jerusalem region. "I'm so happy that I'm in the field and not in front of a computer," she jokes.
Over the past two months, she has been escorting and protecting the Jewish residents living in East Jerusalem. The coronavirus days brought slightly different activity, she says, which included enforcing traffic restrictions and keeping citizens safe in that aspect as well. "Due to the lockdown, and the fact that the streets were empty, I was able to get better acquainted with the district. The holy month of Ramadan was taken into account, so of course, there were events that I could not elaborate on in this interview. I can only say that I definitely studied the area and understood what I stand for, learning to conduct and exercise judgment. In short, mainly learning."
In the meantime, she had moved to 'Beit Giora' in Jerusalem, an apartment building intended for lone soldiers, after her apartment in Psagot fulfilled its course and was vacated in favor of other girls who needed it more.
Her head, she says, is already planning the rest of her service. "I really hope to advance to the position of a team commander, then off to officer course, because I have a lot to give. For me, I'm already a Border Patrol officer."
'Zula' for the soul
The Orthodox Union (OU), or its full name, the Union of Orthodox Jewish Congregations of America, is one of the largest and oldest in Orthodox Jewish organizations in the United States. The organization has been operating in Israel for 40 years. The organization runs a variety of youth promotion projects across the country, among others are "Makom Balev", "Oritta", as well as "Hezroni's Zula", headed by Harel Hezroni and located in Jerusalem.
OU Israel CEO Rabbi Avi Berman said, "We operated the 'Zula' when we realized that there are many young adults in Jerusalem who roam the streets, especially ones who come from religious houses."
Lovely fellas looking for answers. Anyone who is going through a crisis, of any kind, can consult with the Zula's professionals – psychologists, social workers and counselors – and receive good advice together with positive guidance.
"The Zula, that sometimes receives over 250 young adults, is a very musical, spiritual place, contains and loves the other, no matter what he looks like, what he believes in or what he wears. We seek to give unconditional love there.
"Hadas Stiglitz came to the Zula, and then a year later to" Dror's apartment ", which is a branch of the Zula, and that's where we met. I realized that she was a very responsible young woman. She was adopted by the family of the apartment counselor, Talia Geffen, and received the warmth, love and guidance she needed.
"And now, she's enlisted and is an outstanding soldier – which we are very proud of her. I came to her graduation ceremony at the end of basic training, and it was a very joyful experience, which in essence reflects our purpose of doing. I have no doubt that Hadas will continue to flourish and become great."
