Teaneck filmmaker offers rare glimpse of Hasidic women's lives

Deena Yellin | NorthJersey

Show Caption Hide Caption North Jersey's "Casablanca" connection "As Time Goes By," the song that Sam played again -- and again -- in the classic 1942 movie "Casablanca," was actually written in New Jersey.

Early on in Paula Eiselt's captivating documentary chronicling the efforts of Hasidic women to break barriers in their insular community, protagonist Rachel "Ruchie" Freier exclaims that the worst thing someone can say to her is: "I cannot do something because I'm a woman. ... A religious woman."

So when the all-male Hatzalah ambulance corps, which serves the ultra-Orthodox section of Borough Park, Brooklyn, bans women from its ranks, we know what's coming.

"If you can't join 'em, beat 'em," Freier quips.

"93Queen," which opens in New York City on Wednesday, focuses on one Hasidic enclave, but its themes of female empowerment and the trials of creating change in a resistant community are universal.

Eiselt, who worked on the film for four years, describes it as a story about "proud Hasidic women challenging the status quo of their own community and refusing to take no for an answer from the all-powerful patriarchy."

In the film, Freier leads the volunteers in their quest to create the New York's first female volunteer ambulance crew, which they dub Ezras Nashim, (literally "women's help" in Hebrew but also the term for a synagogue's women's section.)

Freier, a mother of six who prays daily and stocks her freezer with homemade challah, proves to be a stubborn revolutionary. Like her squad of Hasidic followers, she won't give up. She has already defied community norms by getting a law degree and aspiring to a judgeship.

"They think that women aren't fast enough, strong enough or smart enough," Freier snaps about Hatzalah members. "I think we are. ... We can have babies every year but being an EMT is something we can't do? Of course we can do it."

The trailblazers are confident they are filling a gaping void: The Hasidic community follows a restricted lifestyle requiring modest attire and separation of the genders. Although rules are relaxed for medical emergencies, many women prefer to be treated by another woman.

But Ezras Nashim faces hostility. A member of Hatzalah, speaking anonymously, says, "It's their duty to stay at home and raise the children."

The reaction comes in the form of personal attacks, online insults and threats to boycott the medical suppliers selling them equipment.

But the tenacious pioneers are undeterred, the all-female EMT corps takes off and the calls ring in. Ezras Nashim earns recognition by the New York City Fire Department, which assigns it the code "93Queen," and New York State awards it the Basic Life Support Agency of the Year in 2017.

The film wrestles with the question of how feminism should be defined. The word is thrown around, but always with a negative connotation. The volunteers are accused of being "radical feminists," a taboo term among the ultra-Orthodox.

In an unexpected subplot, Freier shatters another barrier by running for civil court judge.

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In many ways, Eiselt's own journey as a mother, filmmaker and modern Orthodox Jew mirrors the challenges of her characters.

The 32-year-old grew up as Paula Finkelstein in the tight-knit community of Woodmere, Long Island, and attended yeshiva day school. While most of her friends pursued careers suitable for "nice Jewish girls," she followed a different path.

New York University

Her passion for film was sparked in her teen years when she saw "Requiem for a Dream," directed by Darren Aronofsky. She contacted him and ended up interning for him.

Then, at New York University's Tisch School of the Arts, she directed and produced three award-winning short films and found mentors who championed her work..

Along the way, she married David Eiselt, who works in finance,and moved to Teaneck. They have three children.

"It was an uphill battle as an Orthodox woman to be taken seriously," she said. In the beginning, she felt she needed to hide her religious identity. Now, she says, she has learned to own all of the aspects of her life, knowing they will inform her storytelling.

She discovered her film's subject six years ago while reading a Yiddish website, and the idea struck her "like lightning," she said. Their venture represented a "disruption for the cultural norms of that community."

"I had never seen Hasidic women being defiant in any way," she said.

No media for Hasidic women

In Hasidic circles, appearing on film is considered immodest and women's faces are blurred out in newspapers and magazines, so it took time for Eiselt to gain trust. Her Orthodox background helped.

"What really sold them was I said: There is no representative of you in the media, and much of what is portrayed about Hasidic women is negative," she said. "I said if you want to change the way people perceive you, you have to show another story."

It wasn't easy. Some women who initially agreed to be filmed withdrew because of their husbands' objections. Eiselt also got some negative messages and threats.

Her goal was to present an objective slice of life. "I went for complexity and nuance to leave viewers questioning rather than setting up a good-versus-bad dynamic.

"These are full-fledged Hasidic women ... trying to find space for themselves."

Eiselt went into the project with her own misconceptions about Hasidic women. She was quickly impressed by their ability to juggle many roles, describing them as "superwomen." She was also surprised by how much fun they were. "These are just women you can be friends with," she said, describing them as open, non-judgmental and downright hilarious.

Her finished product marks a breakthrough for the movie industry, offering a rare insider's view into Hasidic women's lives.

The film premiered in Toronto in April and immediately created a buzz. Eiselt has been inundated with messages from women who tell her they've been waiting for something like this.

"It feels like a mini-revolution among observant women that are finally getting their voice," Eiselt said.

Toward the end of the film, a Hasidic mother says she wants her daughter to grow up with a message that, for Hasidim, sounds downright revolutionary: "She can be whatever she wants, and she doesn't have to sacrifice her religious beliefs or practices."