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Consider this, Kingpin. When a previously unobservant Jew decides to become observant, the black hats and headscarves are even more intimidating. See, for someone not reared among Jews and Judaism, that just looks like "Jew," and so it feels no more difficult than approaching your first synagogue in which everyone's wearing jeans. For someone born Jewish, the black hats and headscarves look like someone who knows how to do it right... and the previously unobservant Jew feels defensive, like they SHOULD know how to do it right, but they really don't. It's very intimidating to feel, "Why don't I do this? Will I have to defend myself or my family for not teaching me this way of doing things? What if I don't like it -- will I have to get into some whole big argument about it, when I'm not even sure whether I believe it's necessary or not?"

In both cases, though, it gets easier when you remember that every Jew who decides to live observant after a lifetime of being unobservant or less observant -- AND every sincere convert, who chooses Judaism and the Jewish people with open eyes and an informed mind -- is considered precious beyond jewels. It feels like finding a treasure that we, Israel, didn't even realize we'd lost. Like meeting the love of one's life, when the only regret is all the time we spent not knowing this person and having them in our lives. I suppose it's also like adopting or giving birth to a child -- this stranger, whom we love even before fully knowing what they'll turn out to be like.

You're totally not the only one. Actually, you're going to find it a lot easier than if you were older. If you've already been married once, the beit din would ask you loads of questions about whether you have a divorce document, or if your husband wants to convert (and if he doesn't, then you either divorce him or you don't convert), why you broke up, whether you have kids and whether they want to be raised Jewish too, et cetera ad nauseum. It's a real pain in the tachat (tochas).

Being young and unmarried, the only real question will be whether you already have a Jewish boyfriend and are converting for his sake. Be honest, of course, but the answer they're looking for secretly is "No, I don't, but someday God willing." They don't want anyone to convert for the sake of marriage, because if you convert and then break up, then you might not feel motivated to keep observing the mitzvot on your own. They want to know that you want JUDAISM, not just one particular Jew. And since it sounds like you do want to be Jewish only l'shem shamayim (for the sake of heaven), then you're good to go. smile

I won't lie: it can be hard to first approach any group of Jews, especially the Orthodox. The stricter people are about their own observance, the more likely theyll want to wait and make sure you feel like sticking around before they get too attached to you, only to find out that you've had second thoughts and don't really want to be a part of Yisrael after all. But once they've realized that you're serious about the religion and serious about wanting to be adopted into the family of Yisrael, they'll likely embrace you wholeheartedly to make up for their initial wait-and-see attitude. It does get easier once people get to know you.

If you move, you move. While it's nice to try and contribute to the congregation while you're converting, sure, it also makes sense go go somewhere that you aren't known as a non-Jew. But keep in mind that after a convert finishes the conversion process, that person is no longer known as a convert, but as a Jew. That's halachah. People aren't even permitted to ask if someone's a convert, nor to refer to anyone as a convert for any reason other than (1) to be called up to the Torah, or (2) when arranging a shidduch/match for marriage, because a convert can't marry a kohein. Other than that, people are required to be silent on the issue unless you yourself bring it up.

Orthodox female rabbis:
Mainstream Orthodoxy doesn't permit women to be ordained as rabbis or cantors, though there have been three women ordained as Orthodox rabbis within the last five years. I know one of them, a very sweet woman, Rabbi Haviva Ner-David. She's written a book that I quite enjoyed reading, Life On The Fringes, and you might find it enjoyable and eye-opening as well.

Conversion classes:
Actually, it's not only liberal Judaism that has classes. Most synagogues do offer an Introduction to Judaism class, and it's a very good idea to take that class. There'll be potential converts there, as well as Christians trying to learn about the religion that their deity practiced during his short life, and also Jews who regret not getting more of a Jewish education as kids. I took two such classes, one after the other -- one taught by a Reform rabbi and one taught by a Conservative rabbi with a very traditional leaning -- and learned a great deal in both. These are wonderful to take, and if you take one, then you can say "Yes!" when your rabbi asks if you've taken such a class. In fact, some rabbis won't talk seriously with you about conversion until after you've taken an Intro to Judaism class.

About moving:
Moving may be a good thing for you, but it would almost certain slow down y our conversion process. You'd have to start all over, since your new rabbi won't really know how far you've gotten with your Jewish studies or with your personal journey. I'd highly recommend staying put while converting, if at all possible. If you have to move for any reason, see if you can put it off until after you've completed your conversion. If you can't, well, them's the breaks.

I know you're not trying to ask if I'm a convert or refer to me as a convert, but because it's not tzanuah to ask or answer, I'm going to answer a different question instead.

I wasn't given a very Jewish upbringing at all. As a child, my family and I were performers, so though I'd never been into a synagogue at all, I was in a different church almost every week, singing or listening to my parents play one or more of their instruments; I heard a great deal about what the Jews USED to do, back in the day before Juh-HEE-zus set us all free of those horrible, burdensome laws. That'll get you down in a hurry. Plus, it doesn't really teach you anything about Judaism or Jewishness. I did, in fact, think of Jews as "they" and "them," simply because that's how I heard Jews discussed every week in some church or another. I was rather divorced, mentally, from the idea of Jews and Judaism, both as a religion and as a people.

So I have had to approach Judaism almost exactly as would any convert. I took classes, did loads of research, asked my Jewish friends unending questions. When I chose to visit the mikvah for the first time, I'd already been with my bashert for a few years. I find it an interesting place. Sometimes I love the mikvah. Sometimes -- like when I'm uncertain whether I can immerse, and have to ask a rabbi a shailah (a question concerning mikvah issues) -- I feel that something very intimate is being held up to the light and exposed in a way I'd rather not. But in the end, so far, I'm choosing to observe the laws of mikvah as best I can. Most of the time, I love the laws of mikvah and of family purity. At other times, I feel the necessity of them.

I know what you mean. Some of the churches I attended were wonderful places. Nice people, a message about love and kindness and mercy. Others made me rather sick, teaching about how much better this church was than those other churches, or 'worse,' non-Christian religions, all of whom were apparently going to burn in hell, from babies to great-grandparents, because they were blasphemers, and on and on. I still have problems with Christian theology and doctrine, but thanks to that first type of church I mentioned -- teaching about love, hope, kindness, and that kind of thing -- I don't have an inherent distaste for Christians themselves. Early experiences count for a lot, I guess.

Anyway, sort of back to the thread's topic: I just got a new job, and started yesterday. My head covering is actually serving me well there. I'm working at a Jewish publication, in the circulation department. I've noticed that while a couple of the employees don't wear head coverings, and shake hands or pat one another on the back on a regular basis, those who do cover (men and women) don't get that sort of reaction. People keep a respectful distance, don't offer handshakes, don't steer us around the room by putting a hand on our backs. Best of all, people don't automatically assume we're unfriendly just because we don't want to be touched or flirted with. They know that we can like our co-workers without wanting to be manhandled by them. It's lovely.

Normally I try to put on a regretful smile and say with sincerity, "I'm so sorry, I don't touch men outside my family for religious reasons." They generally look surprised, but apologize, and then we do that again the next several times we meet until they remember.