Last summer Rifka Meyer saw a campaign on Instagram called #keepitreal, encouraging people not to be afraid to share their real honest truth behind their “happy” social media presence. Meyer had concealed her pain for nine and a half years. Was it time to go public?
She typed slowly: “Story 1: “What do you see? An entrepreneur, girl boss, salon owner and hard-working business woman. Travels a lot, amazing family, b”ah, fab friends …
“Story 2: “Raw truth: was divorced at 25 with 5 kids under 7. Worked blood sweat and tears to provide for my family … After a short time in a second (hard) marriage I’ve been left without a Get for almost 10 years now. To my sister agunot, we make life go on, and Bh that I am fortunate enough I can move on, yet these men get away with this emotional abuse. How?? ….”
She pressed “send”.
Meyer married for the first time aged 18 and was divorced by 25. She was alone for seven years before she met her second husband, but that marriage only lasted two and a half years. She had qualified in hairdressing and opened a wig salon after her first divorce, as she recognised how important it was to be financially independent. The irony of helping Orthodox brides choose their first wig, while she was desperately awaiting her divorce, was not lost upon her. Rather than be bitter, she actually enjoyed helping them partake in this spiritual and religious act.
“I never thought: ‘I am helping people get married, and I am stuck in divorce’,” she says. “On the contrary I enjoyed enhancing their confidence and image. It was empowering.”
The reaction from her Instagram post was explosive, not just from agunot but women in general who admired her courage and were happy to throw their weight behind her plight.
Meyer had tried everything over the years — from negotiation and appeasement to even going to the European courts — but nothing had worked. Her newfound confidence led her to try something innovative.
Joanne Greenaway, a former disputes lawyer, had been the Get Case Director at the London Beth Din and worked closely with Meyer for several years. One of the new avenues she had explored was a private prosecution under coercive or controlling behaviour laws which were established as a criminal offence in the Serious Crime Act 2015. They turned to criminal lawyer Anthony Metzer QC to consider this avenue as he, along with solicitor Gary Lesin-Davis of W Legal, had successfully used it to secure a get for the first time in a case in 2019.
Lesin-Davis sent a pre-action letter to Meyer’s husband, outlining the plan to prosecute him, which could result in imprisonment of up to five years. Finally, after nearly a decade as an agunah, he caved in and she became unchained in less than four weeks.
The issue of the get has been around since biblical times. Whereas a man and wife bilaterally sign up to marriage, in divorce only the man can give a get. Essentially, if a woman wants to get divorced the man is not forced to comply as it must be given of his free will. As a result, the whole issue of a Jewish divorce is mired in complexity, perpetuating an imbalance of control by the man over the woman. Some men use it as leverage, to make preconditions while others use this tool just to exercise control over the relationship essentially saying: “I am not freeing you from the shackles of this marriage.” Why? “Because I can!”
“Traditional ways of dealing with agunot certainly in the UK don’t always work,” says Lesin-Davis. For example, communal sanctions are ineffective on men who have left the Jewish community or for those who are simply unconcerned by the range of sanctions that may be applied. “It’s about giving the woman an effective weapon and some options, as simply going on the halachic route isn’t necessarily going to give you the results.”
It is not just the get refusal or the withholding of the get in itself that is being challenged, notes Lesin-Davis, it is often only one feature of the controlling or coercive behaviour that one party chooses to inflict upon the other in a failed marriage. The intent of the new law, is to capture abuse that may not be just physical, but where someone is psychologically abusing someone else. This is often the case in get refusal.
It is not the first time that the UK Courts have been used to encourage the giving of a get. The Religious Marriage Act 2002, allows parties to ask a judge to delay a decree absolute until a religious divorce is finalised. But this law is ineffective if the husband doesn’t care about getting a civil divorce. The new route, is a far more powerful tool that may finally shift the balance of power.
Women can refuse to “receive” the get. While not widely publicised, this can take place, often as the wife demands a financial settlement.. However, ultimately it can be overturned by a heter (permission from a rabbi). The same does not hold true for a get refuser. As the giving of a get by a man, is a Torah-ordained law, rabbis cannot intervene.
Joanne Greenaway and the team at the Beth Din have worked on a number of solutions for women stuck in limbo, from informal mediation to legal pressure to encourage the man to do the right thing. These included the case of a woman who received her get after 47 years. The wife had not been in a desperate hurry to get it but eventually wanted the rubber stamp. It culminated in the dayanim preparing a siruv (a public notice) which, with the support of the chief rabbi of Belgium, persuaded the husband to relent.
By pursuing a private prosecution, instead of reporting it to the police, the victim retains more control of the process.
“When the state becomes involved the victim divests control of his or her case, a particularly sensitive issue when the victim’s complaint is that they have lost control of their own destiny,” observes Lesin-Davis. “When the state prosecutes, the victim is no longer the prosecutor but becomes merely a witness in the process. Victims may be consulted but they do not have the final say in the key decisions taken in their case.”
This new approach was about taking legislation and assessing whether it could work, before executing the right strategy. “A bit of good Jewish thinking,” notes Lesin-Davis.
It can be costly, although the rules currently provide that a victim, acting as a private prosecutor, can apply to have his or her legal costs reimbursed by the state. Nor is the right to recover dependent upon a successful outcome in the case. Whilst costs are always a matter of judicial discretion, the rules envisage that an award of costs will be the usual outcome. The first case, which took place at the beginning of the year, went up to the Crown Court but in the case of Rifka Meyer, a pre-action letter sufficed. It has proved to be a strong deterrent which could ultimately criminalise and imprison a get refuser, says Greenaway.
Meyer has co-launched a charity “Gett Out”, to help current agunot, and also ensure far fewer women become chained in the first place. She is adamant that future generations should not be exposed to such trauma “We want to bring awareness about halachic pre-nup for future generations, it has to become a norm,” she says. “As a mother of five I don’t want my kids to go through a wedding without a halachic pre-nup.”
The other charity’s co-founder is Rabbanit Ramie Smith. “Prevention,” she agrees, “is just as important as healing the wounds.”
She grew up and married in the United States where it’s standard practise for couples to have a pre-nup that has a financial penalty attached to it for each month that passes without the get being given. She views the pre-nup as the “ultimate act of love” as you say to your spouse “I want to ensure that even in my darkest moments I will protect you.”
The aim of the charity is to support agunot financially and emotionally so that no woman feels isolated. Overall, Smith hopes that rabbis will find solutions like they do to other matters, as has been evidenced throughout history up until the present day coronavirus pandemic.
“Throughout the centuries rabbis have created many loopholes and solutions. We have brilliant halachic minds working on so many issues it seems impossible that there is nothing that can be done to help agunot,” she argues. “We need rabbinic authority to use the tools given to them within the halachic system to free these women and prevent this from being an ongoing issue.” Inspired by American Blu Greenberg, known as the founder of Orthodox feminism, Ramie echoes her mantra: “Where there’s a rabbinic will there’s a halachic way.”
It has now been a few months since Rifka Meyer finally got her get. Apart from Covid-19 isolation she is enjoying her newfound freedom. “I am loving life and living life.” As for a new partner: “I will find Mr Right in the right time.”
She has chosen to keep wearing her wig in public, albeit by mixing her natural hair with the wig hair. It’s primarily based upon the premise that in taking upon herself this religious obligation, in the first place, she doesn’t want to “detract” from it.
Her long suffering as an agunah is something she doesn’t want to forget either.
“That whole experience has moulded me hugely as a person. I want to take that pain and plant it into Gett Out and help people in whatever way they need.”
gettoutuk@gmail.com
