Good morning. Howdy. G’day.

The feminist behind me was super annoying.

Someone stopped in the aisle of the event hall to ask me something. And the self-declared, male feminist started to answer for me.

I chose strategy three from the list of possible responses to being interrupted while female:

1. Smile and say sweetly, I wasn’t finished
2. Let them answer for you
3. Raise your volume and just keep going
4. Offer with all the dysfunctional irony at your disposal, Thank you so much for answering for me. Throw in a glare for good measure

For sure, we have greater problems than this right now – things like all male war-rooms, deals struck by leaders enamored of concepts like male energy and men cutting funds for silly things like protection from domestic violence.

But here we are. A recent event with a university group where the men interrupted the women, answered for the women, assumed they would present for their workgroup, etc. and so on, tells me this is still relevant.

Which brings me to, how we hear the female voice. Or even, do we hear the female voice.

Or should we hear the female voice.

This week’s parsha is called Emor. Meaning, I will speak.

It finishes with a super cute story which a reference to a woman named Dibri (She’ll speak) – the woman who according to the sages was over-friendly and spoke to everyone – including saying, horror of horrors, Good morning, to people on the street.

This is enough for her to be named and shamed by our esteemed forefathers.

My Brisbane born, Australian dad moved to Israel with plans of first learning Hebrew and then Arabic. He gave it up and settled for saying, Shalom! to everyone on the street.

At his shiva, he was mourned by people we’d never met, who said, We’ll miss him so much! He used to say, Shalom! to me.

No shame in it at all, apparently.

So, here’s a thought. Next time you’re on the street, say Hello/Shalom/G’day/Marhaba for my dad and for Dibri. I bet you won’t get interrupted.