Thank you for not making me a woman?

I was at the supermarket, waiting in the self-checkout line when a mother struggling to organize her groceries juggled a child running between people and another life forming in her womb. A man standing next to me in what in Israel is understood as an organized line looked at me and said with a relieved air, “Thank you for not making me a woman.”

I looked at him in astonishment. In the morning, my brain didn’t function at total capacity, and it took me a few seconds to recover from this phrase that hit me like a punch, a dry blow to the stomach. I know he was making a joke. But jokes can be racist, misogynistic, or just poor in taste. And jokes are a reflection of society. I wouldn’t say I liked it when someone made jokes about Jews when I lived in Brazil. Each of those jokes is a painful reminder of how people see and treat the “other.”

I’m not religious, but I love history. And I know this phrase is part of an ancient Jewish blessing, recited in morning prayers, where men thank God for not having been made women, enslaved people, or gentiles. A prayer that should bring relief but carries the weight of centuries of oppression and subordination. A prayer that perpetuates the idea that being a woman is, in some way, a less dignified destiny. As specific rules, like the prohibition against using electricity on the Sabbath or the separation of meat and dairy, have been debated and, in some communities, adapted or relaxed with societal development, this blessing also deserves scrutiny.

How can someone accept an expression of faith that perpetuates such misogyny? Some things shouldn’t keep being repeated, or am I wrong? From the point of view of an atheist humanist, religion is a social control tool, a mechanism to consolidate power and justify the domination of certain groups over others. It offers a sense of belonging and cohesion, which is interesting, but at what cost? At the expense of ignoring and minimizing half of humanity. Does that make sense to you?

I looked at that mother, carrying two lives while trying to maintain order amid the chaos of everyday life, and understood that, beside her, that man, thanking her for not being a woman, reinforcing a narrative of inferiority, was pathetic. Am I thanking you for not being a woman? That is celebrating a social construct that diminishes women, seeing them as less capable and less worthy of spirituality and leadership. To me, the sacred disconnects when we don’t see this. I can’t connect with a cruel text where women have less value, less light, and less presence. How can all this be justified in the name of faith?

I’m not religious, so I shouldn’t make judgments or assumptions about faith, nor am I a woman to have the right to speak, but as a humanist, I feel I have the right to write about this. This is one of the reasons I believe that doctrines are not divine works; I can’t imagine a God who values this division. It’s easier to understand that we, men, in our arrogance and fear, shaped faith in the image of our own prejudices. If there is something divine, I can’t imagine that its essence, supposedly permeating every atom of the universe, makes these distinctions. It makes more sense to me to imagine that it understands this energy shines equally in everyone, men and women, rich and poor, free and oppressed.

True faith should be a journey of self-discovery and spiritual growth, not a set of mechanical rituals that perpetuate segregation and inequality. Instead of thanking for not being a woman, we should thank for the ability to see the light in every human being, regardless of gender, race, or religion. Thank you for transcending the limitations imposed by culture and tradition and finding true communion with the sacred and the mundane in its purest and most inclusive form.

Even more so in Israel, where women have equal duties but not all equal rights. Exaggeration? So here is a list from a man’s point of view. I’m sure women can add others I haven’t imagined, like wage disparities and discrimination in promotion and hiring, underrepresentation in political positions, and inconsistency in the implementation of laws against domestic violence and sexual harassment. And the most shocking thing is their inability to request a divorce unilaterally. How can we, in a modern society, accept that tradition relegates half the population to an inferior status? For me, it’s unacceptable.

Justice in Israel cannot flourish in a terrain poisoned by prejudice and misogyny. True spirituality must be a beacon of equality, a light that illuminates without discriminating, that embraces without judging. Only then can we truly connect with the sacred, respecting the dignity and value of every human being. After all, if there is something divine in us, it must be our ability to love and respect each other, regardless of any distinction. That is the faith worth living and celebrating.