Unmasked: The Real Heroines of Costume Day

It’s costume day in most Israeli schools today and the streets of our neighborhood are flooded with small bands of child brides, Disney queens, and unarmed soldiers and policemen. Two retro Super Mario Brothers – really sisters wearing adorable matching red jumpers – wait patiently at a bus stop. Pirates swagger past walking chess pieces as they make their way to school. Many carry lavishly decorated packages for a beloved homeroom teacher or principal. The excitement in the air is palpable.

It’s a beloved rite of passage that has spanned generations of Jews and defied geographic location. For some, it carries deep meaning and bespeaks the symbolism of the holiday of Purim and the Divine salvation delivered to the Jews of ancient Persia through the mask of the peculiarities of Ahasuerus’s court and the rigid system of law that governed his empire. For others, Purim costumes are about embracing the joy of the holiday and giving kids (and kids at heart) an excuse to lean into their silliest selves. Motivation aside, dressing up on Purim has become an annual ritual with a life of its own that is inextricably associated with the holiday.

Maybe it’s the perspective that comes with age, or perhaps it’s the lens through which I tend to view the world these days, but somehow, when I see dozens of costumed kids making their way through the streets, I sense something deeper and far more profound. More than the cheerleader’s perfectly matched gold sneakers and shiny golden jacket, I see the anonymous mom who patiently scoured the stores to find the perfect match. When I see a young bride with a delicate lace veil and neatly coiffed bun, I am really looking into the tired eyes of a mom who got up early this morning and harnessed her inner hair stylist to create her daughter’s dream costume. The young boy wearing a keffiyeh masquerading as a sheikh is really just the mirror reflection of his determined mother who watched a keffiyeh wrapping tutorial on YouTube incessantly until she got it right. The list goes on and on.

I don’t mean to imply that there is anything heroic per se about taking care of our kids. Making creative Purim costumes – or buying decisively uncreative ones online – is not an act of nobility. It’s par for the course. It’s another manifestation of the endless things that parents around the world (lovingly) do for their children. It’s not really any different than packing sandwiches for lunch, or making sure that our kids have Shabbos shoes, or both.

But there’s something about Purim that raises the stakes. The expectation to shine, to be seen, and to arrive at school on costume day in full festive form is far more intense. And for parents, especially moms, the need to deliver in these areas and make sure that our children feel good about who they are and what they bring to the table is far more intense as well.

So, this costume day, as we are surrounded by dozens of soccer players, surfers, Harry Potter look-alikes, and pint-sized Trump-wannabees, I find myself thinking about the real heroines of the day – the hardworking and creative moms who stand behind these caped and sequined kids. The ones who work tirelessly to make sure that their children have what they need to sparkle and shine not just on Purim, but every single day.

Purim sameach!