It’s Wednesday evening, and I’m just starting to think about Shabbos meals. I text my friend Janet (not her real name) to ask if she is hosting Friday night dinner, as she frequently does. For context, I am a divorced, Modern Orthodox guy with grown children (whom I’m close with but who are on their own), living in the heart of the observant Jewish community in Baltimore, Maryland. A few minutes later, she replies that she is indeed hosting, but it’s a group of her female friends who alternate meals every month or so. She hopes I can find another place to land. “Do you ever do something similar with your male friends?” she wonders before we hang up.
It got me thinking. No, I don’t do anything similar with my male friends. And, as far as I know, none of my male divorced friends do either. In fact, the only all-male social activities we engage in usually involve me and my friends watching other people play sports. My female friends do all kinds of things together, such as dinners, movie nights, challah bakes, and more. This pattern exists in many other places. For example, my shul’s Sisterhood is far more active than the shul’s Brotherhood. I know the Brotherhood exists, but I can’t recall ever hearing about an event, whereas the Sisterhood hosts events every few weeks and consistently brings in a crowd. To be fair, my shul (which, as an aside, is very single‑friendly) does host male‑only activities, but those are generally limited to spiritual events such as learning, davening, and kumzitzes.
The reason for this divide is simple: men do not relate to, open up to, or engage with other men on an emotional level in the same way women do with other women. Of course, there are exceptions here and there (on both sides of the gender equation), but it’s by‑and‑large true. This is not a new revelation—this is the subject of the well‑known book by John Gray, Men Are from Mars, Women Are from Venus.
There is, however, more at stake than simply a lack of opportunities for men to socialize. Many communities have a support group for widows; no such support group exists for men. There is a very active organization called Sister to Sister, which runs programming for divorced women. They host very successful Shabbatons and provide a wide array of services, from shidduch guidance to help navigating tuition bills. There is no similar organization for men—not even close! We may not need the same level of socialization, but many men could use support as they struggle to put their children through day school or guidance as they try to get remarried. And although some of us may not admit it readily, we could also use more emotional support. I would postulate that women would benefit from it too!
While I don’t purport to be an expert, I would advance some ideas—and perhaps readers of this article might write to the editor with other suggestions. Communities and shuls can always be more supportive, hospitable, and welcoming to non‑marrieds, and recognize that it is not only women who need their support. Leaders within the communities could also facilitate additional support infrastructure for non‑married men, perhaps in the context of activities that are more attractive to men. But while some may blame the “community” for not creating such spaces for us, I think the onus is on us to make this happen. We need to acknowledge the importance of it and take action. Perhaps women who have been successful in leading support activities for women can partner with men to create similar programs and activities. Perhaps one day those programs and activities can coalesce into an organization for men, similar to those that already exist for women.
In the meantime, I will make a few more calls and invite some of my male friends to join me for Friday night dinner.
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