When will the Mic actually Drop for some people?

Disclaimer: I have watched one Mic Drop segment - from a cousin - and it inspired me to write an article about the nature of emunah and fallibility of humans.

Publicly sharing our innermost secrets and our darkest moments is all the rage these days. Of course it's 'best' if you've survived some adversity, but that's far from a prerequisite. Social media encourages us to put ourselves 'out there' and live a life of conspicuous consumption that borders on exhibitionism. Those who speak out are applauded as brave, and sometimes raised to hero status.

Is that the Jewish way? I'm not sure. The blessing of mah tovu oholecho Yaakov was that everyone's tents were arranged so that no-one could directly look into each other's tent. Nowadays, the walls of our tents have been ripped away.


So it's not surprising the the Mic Drop series of events has taken off in the frum community. In a society where the prevailing culture is that we keep things to ourselves, handle any problems internally, and present to the outside world what an idyllic and perfect society we have, getting up in front of others and telling of our challenges can be wonderfully cathartic - even rebellious. After all, there is a deeper layer to this - the cultural clash between the contemporary trend of sharing our lives publicly and the traditional values of keeping things to ourselves.

Which is why the response of Crown Heights Rabbonim, while not surprising, is disappointing. This trend could have been an opportunity for self-reflection - to examine (a) this clash between social media sharing culture and frum values, and (b) how we can better deal with societal issues in the modern world.

But when all you have is a hammer, everything looks like a nail. So Rabbonim have used the tool most readily available to them - the ban. Their letter spent seven paragraphs talking about the reasons events like this should be banned, with a short PS at the end suggesting people with emotional struggles should turn to Rabbonim and G-d fearing professionals. Surely the emphasis should have been reversed?

Events like Mic Drop are not the problem, they are the response to (or perhaps a symptom of) the problem. Banning the outlet that people clearly need is not going to cause the underlying issues to suddenly and magically disappear. It's almost like blaming (and then banning) WhatsApp for the inappropriate communication that it can facilitate. Bans just send things underground.

Our communities suffer from the same problems as the outside world: sexual abuse, domestic violence, drugs and alcohol, mental illness, corruption, white collar crime. The list goes on. We can't pretend that it doesn't. What our community needs specifically to help us deal with these problems are channels that are compatible with our specific values. We need to look ourselves squarely in the eye and recognise that the culture of repression and silence is bad for us.

What of mah tovu? I don't have an answer, and struggle with that theological conflict. The essence of halacha is about boundaries; the challenge is to establish and maintain ones that do the job. I've seen friends 'out' themselves on issues of abuse, mental health and addiction, and many are better for it. Do we look at them differently as a result? Would we make a shidduch with them? Perhaps our avodah is to work on those prejudices and eliminate them?

The adage says that chassidim are one family. Families look out for and help each other. Families let the small stuff slide (and most of the 'stuff' is the small stuff). Strong families communicate well. We do need safe spaces to talk about things that matter to us. Whether it's the back of shule, during an informal kiddush/farbrengen, or a Mic Drop event - we need to be able to help and support each other in a chassidish and halachic way.