I was scrolling through psychotherapy memes on Instagram a few years ago when Hannah popped up in my friend requests. We each had new last names and new looks. I had decided that since I had to wear wigs anyway (as an ultra-Orthodox Jew), they may as well be blonde instead of my natural dull brown. She wore a mixture of wigs and other creative head coverings.
We “hearted” each other’s posts, not daring to break our silence with actual words.
“She seems happy,” I told myself, my…
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