At SRE, we think every day about how to build safer, more respectful, more equitable Jewish organizations. Not just so each organization can thrive, but so that we are building more equitable systems across our sector. But systems are often invisible. So how do we make the invisible visible? 

This month, I’ve been thinking a lot about the quiet, invisible messages we absorb over time. The small ones about voice, leadership, and belonging. The moments that, on their own, might seem insignificant. A comment. An assumption. An oversight. A supervisor who asks a male colleague to present to the board on a weekend because he assumes the woman will be too busy with her children, when the male colleague has kids the same age. A colleague who continues to misgender a peer without a second thought. A one-off comment about a female rabbi’s outfit. Each one seems easy enough to dismiss. Easy to explain away.

But over time, they accumulate.

And what they form is not a series of isolated incidents, but rather a set of lessons about our value, our agency, our place. They reflect the system that shapes how we see ourselves and how we are seen by others. 

In my own life and leadership journey, I can trace these moments across years and roles. What strikes me now is not just that these small incidents happened, but how ordinary they felt. How normalized.

This is part of what makes the work of gender equity so complex. Because so much of it lives beneath the surface.

We often talk about barriers to women’s leadership using the metaphor of the glass ceiling. A single, visible obstacle at the top. But for many women, and for those whose identities intersect across race, gender identity, and other dimensions, leadership does not feel like a ladder with one barrier at the end. It feels like a labyrinth, a path with constant turns and obstacles that appear again and again (Eagly & Carli, 2007). 

You move forward, and then you’re met with unexpected barriers at every turn: bias, the double bind, pay inequity, feeling unheard or invisible. You adjust, recalibrate, and keep going. And then, another turn.

Understanding the complexity of women and gender-diverse people’s experiences in the workforce can help us develop the right interventions. Just as we must reframe the metaphors of women’s leadership from glass ceiling to labyrinth, so too must we reframe for ourselves the shape of progress.

Feminist scholar Rebecca Solnit describes progress not as linear but as “punctuated equilibrium”— long stretches of slow change interrupted by bursts of rapid transformation. I like to think of this similar to the broken shofar blasts - halting, inconsistent, calling us to continue paying attention.

Progress is real. But it is not linear.

In recent decades, there have been meaningful, hard-won advancements in gender equity. Yet, we are also witnessing backlash, retrenchment, and regression. Women still earn roughly 81–85 cents on the dollar, with even wider gaps for women of color and gender-diverse individuals. Women’s voices are too often interrupted, overlooked, or credited to others, leaving many feeling both visible and unheard. The double bind persists, where the very qualities that define strong leadership in men are often penalized in women. We are watching long-secured rights being rolled back in real time. So we must hold two truths at once: the work has in fact been wildly successful, and it remains profoundly incomplete.

Knowing that progress will be punctuated and incomplete, how can we still contribute to the work? 

At SRE Network, we often talk about three interconnected pathways for change that are both structural and deeply human. I believe that if many of the leaders across our sector learn and implement these recommendations, we have a real opportunity to make meaningful progress in confronting the persistent, systemic gender equity challenges before us.

First, policies. The beginning of SRE’s work first focused on getting Jewish organizations to adopt the SRE Standards, which advocate for policies like anti-bias and harassment training for all staff and board members, adopting and updating fair parental leave policies and ensuring that staff of all genders take them equally, having clear structures in place through HR for reporting incidents of harassment and abuse that prevent retaliation and protect the person harmed. Clear, thoughtful policies and procedures continue to be the foundation for organizations – they are essential. They create guardrails, establish expectations, and provide mechanisms for accountability. But policies alone are not enough. It is how they are lived, modeled by leadership, and reinforced in everyday decisions that determine whether they truly shape culture. Start with policies.

Second, noticing and naming. So much of what undermines equity operates quietly. It shows up in who is interrupted in meetings, whose ideas are credited or not, who is asked to present to the board, and who is assumed to be “too busy” or “not available.” It shows up in who is doing the behind-the-scenes, non-promotable work that keeps organizations running. We have to train ourselves, and one another, to see these patterns as they are happening. And then, to name them in real time. 

There is a deeply Jewish value here: omer davar b’shem omro—to say something in the name of the one who said it. In practice, this can be as simple and as powerful as saying, “I want to return to the idea that Sarah raised earlier,” ensuring that contributions are both heard and attributed. Attribution is not just about accuracy. It is about dignity. About ensuring that people are seen and heard fully.

We can also apply the Kranjec Test in our work. Danielle Kranjec, a personal friend and mentor, and the former Senior Jewish Educator for the Hillel Jewish University Center of Pittsburgh, once set a challenge for herself to learn and teach more women’s voices. Based on the Bechdel test, which is a measure of the representation of women in film and fiction, Danielle posited that a source-sheet with more than two sources must include at least one female-identified voice. This can apply not only to source sheets, but also to divrei torah, panels, conference speakers, podcasts, etc. Seek out diverse women’s voices and include them, because they matter.

Finally, allyship. Real change requires collective responsibility, arevut. It means using our positions, our access, and our influence to open doors for others. It means declining to participate in all-male panels and instead recommending qualified women and gender-diverse leaders. It means actively suggesting women’s names for leadership roles, making introductions, and advocating for their advancement in rooms they may not yet be in. It means being allies and advocates to trans, nonbinary, and BIPOC individuals by challenging norms that exclude, even when doing so is uncomfortable. And it means recognizing that none of us can move this work forward alone.

And importantly, it means embracing imperfection. Allyship is a journey, I am still on mine. We are all constantly learning and growing, but to advance women and gender-diverse leadership, it’s about the coalition of the willing, not the perfect.

This is not about getting it right every time. It is about staying in the work. 

Because the truth is, the journey toward gender equity is ongoing, complex, and filled with setbacks. But together, we are and can continue to make real progress that will have lasting impact.

I find hope in that.

I find hope in the leaders across our network who are navigating this labyrinth with courage and clarity. In the willingness of our community to ask hard questions, to challenge long-held assumptions, and to imagine something better.

Every time we uplift a voice. Every time we choose to notice and name what others might overlook. Every time we take a step, however small, toward greater equity, we are shaping the kind of Jewish communal landscape we want to live in. One where safety, respect, and equity are not aspirational. But lived.

And that is a future worth continuing to build, together.