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Before the West Side was won
momoney

Questions New Yorkers can Never Answer
travis from Queens

TV: Bad for Israel?
arye dworken

Date to keep in Shape
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Jon Duker

YU Chooses New Pres
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Jewish Featured Headlines
arye dworken

Canceling Simchat Torah?
Leah Granoff

The UWS "Al Chaits" Isaac Galena

Choose you own Dating Adventure Ahava Leibtag

Entertainment Rebbis
Isaac Galena

The Dating Dictionary
Ahava Leibtag

Single Gal Wedding Guide
Jessica R./Jessica M.

New York Vs. Out of Town
Chuck Cohen

WWF star Chyna, Frum?
Arye Dworken

Dividing things Jewish and Goyish
Isaac Galena

The Jewish 80's
Noach Bernstien

Datin, the Cheap Way
Avi Korn

J-escort service
Eli Goldmann

"It" Girl
Miriam Abramowitz

Foot-IN-Mouth Epidemic
Avi Korn

Jaded by Zemiroth
Lon Smolensky

Purim Special Report
Judah Levine

Press Your Luck
Danny Fax

Upper West Side Story
Arye Dworken

Guta Neshama Hunting
Arye Dworken

Casting Calls to Conference Calls
Isaac Galena

The Kosher Daily Bang presents:

Confessions of Chyna
Or Yes, I Wrestle. And Yes, I Went To Bruriah.
WWF wrestler Chyna, reveals her true story growing up as a frum maidel and breaking into the wrestling world.

a special report from  wrestling correspondent, arye dworken.

My real name is Malka Reichstein. When I was a freshman in Bruriah High School, the only wrestling I did was with my Navi finals. Wrestling was not proper for a Bas Torah (even though Bas Torah did have a wrestling team, I think) and those polyester outfits were certainly not tsnius, especially with sponsor names' written across my chest. So as far as I was concerned,
wrestling was schmootz to me. I wanted to find a nice guy from J.E.C. and date him all through high school. Hanging out in Dunkin' Donuts (the kosher one, of course!) and eventually get married where he would work at Deloitte and I would be a physical therapist. Life certainly does through us for a loop. Ha ha. It certainly does.

I remember when I first realized that the WWF may be a career for me. I was coming home from a NCSY shabbaton and things were getting a bit wild on the bus. Yonaton said that Yizti's shtick on Shabbos lunch sucked. And in truth, it had. The shtick sucked, while Noam's, the week before was infinitely better. Eventually Yoni and Yizti came to blows and all the poor defenseless
Bruriah and Central girls sat on the sidelines praying for Hashem to bring a finale to these fist-a-cuffs. Although, thinking back, I think one may have been praying for a shidduch. But, in any event, I could not watch anymore. With my huge size, I stepped in to stop the fight. Now, I had always been shomer negiah and to this day it still haunts me. How can I touch, or choke hold, Bill Goldberg (who my parents want me to date because he's such a fine Jewish boy. OK, so
he's just Jewish) when I may be a niddah? To this day, I search the reshonim for solutions and heterim for this unresolved conflict. Nevertheless, I jumped in and subdued Yoni first, leaving him in row 27A slightly unconscious. I realized Yitzti would put up a bigger fight. After all, Yitzi
had been to second base with a girl before. Touching me was not a concern for him. But after climbing up to the luggage rack and performing my first atomic drop, Yitzi was off to evening seder learning Tractate Shluffin in the Marp.

I had found my talent that Hakodosh Boruch had blessed me with…or more specifically, my tachlis.

That day would stick with me, and with everyone I knew, for the rest of my 120 years.
My yeshivish father spoke to me and said that some people were meant to be learners, some
Rabbeim, and some wrestlers. I told him I would think about it. My mother wanted to not "know from it." She begged me to return to collecting yarmulka dugmas and give up my ideas of being a pro wrestler. Yes, I was a big girl, but my mother said that there was just more of me to love. My basheirt would be thankful…and hopefully, from a wealthy family.

High school had passed and it was time to go to Israel for the year. I had chosen Midreshit because Bravender's was too liberal. I was not concerned with wasting my time on Gemarah. I was so excited to learn more Navi and make frozen yogurt with fruit. My year was an enriching one. My, that frozen yogurt! I learned so much about make-up from the five town's girls (whose
tips have helped me today even. Talk about halachah lemaysah!) and I committed to certainly being shomer negiah. While I had slipped with Yitzi, who was at OJ, a few times (yes, we strayed from the derech a few times. Forgive me), I was now back on the path for real. My Rebbe had convinced me and showed me the emes. I would never touch another man other than my husband…or so I thought.

In my second year of Stern, I was walking from the classroom to Brookdale in hopes of quickly dropping off my books, scoping out the guys in the lounge, and making it to the cafeteria, as I knew that today was scallops day. But in my haste, I had bumped into a man and knocked down his briefcase. I had bent down to help him and I couldn't help noticing his intense glare on me.
"I can't believe this," he said.
"What?" being self-conscious. Was I not wearing eye shadow? Or maybe he didn't approve of my new GAP jean skirt.
"Hi, I'm Jimmy Hart. Will you come with me? I can change your life."
"Haskacha" I thought and replied "yes"; because someone whose last name was the organ of love (not that one, silly) had to be a guttah nishamah. Besides, he had offered to change my life. Maybe he knew that guy, Moishe, in Rabbi Schechter's shuir that I had been eyeing.

Jimmy had told me he was in the wrestling business. Which caught me so off guard considering how big of a mensch he was. I was always told that a wrestler was synonymous with "bulvan". Boy, was I surprised when he picked up the check. Two Kosher Delight burgers on Jimmy. Every bochur could learn a thing or two from this "bully". Hmm, Chaim Lehman, if you're reading this:
I'm glad I said no to our second date. The I-Left-My-Wallet-At-Home-Excuse in La Marais set me back 50 dollars. Well, I don't have to worry about that anymore. I can even sit upstairs now in the cigar lounge.

After much talk, machshava and negotiations, I finally was convinced to try out this wrestling
thing. You know, (excuse the pun) give it a whirl.

First we had to decide on a name. I suggested using "Malka." Boy, did they laugh at that suggestion. Then after spending a great deal of time thinking about it, I then suggested "Israel." I
wanted to show support for the country I loved dearly. I missed Israel and this would be a way to keep it close to my heart. They laughed again. They acknowledged Israel was a tough country, but everyone knew it was a guy's name. How prophetic they were in realizing that I would have enough trouble with the public's determining my definitive gender - I am not a man, so
stop it! But they suggested maybe another country. Nice idea. Hulk said, hey don't you Jews always eat Chinese food? And I said yes, because we did. God knows I can't deal without a good China Shalom meal. So he said, how about China? ('Estihana' didn't sound tough enough) Everybody nodded approvingly. We had found a name. Mazel tov! I shed a tear or two remembering my dear Zayde that learned in Shang Hai. Choosing China as a wrestler name seemed as an appropriate honor for his learning all of shas in the Mir Shaing Hai Beis Medrash. We called Joey, my agent, and let him know the good news. We had decided on a name. Joey, being yeshivish, was not a great speller, though. So we told him the name over the phone, but he had misspelled it "Chyna." Oh well, that crazy Joey!

My first wrestling match was with the Rock. I had finally found a heter from a Reform Rabbi in Wisconsin. He told me wrestling was not derech chibah. And he was right. But I did have a secret crush on the Rock. Would this be a steerah in his heter? Hmmm, I wrote that down for a future meeting with a posek. Before my first match, I was nervous as heck but I had said tehillim
and felt I was more ready that I could ever be. As I stepped into the ring, I had looked to the side to see all my rabbeim and teachers from Bruriah, Midreshit, and Stern. They were certainly shepping nachas. I did lose the match, which is fine, because my Tatti told me there would be other chances. And there has been.

So as you know by now, wrestling has become my life. I've been on the WWF circuit
for quite some time. While I have been wrestling men and women alike, I have
been wrestling most with my yetzer harah. Yes, there have been great wrestlers throughout Torah - Yaakov with the Angel, Shlomo with Avshalom, and of course, Beis Shammai Vs Beis Hillel in their annual Summer Slam - but this does not yet comfort me. I have abandoned all hope of being the shtark bocherette I could've been. And I feel bad about it.

Perhaps I was overstepping my boundaries when I posed for Playboy. It was Joey's decision and I regret it to this day. He felt the crowd thought I was too masculine and this was an opportunity to prove my femininity. I had suggested that covering my hair during matches would be more effective. Donning a shaytul. But he would not hear from it. It had to be Playboy. But now coming home for shabbos has been slightly difficult. While my father has been supportive (because I am supporting them and the kollel) the community felt Playboy was stepping over the lines. Turning to another Playboy contributor, I had asked Rabbi Shmuely Boteach what to do. He suggested I read his book, Kosher Sex and everything would be fine. Well, I did and I even bought the Michael Jackson album he recommended but nothing has improved. I am still shunned.

So as we approach the summer days, I am reminded that the gates of the shamayim are never closed. It brings a tear to my eye reminiscing the days of Morah Shah and how simple life was then. I didn't have to deal with all the issues I deal with now like eating Cholov Stam when I tour the country. Or wearing spandex when there is a chance some are made from shatnes. I toil
with my internal struggle daily. Maybe I will change - who knows. I would love to come back to Judaism and marry that guy from Deloitte. Buy a house in Teaneck. Have some children running around reciting the Aleph Bais. But this would all have to wait because right now I have to go kick some guy's tuchus.

please send all comments, questions, feedback and job openings to arye dworken