Women-run businesses: Another price of the coronavirus

This is the story of three Jerusalemite businesswomen and what happened to their dream over these last three months.

‘IT IS harder for a woman to build her own independent business from scratch.’ (photo credit: WALLPAPER FLARE)
‘IT IS harder for a woman to build her own independent business from scratch.’
(photo credit: WALLPAPER FLARE)
The coronavirus crisis has hit almost all aspects of our lives, and at this stage, no one knows how long it will take to heal all the wounds it has inflicted – to our social lives, health, finances and much more. 
Regarding the economic impact, in addition to the dramas caused by many being sent on unpaid leave or indefinite unemployment, In Jerusalem presents a picture of what has happened to women who dared to open their own businesses, strived to consolidate and develop them, and despite all their efforts, were defeated by an enemy they couldn’t even see. 
This is the story of three Jerusalemite businesswomen and what happened to their dream over these last three months.
Leah, hairdresser, Taltal Salon
Leah (last name withheld at her request), 49, was born in old Malha to a modest family who made aIiyah from Kurdistan in the early years of the State of Israel. Livelihood in a large family was not easy, and Leah went to work as an apprentice in a salon before she turned 18. Even after marrying and giving birth to two children, she continued all those years to work in hairdresser salons. Then, she began to dream of a place of her own. 
After so many years of experience and a list of loyal customers, she began to cherish the idea of becoming her own boss. With “lots of butterflies in my belly” she recalls, she decided to manage the salon where she worked after the owner retired. Leah says it was hard work – keeping all the longtime customers, adding new ones and running the salon alone. “I couldn’t afford an employee,” she recalls, “and I had to do everything by myself, from shampoo to dying hair or combing a wig.”
Leah admits that a few times, she felt it was too much to carry on. “I doubted if I could go on alone. At the beginning it wasn’t a question of making a profit – I just tried hard to keep my nose above the water.” And then, in December, the landlord announced he was going to raise the rent. “It drove me crazy, I felt that just when things began to improve, he wanted to exploit me. After one night of insomnia, I decided to buy the salon. I felt strong enough that my business was good now, and I decided to take one more step to my financial independence.”
Leah went to the bank, obtained a good credit rating and a mortgage, and within less than two weeks, she became owner of the salon. “I had a good reputation, customers came in from other neighborhoods, I felt I could do it.”
That was at the end of December 2019 – and then came the coronavirus. At the beginning, Leah says she was not too worried, like most people. But then she had to close the salon, and until last week, she remained at home, glaring at the bills from the bank, which, she says, blurred her eyes.
Asked what her expectations are now that she is allowed to reopen, Leah says she is still not capable of imagining the future. “The help provided by the government is a bad joke. My customers came back immediately, but the hole at the bank is such a threat to my dream it could just fade away.” 
Moran Shmouelof, communications consultant
Moran Shmouelof, 34, has been employed for years, at the Knesset among other places, but says she always dreamed of having her own business. “I would naturally help anyone with my skills, but after a while, I realized that I could go farther, that I could be more than a successful consultant employed by a group or one person.”
It took her a few more years, but last year was the year she took the bold step, registered her own business and began to give professional advice as an independent consultant. Those were days of hope, hard work, intensive investment of time and skills and developing a large network to establish herself in the field. For a while in the beginning, out of caution, she kept a part-time job until she became confident enough to go completely solo.
“Everything seemed to be going in the right direction, but then the coronavirus landed here, and the rest is history,” she says sadly. Shmouelof worked not only with individuals who required her professional guidance in communication and media, but also with bodies and agencies that needed her skills to run large-scale events, and with the coronavirus – they are all shut down, nobody knows until when.
“I had a dream, and it is collapsing now. I can still keep things in proportions – I am single, don’t have to feed children, but still – I am not sure, at this stage, if my dream of being independent, being my own boss will survive this crisis.” Shmouelof adds that for her, there is no question, this crisis is much more difficult for women than for men. ”It is harder for a woman to build her own independent business from scratch, and with such a crisis – it is much more difficult to rebuild it.”
MORAN SHMUELOF. (Ben Shmuelof)
MORAN SHMUELOF. (Ben Shmuelof)
Naomi Lawson, fashion shop owner
Fashion shop owner Naomi Lawson, in her early 60s, says her overwhelming feeling these days is fear. “I am scared – I don’t know how we shall all overcome this crisis, and for me, since this is something I built over the years with love and faith in my business, it is even harder.” 
Lawson says that she was moved by the empathy, understanding and patience regarding the payment she owes the fashion designers/creators in Tel Aviv. “They were so ready to give me time, to make it easy for me, but the bottom line is that I have to face my commitments and this is not easy.” Lawson also imports outfits from abroad, where there was much less understanding, and payments went as planned, causing pressure on her finances. But the pain caused by the lockdown and the shutting of the shop is hard on her. 
“My customers were happy to come immediately as I opened, some of them expressed their concern that I might give up and decide to close,” she says, adding that her shop is so dear to her that she will do anything in order to not have to reach that point, but she repeated that she is scared. “I love what I do here, I love all my customers, I know them and this is a place I have created to make women feel comfortable. I love helping women feel good about themselves, but I lost two of the best months of the business, especially during Passover… all the merchandise I have ordered is here, while most of it should have been bought. It’s not easy.” 
Lawson says that her problems are the same for so many here and everywhere, but she adds that as an owner of a small business, she does not feel that the government really cares about businesses like hers.
NAOMI LAWSON. (Paula Weiman Kelman)
NAOMI LAWSON. (Paula Weiman Kelman)