Why Do Orthodox Jews Have Curls?

Those long, distinctive curls hanging in front of Orthodox Jewish men's ears are one of the most recognizable features of traditional Jewish appearance. They are called peyot (pronounced PAY-oht), and they are rooted in a specific commandment from the Torah.

I get asked about peyot all the time. When I was growing up, my father had a store, and customers would ask about everything — the kippah, the beard, the curls. The peyot always got the most questions. People are genuinely curious, and I love that. So let me explain them the way I would explain them to someone standing in front of me.

torah-commandment">The Torah Commandment

The source is a verse in Leviticus (19:27): "Do not round the corners of your head, and do not destroy the edge of your beard."

The Hebrew word for "corners" is pe'ah (plural: peyot), and Jewish law interprets this as a prohibition against completely removing the hair at the temples — the area between the ear and the forehead, roughly where sideburns would be.

The commandment tells Jewish men what they may not do: they may not shave or cut this area completely. It does not prescribe a specific length or style. This is why you see such enormous variation in how different communities wear their peyot — the commandment sets a floor, not a ceiling.

Why They Curl

Here is something that surprises many people: the curls are not styled that way intentionally. Peyot are not put in curlers or twisted into shape each morning. When hair grows long enough without being cut, it naturally develops waves and curls — especially the finer hair at the temples. The iconic spiral look is simply what happens when you let that hair grow for years.

Some men do tuck their peyot behind their ears or wrap them around, which can create a more defined curl shape over time. But the curling itself is a natural result of length, not a grooming technique.

How Different Communities Wear Peyot

One of the fascinating things about peyot is how much they vary across Orthodox communities. I notice this every time I travel. When I visited Mea Shearim in Jerusalem, the peyot were nothing like what I see here in Brooklyn. The Yerushalmi (Jerusalem) style is often very long and thin, tucked behind the ear in a specific way. Back home, the peyot tend to be thicker and curlier. Same commandment, completely different look.

The style of a man's peyot is often one of the quickest ways to identify which community he belongs to.

Hasidic Peyot

Hasidic men generally wear the longest, most visible peyot. But even within the Hasidic world, there is significant variation:

• Curled and hanging — Many Hungarian and Galician Hasidic groups (such as Satmar, Vizhnitz, and Belz) grow long peyot that hang down in front of the ears, sometimes reaching the shoulders. These are the most iconic and recognizable style.
• Twisted and tucked behind the ear — Some Hasidic groups wind their peyot into a tight twist and tuck them behind the ear or under the hat. They are long, but less visible.
• Wound around the ear — In some communities, men wrap their peyot around the top of the ear itself.

For Hasidic Jews, long peyot carry spiritual significance beyond the basic commandment. They are seen as an expression of piety and devotion — going beyond the minimum requirement to beautify the mitzvah (commandment). The Kabbalistic tradition also associates the area of the temples with specific spiritual channels, adding a mystical dimension.

Yeshivish/Litvish Peyot

Men in the Yeshivish or Litvish world — the community centered around the great Lithuanian yeshiva tradition — typically keep their peyot much shorter. Their sidelocks may extend just past the ear or even be trimmed to blend with the rest of their hair. They fully observe the commandment (the hair at the temples is present and unshaved), but they do not emphasize length as a spiritual practice.

To an outsider, a Yeshivish man's peyot might not be visible at all — they may look like ordinary sideburns. But they are there, and the man is careful never to shave that area. My husband's peyot are like this — short and tucked. You would not notice them unless you knew to look.

Yemenite Peyot

Yemenite Jews have their own distinctive tradition: thin, long peyot that hang in delicate spirals. Yemenite peyot are often thinner than Hasidic ones because the custom is to grow a narrow section of hair rather than a wide one. These thin, elegant curls are one of the most recognizable features of Yemenite Jewish men and boys.

The Yemenite Jewish community, which was isolated from European Jewry for centuries, preserved many ancient customs — and their peyot style is believed to reflect a very old tradition of how this commandment was observed.

Modern Orthodox

Modern Orthodox men observe the commandment by simply not shaving the temple area. Their peyot may be indistinguishable from regular sideburns. The commandment is fulfilled without any distinctive outward appearance.

Children and Peyot

In many Orthodox communities, a boy's peyot become a milestone — and this is one of my favorite topics because I have lived through it with my own sons.

There is a custom called the upsherin (or chalake in Sephardic tradition), a ceremony held when a boy turns three years old. For the first three years of his life, a boy's hair is not cut at all. Then, at the upsherin, the family gathers, and everyone takes turns snipping a small piece of hair. But the peyot area is left uncut. It is the beginning — the very first visible sign that this little boy is starting his journey of learning Torah and keeping mitzvos.

My oldest son's upsherin is one of my most treasured memories. He sat on his grandfather's lap with a lollipop while family and friends each took a snip. He had no idea what was happening, but he loved the attention. When it was over, he had these tiny, wispy peyot for the first time, and he kept touching them. He was so proud. All my boys went through the same thing, and each time it was just as special.

After the upsherin, little boys learn to take care of their peyot. They learn to tuck them behind their ears, to be careful when putting on shirts, to not pull on them. In my community, you see three-year-olds walking around with these brand new little peyot, and it is honestly one of the sweetest sights. The older boys help the younger ones — "No, you tuck it like this" — and there is a real sense of pride in it. By the time they are five or six, those peyot are part of who they are.

What Peyot Represent

Beyond the technical observance of a commandment, peyot carry layers of meaning:

Visible Jewish identity. Peyot are an unmistakable marker of Jewish observance. Wearing them is a public statement of commitment to Torah life, even when it draws stares or questions. I remember a reader once wrote to me asking, "Do the boys get teased about their curls?" The honest answer is that within our communities, peyot are a source of pride, not embarrassment. Outside the community, yes, sometimes people stare. But that is true of anything visibly different, and our children learn early that being different for the right reasons is something to be proud of.

Accepting G-d's authority. The Torah does not always explain the reasons behind its commandments. Growing peyot is an act of obedience — doing something because G-d commanded it, even without a rational explanation. In Jewish thought, this kind of obedience (called a chok, a statute beyond human understanding) is considered especially meaningful.

Community continuity. Jewish men have worn peyot for thousands of years, through persecution, exile, and forced assimilation. In many periods of history, peyot were specifically targeted by oppressive governments trying to erase Jewish identity. Continuing to wear them is an act of defiance and continuity.

Beautifying the mitzvah. The Jewish concept of hiddur mitzvah — beautifying a commandment — encourages going beyond the bare minimum. For many men, growing longer, more visible peyot is a way of embracing the commandment with enthusiasm rather than merely meeting the requirement.

A Personal Note

Peyot are one of those things that look unusual from the outside but become completely normal — even beautiful — once you are part of the community. The little boys playing in the park with their peyot bouncing, the teenagers self-consciously tucking theirs behind their ears (some things are universal, no matter the community), the elderly men with silver peyot curling past their shoulders — it is all part of the texture of daily life in my neighborhood. A living connection to a commandment given thousands of years ago, worn with pride by every generation, including my own sons.