No Man's Land

I've reread all the blog posts on this blog, and I've found that the issues I dealt with three years ago are still the ones I'm dealing with today. I'm not in any better of a place, and I actually feel like we are slipping a bit more.

I read an old email from the kiruv rabbi I worked with, and it struck a chord. It's something I've been thinking about over the last few days. He said "being half religious...is no man's land," and he encouraged me to observe the full Shabbat and "the rest will fall in into place."

At first, I was annoyed by the comment. It will all just fall into place? How so? If we begin keeping Shabbat completely, will that bring us more friends, more community? That's exactly what we've lacked here in Atlanta.

If we move to a Shabbat observant community, how will be received? The few times we've tried interacting with the Shabbat observant community here in Atlanta, we haven't been received in the way we had hoped. I think people are confused by us or don't approve of us. In Denver, we were invited over to people's homes and we did the same, even among families who were Modern Orthodox.

Of course, it's different with a baby who goes to sleep too early to go out for Friday night, but what about Shabbat lunch? We've invited people over for Fridays, but haven't received the same invitations with open arms from others. I don't know if it's because we have a toddler or because people don't like us or because inviting people for Shabbat is not a thing here in Atlanta.

At the same time, I agree. Being "half-religious" is this weird in-between place. We fall in to the community of conservative Judaism mainly because of our identities, but realize that conservative Judaism is dying. There are few young families that actually keep Shabbat or kosher that are conservative. If you're out there, let me know! But it's hard as a queer couple who wants to/strives to keep mitzvot.

I told Emet I think we should keep more. We've been slacking. It's true. And yet, by keeping, we will be more isolated because we can't afford to live within walking distance to a shul.

Where do we belong? Is that what many Jews think? Or are we simply anomalies?

Thoughts on Being a Parent

So much has happened in the last year. I cannot get into everything. Shortly after my last post, I gave birth to a daughter, and it's just been a whirlwind year. My relationship with Emet has grown so much, and we have learned much about the world and each other.
I wrote a private journal entry last year about going to High Holiday services with a newborn. I couldn't stay in services for long because it was time for the baby to eat again. And I wasn't even able to go to shul on Yom Kippur because of a rough night and total exhaustion.
This year, I thought maybe it would be easier to go to services, but it was actually harder. I tried to read a bit to make up for not being able to be in services, but of course, the baby needs my constant attention while Emet works (for the synagogue).
Adina Kastner, in a recent article in Times of Israel, said, "Personally, I have never felt further from Hashem than I do right now. My break from davening and learning because of my busy life as a working mother has hurt my relationship with God...I want to find the strong closeness I had back in high school, when I punctually attended teen minyan every Shabbat. I can think of no better place to get reacquainted with the Almighty than at shul."
I completely agree and feel the exact same. When I was at Pardes, I was learning every day, connecting every day, davening almost every day, and participating in all the rituals I could. I felt incredibly close to HaShem. Since returning to the US over three years ago, I struggle to feel that same connection. Emet and I were part of a lively community in Denver, and we just haven't found the same ruach in services here as we had in Israel. It's hard to have Shabbat with a baby. We can't prepare ahead of time and then dinners are often quick so we can start her bedtime routine. We don't go to Kabbalat Shabbat services because she's down by 7. We sometimes go through the service on our own, but it just isn't the same.
I recently met with a StrengthsFinder coach, and one of the things we discussed was finding time to do something that engages my strengths. Learning is one of those. Since having a child, it's been hard to find time to engage in Judaism adequately. I am taking a step to carving out time to learn this year, and I hope I won't be disappointed.
We have talked about other ways that we could connect to HaShem and Judaism, too. We are planning to erect a sukkah with hopes of inviting people to join us for meals. I realized this year that we can't depend on others to jumpstart our connection. It is on us.

For any observant parents out there - how do you do it? How do observant families manage? How do you daven at all with a young child who requires constant attention? Babysitting is not always an option. Does the parent responsible for caring for the children even go to synagogue? How do you prepare for Shabbat and holidays? Please leave a comment below and tell me your secrets!

G'mar Chatimah Tovah. May you all have a sweet New Year.

Creating/Finding Community, Pt. 2

In August 2014, we moved to Denver where Emet got a job in the Jewish community. We debated whether to live within the eruv or not and decided that it was better to live closer to Emet's school for practical reasons of sharing a car.

We began going to a conservative synagogue. While we weren't exactly excited about the davening, we had become accustomed to services without much ruach (spirit) and thought that it was not bad. We were prompted welcomed by the rabbi and community members. I remember on the first time that we went to this shul, there were a few other adults in our age range (some with young kids), and they were thrilled to chat with us and get us involved.

We became involved with an independent minyan (Minyan Na'aleh), and the first time we went for services, it was in someone's home without a mechitzah; kids were running around or involved in the service, but not bored, and the davening was absolutely beautiful. We met other young adults without kids and some with, and it felt amazing to connect with people who loved and enjoyed davening and accepted us, as a queer couple, wholeheartedly. The minyan met only once a month on Friday nights and a handful of times on Saturday mornings. We loved the community members and the davening, but were sad that it wasn't more consistent.

With the High Holidays approaching, we decided to go to Rosh Hashanah at this conservative synagogue, Kol Nidre with the independent minyan, and Yom Kippur at a conservative synagogue that had alternative services. We had heard about Shir Hadash from a friend of ours who studied with us at Pardes, and we gave it a try. Not only was I blown away by the beauty of the singing, I also enjoyed the rabbi's sermon on inner reflection and change and there were many young people in attendance.

We found out that Shir Hadash met weekly on Saturday mornings, and going to services there became our default Shabbat morning. The rabbis invited us for holidays and Shabbat, and I felt that we had found something similar to a community that we wanted. We also tried the Reconstructionist shul, which had different prayers but was run by a lesbian rabbi and made us feel at home.

At the same time, we started the Community Bet Midrash, which was about six of us young adults in our 20s and 30s who got together once a month to learn texts. It fulfilled a need of learning for us, and we met consistently until summer rolled around. By that time, we also knew that we were moving to Atlanta, and it was harder and harder to stay involved.

Being involved in Denver gave me a taste of what community could be like, but it still wasn't exact. Having Shabbat in our own way was great, and it was interesting to see how different everyone in our friend group celebrated Shabbat. Would we ever find a community that emphasized Shabbat and davening and also embraced us as a couple? I think we were pretty darn close in Denver.

Now in Atlanta, we are still learning, still exploring, and still trying to meeting friends. As it is much bigger of a city than Denver, the advantage is that there are many more synagogues to try, but the disadvantage is that there are many more synagogues to try along with the uncertainty of finding a community of queer Jews in our age range and life place. Even so, we're doing our best. Perhaps in a few more months, I will have a better understanding of where to find what we are looking for.

Creating/Finding Community, Pt 1

I realized my posting scheduled has slowed. Things are fairly busy once again. We recently celebrated our first anniversary (ok like nearly 3 months ago now). I can't believe it's already been a year. Where has the time gone?

For a throwback to our engagement and wedding videos, click the links!

We also moved to Atlanta at the end of the sumer. We were incredibly lucky to meet with our teacher Yaffa Epstein over Labor Day weekend when she was in town for Limmud SE+Atlanta, where we discussed many of the points I'm going to touch on here.

One thing we've struggled with is finding a supportive, understanding, and welcoming community. We really took Pardes for granted. We didn't know that when we returned to the "real" world that we would struggle to find the community where we fit - where we passionately enjoyed the davening and found young Jews as engaged as we were.

We tried out at least three synagogues when living in LA last year for three months. Two reform, one conservative. The rabbi who married us worked at a large non-denominational but Reform-leaning synagogue. She was/is amazing and when we met, she understood the place we hold religiously. She listened attentively as we talked about how difficult it is to keep Shabbat in the US and really empathized with us. The synagogue was more than an hour away from my mother-in-law's home, so we only went to services once or twice, and even though the singing was lovely, the davening was not exactly what we like.

We also tried a conservative synagogue and attempted another reform synagogue. It was an eye-opening experience, seeing how different services can be, both between denominations and even at different synagogues of the same denomination. When we went to the conservative synagogue, people were very friendly, but the age of the congregation was much older.  While we generally enjoyed this service, we wanted to try out another synagogue for the sake of it, and the following week, we went to the reform synagogue nearby to home. Because we had enjoyed the reform services we had been to (in Israel and at our synagogue downtown), we thought it would be a good option to try. I cannot tell you how terrible the service was for us. There was a lot of English, which wouldn't have been so bad if the service flowed better.  Every two lines, it seemed, we went to the next page. While there was a cantor with a guitar, no one else was singing, either because they didn't know the prayers or didn't care. After 30 minutes, we couldn't take it anymore and walked out.

I felt so terrible about leaving a service because it had no value for me. This is Shabbat. Shabbat services have become a joyous event for me, and I look forward to them, but I could not understand how anyone could have felt connected to Shabbat and Judaism for that matter at this service. I understand why the Pew report indicates that fewer and fewer people go to synagogue or feel connected to Judaism religiously. If I went to a synagogue like this, I wouldn't feel connected either. And this makes me so sad because religious Judaism is so beautiful. It's not even about going to to services. It's about learning our heritage and discussing texts and recognizing that our ancestors had intense conversations, some of which have never ended. This service was such a contrast to the other services we went to - our own shul in downtown LA and the conservative shul.

What I find is that as we move forward after leaving a place of study like Pardes is that these other aspects of Judaism are frequently not present when we go to some synagogues for services. I admit, I didn't grow up knowing about Rashi or Rambam or why any of these people and their thoughts are important, but I am glad I had the opportunity to learn now. I'm glad I can recognize how our history has contributed to the religious services we recite today and how they change with time, but also how many of them stay the same.

Emet and I fully acknowledge that we were so incredibly spoiled at Pardes. There was an instant community of people who are interested in Judaism, in learning, in religious thought, and yet are open to different modes of practice and beliefs. Our modern orthodox teachers asked Emet and I so many questions and embraced us for exactly who we are, a religious queer couple. Our identities may not fit with everything that religious Judaism says, but we are so blessed that we had the opportunity to learn, especially at an institution that really doesn't care where you came from or where you're going, only that you are willing to learn.

In my next post, I'll talk about the community we found in Denver and what we're looking for now that we live in Atlanta.

The Next Generation

Emet and I had the chance to speak with a group of students at a local high school a few weeks ago about our experience being Jewish and queer. The group was comprised of the Jewish group on campus, as well as the queer group on campus, so while many of the students were Jewish, there were a handful that weren't, and while many of the students were queer, there were just as many that weren't.

One thing that kept coming up was our struggle to be comfortable in our own skin. Is it possible to be both Jewish and queer? Is it possible to feel like we belong in both communities?

As we've written before, this is a constant source of discussion for us. On the one hand, we love Jewish ritual and culture. It's not only something we love. It's deep in our blood and soul. We couldn't be us without being Jewish. On the other hand, we don't always feel connected to the people we meet in the Jewish community. There's something missing sometimes. Even though the community is filled with authentic allies who truly care about the issues, sometimes there is a disconnect between our experience and a true understanding. Sometimes we just want to hang out with another queer couple who 'gets it.'

Back in February, we went to the Creating Change conference here in Denver, and of course it wasn't perfect. The diversity of people in the Jewish caucus groups I went to was varied, and I didn't relate to everyone's experience. At the same time, when speaking with some of the queer Jews, they understood, even if we approached Judaism differently.

Back at the high school, we touched on many aspects of how it's actually harder for us in certain Jewish circles and some queer circles, but we're trying our best to find out where we fit or to make the community that works for us.

At the end of our discussion, we spent some time chatting with the director of the Jewish groups, and it really surprised me that he said he's struggling with many of the same things in the Jewish community. Where does he fit in? Some people in his community observe one way and many others a different way. He has struggled finding allies and people who have commonalities with him. I would categorize him as Modern Orthodox, but I actually don't know, and it was interesting to hear that he struggled a lot, too.

A few weeks ago, we hosted a few friends for Shabbat, and the same topic came up. How do we as Jewish young adults engage in the community? Is the community right for us? What could make it better? I thought I was alone in these doubts, but actually, it seems we are all struggling with it. How do we become comfortable in the Jewish community, when it appears many people observe one way or believe one thing about Israel or aren't open-minded about certain topics? I don't have the answers now.

Leaving the high school, I kept thinking how different life is for these youth who are coming out earlier and earlier. In 10 years, will the Jewish community be better equipped to engage them on a level that works for them? Can I be a part of that change? Time will only tell.

Honor Your Father and Mother

Each morning, when I pray Shacharit (the morning service), there is a line at the very beginning that I ponder every single day.

אֵֽלּוּ דְבָרִים שֶׁאָדָם אוֹכֵל

:פֵּרוֹתֵיהֶם  בָּעוֹלָם הַזֶּה  וְהַקֶּֽרֶן קַיֶּֽמֶת לָעוֹלָם הַבָּא, וְאֵֽלּוּ הֵן

 כִּבּוּד אָב וָאֵם,  וּגְמִילוּת חֲסָדִים,  וְהַשְׁכָּמַת  בֵּית הַמִּדְרָשׁ

 שַׁחֲרִית וְעַרְבִית, וְהַכְנָסַת אוֹרְחִים, וּבִקּוּר חוֹלִים, וְהַכְנָסַת

כַּלָּה, וּלְוָיַת הַמֵּת, וְעִיוּן  תְּפִלָּה, וַהֲבָאַת שָׁלוֹם בֵּין אָדָם

 לַחֲבֵרוֹ , וְתַלְמוּד תּוֹרָה כְּנֶֽגֶד כֻּלָּם

These are the things whose fruits we eat in this world

but whose full reward awaits us in the World to Come:

honoring your father and mother,

acts of kindness,

arriving early at the house of study morning and evening,

hospitality to strangers,

visiting the sick

helping the needy bride,

attending to the dead,

devotion in prayer,

and bringing peace between people - 

but the study of Torah is equal to them all.

I read this passage every day when I pray, and everyday I think about honoring my father and mother, but as a future parent, I also think about what our children will say. How will they view the line "honor your father and mother" when Emet and I aren't those roles, per se? Will they overlook it, as just another text that doesn't adequately reflect their experiences as Jews? Will they acknowledge its existence, but still say it because it's part of tradition? Will they insert their own words? We could so easily include "הורים," the word for parents, which doesn't indicate gender. Maybe that word wasn't in existence yet when the prayer was written - or in this case the Talmud, as this section comes from Shabbat 127a.

Recently, I finally got my hands on a copy of Keep Your Wives Away from Them: Orthodox Women, Unorthodox Desires, edited by Miryam Kabakov. One of the vignettes discusses lesbian visibility in Jewish texts. Like the absence of women's experiences in Jewish texts, queer women tend to be absent as well, because let's be honest, the ones writing the stories were men. They didn't always know what was going on in the women's spaces. Event so, queer women were there. They didn't have a label, like we utilize today, but with the inclusion of stories about "women rubbing against each other" by Maimonides, it can be assumed that women were loving other women.

I say this because I know that even though the text disregards my own family and doesn't see my family, we exist and we are working to show people that we exist. We may not be seen by everyone, but we know we are here, and we are doing our best to be visible and utilize tradition in a way that makes sense for us.

Reading through the English translation in my Koren siddur, I was surprised to see that Koren translated אָב וָאֵם as parents, not father and mother. This gives me hope that perhaps we are more visible than I thought.

Shabbat Shalom!

My Recommendations to the Kiruv Movement as a Queer Jew Who Wanted to be Observant

During my AmeriCorps term three years ago, I was already on my journey to become more observant. I didn't know a whole lot about observant Judaism at the time, but I was going regularly to a Reform synagogue within walking distance to my apartment and teaching 5th and 6th graders about Jewish values and social justice. I also started getting involved with the Jewish community, and I met a rabbi who taught the Maimonides course at one of the local colleges. I jumped at the chance to learn more and have the chance to learn in Israel - both for free.

During the course of the spring, I learned a lot about observant Jewish thought and practice and started to understand more about observant Judaism than I had ever known.

At the same time, I developed a relationship with the rabbi and his wife and visited a lot for Shabbat and holidays. The rabbi helped me get into a Jewish learning program from women in Israel, and I even caught up with him once in Israel when I was deciding whether to stay and study or return to the US.

Credit to Chany Crystal

It turned out that a classmate of mine at Pardes was also close to this rabbi, and he outed me to the rabbi about my engagement. I'm not blaming him for outing me, as it would have happened eventually.

After that, though, I didn't hear from the rabbi again, except once in a mass email when the men praying in the synagogue in Har Nof were attacked.

I have grown to love Judaism in a way I never did before, but kiruv gave me a bad taste in my mouth, and I think there are a lot of ways queer Jews and kiruv can interact - all positively - and these are the ways I think that kiruv could improve.

1.There is a Difference Between Observant and Haredi.

When I started learning about observant Judaism, I didn't know that I was really learning about being Haredi. Following all the laws and all the observances to a T, it is all or nothing, and I remember discussing that quite a bit with women I met during my time in Israel in Haredi communities. I am observant, but not separatist. I believe that Jews should interact with modern society and with non-Jews because if we are to separate truly, how can we educate the world on who we are and what we do? I don't follow every law in halacha. For me, it's more important to use Judaism as a guide to seek meaning in this world, and that is just as "observant" as someone who follows every law. As a queer Jew, I'm blessed to have the ability to see what meaning is to me and how halacha can help me find meaning, but it is in no way the Be All and End All of being or doing Jewish.

2. There are Queer Children of Observant Families.

When kiruv ignores the fact that there are queer children in observant families, it is doing harm to these families. I've read many stories of parents who are observant and have queer children and have a hard time with their communities because the synagogue won't include them or their rabbi isn't accepting. Omitting these stories harms families and harms communities. It makes people think that observant Jews don't have queers among them, which we all know is completely false. If our goal is to bring more Jews to observant Judaism, the kiruv movement is going to have to acknowledge that queers exist.

3.  Being Observant is not in Conflict with Being Queer.

There are many ways to be observant, and there are many ways to be queer. They don't have to be exclusive, but kiruv only allows for one kind of Judaism.

I have learned so much about Judaism and how I want to live my Jewish life with my partner. A lot of that was sparked by my experience with kiruv, but it only got me so far. I'm glad I had the opportunity, but I also know that I didn't want to lead a Haredi life.

There are so many things that we can learn from observant Judaism, but that doesn't mean that everyone has to follow it exactly as you do. Instead of dropping someone once you realize they won't exactly be the Jew you want them to be, it is better to continue that relationship because we can both learn a lot from the other. I think after all this, I'm disappointed that I will never be seen as an observant Jew because I'm queer. As someone who keeps kosher and Shabbat, as someone who strives to continue learning as much as possible, and as someone who has taken on head covering and modest dress, I would disagree.

Being In-between Queer/Jewish

As Emet and I have settled into Denver, we've make a huge effort to get involved in the Jewish community and find a place there with friends, knowing where to daven, and soon, to continue learning. It has been easy - Emet's connected through the day school and we go to services almost every week at a different synagogue.

At the same time, we haven't spent so much energy on getting involved in the queer community. We have excuses - time, distance, being tired after a long day - but for some reason, this week, we didn't need any excuses.

We visited Charlie's this week, a queer country dance bar. There are all sorts of interesting people there, many in cowboy boots, hats, and denim, but also one woman in a 1950s petticoat dress, (because it was zombie crawl night) many people wearing zombie gear, and a few in drag.

They have free dance lessons at 8 and you get a free drink for participating. Then, the country music continues and everyone seems to know the dances. We are working on two-step and a waltz, and at some point, we want to go to the lesson to learn the line dances.

I felt that the place is just amazing. It's not a I-have-to-grind-into-you-in-order-to-dance kind of place. People were just out there having fun.

I bring it up because the topic of straddling two worlds/communities has come up a lot lately. As observant Jews, it makes sense for us to be involved Jewishly, but at the same time, as queer Jews, we want to be out and involved in queer spaces, too. Often, the two can't/don't mix and we're forced to choose.

It's been a while since I had gone to a gay club, and it's both comforting and isolating. We deal with very different issues compared to other observant Jews and other queer people, and it's hard to figure out where we fit 100% of the time. 

We are determined to try our best to be involved in both, but it definitely isn't easy. Even so, I wouldn't change it for the world.

Emet's Perspective on the Wedding

I had a very different wedding experience than Jess did. I’m assuming that in part this is because we’re different people, but I also think that being apart for 7 days ended up meaning that we experienced things differently as well.

7 days apart was hard. It felt tortuous not to be able to see Jess for that period of time. It’s such a vulnerable period of time and you’re not able to connect with the person that you rely on the most during that period of time of intense excitement and anticipation. Not only was that difficult but the fact that we had so much coordination to avoid each other during events before the wedding was not optimal and it just came with the territory. I’m not saying that it wasn’t worth it - there was definitely a heightened emotional experience that came with it, and it was nice to be able to experience that. But I do wish every moment of everything that came before we would have be able to experience together as a shared memory- and I was definitely sad when there were times that I missed out on seeing Jess’s family or having her family and my family be together when there was so little time during the weekend.

The first part of the wedding experience that ended up varying greatly was the mikveh. We went to different mikvehs. At the one that I went to, I had a very long conversation with the attendant and a bride’s mother beforehand, so when the attendant presumed that I was a bio male, it felt very strange to get into a conversation about my gender identity. Her presumption was not anything out of the ordinary, but knowing that I had to strip down, I was wondering if it was going to be awkward. Of course, in this situation at least, the attendant did not see me naked or check to make sure that my dunks were kosher.

I was probably in the mikveh for an hour and a half doing meditations. This was very tiring for me. While this is what a lot of people want, it was not right for me. I was exhausted and over heated from being in the warm water. The place I went to was a legitimate spa, in addition to a kosher mikveh. For me, I felt that I needed to create my own spiritual experience and not have one created for me. I wanted it to be mine, and not what someone else's version of spirituality was. I would have much preferred to stick with something more traditional, but that’s something that I will know for the future.

The wedding itself seems like it happened so quickly. Almost everyday since I have returned I wonder that it actually happened. I felt like I needed a whole week after to keep celebrating because it all went too fast. I kept willing the seconds to stop, to pause, to not move forward. But they did of course keep moving, that was all part of it.

It was weird, in some ways it didn’t even feel like a wedding was about to happen. I was mostly alone or with my Mom the weekend before. I guess you somehow picture there will be a million people around you all of the time kind of like in My Big Fat Greek Wedding and everything is crazy getting ready and pictures taken right before. But I drove down myself to the hotel to get there earlier than the rest of my family, and then hung out with friends. I kept thinking that the moment would never arrive for me to get ready, and then all of a sudden it was past the time, and I madly ran into the shower and hastily threw some clothes on. My friend Milo snapped a few shots as I was getting ready and then it was time to hurry and get going. 

Getting ready

I jumped in my father-in-law’s van at the hotel and was dropped off at the synagogue. As smoothly as our wedding day went, there are always still some kinks to work out. I felt glad that I got there to be able to clarify things or help get them to where they needed to be. I was warned that at a wedding, nothing ever goes perfectly and something unexpected always happens (and no one ever really notices or finds out), but to be honest, that was not really the case with ours. Yes, were there little things. For example if we had practiced the wedding 10 times before, it would have gone more smoothly. But overall I have no complaints. It’s the nature of being a part of something with a lot of people that are all trying to accomplish many tasks.

So, then all of a sudden, I was there at the synagogue waiting for Jess, and I was so nervous. She touched my shoulder and as I turned to look at her, I just lost it emotionally. I had missed her so much and here she was, my beautiful bride, the same person she always was, but transformed into a Queen for the day.

Then everything was in fast forward - we talked to people during cocktail hour (missing many of the delicious appetizers!) and each gave our dvar torah, our moms broke a plate during the vort, and then we were off to get married. We signed the ketubah and we did the bedeken.

The moment that she walked down the aisle with her parents was so real, so emotional, it was the culmination of everything that we had been waiting for, had worked for, had planned for, and I felt so joyous and emotional all at the same time.

Once the ceremony ended we were off to yichud for a much needed moment to catch a bite to eat and reflect on the day so far. And it’s almost completely unbelievable. You don’t really even believe it. And when we got introduced and did our first dance, that was the part I was most worried about screwing up, and I thought I would be so concentrated, I would forget to smile, but it all went perfectly and I couldn’t help but smile the whole time (the practicing had paid off). 

Finally when we did the hora and were lifted up on our chairs it was like the peak of the evening, and kind of like a metaphor for life, sometimes you’re a little up and sometimes you’re a little down, but my goodness I know that being together with Jess on this life we’ve started is always going to be one hell of a ride.

The Wedding

We got married! Just in case you were holding your breath to hear that. Everything went so well, and the wedding was over so quickly!

The week leading up to the wedding was hard. Being separated was very, very difficult. When we were about to part on the Sunday prior to the wedding, there were lots of tears and questions about why we separating, but we did it after discussing the reasons why. It gave us a week of anticipation, nervousness, wonder, and emotions. I cried a lot. It's hard being separated from your partner for a week, especially for us, since we have been so incredibly lucky to have so much time together. All week, we sent notes back and forth and we texted. Because we planned a lot of the wedding details ourselves, we needed to be able to discuss when we had issues. Even so, we knew we wouldn't text over Shabbat, the day before the wedding, and we agreed not to text the day of the wedding.

Emet left Wednesday night for LA, and I went on Thursday. Once we were in LA, things felt more real. I met my family at the airport and we drove up to the suburbs to get together the gift bags and some other things. It was weird being back there without seeing Emet. Then, back in LA, our family started to arrive, and it was so unreal. By Friday, Emet and I were both hoping Shabbat would go quickly, since we weren't texting. I ended up hanging out with my parents and my grandmother, taking a nap (since I hadn't slept well in over a week), and generally stayed put in the hotel room, reading.

Saturday night, Emet and I had to play Tetris in the hotel during the dinner, and we assigned my sisters to make sure that we wouldn't see each other. When Emet was downstairs at dinner, I was in the room. Then they moved Emet to a safe location, and I appeared in the dining room. It was weird to know that our guests saw Emet, but she was elusive to me.

I expected Sunday, the day of the wedding, to be chaotic and nerve-wrecking, but it was so smooth. I davened in the morning, spending time thinking about every person who both wanted a prayer and who I thought needed one. I expected to feel more spiritual on the wedding day than I did, but it was still good.

During the morning, it seemed time dragged on, and I couldn't wait to see Emet. I hung out with my sisters for a while, and eventually we went to get our hair done. I was extremely hesitant to do this, since I wanted my hair to look natural, nothing over the top. It ended up being perfect. The hairdresser who did my hair had married his boyfriend the year before, and I'm pretty sure that we were the only English speaking clients. They were amazing, though. He put in the veil and we were all very satisfied with their friendliness and their work.

After our hair appointments

Then, I stayed in the room getting ready with my sisters. Devon took some amazing photos, as usual.

All of a sudden, it was time to go to the synagogue! I didn't want anyone to see me so when we went down to get in the car to go to the synagogue, my sisters played "Secret Service Agents" again and made sure there was no one to see me. We got to the synagogue and I was nervous to see Emet, after having not seen her for a week.

Just before I went down to see Emet for the first time

Our photographer was there, as were our videographers, and I didn't know how everything would work. Luckily, I was too preoccupied to think about the things that could go wrong that day! In that last photo, there were stairs to the right, and I went down them to see Emet. I could see her back, and then suddenly I was there behind her. I put my hand on her shoulder, and she turned around and started crying. We both started crying. It was just the two of us, there in time. I know there were others around us, but it didn't matter.

After a little while, our families came and we continued with photos. Then, everyone started showing up, and time just wouldn't stay still.

We greeted everyone, our mothers broke a plate, we gave dvar Torahs, and then we moved into the room to sign the ketubah. It is completely gorgeous, specially done for us by our friend, and it's just perfect. Once we signed the ketubah, Emet put the veil over my face - I was crying. I'm pretty sure everyone was crying in the room. Our families and two witnesses plus the photographer and videographers were all in the room with us and the rabbi and cantor.

I remember walking down the hall to get to the back of the sanctuary. My parents held my hands tight. I was jittery. When I got down to the bottom of the aisle, where Emet was, she started outright bawling. It was so sweet and authentic.

The ceremony was a blur. I was there, but it was just fast. I got nervous reading the Hebrew at the end of our vows. Our rabbi was absolutely amazing and our cantor did such a great job. We couldn't have been happier with our choices for the ceremony. It was a mostly traditional wedding service, though we altered the Sheva Brachot slightly. At one point, I was told afterward that everyone up on the bimah with us (our families) was crying. It was just so moving. Emet mainly broke the glass - I attempted to help, but let's be honest, her shoes were better equipped for breaking glass.

The sanctuary

Then we were alone in yichud. Thankfully, there was some food, which was delicious, and we savored the 30 minutes alone that we had.

The rest of the night just came and went. We did our first dance, hopefully staying on beat the entire time to "The Anniversary Song." Unfortunately for us, the synagogue only had folding chairs, so for the hora, I was terrified either Emet or I would fall, so it only lasted a few rounds of the song. Thankfully, we did not get injured. Our caterer was fabulous, our DJ was right on, and everything was perfect. Our parents and sisters gave toasts. We danced, we ate a little, we threw a stuffed pomegranate (instead of a bouquet), and we cut and ate some cake that had our small clay pomegranates that we bought at Yad Lakashish on it. The cake was white with white frosting and strawberries. It was delicious.

Our tables

Overall, the entire day was amazing, and we can't wait to get more pictures back from our photographer and the video! All these photos are what were uploaded on to WedPics. If you want to see more photos, email me and I can send you the code to see them.

Thank you to everyone who joined us and made the day special. We can't wait to continue celebrating this year and into the future. We are so thankful and grateful of everyone who helped us get to this day - our families, our rabbi, our friends both here in the US and in Israel, our photographer, caterer, videographers, and DJ. It was amazing. We couldn't have asked for anything better.

The end of the night!

Shabbat shalom!!

Mikvah

I went to the mikvah for the first time yesterday. I was nervous because I didn't know what to expect, even though our kallah teacher told us about it and friends have explained. It's not the same until you do it yourself.

I drove up and rang the doorbell. This mikvah was in an old building, and they are trying to raise funds to renovate. Though this is an inclusive mikvah, meaning any woman can go, regardless of if she is Orthodox or not, the attendant who answered the door was clearly Orthodox. She was the only person at the mikvah at that time. No one else was there. The usual time to immerse is after nightfall, but special immersions, like a kallah (bride), can happen during the day.

She led me into a bathroom with a tub, toilet, and vanity. The floor was uneven and had cracks in it. You had to watch where you stepped, so that you didn't trip. It didn't have that nice, clean, well-kept feel I had expected, but it was definitely clean. In the bathroom, there were Q-tips, cotton balls, mouthwash, floss, toothpaste, shampoo, and body wash. She said I could shower, but since I had just done that at home, I took a few minutes to look around and used the mouthwash. I had prepared at home so that I was comfortable in my own space.

Then I called her, and we walked into the next room which had the mikvah in it. She checked the bottom of my feet for hair. I was nervous. I was going to have to be naked in front of her, and I was wondering if I'd do it right. I was also thinking about cleanliness. But soon, I just took off the robe and went down the stairs.

A mikvah (not the one I used).

My first dunk wasn't enough so I had to do again. She said, some women will jump a little so that they will go completely under the water. So I jumped a little for my next dunk. It was kosher. She handed me the prayer card to say the blessing and a washcloth to put on my head. Then I dunked twice more.

I walked back up the stairs and put the robe back on. She started giving me blessings of good health and happy marriage, etc. We walked back into the bathroom, and she quickly left me to clean up. I debated taking a shower there, but I decided against it. I would take another when I got back home that night. When I walked out to pay, she gave me a little certificate for my first time and some moisturizer.

I had to immerse our new pots and pans, so I asked her where that mikvah is. She walked and told me to drive around to the other side of the building. When we went outside, there was lots of thunder and ominous clouds. I thanked her and she scurried off.

Of course, it started storming. Rain, lightning, thunder, and then hail. It lasted for 20 minutes while I sat in the car. I didn't think there was symbolism in that. It's Denver. It storms. Finally after a while, I was able to get back out and immerse the pots and pans.

One thing that was really great about the experience was that the attendant didn't ask me about my husband! Usually, in more religious situations, I have to nod my head or change my pronouns to pretend that my spouse is male, but she was really respectful. She didn't ask about a husband, and she gave me lots of brachot (blessings). I mentioned I was nervous, and she was nice. She didn't even ask questions about the wedding anything about my spouse, and that contributed to me feeling comfortable. Perhaps it is because the mikvah is supposedly for the individual woman, not her spouse (depends on who you talk to), so the focus is on her.

I was proud of the many mitzvoth I did, but I feel like there could be something more meaningful about the mikvah. Maybe it would be more meaningful in nature for me, but it didn't feel very symbolic or spiritual. I still want to introduce a meaningful ritual, so I'll be continuing my research and try to come up with something.

Either way, even if I don't go back monthly, I'm glad I did it.

Being "In" to Include Queer Jews

There have been a few articles lately about how it is the fad at the moment to include queer Jews in the Jewish world. Jay Michaelson wrote in the Jewish Daily Forward says that large Federations and Jewish organizations now have inclusion initiatives for queer Jews. He thinks it's just about getting money for the organizations, and queer Jews are another group that are specific enough for the organizations to care about. He thinks that there are plenty of other Jews that aren't included, such as "Jews who support BDS (or perhaps even J Street); people with multiple religious traditions; Jews with strong critiques of the 1%-fueled, $30 billion Jewish establishment, especially the Federation system; Jews with more radical critiques of Jewish culture or tradition; Jews who don’t “pass” as middle or upper class; queer Jews who don’t pass as “normal” because of their gender presentation, or tattoos, or clothing." He continues, "Just like Jews can now get into the right golf clubs, gay Jews can now get into the right cocktail parties — as long as they have the cash, privilege, and willingness to pass as bourgeois or better." Clearly, he is being tongue-in-cheek, and he wonders if gays are being co-opted as a way to further the financial goals of the Federation and other Jewish organizations.

I read his article two weeks ago, but I have to disagree on many of his points, as Idit Klein did just a few days after the article was published.

While I recognize and acknowledge that many queer Jews are now being included in Jewish causes and also that there are still communities that don't actively engage GLBT inclusion, I also don't think this inclusion is only a means to raise more money. Jewish groups are realizing that queer Jews have a sincere interest in connecting to Judaism and maintaining a relationship with other Jews. I am not the first to tell you that as a queer Jew who is part of a queer Jewish couple, I and we have felt uncomfortable in certain Jewish spaces, but I can also tell you that when someone has reached out to us and told us that we belong in a Jewish space, we are ecstatic.

Inclusion is not just about money. Inclusion is a process, and as Idit Klein mentioned in an article last year, "increasingly over the past few years, major stakeholders in Jewish life have begun to recognize the relevance of [work with GLBT Jews] to the Jewish community. What’s more, I see interest in engaging and a sense of collective accountability." Including queer Jews is about making a stronger, more cohesive Jewish community. That is what the Federation and other major Jewish organizations are striving for, and it is through including queer Jews that we continue this work of strengthening our community. Many have said that there won't be Jews in a hundred years. I disagree, and I think it is precisely because we are continuing on a path to include the Jews who would have left Judaism before.

Of course, it's not perfect. Nothing is perfect when we are forging a new way, but I think it's fabulous. Keep up the good work!

The Intersection of Being Queer and Frum

I've been thinking a lot about being religious and queer. I feel strongly connected to religious Judaism and my identity as a queer woman. Those identities go hand in hand, and I cannot separate one from the other. At the same time, it is something that I know the religious community does not necessarily acknowledge. 

The more I hear about other queer Jews, the more aware I am about how lucky both Emet and I are to have incredibly supportive families - both of our queerness and now our religious practice. I started following a blog called Frum Gay Girl, which lists anonymous interviews with individuals who are queer and religious. Many seem to stay in their communities, though some have left. It has been a fascinating window for me into the ultra-religious community.

Both Emet and I have begun to feel tired of not being about to be ourselves in Jewish circles. Yes, we are observant. Yes, we are queer. It tends to be that in observant circles, we aren't accepted because of our queerness, and in politically progressive circles, our observance is confusing and misunderstood. We are striving to find a community that will accept us exactly how we are.

I just corresponded with a woman writing an article for the Atlanta Jewish Times about queer observant Jews. This is something I've been thinking about for a while. How many more of us are there? Have we been accepted? What motivates us to maintain our identities?

Obviously, I can answer these questions for myself, but I think that everyone is a little different. I've been thinking about it a lot. If you are religious and queer, feel free to leave a comment or email me. I'm interested in hearing your story.

Cruising with Grandma // Cruising While Frum

Emet and I had a lovely week in the Caribbean with my mom and grandma. My grandma loves cruising and decided she wanted to take us on a cruise. My grandma is turning 93 years old this year. A breast cancer survivor, she has loved traveling and cruising for a long time. In the last six months, she has been on a cruise almost every month.

When Mom told me that Grandma wanted to take us on a cruise, I was concerned about being able to keep mitzvot (namely kashrut and Shabbat), so I specified that we need to be on one that doesn't require us to travel on Shabbat. Mom found one that went Sunday to Sunday, and I realized that on Shabbat we would be on the boat the whole day, so it looked great. We decided on Royal Caribbean's Allure of the Seas, the biggest ship in the world. The ship took us to Nassau, St. Thomas (we took an excursion to St. John), and St. Maarten. Emet had never been on a cruise before, and while the 7 day cruise might have been long for Emet's first cruise, I think we had a great time.

Keeping Kosher: Royal Caribbean has excellent options for those that keep kosher. We tend to be more lenient in our keeping, but if you keep absolutely strict kashrut, then Royal Caribbean provides sealed meals prepared off the ship and only heated on the ship. We ordered off the regular menu for dinner. Most nights, our meal consisted of baked salmon, steamed asparagus, potato, and carrots. The head waiter even had the chef prepare a somewhat Israeli salad (cucumber, tomato, hearts of palm) for us. Everything we ordered was nondairy, and the non-Jewish waiter and head-waiter were clearly schooled in what kosher means. They wanted to make sure that we were completely satisfied and brought us dairy free desserts, even when we knew we didn't need to eat them!

Keeping Shabbat: Shabbat was more tricky in some respects but not in others. You are on a ship with no internet, no phones. The only electronics we use are the television, the elevator, and of course prepared food, as well as the key card to get into our room. Emet and I noticed an observant family on board, but we did not figure out what they did for their rooms on Shabbat. Maybe they stayed in all day? We're not sure.
There was a self-led Friday night service. At Pardes, we are told that after studying at Pardes for a semester, we are most likely to have the most knowledge of Judaism wherever we go. This was definitely the case. Emet and I went to the service and had planned to just do our own thing, but about 20 people showed up for it! There were a few older couples and two or three families with kids. One or two Israelis, as well. The observant couple showed up at the beginning, but left after inspected what Royal Caribbean had set up for us: a bottle of Manischewitz with many glasses, electronic candles (no fire is allowed on board for obvious reasons), and challah with salt, plus the Gates of Prayer prayer book. I was impressed by how much the cruise company seemed to know about what we Jews require for Shabbat and kashrut. They even had kosher beds in the cabin! Anyway, before we started the service, an older couple (probably in their 70s) said about Emet, oh this cute boy must have just had his bar mitzvah not so long ago, would you want to lead? Emet didn't feel comfortable, but I said I could lead some, but not all. Finally, someone started the service, and it was clear to me that most people could not read Hebrew, even those who said that they attended services every Friday night. Most wanted to read responsively in the English, which was just not exciting. Emet and I sang a few songs, but no one else joined in. Then we did more in the English, and finally it was over. We said kiddush and motzi over the challah, and then we went to dinner to meet Mom and Grandma. Overall, I felt proud that I could help lead a service, but also disappointed that I couldn't lead better and that no one else, obviously except the Israelis, could read Hebrew or knew any of the traditional prayers. I wondered what services were like in the attendees' synagogues Friday nights.
During the day on Shabbat, we didn't do so much differently than the rest of the vacation - reading, eating, sitting and watching the ocean - and we also went to listen to the captain speak about the ship.

St. John was the best beach we visited, even though it was rainy and a little cold. It was not as busy as St. Maarten's Orient Beach and we didn't have anyone pestering us to buy things, like we did on Orient Beach. We saw a lot of shows - every single night there was some evening activity, including a performance of Chicago, a water acrobatic show, an ice skating show, comedians, a performance by Tony Tillman, and another acrobatic show. I was impressed by the talent, though the concept of the second acrobatic show and the ice skating show were bizarre. My favorite was Tony Tillman, who sang oldies and made a few jokes.

Emet and I had a lovely time with Mom and Grandma. We referred to the cruise as our Pre-Wedding Honeymoon with Mom and Grandma. Obviously, it wasn't a real honeymoon, but because we aren't having one, it was close enough. It was so great spending time with them both.

Coming up: This weekend is going to be packed with activities. Emet's mom is coming to Atlanta tomorrow, and both my grandmas and my sister Devon to celebrate with us. On Sunday, my aunt and mom are throwing Emet and me an engagement party, then Sunday afternoon, Ari planned my non-bachelorette bachelorette party - laser tag and tapas! Then, Monday night is Passover. It will be a crazy few days to say the least!

Chag Sameach!