Happy Tu b'Av!

Tu b'Av, the 15th day of Av, is the Day of Love, similar to Valentine's Day. In honor of the day, we want to share that our story has been featured on Huffington Post's Gay Voices blog!

Thanks to MASA for the connection and opportunity. Enjoy!

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.

Sometimes It's Hard

As someone who tries to be more observant, sometimes it's just hard. I wonder if other people struggle with this, and I know they do, but it just seems so easy for some people.

We choose to spend Passover with family. It just doesn't feel the same without them. But at the same time, neither of our families are as observant as we are. I'm not faulting anyone. It's just the way it is. This means that their homes aren't as kosher as we'd like and they don't keep Shabbat how we do. This complicates things. During Pesach, even if we choose to avoid chametz, they won't necessarily avoid it, so there's bread, not only in the freezer, but there's a bagel being made for a child (it smells so delicious just out of the toaster), hot dog buns with our meal, or a request to eat out because we're all tired of the seder leftovers.

It's hard. Do you put your foot down and say no? Or do you carefully do your best, knowing you'll make a mistake? You can attempt to eat gluten free at a restaurant, but forget that something might be breaded. Or as a vegetarian, I'll be extremely limited because many of my food options are taken away during Pesach. We met some friends at a kosher restaurant in LA, and they had no vegetarian options. Seriously? None? Just a smattering of pickled and spicy vegetable side dishes.

I'm too hard on myself. I'm doing the best I can. Family is more important than halacha in my opinion, but I know not everyone takes that opinion. We are more flexible in our observance, and some people might judge us for that. But you know what? We are also a queer couple and some will definitely say there's no way we can be observant. We do the best we can in the way we can for what is meaningful to us. Isn't it all about meaning anyway?

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!

Being Invisible

As a queer woman, I'm invisible.
As a Jew, I'm invisible.
As a queer Jew, I'm invisible.

I spent years trying to "look" queer.
I cut off all my hair.
I refused to wear skirts or dresses.
I didn't shave.
I didn't wear makeup.
I hung out with (mostly) only queer people.
I was a leader in the queer organization on campus.
I volunteered with queer organizations after college.

I spent years trying to "look" Jewish.
I went to synagogue.
I was involved with the Jewish young adults organization.
I wore a חי necklace.
I volunteered with Jewish organizations after college.
I lived in Israel.

I'm an active queer Jew.
I go to synagogue.
I go to the queer bar.
I am involved with a Jewish study group.
I go to Shabbat dinners.
I openly discuss my queerness with friends and family.
I cover my hair.

But none of this matters.
I'm still invisible.
At the Creating Change conference, I covered my hair, but the only way people could identify me as Jewish was when I was standing next to Emet, who wore a kippah and tzitzit. When I'm out in public, I'm only passing as not-queer unless someone asks about my relationship.

I felt frustration during the conference because while I might be seen as queer, I'm not seen as Jewish, and when I'm seen as Jewish, I'm not necessarily seen as queer. The intersections of my identity are not evident, and instead, I feel invisible. I'm not sure how to NOT be invisible because I'm being true to myself and my identity, but I was frustrated. I am frustrated.

Even so, I'm me, and I can do the best I can to figure out how to be both, even if no one else sees me. I see myself.