At Keshet we know how important it is to provide diverse resources for families. Last year we worked with author Elisabeth Kushner to create the first Jewish themed picture book featuring an LGBT family, The Purim Superhero. When we heard that S. Bear Bergman, Jewish educator, author, and storyteller, was creating an LGBTQ2S-themed book club, we knew we needed to learn more. Read on to get the scoop on the Flamingo Rampant Book Club, which features picture books for 4-8 year olds. Joining the book club means you’ll receive six books throughout the year. Bear is currently raising funding to support the project.
What was your inspiration for the Flamingo Rampant Book Club?
The truth is I was reading to Stanley, my four-year-old one night before bed. We had some new LGBTQ2S themed picture books, which my husband, who’s an expert on the topic, had ordered. These were out of print or from small publishers. Stanley asked if we could read the new books, and I said “sure, why not?” But every single one of them contained really difficult, extended descriptions of bullying. We read a couple, but eventually he looked at me and said, “I don’t want this anymore. I don’t like these bully stories.”
And all of a sudden I started thinking: “What are we sending our kids to bed with? What are the last images and stories that we’re offering them to carry into their dreams?”
The books we’d just read were fairly horrible–I mean, everything turned out all right in the end. But the descriptions of bullying we’re so substantial, they almost seemed like manuals for taunting, ostracization, and harassment. I’m a writer, and a lecturer; I do a lot of work around questions of gender and sexual orientation and I have for more than two decades. I am fortunate to be married to a guy who, among his many sterling personal qualities, is an expert on creating celebratory and inclusive classrooms for people of all genders and sexual orientations.
The books in the Flamingo Rampant Book Club include full stories of people of color written by people of color. Why was this important for you?
My family, which includes my chosen family, is fairly racially diverse and certainly diverse in terms of genders and sexual orientations. And my artistic community, ditto. We really wanted books that represented the world in which we actually live, and we also wanted to contribute positively to the experiences of families of color–especially LGBTQ2S families of color. At the moment, there are–as far as we know–only three or four books anywhere at all that feature lesbian or gay or bi or trans families that are anything other than white.
The industry average for representations of people of color in children’s books in 7%. To me, that’s a really shameful number. The prevailing wisdom within publishing directly mirrors the inequalities that already exist in our society–girls will read books about boys, but boys won’t read books about girls. Parents will buy books featuring white children or families for their Black, Indigenous, or Of-Color children, but white parents won’t buy books featuring Black, Indigenous, or Of-Color children or families for their white children. The result of all this is that the overwhelmingly majority of picture books center on white children; mostly boys.
So much of LGBTQ literature for kids focuses on stories of overcoming bullies and challenges centering on their (or their families) LGBTQ identity. The books in the Flamingo Rampant Book Club take a different approach–how has this shifted the narrative of the book club?
There are so many other things to talk about! That’s the thing that I find so bewildering. Let these people take trips! Let them have adventures, let them solve mysteries, let them celebrate things, let them worry about other things besides their identity–moving, new school, going to the dentist, any number of interesting childhood challenges that can be overcome. Flamingo Rampant Book Club’s mandate is positive representations. If people really feel that they urgently require a book that is about bullying in order to bring some realism, there are plenty of books for them already.
If a family isn’t LGBTQ, is this the right book club for them?
Absolutely. This book club is a good fit for any family regardless of sexual orientation, gender, family size or style, race, ethnicity that wants their children to grow up with positive messages about lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender, two-spirit, queerer, or gender-independent people. That’s all that’s required. Whether your family knows LGBTQ2S people or not, these books all center around a story. So there’s plenty to hold the attention of a young person, and plenty of opportunity to open up conversations about issues of gender or sexual orientation without it seeming abstract, or like it’s coming out of nowhere. Rabbi Danya Ruttenberg, who does a lot of work and writing around parenting and spirituality and was an early supporter of Flamingo Rampant’s first project, told us that her favorite thing about those books was that they gave her a way to talk to her children about gender roles that was based on something they had just positively experienced together.
I also got the following email recently from a friend, who had just received it from their friend:
Do you remember the book you gave [our daughter]–The Adventures of Tulip, Birthday Wish Fairy about Transgender children? We had a friend visit who is trans and we read the book to [our daughter] so she could better understand who [our friend] is. [Our daughter] got very excited after I read the book to her, saying ” so [our friend] used to be a girl and now he is a boy” I said yes and then she said very happily: “so that means Fairies are real” That’s life with a four-year-old.
What has surprised you during this process?
Honestly, I have been surprised at how many people have marginalized this series as something that would only be of interest to LGBTQ2S parents and families. Of course, it’s lovely to have affirming books to show our children that represent our family and family like ours. But my kid sees positive images of families like ours every day-he lives in one! Think about the child who doesn’t get any specifically positive images of LGBTQ2S families. That kid is left with whatever filters through from media, and whatever kids say on the playground. I hope progressive, feminist parents will also recognize this book series a powerful tool for positive change in their families, schools, libraries and so on.
What’s next for you and for the Flamingo Rampant Book Club?
Well, the next 20 days will be devoted to getting enough people to sign-up that we can make this project happen. If 450 families don’t sign up for subscriptions, or if we don’t get the equivalent in funding, then there will be no books for anyone. So right now, I’m hustling to make sure we get the most media exposure that we can manage to make sure that the message reaches as far as I can get it to reach. After that, a nice nap. And after that, I’ll be doing some dates with the Jewish Book Council this year to various Jewish Book Festivals across the United States, continuing to perform and lecture at universities and festivals, trying to figure out the kindergarten drop off and pick up schedule, and trying to make some progress on my novel.
Like this post?
Last week I stood in a room full of Jewish leaders who made me hopeful about the future of the Jewish world. These leaders—from 16 Jewish day schools, synagogues, camps, Hillels, and community organizations—came to Keshet’s Boston Leadership Summit to study together, discuss LGBT inclusion practices, and create action plans for greater LGBT inclusion within their institutions in the coming year.
These leaders are ready to go beyond acceptance and move towards proactive inclusion, devoting their time and resources to intentionally working to create communities where inclusion is a central value.
I love what one religious school teacher from a Conservative synagogue said when asked what the most significant thing she gained from the day: ”Being LGBT friendly is more than welcoming someone with your words—it takes systematic planning on the program and policy levels.”
I can’t wait to see what they accomplish in the coming year.
Below are some of our favorite photos from the day—take a look! And check out our full album of photos here.
Learn more about Keshet’s Leadership Project here!
My brother is gay and his amazing boyfriend, Risto, is the newest member of our family. I never presented Risto as anything other than Rob’s boyfriend to my daughter and she has never mentioned anything about two men loving each other and sharing the same bed when they visit.
My daughter is lucky to have amazing aunts and uncles who love her and spoil her constantly. There is no difference in her mind between having an aunt and uncle who are married and uncles who are in a relationship together.
Me: Remember, some kids don’t have a mommy and a daddy. Some have two mommies, two daddies ,or only one. Families are all different.
Daughter: Yeah mommy. That’s right.
Me: Even though Uncle Robbie Dobbie (to most people, that would be just Uncle Rob, but not in our family) and Risto don’t have kids, they love each other.
Daughter:Yeah. They do.
At my daughter’s birthday party, which was a family-only event, she was truly the center of attention. After the party, my brother and his boyfriend stayed with us overnight for a longer visit.
My daughter’s love for them is amazing. It is almost as if she knows their relationship is special and she wants to be a part of it. One minute she was hanging on Risto playing with him and his iPad and giggling with Uncle Robbie Dobbie the next minute.
She really understands that Uncle Robbie Dobbie and Risto “go together.” There is no difference in her eyes between them and her other aunts and uncles. That is a gift and I am grateful to be living in a time when relationships are simply relationships and love is simply love.
While we are Jewish and Risto is not, he attends family holidays with us and has enjoyed learning more about Judaism. I believe our family has welcomed even more by his inclusion in our holiday events. Who doesn’t like having 4 glasses of wine at Pesach (Passover) anyway?
What my daughter does not yet realize are the perks of having gay uncles (not being stereotypical here; they actually agree with these): they spoil her with princess supplies like no one else, my brother made her a mermaid birthday cake with a doll (Risto did the doll’s hair) and when she is a little older, Uncle Robbie Dobbie will be more than happy to play “Wonder Woman” with her, just as we did as children (unfortunately, I was “Wonder Girl” as my brother got to be “Wonder Woman”). My daughter is one lucky girl!
My daughter is growing up in such a different world than I grew up in. And while the world is much scarier now, it is also filled with such hope. People who are gay and lesbian can get married in many states and they are able to receive benefits. This is monumental and my daughter gets to be a part of it and witness it. I hope she will be witness to more barriers being broken down as she grows up.
Do you have an LGBTQ family member? Click here to learn more about the Keshet Family & Parent Connection! Join a community of parents across the country who are coming together for support, to hold events, and to advocate for change in the Jewish community.
On June 20th, 2014, Rabbi Ellen Lippmann offered the following words of prayer at the UJA-Federation’s “Community Conversation on LGBTQ Engagement,” a conference convened to discuss ideas of LGBT inclusion in Jewish institutions.
I am here because I am a lesbian, a Jew, a rabbi who sees Jews as my people and LGBTQ people as my people. So my partner gets to say, often, that she thinks a man and a woman together are intermarried. I am here because my partner and I celebrated our 30th anniversary this winter and could only get married 3 years ago.
I am here because there are a whole lot of issues other than marriage on the LGBTQ plate. And, I am here because I want as a Jew to say never again and know that I mean never will anyone obliterate any entire population AND I want as a queer person to say never again and know I mean there are so many things that should never happen again.
Never again a rabbinic student going through school in hiding.
Never again to be cast away by those who use the Bible to dismiss us.
Never again a college student jumping off a bridge to his death because his roommate mocked his sexual connection.
Never again a parent unable to be with a child because of misguided lawyers and enacted prejudice.
Never again a trans person attacked on the street just for being transgender.
Never again LGBTQ deaths due to neglect and abandonment.
Never again state-approved killing of LGBTQ people anywhere in the world.
Never again a gay man beaten by Jews on the street.
Yes to the wisdom, clarity, heart God places in human beings and yes to the times they are used for good.
Yes to marriage rights expanding across the country and across state lines, yes to love and yes to great sex.
Yes to the “It Gets Better” videos and to all the ways people encourage those who are losing hope.
Yes to LGBT centers across the country.
Yes to gay churches and synagogues that paved the way and yes to the amazing efforts of gay Muslims that will create a gay mosque and yes to every religious group that opens rather than closing doors.
Yes to activists and advocates of every generation who pushed hard and keep pushing.
Yes to the memory of Stonewall and yes to resistance.
Yes to UJA-Federation opening its doors even if it seems a little scary
Moved by this post? Join the conversation through MyJewishLearning’s weekly blogs newsletter.
This past month, we shared stories of LGBT and Jewish Pride.
We heard from Jordan, who reflected on how his LGBT identity influences his Jewish identity.
We heard from Val and Alexandra, two students who are proud of being exactly who they are.
We heard from Ailsa, who showed how finding a community gave her the strength to find herself.
We heard from parents who support their children and raise them with Jewish values.
We heard how as we celebrate, we must also keep fighting.
And as we heard these stories—and many more—we saw the community watching, listening, and learning. What happens when Pride ends? How can we keep the idea of full LGBT inclusion on the mind and in the hearts of the Jewish community now that June is over?
What will you do to keep Pride alive for 11 more months?
As Pride month comes to a close, we asked a few rabbis to share their thoughts on their own LGBTQ communities. Let us know in the comments, what about inclusion work makes you proud?
DO YOU OFFICIATE AT SAME-SEX MARRIAGES?: Rabbi Mitchell Chefitz
In 2001, Temple Israel of Greater Miami, a prestigious center-city congregation, had fallen on hard times. In three decades membership had fallen from 1,800 households to 300 something. The pulpit was vacant. Career wise, it was a stepping stone to nowhere.
I had been in Miami 25 years, five as associate rabbi at a conventional suburban Reform congregation, 20 as director of the Havurah of South Florida, a progressive outreach program.
I was on sabbatical from the Havurah, considering my next direction, when friends brought me to Temple Israel. I saw a physical plant capable of becoming the great Jewish center South Florida lacked. Within the congregation was a nascent havurah, Ruach, formed by and for the LGBT community.
I began a series of interviews to see if there might be a match between me and the congregation.
One question surprised me, because it was asked by an old-time member. “Rabbi, do you officiate at same-sex marriages?”
I didn’t know what answer he expected. Perhaps he was from the old institution, resentful of the gay intrusion. Perhaps he was a member of Ruach itself. Either way, my answer surprised him and the others around the table.
“It’s easy to do a same-sex marriage,” I said. “The difficulty is same-sex divorce.”
More than a decade before, two women from the Havurah of South Florida had told me they would like to be married. We gathered the Havurah and presented the issue. Ultimately, we realized we couldn’t do a marriage unless we could also do a divorce. It took weeks to prepare durable parties of attorney and other legal documents to protect the union. We also prepared one additional document, an agreement, should there be a separation, to come back to a rabbi for a bill of divorce, to allow the individuals to marry another person, should they choose.
With this work done, we celebrated that marriage.
I described that incident to the interviewing committee.
“With that work done,” I said, “I will surely officiate at a same-sex marriage.”
I got the job.
WHY I’M PROUD: Rabbi Robyn Fryer Bodzin
I am proud of my synagogue, Israel Center of Conservative Judaism, because our members don’t care about whether or not someone is gay or straight, or where they fall on spectrum. It is irrelevant and a non issue when someone walks in our doors. ICCJ is a place where people can flourish in a Jewish community, no matter their sexual orientation.
Looking back ten years ago, before we had any out LGBT members, we created membership forms with spaces for “Adult One” and “Adult Two.” This way if someone who identified as LGBT wanted to join our community, they would feel welcome from the first Shalom.
When I teach, I bring in Jewish LGBT writers, because they are part of the larger Jewish conversation. This way, the shul is a microcosm of the larger Jewish world.
Pride and community go hand in hand. For a good part of my life, I didn’t have much of either.
I grew up in a small suburb in Western Pennsylvania. I was shy, anxious, and uncomfortably Asian-American—not enough of one, too much of the other as far as some members of the Taiwanese émigré community were concerned. While my own parents didn’t give me too much of a hard time about being assimilated, I always worried about measuring up to expectations. And though I had a small group of friends, I never felt at ease with most of my classmates, who all seemed to know more than I did about pop music, shopping, and the opposite sex.
Keep in mind that this was in the ‘80s: before Ellen, before Will & Grace, before Michael Sam and Melissa Etheridge and others who were visibly out and proud. There were no role models where I lived, and no discussion of homosexuality. Looking back, I can tell I had crushes on girls. But had I been aware of it at the time, I probably would have burrowed far, far back into the closet—a closet I didn’t even realize I was in.
Breaking free of all that didn’t happen immediately, but moving to Boston definitely helped. I quickly met a slew of warm, nonjudgmental people who took me just as I was. Naturally, when I finally admitted to myself that I was gay and started telling my closest friends, none of them were shocked (or even surprised). Their love and acceptance gave me the confidence to keep coming out of the closet and to venture out to LGBT events, including the swing dancing class where I met my future wife.
Fast forward to 2008 … by then, my wife Kate and I had been legally married for four years. During that time I had experienced her family’s lovely traditions and learned some very basic information about Judaism. Since we both wanted more, we decided to look into joining Temple Emunah in Lexington, Mass., where Kate had previously been a member. I was more secure with my lesbian identity by then, but was still a little anxious about how the temple community would react to a same-sex interracial couple.
I needn’t have worried. As it turned out, Temple Emunah, through the efforts of its Keruv committee, had already been working hard on welcoming gay, lesbian, bisexual and transgender Jews as well as interfaith families. This, paired with the natural friendliness of the Emunah members we met, made us feel right at home. And when later on I decided to convert, our rabbi, Rabbi David Lerner, didn’t lecture me on how hard it would be and how much I would have to learn in order to qualify as a Jew. He instead expressed total enthusiasm for the idea and added, “And then you could get married under the chuppah!”
And that’s exactly what we did! In 2009, a few weeks after my conversion, Kate and I stood under the chuppah, and Rabbi Lerner married us in a special ceremony in front of our family and Temple Emunah friends. And five years later, we stood again on the bimah and received an aliyah in honor of our 5th and 10th wedding anniversaries: a public statement of love and acceptance that I, in my wildest dreams, would never have predicted.
When I reflect on that happy moment and on all the congratulations and warm wishes we received that day, I’m incredibly thankful for the embrace and support of our temple. I’m also grateful to all the organizations working toward inclusion, whether it’s Keshet’s efforts with the Jewish community or the many civil rights groups advocating for marriage equality and equal protection under the law. And I’m proud to belong to a faith that declares that we are all made in the image of God, and commands us to treat each other accordingly.
Earlier this month we heard from Jordan Dashow about how having pride in his queer identity meant having pride in his Jewish queer identity. Now Jordan reflects on being a survivor of sexual assault—and how that experience further defines his identity as a proud LGBTQ Jew.
(Trigger warning: This post discusses issues related to sexual violence.)
It is April 2, 2014, over three-and-a-half years after I publicly came out as gay on Facebook. I am in a classroom at Tufts University, not paying as much attention to the professor as I should be, as I contemplate what I had drafted moments before I left for class. My heart is racing. I am staring at my computer screen, full of white and blue pixels, as my hand hovers over my laptop’s touchpad. It feels like the last few years have all been leading up to this moment. I know people will notice. I know they will talk about it. I question whether I should restrict my post so no one on my limited profile—most of the adults I’m friends with—can see it. I hesitate, yet I make my decision. I click the blue button that says “post.” My status, a call for people to attend “It Happens Here” at Tufts, begins: “3.5 years ago I was sexually assaulted at Tufts University.”
Coming out as a survivor of sexual violence has been a difficult process, and in some ways it has been even more difficult than coming out as queer. Whereas our heteronormative society teaches queer people that there is something wrong with us, our society which is steeped in rape culture—a culture that excuses, normalizes, and at times even condones rape—teaches survivors that not only is the sexual assault partially our fault but that we should hide our identities. For me, knowing who I could confide in about my experiences as a survivor was even more difficult than figuring out who I could confide in about my sexuality.
So do I take pride in my identity as a survivor? It seems like an odd question to ask, especially considering the physically, emotionally and psychologically violent experience that comes with that identity. Yet, it is an important question. Too often survivors, like queer individuals, are expected to remain silent about this part of their identity. And I refuse to be silent.
So yes, I am proud. I am not proud of what was done to me, but I am proud of who I am. I am proud of how I have turned my experience into a tool for advocacy. I am proud that in a society that tells me I should shun this identity, I have found a way to embrace it. To own it. To not be ashamed by it. Because, ultimately, even our negative experiences inform who we are.
As I said in my last post, taking pride in your identity is when you no longer only reveal that identity when it is unavoidable but freely offer up that information because you have nothing to be ashamed of. And when it comes to being a survivor, we shouldn’t be the ones who are ashamed. Our assailants should be.
But why even talk about this? It may seem odd to be discussing my identity as a survivor in a post about Jewish queer pride but for me, it could not be any more appropriate. I am writing this post in May, a month after Sexual Assault Awareness Month, although it will be posted during LGBT month. For me, those two months are inextricably linked.
At the end of the day, our identities do not exist in a vacuum. My queer identity is shaped by my identity as a Jewish survivor. My Jewish identity is shaped by my identity as a queer survivor. And my identity as a survivor is shaped by my identity as a queer Jew. I cannot separate these identities from each other nor can I separate them from any of my other identities. The fact of the matter is, I cannot truly have pride in my Jewish queer identity if I do not take pride in my identity as a survivor as well.
So let this LGBTQ Pride month not just be an opportunity for us to take pride in our LGBTQ identities; let it be an opportunity to take pride in all of our oppressed identities. You do not need to love the experiences that gave you those identities or resulted from those identities; however, I do strongly believe that we need to have pride in ourselves, and that is only possible once we reject the stigmas society has put on our oppressed identities and have taken ownership of them for ourselves. So let this LGBTQ Pride month be an opportunity to recognize that all of our identities inform our queer identity, and let’s take pride in that. Because that’s nothing to be ashamed of.
Sexual Assault Resources:
The National Coalition of Anti-Violence Organization Members are LGBT anti-violence organizations across the country. This list includes organizations listed by state, alphabetically, with support for survivors of sexual assault, partner abuse, and hate violence.
The Network/La Red hotline provides emotional support, information and safety planning for lesbian, gay, bisexual, queer and/or transgender (LGBQ/T) folks, as well as folks in SM/kink and polyamorous communities who are being abused or have been abused by a partner. They also offer information and support to friends, family or co-workers on the issue of domestic violence in LGBQ/T communities. You don’t have to leave or want to leave your relationship to get support. The hotline is available Monday through Friday from 9 a.m. to midnight, Saturday from 1-6 p.m., and Sunday from 1 p.m. to midnight. Call 617-742-4911 (voice) or 617-227-4911 (TTY).
The Rape, Abuse & Incest National Network: Find “live help for sexual assault victims and their friends and families” at the RAINN national sexual assault online helpline. It is free, confidential, and secure.
Moved by this post? Join the conversation through MyJewishLearning’s weekly blogs newsletter.
Introducing “Ask Asher” – Keshet’s new advice column! Each month we’ll be answering your questions and doling out advice. Have a question about LGBTQ life? Jewish life? LGBTQ Jewish Life? Ask Asher! Send your questions to AskAsher@keshetonline.org and you might be featured in our next column.
Q. “How can I celebrate Pride if I’m only out to certain people?”
Asher: You don’t have to be completely out to go to Pride. People of all sexual orientations and identities attend (including straight people), so you don’t have to out yourself if you’re not ready. Bring some friends who know for support, and have fun!
Q. “I don’t want to march alone at Pride. Is marching with Keshet at Pride a good first date?”
Asher: Bringing a date to Pride is like bringing a boxed meal to an all-you-can-eat buffet. If you’re in a relationship already, by all means, bring that lucky guy or gal, but if you’re single, wouldn’t you rather take a look at the spread first?
Pride is an excellent opportunity to meet people; bringing someone on a first date to the parade will seriously hamper your ability to engage with others, regardless of whether or not they are romantic prospects. If you can, organize a group of friends to march with, so no one will get jealous when you start to talk to new people. Oh, and the people at Keshet are awesome and super friendly, so if you need someone to march with, you should contact them. Have fun!
Q: “I just came out, and it’s a big deal. I don’t want it to be a big deal. I don’t want to march in a parade just because I’m gay. How do I deal with the whole idea of Pride month?”
Asher: No one is forcing you to march in any parade. If you don’t want to “deal with the whole idea of Pride month,” just don’t participate in any Pride-related activities or events. There is no “right way” to be LGBT; you can be as much or as little of a part of the community as you’d like. That said, your strong resistance to Pride is just another way of making a big deal out of it (which is okay, by the way).
So, how do you deal with being out? You don’t, because you can’t change it; you do the things you love with the people you love, and eventually you won’t feel like being out is such a burden. Happy Pride!
Q: “How do I involve my Jewish community in celebrating Pride?”
Asher: Try contacting the leaders of your faith community and ask them if they’d like to participate in Pride.
I recommend already having a specific plan in place (such as marching under a banner or holding a Pride-related service), so that you can present a full-fledged idea (which will be easier to get behind than just saying “Let’s do something for Pride!”). Good luck and have fun!
Moved by this post? Join the conversation through MyJewishLearning’s weekly blogs newsletter.
This year will mark the 9th year that I have been marching in the Cadillac Barbie Indy Pride Parade in Indianapolis. My son had been out a few years and I took the plunge by joining other members of my PFLAG chapter to march in the parade. I have to say that I was not prepared for what I would witness that morning.
But as I marched in Pride that first year, I learned that not all LGBT people are as fortunate as Matthew. Before the parade started, people began lining the sidewalks along the parade route. At the appointed time, my group began marching. One of the women walking with me was another Jewish mom. She was an “old-timer” and I was a novice.
We walked very slowly down the street behind our PFLAG banner. I was smiling and waving, and then I heard a roaring sound. As the crowd noticed our banner, they began cheering and shouting—”We love you PFLAG—thank you—thank you!” I looked around and realized that it was LGBT adults who were doing the yelling and cheering. I looked at the woman I was marching with and even though she was smiling, she had tears streaming down her face.
I knew that too many LGBT young people faced scorn and isolation from their parents, and were bullied by their classmates. But until that moment, I hadn’t understood that the LGBT adults who lined the sidewalks were still suffering from the pain of rejection from their parents—many of whom were not alive anymore. That pain never went away.
And then I realized that we—the supportive parents of LGBT children—represented the parents that these people never had.
I kept waving and smiling, but now I, too, had tears running down my face.
Annette Gross has continued to support her son and her community by founding the Indianapolis chapter of Keshet Parent & Family Connection program. The Keshet Parent and Family Connection is a diverse network of parents and family members of LGBTQ Jews across the country who are available to offer support to other parents dealing with any stage of their child’s coming out process. Anyone can join or start their own chapter – visit our website to see more!
Moved by this post? Join the conversation through MyJewishLearning’s weekly blogs newsletter.