Tag Archives: lgbt

What Matters is You (Not if the Dress is Black & Blue or White & Gold)

Last weekend a group of 60+ LGBTQ and ally teens joined together for the 4th annual Keshet/Hazon LGBTQ & Ally Teen Shabbaton. These words of Torah were shared by one of the participants during Shabbat services.

the dressMy name is Rachel Barkowitz, I’m a second year CIT, a one-year-long, out (and proud) lesbian, and I see the dress and white and gold.

For those of you who are unaware of what I am talking about, or are so wrapped up in the amazingness of this glorious weekend that you have already forgotten the occurrences of Thursday, let me remind you:

After taking a picture of a dress at her friend’s wedding, twenty-one year old Caitlin McNeill turned to the internet with a cry for help. She urged her followers to lend a hand in attempting to make sense of the confusing shot she took.

For some, the dress in her picture appears to be white and gold, though other see the dress with the coloring in which it was made, blue and black.

This debate which swept the internet split the global population into two sides, and I had the opportunity of witnessing this first hand when my college roommate refused to believe that I was telling the truth that I saw the dress as white and gold (I almost ended up in tears, but that’s another story).

So why did this dress become so important to world?

I can tell you with absolutely confidence that I…have no idea.

I can say, however, that the garments discussed in Tetzaveh, the parashah of this weekend, are of a different kind of importance than the now infamous bluewhitegoldblack dress of the present.

In this portion, God details for Moses how to make extremely significant vestments for Aaron that he must wear when acting as High Priest. To say that the details relayed by God are extensive would be an understatement, but every instruction is necessary to ensure that Aaron is truly sanctified.

And for the record, these garments were commanded to be made of gold and blue.

Coincidence?

I think not.

The attire which is made for Aaron is created so that he may become closer to God, and transform into a more holy version of himself when adorning them. One might venture to say that these garments are Aaron’s way of becoming his purest self.

The way that I became the purest version of myself, however, was by admitting to the world that I liked girls, and ridding myself of the garments I adorned which hid who I truly was.

For a long time, I was scared that coming out would make me less important, less worthy, and pull me further away from God, but I was lying to the world, and, more importantly, lying to myself.

I have learned throughout my journey, though, that being your true self, your purest self, only makes your connection to the world stronger, because it means that you yourself have taken steps toward becoming stronger.

So whether you see the dress as blue and black, or, like I do, white and gold, I urge that when you find yourself fighting for your side, to forget the schisms for a moment, and remember instead what this debate, and this weekend, represent: there is no purer you than a you that is true.

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Posted on March 6, 2015

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Finding Strength in Community & The Story of Purim

The first time I really dug into the story of Purim was actually also the first time I thought I might be gay. It started like any other day. I went to school, play practice, and then my mom picked me up.

Ester_y_Mardoqueo_escribiendo_la_primera_carta_del_Purim_(Ester,_9-20-21)_-_Aert_de_GELDER_-_Google_Cultural_Institute

Painting of Esther and Mordecai by Arent de Gelder.

Because it was Friday she brought me to shul. As we sat in the car waiting for the time to pass until services began, she asked me an interesting question: “do you like boys or girls?” And I guess I had never thought about it because I remember thinking “you know, that’s a good question. I should probably figure that out.” So when I went inside the shul and heard a d’var about Purim, I didn’t see it as an ancient story in a language I didn’t speak. Instead I saw it as an allegory for a coming out story.

Esther is the queen of Persia, married to Ahashverosh, and he has just decided with the help of Haman that he’s going to kill all the Jews. Problem is, Esther is Jewish. (Plot spoilers ahead, I apologize in advance.) So Esther decides that she has to tell him that she’s jewish, or all of her people are going to die. And so, she works up all of her nerve, and she tells him that she’s Jewish. She knows that it’s risky, but she does it anyway, because it’s what must be done to save her people. In the end, it works out great. The Jews are spared and Esther is no longer living in hiding. Call me crazy, but that’s a textbook coming out story, right?

Now I’m going to sub in some names to make this story more modern. Playing the part of Esther we have Will Portman, a Yale student. Instead of coming out as Jewish, he’s coming out as gay. Instead of the day when all the Jews are set to be murdered coming up, let’s put in the Supreme Court’s DOMA (Defense of Marriage Act) and Prop Eight decisions. And instead of the king, why don’t we have Will’s father, senator Rob Portman. Just like in the story of Esther, it all works out for Will.

His dad became the first Republican senator to publicly endorse marriage equality, and no one got disowned. Something even bigger that that happened, though. Suddenly the world got a whole lot better for LGBTQ+ kids everywhere. Because, just like Esther wasn’t the only one affected by her decision to come out, Will Portman wasn’t the only one affected when he came out. Suddenly, it became a lot easier for kids of republican parents to come out because they could point to the Portman family and say look, “they’re accepting, and you should be too.” And it became easier for Republican parents to accept they’re LGBTQ+ kids because that’s just what the senator had done. They had gained a role model.

Obviously, it isn’t national news every time someone comes out, though that would be pretty cool. But when it’s someone in power, in any sort of way, it helps. It helps LGBTQ+ people realize that they aren’t alone. When parents see other parents accepting their children no matter what, that helps them realize that they aren’t alone either. And when you come out in your family, your school, or your kehilla kidosha (holy community), you are helping everyone around feel a little less alone.

So back to a few years ago. After that conversation with my mom, all I could think about for what seemed like forever was the possibility that I could be gay. Apparently it wasn’t forever, and actually more like six weeks, because I remember having a realization on Passover. I was getting ready for the Seder when all of the sudden it hit me pretty out of the blue that, woah, I’m gay.

So I didn’t really know that to do with this information, because I didn’t know any openly LGBTQ+ teens and young adults. Mostly I just cried about it and envisioned people having bad reactions, not gonna lie. And then I made a plan. I was going to not tell anyone, not act on it, or do anything until high school. That didn’t last long. Literally days after the first of my friends came out at the beginning of eighth grade, I felt comfortable enough to come out too. After that, friend after friend started coming out. I swear, even in the closet we were attracting each other.

Since then, whenever anyone has asked me about my sexuality, I’ve told them the whole truth. I’ve answered their questions, except when they are too weird and personal, and I’ve tried to be the best role model that I could be. The truth is, I never would have had the courage to come out on my own. I needed a push. I needed my friends to be there by my side. I needed guidance. So I hope that whenever I tell my story, and whenever I answer people’s questions, I am helping them. Maybe I’m helping them come to terms with their sexuality or gender identity, or maybe I’m helping them to be a more accepting and considerate friend or family member. Even if you don’t realize it, telling your story or even just being out can be a limitless inspiration for those around you.

I’m sure Esther wondered why she, a Jew, was chosen to be queen. And I’m sure that Will Portman, the son of a prominent Republican wondered why he happened to be gay. And I’m sure that most of you here have, at least at some point, wondered why you are so lucky to be LGBTQ+ and Jewish. Looking back, we know that Esther was put in the position of power so that she could change the King’s mind. And maybe that’s the same reason why Will Portman is gay, so he could change his dad’s mind, and the mind of a lot of Republican parents out there. So if you find yourself asking why you’re LGBTQ+ and Jewish, I bet that the answer is essentially the same: so that you can change the minds of the hateful and bigoted people around you, or make it easier for other people in your kehilla kidosha to come out, and be accepted.

As Miep Gies once said, “even an ordinary secretary or a housewife or a teenager” (that’s you, readers!) “can, within their own small ways, turn on a light in a dark room.”

You don’t have to be royalty, or a political figure, or some big celebrity to make a splash or even make a difference. All you need to be is your wonderful and genuine self and I promise, you can change the world. Happy Purim!

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Posted on March 4, 2015

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We Are The Light: What Parshat Tetzavah Teaches Us About Coming Out

Last weekend a group of 60+ LGBTQ and ally teens joined together for the 4th annual Keshet/Hazon LGBTQ & Ally Teen Shabbaton. These words of Torah were shared by one of the participants during Shabbat services.

In Parshat Tetzavah, God gives Moses his holy grocery list: oil lighting for the Menorah, some fancy spices for the oil, and some other spices to burn in the sanctuary. You know… the usual. God didn’t just send Moses on this shopping spree for fun. God knew that the Kohanim needed to see the oil before they began doing their job: guiding the Jewish nation. They needed to know there would be, literally, light at the end of the tunnel before they started going into it.

LGBTQ-Teen-Shabbaton-325x246At the Keshet/Hazon Shabbaton last year, I was openly out for the first time. The joke of the attendees was going up to me and asking, “Val, are you gay?” because I couldn’t stop saying it. But I figured out I was gay in 7th grade. So why did it take so long for me to be me?

Just like the Kohanim, I also had doubts about navigating through the tunnel, finding my light. I’m sure quite a few of you in this room know that tunnel, and it’s pretty damn dark.

I tried to make myself straight, which basically meant throwing in comments about whether I was team Jacob or team Edward every once in a while. Let’s be real, I’m team Kristen Stewart.

When I realized I couldn’t force myself to be straight, the denial and depression hit me like the tidal wave when Pharaoh tried to cross the Red Sea. I barely spoke to anyone, dropped all my activities, shut out my friends, and was this close to going into another type of tunnel, the one you don’t come back from.

Then I came out to my best friend, and I started my own Coming Out 101 to prepare for this process. This course will be coming to college campuses near you soon. (Juuust kidding.) Anyway, it was time to start shopping, time to pull out the gay grocery list. I stayed up every night watching every coming out video I could find. I studied each method, trying to figure out the perfect formula to come out, trying to find a solution that didn’t really exist.

God gave Moses a list of everything he needed to be a leader, but what really made Moses realize what he needed to do was getting thrown into the trenches when he least expected it. Because yes, the Kohanim needed oil and spices for the Menorah because that’s what makes a fire—that’s science. But would the fire burn if nobody lit the match?

I’m going to tell you something that took me way too long to figure out, something I realized right here in this room last year.

You can watch every coming out video on the internet. You can practice saying it every morning in your mirror. You can shop in every aisle, from realization to depression to denial, you can hate yourself and love yourself and try to find the RIGHT way to be, but the reality is that E may equal MC2, but your identity isn’t a math problem.

Your identity isn’t a problem at all.

And when you realize that, whether you already have or you do this weekend or you do in five years, you ignite a fire. You light your own menorah. And let me tell you, that’s just the beginning.

rainbow tallitYou may be used to getting butterflies because somebody sees your rainbow tallit and you think, oh no, what if they know, please don’t know, but soon you’re going to get butterflies because the person you love is holding your hand and everything’s finally in place. You may be used to walking alone in your school hallway, hiding yourself, but soon you’re going to walk alongside others of the same movement, waving a flag for your identity with hundreds of people, all creating a rhythm for justice. You may be used to praying to God in your synagogue to please help you, because you don’t know how much longer you can last, but soon, SO soon, you will be sitting proudly at your table for Shabbat dinner, because mazel tov, you made it.

But don’t stop there. Remember your roots. Send this message on and help somebody else light their menorah. Together, we can get out of this tunnel.

Because here’s the secret that shouldn’t be a secret: we are the light, Keshet. All you gotta do is strike the match.

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Posted on March 3, 2015

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Ellen and Janis: A Love Story

This month, in honor of Valentine’s Day, we are sharing love stories. We heard about a proposal at a Pride Parade from Aden and his fiance, Josh, a story of love and parenthood, what it means to bedemisexual, and how to enjoy Valentine’s Day while single. If you have a love story for the Keshet blog, let us know

The year was 1983, it was springtime and love was in the air. We were both 23 years old. I was just Jande2finishing college at Northeastern University and Ellen had moved to Boston from NY and was living on Beacon Hill with some old college girlfriends. Every Wednesday night, the now defunct lesbian bar, The Marquee in Central Square Cambridge, featured a dance party, and we both attended.

We saw each other that night, Ellen asked me to dance, and the rest is history.

We began dating, and 3 months later we moved in together and setup house. (Long time for a young lesbian couple!) I graduated from school and Ellen began a masters program at Emerson College. We bought our first home together in the Southend in 1987 and since that time have we have lived in the South End, Jamaica Plain, Roslindale, and now back to Jamaica Plain.

JandEInitially I worked in commercial theatre, managing the Wang Center, the Colonial Theatre and later becoming Director of Operations for Clear Channel Entertainment. Ellen was in sales first in advertising and then office furniture, she than went on to real estate sales where I joined her in the business about 11 years ago.

We married in 2010 at Larz Anderson park using the gazebo as our huppah and have been together for almost 32 years. We now have a successful real estate team. In our spare time we love to travel, go to services at Temple Sinai, spend time on the Cape, where we are fortunate to own a home in Ptown and work tirelessly for human rights. We are proud supporters of Keshet and the work they do.

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Posted on February 24, 2015

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When Sam Met Sami: Making Time to Find Love

This month, in honor of Valentine’s Day, we are sharing love stories. We heard about a proposal at a Pride Parade from Aden and his fiance, Josh, a story of love and parenthood, what it means to be demisexual, and how to enjoy Valentine’s Day while single. If you have a love story for the Keshet blog, let us know

Sam

Sam

I was the typical commuter grad student. I worked two jobs, hung out with my friends, and watched Pretty Little Liars on Tuesday Nights. Of my two jobs, my work at a Harley-Davidson dealership was my favorite. Life was pretty much—well almost—perfect.

The only thing missing was having a cute girl to text.

I grew up in a very Jewish area so I dated a lot of Jewish people, but it wasn’t a requirement for me. I saw it as a nice “bonus.” It was nice to be with someone that I could celebrate the holidays with. My parents are interfaith, so I always felt most comfortable dating someone who identified as Reform or Reconstructionist, even though I was raised Conservative. And, I tend to go for Jewish looking girls. I like dark eyes and dark hair. I like an average build and not too tall (I’m only 4’11).

Between work and school meeting people wasn’t always easy. I had an amazing work schedule, but I had Saturday classes for my grad program. My Friday nights were pretty much nonexistent.

When one of my co-workers asked me what I was doing for Halloween, I explained that weekend classes pretty much ruined any Friday night social plans. She insisted that I should do something. I thought to myself, she does make a good point.

I decided to venture over to the Pride Center for a Halloween Party. This being my third time there, I only knew a few people and was eager to meet more. I thought to myself, “ If I meet someone, that’s great, if I make more friends that would be great too.”

I sat down and started noshing on some of the snacks at the party. In walks this super cute girl in a green costume with braids and red tips in her hair. She ends up sitting next to me.

Sami

Sami

In my head, I’m thinking: Is she someone’s straight supportive friend, Is she someone’s girlfriend? After I chase away all of these thoughts in my head, I strike up a conversation.

We talk about our names (we have the same first name, luckily she tends to go by Sami and I go by Sam), work, school, food, sports, and cars. We talked about a local restaurant, Harold’s, and how it has the best matzah ball soup.

That’s when I was stopped to ask, “Are you Jewish?”  I later found out that our backgrounds were nearly identical. Her mom is Roman Catholic like mine and her Dad is Jewish, as is mine. I converted when I was very young but Sami did not.

I have to thank Sami’s favorite professor for giving her that nudge that brought her to the Pride Center that night. I believe that it was bashert, or meant to be, that we met that night. I believe that G-d has a plan for everyone, and I’m so happy that Sami is a part of mine.

We celebrated our three month anniversary this Valentine’s Day.

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Posted on February 17, 2015

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Being Single on Valentine’s Day

This month, in honor of Valentine’s Day, Keshet is sharing love stories. We heard about a proposal at a Pride Parade from Aden and his fiance, Josh, a story of love and parenthood, and what it means to be demisexual. If you have a love story for the Keshet blog, let us know!  And, celebrate all kinds of love with our queer Jewish Valentines! 

I’ve been single for nearly 4 years.

DanielThe last time I had a Valentine’s day date was 2011. Actually, that has probably been the only time I’ve had a “Valentine.” So, to say that I have had complicated opinions on this particular holiday, would be an understatement. I’ve gone from absolutely dreading it and refusing to acknowledging it, to now, marking the day in my own special way. Recognizing the love of self.

The Torah teaches us “V’ahavta L’Reiacha Kamocha”, or, “Love Your Neighbor As Yourself”. What does this mean? For me, I think it highlights the idea that you cannot truly love someone else until you fully love yourself. Or as the world-famous drag queen and TV personality, RuPaul, says, “If you can’t love yourself, how in the hell are you gonna love somebody else?” Can I get an amen indeed!

Finding a person to enter into a romantic relationship with is challenging. A lot of it is, arguably, out of our control: fate, luck, chance, timing, chemistry. What we can control is how we love ourselves. Self- care and self- love is a journey that all of us are constantly on.

One of the most important steps for me on that journey was coming out and loving myself as a gay man, being proud of that aspect of my identity—something that took 19 years. Once I was honest with myself about that, the floodgates opened and I began to explore more aspects of who I was, not that they weren’t there before, but by loving my gay identity, I was able to love all other aspects of myself.

During this period in which I was learning to truly love myself, Valentine’s Day turn on a variety of meanings. After I first came out and I was desperately wanting to be in a relationship but wasn’t in one, Valentine’s Day became a day of mourning for a romantic love I didn’t have. Sometimes I would react with sarcasm and anger-celebrating Single Friend Awareness Day.

As I matured and became more comfortable in my identity, I realized that Valentine’s Day could be a day to celebrate love in all of its form, including yourself. That’s why, this year, I plan on using the day to take care of myself. To treat myself. To love myself. Once I committed myself to this, and stopped worrying about finding a Valentine’s Day date, I was amazed to discover that I wasn’t stressed out about not being a relationship.

I’m looking forward to taking myself out to spending the day doing my favorite things—exploring New York City, taking myself out to a nice dinner, and seeing a Broadway show. But why only practice self-love on Valentine’s Day? When you take care of your personal needs, every day can be Valentine’s Day! And if loving yourself makes it easier to show love to other people and receive their love, then perhaps this act of self-love will help make my sphere of influence a more inclusive place!

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Posted on February 11, 2015

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Parenting an Openly Gay Orthodox Teen

In this post from Kveller, Elana Altzman reflects on her family’s journey when her oldest son came out. You can read the post in its entirety here.

13458701445_0ea733e792_zThe conversation over Shavuot lunch at a friend’s house three years ago started innocently enough—we were talking about the Israeli Rabbinate’s reluctance to provide kosher supervision to food served at non-Orthodox events in Israeli hotels. One of the guests at the meal responded with, “The rabbis have to control who comes in. What if homosexuals come in?”

Like me, this guest was a mother of four sons, an immigrant who came here as a young girl, a woman who did not grow up observant, but became observant as a young adult. Our kids were close in age. Perhaps these similarities made her comment even more shocking to me. Like her, I love my children and care about their happiness, education, and religious commitment. Unlike her, I have a gay son.

My oldest had came out to us a few months before, at the end of his sophomore year in high school. At 16, he was secure enough to come out first to two of his closest friends, then to us, and then to all his friends outside of our community.

But in our neighborhood and our shul in Brooklyn, he remained completely closeted, and knew his chances of being accepted, or even allowed to remain in the shul he grew up in, were slim. He tested the waters some, mentioning that a friend from a summer program was gay, an acquaintance was a lesbian. A neighborhood friend told him gays are disgusting. Another informed him he would burn in hell for being friends with a lesbian girl. An adult leader of the youth minyan, where my son lead services and read Torah regularly, railed against the lifting of “Don’t Ask Don’t Tell” one Shabbat morning, as part of his discussion of the weekly Torah portion, telling the kids in attendance that homosexuality would lead to the downfall of our society. Another adult shul member told him that someone like him, a teen who was accepting of gays, did not belong in the shul we had been members of for over a decade.

How much worse would it be if he were out as gay himself? We feared the repercussions on all our children, the emotional trauma that would result when our son would be rejected by the community he grew up in. That Shavuot conversation reaffirmed our fears. Our son quickly said goodbye and left the holiday lunch; our younger kids were playing, and my husband and I were thankful that they were unaware of the conversation.

Read the post in its entirety at Kveller.

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Posted on February 10, 2015

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On Love and Parenting

This month, in honor of Valentine’s Day, we are sharing love stories. We kicked things off with a two part series from Aden and his fiance, Josh. Today’s story is one of love and parenthood. If you have a love story for the Keshet blog, let us know!  Celebrate all kinds of love with our queer Jewish Valentines! 

Lonely.
Fear.
Anger.
The Closet.

Hope.
Liberation.
Self-Determination.
Coming Out.

Lust.
Sex.
Love.
Dating.

Commitment.
Community.
Bonding.
Marriage.

Longing.
Questioning.
Exploring.
Dreaming of our family.

Anxiety.
Anticipation.
Joy.
Conception.

Heart pumping.
Adrenaline racing.
Tears streaming.
Birth.

Love.
Love.
Love.
Family.

This is the journey of our lives. Having been together for over 19 years, my husband and I have traveled this wonderful path. If we had only overcome the first stage, dayenu, that would have been enough. Had we only reached just one additional stage thereafter, dayenu, that too would have been enough.

But, we did want more. While we had a very full and blessed life as a couple we knew very early on in our relationship that we shared a mutual desire to have children and create a family. How we would do so remained elusive for several years until we decided to have children via surrogacy.

Lee and his family.

Lee and his family.

Today, we are blessed with two beautiful children, an almost 8-year old son and 4-year old daughter. They are the true joys of our lives. They complete us and we are blessed.

In writing this blog, I was asked to ponder how love and parenthood go hand in hand. So many books have been written. So many stories have been told.  In so many ways I feel inadequate and certainly very humbled trying to articulate my own thoughts and ideas about such an important and awesome emotion and responsibility. Yet, I recognize that with all that has been said in literature, in the press, on social media, so much more needs to be said because the writings of love about LGBT parenting remains under-represented and certainly under constant attack. My husband and I stand in stark contrast to that precept and loudly say that we love our children unequivocally and as wholly and as wholesomely as any loving and devoted parent on the planet.

When I saw my son crawl and then walk, I felt love.

When my daughter gives me a kiss and a hug, I feel love.

When my son performs his piano recital, I feel love.

When my daughter kicks the ball and rides her bike, I feel love.

When my husband and I sit down to Shabbos dinner every Friday night and recite the parental blessings over our children, I feel love.

When I wake my children up in the morning and prepare them for school, make their lunch and put them on the school bus, I feel love.

When my husband puts our children to bed at night, reads them a book, sings a song or lullaby, I feel love.

When they spend time with their cousins, their grandmother, their loved ones, I feel love.

When I pick my children up from Hebrew School and they tell me a story from the Torah that they learned this week, I feel love.

When we roll around the floor, get goofy, make silly noises and have all out belly laughs, I feel love.

Love.

That’s what I feel every day I wake up and look into my children’s eyes.

This is love. This is my love. And no one will tell me otherwise.

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Posted on February 5, 2015

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Will You Travel Through Space and Time with Me?: A Proposal at a Pride Parade

In honor of Valentine’s Day we are sharing love stories this month. We’re kicking things off with a two part series from Aden and his fiance, Josh. We’ve followed Josh’s story since he first came out, and it’s great to see him so in love. Tomorrow we’ll hear Josh’s side of this love story! If you have a love story for the Keshet blog, let us know!  Celebrate all kinds of love with our queer Jewish Valentines! 

I first met Josh when I was on a date with my previous partner.

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A friend of ours had asked if we had wanted to go to a Keshet Shabbat dinner and we obliged. After the service concluded we sat down with a couple of strangers and began talking. I remember telling Josh about my switch from going to school for Unitarian Universalist ministry, and then finding Judaism.

I told him that sometimes, there are things that are unexplainable, that cannot be reasoned, and that is where faith in God begins. As I was leaving the Shabbat dinner that evening, I remember thinking “wow, if I were not with my current partner, I would totally date this guy”.

In April, my relationship of over four years, began to unravel. For the next six months, my ex and I were on and off. During one of our breakups, I had begun online dating, not looking for anything too serious. In early October, we officially ended our four year relationship. I met Josh, again, just a few weeks after.

Our first date was amazing, we talked about the intersection of queer identities and religion. We were so engrossed we walked roughly 5 miles. At the end of our date we sat outside, and I gave him a little kiss on the cheek.

Prior to this I had been in only heteronormative relationships, and was terrified of being perceived as visibly queer. I was afraid to give up any of my privilege that came with being in what was perceived as a normative relationship. Our third date was my conversion ceremony; Rabbi Zecher of Temple Israel of Boston asked how Josh and I knew each other. I hesitantly explained “we’re dating.” I was reluctant to put a label on us that would make this a real relationship.

Despite my best efforts to run, I found myself falling in love with Josh. I loved going to shul with him on Friday nights, debating scripture, and spending holidays with our families.

After six months of dating, I began to look into rings. I tried desperately to talk myself out of this proposition. I had always viewed fast engagements as irresponsible. I could not reason this feeling away. I truly believe that our love is beyond time and beyond reason.

Pride season is Josh’s favorite time of the year. He talks about it in all seasons of the year and usually marches with Keshet. So, one night while out at a bar Josh and his family, listening to Josh’s uncles’ band, I found myself asking Josh’s cousin what she was doing the day of the Pride Parade. I had decided in that moment to go for it and make a proposal during Pride. I gave myself two weeks to buy a ring, plan the proposal, and to ask for his parents’ blessing.

On Saturday, June 14, 2014, Josh and I headed into Boston bright and early to help Keshet set up.  I got down on one knee holding a sign asking Josh to travel through space and time with me, a reference to our favorite show: Doctor Who. Nothing could have ever prepared me for the embrace of our community. The whole route, we were congratulated on our engagement, and I was truly beaming.

Before this moment Pride was simply the “Queer Fourth of July,” yet I now see it as time to make the invisible visible. I cannot be more proud of our relationship, our love, and our faith. I look forward to sharing our next part of our Jewish journey.

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Posted on February 2, 2015

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Honoring Our Allies

This year we celebrated the work of two allies to the LGBT Jewish community with the inaugural Landres Courage for Dignity Award. The award was established by Shawn Landres and his family to recognize individuals who display public courage as allies to support the full inclusion of LGBT people or others whose dignity is at stake. The award was presented earlier this month at Glimmer, out Bay Area fundraiser.

Check out these short video profiles of our award winners:

Ayala Katz, an Israeli mother transformed by tragedy into an advocate for LGBT equality. Ayala was Named “one of the 50 most influential people in Israel” by Haaretz.

During her tenure as the CEO of the San Francisco based Jewish Community Federation and Endowment Fund, Jennifer Gorovitz championed outreach and inclusion for all Jews in the Bay Area who felt excluded from Jewish life.

At Glimmer we also honored Martin Tannenbaum with the Rosh Pina “Cornerstone” Award. Martin is an inspiring leader in the Jewish communities of the Bay Area, Salt Lake City, and beyond. and is a past chair of the Keshet Board of Directors and a member of the Board of Directors since 2010.

You an check out our photos from Glimmer here.

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Posted on December 29, 2014

Note: The opinions expressed here are the personal views of the author. All comments on MyJewishLearning are moderated. Any comment that is offensive or inappropriate will be removed. Privacy Policy