Rabbi Ari Moffic, the Director of InterfaithFamily/Chicago, is a member of the Chicago Chapter of the Keshet Parent & Family Connection program, a national leadership and mentorship network of parents and family members of LGBTQ Jews. Want to get involved? Know someone who could use another parent to talk to? Find a chapter, get support, take action.
Before our child was two we realized that their inclinations, interests, and style for dress fit with the “opposite gender.” Everyone we know had a hypothesis about why this was so. We started down a journey, led by our child, of new language, new specialists, new research that was foreign to us.
As is often the case, our child’s interests lead us to learn about and experience new things. In our case, the very identity our child was affirming brought us into a new realm. I feel that I am coming out every day with this child.
Our children are separate entities from us but are a reflection of us in some ways. Every time we are in public and another mom makes a comment about my child’s dress, or assumes a gender, or looks confused because she thought our youngest was a different gender, I am coming out. That’s all about me and my insecurities and my fears and my still unease at times. Imagine how my five and a half year old must feel.
We have a confident, engaging, happy, wild, full of life, articulate, passionate child. I don’t want to project my stuff onto our child. But I do know, because we have talked about it, and because there have been tears and anger and hurt that my child has felt different, has felt vulnerable, has been embarrassed to be who our child is. Other kids make comments, sometimes daily, about how our child dresses, what our child likes, which pronouns my child asks to use and honor.
As a rabbi married to a rabbi I think we know about the offerings in our Jewish community. However, it was in meeting Joanna Ware at a Jewish conference, that I learned that our own Jewish Child and Family Services had a support group for parents of L,G,B,T,Q children. If I didn’t know this existed, I wonder how many other parents are clueless too.
If there was ever a time to be a gender variant child, now seems to be good. Sprouting up in major cities are gender programs at Children’s Hospitals. Facebook groups and in-person play groups exist. However, there is something different about getting support from our own Jewish community. For me it is comforting, specific, and familiar to be with other Jewish parents on this journey.
Our Response Center, an agency of JCFS, led by the approachable, warm, and knowledgeable Rachel Marro, offers a monthly Parent & Family Connections group in partnership with Keshet. In addition, she offers support as parents mobilize and take action as allies and advocates. Rachel also matches parents with mentors who can serve as one-on-one support through email or in-person to brainstorm everything from school issues to playdates to camp to daily angst and communicating with extended family. There is nothing like talking mom to mom.
Response offered a program lead by Biz Lindsey-Ryan this fall on gender fluidity among children. The program was well attended by both teachers and professionals who work with children as well as parents. Biz taught us about language and terms, she led us in interactive exercises helping us explore our concepts of our own gender and through videos and slides helped us understand how we can help ALL children move beyond binary and strict gender roles to be free to explore and lead however they can without the stigma of limiting and harmful labels.
It was just a thoughtful and helpful program and many in attendance will now look to Biz to come to their schools and synagogues for follow-up conversations. I am thankful that our Jewish community offers these opportunities for connection and learning. The more Jewish professionals know what is offered in their neck of the woods and the more we are willing to talk about the gender elephant in the room, the more we will feel less like hiding and will feel embraced and understood.
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“For National Coming Out Day I’m coming out … as a Keshet blogger!”
Okay, okay, maybe that wasn’t a strong opening line. A little too flippant and cute, especially for my first time on here. Alright, let’s start again.
“Hi. I’m coming out. I’m a queer, Jewish, non-binary trans man living in the deep deep south who converted through Reform Judaism, though my personal practice leans more Reformodox / Anarcho-Talmudist.”
Okay, that didn’t go so well either.
So, as you might have been able to tell, this is supposed to be an entry about Coming Out. And I’m going to be perfectly blunt. Yes, I was making light earlier, but coming out is huge. It’s massive and scary and integral. It fills you with terror and hope. It briefly throws your whole world off kilter. It is wonderful.
Until it isn’t. Until it happens every day because it has too. Until for the 20,000th time someone refuses to believe your gender. It’s beautiful until the millionth time someone starts making assumptions about you because you revealed you’re a convert. Or the billionth time you come out as queer in straight spaces and gay spaces and everyone—gay and straight—has problems with it. It’s magical until no one believes you’re disabled because they can’t see it. Until you are constantly coming out over and over and over again because the world won’t stop making generalizations on who you are based on the minimal information our retinas can absorb.
Coming out is freeing.
And it is a burden.
It is a burden to live under the an identity that isn’t yours, to hide yourself for protection and safety. And I think more and more of the world is thankfully beginning to realize that. But its also a burden to have to come out in the first place.
So I issue a challenge. On this National Coming Out Day, support anyone you hear coming out. Support them fully by listening and recognizing the power of that experience, realize how scary it can be to say those words. Wear purple on Spirit Day (October 16th, which is also Oscar Wilde’s birthday). Celebrate LGBT History month this October and learn more about the glorious multi-hued beauty that is our community.
But the bigger challenge is this. The rest of the year we need to support people’s discovery of themselves and support our continually growing identities beyond that one Coming Out moment, beyond the comfort of the known narratives. We need to stop making assumptions about people’s genders and sexual orientations and religions and everything else. We need to let people tell their own stories and not create it for them simply by looking at them. We need to stop over simplifying just how amazing we are, just how complex and complicated humans can be. And one day, maybe there won’t have to be a National Coming Out Day. Maybe we can all just be.
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Curious about gender? Check out this program the Chicago branch of the Keshet Parent & Family Connection is running on gender fluidity! If you are a parent or a family member of an LGBT individual looking for support, visit www.keshetonline.org/supportfamilies for more info about our program for parents and family of LGBT Jews.
The “gender binary” tells us that there are two ways to live in this world: as a man (who likes masculine things, dresses in masculine ways, has a masculine profession, etc) or as a woman (who likes feminine things, dresses in feminine ways, has a feminine profession, etc).
More and more, people are becoming aware that for some individuals, the gender they were assigned to at birth is not the right one. If you ask people to define “transgender” you are likely to hear things like:
-“someone who was born in the wrong body,”
-“someone who switches to the opposite gender,”
-“someone who was assigned male at birth, but knows themselves to be female.”
While all of these identities are extremely valid and true for many people, they do not capture the experiences of everyone—for example, those for whom the entire idea of only two options of gender is too restrictive.
There are many gender identities and expressions that blur the gender binary or exist outside of it altogether: gender fluid, gender variant, gender creative, third gender, gender neutral, gender non-conforming, and genderqueer, to name a few. But often these narratives are missing from our conversations about gender and trans* identities.
This can leave individuals and parents feeling lost or confused if their or their child’s identity/expression does not fit the typical narrative of what it means to be transgender.
For example: a teen who says “sometimes I feel like a girl, sometimes a boy, sometimes both, sometimes neither! My identity isn’t static.” Without an understanding of gender fluidity as an identity, this might be dismissed as a “phase.”
Or what about a child who is raised as a daughter, who then comes out as trans and whose preferred gender pronouns are he/him/his, but who still feels comfortable wearing dresses and has no interest in surgery or hormones. This may cause his parent to wonder “is my kid really transgender?”
Or imagine a teen who was raised and identifies as a boy, but enjoys both masculine and feminine clothing and style depending on the day. He may feel as if he has to choose just one or the other and stick with it, or risk being called “confused” or “attention-seeking.”
Chicago’s Parent & Family Connection has been noticing and discussing these situations at our monthly meetings, and is very excited about our upcoming event specifically about these rarely-discussed but important narratives.
Our workshop on Gender Fluidity will be a chance for parents and professionals to learn and ask questions about gender identity, gender expression, and the wide range of forms and combinations these can take. We are hoping this is a step towards a broader and more varied understanding of gender that allows us all to live a bit more freely and true to ourselves.
If you are in the Chicagoland area, we would love for you to join us on Thursday, September 18th from 7-8:30pm at Beth Emet for this exciting event with speaker Biz Lindsay-Ryan, an experienced presenter on gender and LGBTQ issues!
If you can’t make this event but would still like to get involved with our group, check out the many other things we have planned for the upcoming months, including a film screening and educational/support meetings where you can connect with other family members of LGBTQ individuals.
Chicago’s branch of Parent & Family Connection is run by Response, a social service agency for youth and young adults. Through Counseling, a Center for Sexual Health, and Outreach programs, we help adolescents and their families in the Jewish and general community develop skills in communication, decision-making, and leadership necessary to deal with life’s challenges. Learn more from Response, a program of JCFS, supported by Jewish United Fund/ Jewish Federation.
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- Visit Keshet’s Family & Parent Connection for more info about Keshet’s program for parents and family of LGBTQ Jews.
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.
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I can’t help but think about the words maternal and motherhood; and their ‘opposites,’ paternal and fatherhood. As a new parent of a beautiful baby, I’ve been thinking about these words a lot, especially as other people try to make sense of the connection between my child and me.
In my case, as a female born transgender person who lives in a middle space defined merely as Taan, I find the word maternal describes me. It’s odd to think that a word representing mother and mommy or mom is how I am aligning. Because, those titles of mother, mommy and mom are not ways I feel comfortable being called. Goodness, words sure do get confusing.
Looking closer at the word maternal, unpacking it so to say, brings a new understanding. When I think of the word maternal, nurturing, loving, kind, present, caring, gentle, sensitive, giving, generous, warm-hearted and tender all come to mind. All these adjectives of softness, we are told represent what is means to be a mom, mother or mommy. In fact, I feel all these adjectives for my baby without being a mommy.
Thus lies the assumption that softness can only be given from a woman. I associate with these adjectives and thus being maternal. And yet, I am not a woman; I am Taan.
My love and care for my baby reaches beyond English. It reaches far beyond gender.
Maternal I am, parent of my baby, I love you with all my heart. No words will get in the way of this truth.
We’re incredibly grateful to Yiscah for sharing this excerpt from her forthcoming book, 40 Years in the Wilderness: My Journey to Authentic Living. She describes her book as her “memoir of the joys and struggles with my own spirituality, gender identity, and commitment to living true to myself.” You can learn more about Yishcah here and learn more about the book here.
On July 3, 1981, I wake up to my thirtieth birthday stressed, exhausted, deflated. I wake up to this nightmare of reality every day. I ask myself, “Why is this day different than any other day?” I answer, “It isn’t.” I ask myself, “Am I really in Patchogue? Why am I not waking up in Israel? Is this really my life?” I recall how ten years earlier I celebrated my twentieth birthday on my first visit to Israel. Why is this day different than any other day? Today, on my thirtieth birthday, I am more aware than ever before of my own suffering.
Each morning when I realize I am awake, as I observe the Jewish tradition, I utter a statement of thanksgiving to God for the blessing of waking up to another day of life. The very first words a Jew utters, while still in bed, are “modeh ahni”—I thank you. Each morning I somehow muster up the wherewithal to utter modeh ahni. The very first two-syllable word that my breath releases into the world each morning belies the truth. My life is a curse. Even grammar betrays me. The Hebrew language is gender defined. So, not only am I saying “modeh,” thank you, and not meaning it, I am using the masculine form of the verb, and not “modah,” in the feminine. Even my lie is lying. While my lack of thankfulness is the essence of the lie, even the way I express it is not in truth.
I imagine what my life would be like if I could say modah ahni and mean it. I imagine what miracle it would take for me to wake up feeling grateful for the blessing of life, rather than cursed. I imagine waking up so grateful that my very first words would be to simply say to my Creator, “thank You,” and to really mean it! Impossible!
And I know. I know exactly what my life would have to be like for that to happen, and I also know that I might as well dream to sprout wings and soar upward into the sky. In those years, the reality that my body could actually become that of a woman, literally, totally evaded me. I had no idea that as a caterpillar, entrapped in my own skin, I could indeed undergo a metamorphosis and emerge into a butterfly.
So, I wake up in hiding, I go through the motions of the day in hiding, and I go to sleep in hiding. I am petrified that someone will find out who I really am. After all, I myself am petrified of who I really am!
I’m the good Jewish doctor your grandparents always envisioned you would marry.
Well, sort of.
Perhaps they didn’t anticipate that I’d be transgender. My name is Tamar, and I’m a trans*man. I kept my birth name, as feminine as it is, and of which people never cease to ask me about. I kept my name because I love it, it is who I am, and I can’t envision myself being anyone but Tamar.
In good-ol’ Jewish fashion, I was named after deceased relatives, and from an early age was instilled with pride in both the name and its/my heritage. I was born and raised in a Conservative-meets-Reform Jewish household, with separate milk/meat dishes, somewhat regular shul attendance (at least earlier on), and a strong sense of Jewish cultural pride.
My Mom is a progressive, American-born, self-proclaimed Zionist; my Abba, an old-European traditionalist, first-generation Israeli, son of Holocaust survivors. It was an interesting (and confusing, to say the least) childhood, yet helped mold me into the strong, hard-working, morally driven, community-oriented, proud trans*man that I am today.
Being Jewish and being trans* are two huge facets of my identity. I’ve been asked if my trans* identity is at odds with my Jewish identity, and the answer is simple: No. The Judaism that I was raised in focused little on rules and religiosity, and instead focused on strength/resilience, cultural pride, and providing a moral basis for interacting with the world. I was taught the value of family, community, hard-work, and tzedakah. It is this Jewish foundation that drives my work both as a physician and as a trans* activist and educator. I value my chosen-family, trans* community, the folks who paved the way for me, and the folks who will follow after.
My work with the non-profit and upcoming book, Trans Bodies, Trans Selves, encapsulates this pride, thankfulness, celebration, education, and giving spirit. The book is not just a bunch of bound pages, it is documentation of our trans* history, culture, community, and resilience. It is a celebration of any and all trans* and gender nonconforming identities, a celebration of paths already paved and ones just beginning.
It is movement forward. It is never forgetting where we came from, and to where we are going.
When Jordyn & Becky first met, they were just starting college. Jordyn had dredlocks. Becky’s time was split between the Engineering Department and the Crew Team. Britney Spears and Justin Timberlake were still dating. And, Becky’s preferred pronouns were “she” and “her.” Now, 13 years later, all of those things have changed. But their friendship hasn’t. They sat down to talk about their friendship, life, and gender.
Jordyn: I think an important qualifier about our friendship is that it’s one of those fantastic ones where we can (and have) gone months without talking—but we can always pick it back up pretty seamlessly. And, while that’s great for the sake of knowing we’re always out there for each other, it does mean that we’ve missed big moments in each other’s lives. Like, for instance, when you started identifying as gender queer and trans.
Becky: That is an important thing about our relationship. And that’s true. When we first met I identified as a lesbian. It wasn’t really until I started Rabbinical School six years ago that I started to really explore ideas of gender. It was a gradual transition, starting with the way I had my haircut and what clothes I wore, eventually getting to the way I played around with and used pronouns.
Jordyn: I remember a few years ago being part of an email thread where someone said something—in reference to you—along the lines of “and he is going to…” I had to stop and check in. I wanted to be on the right page. Wondering whether or not I was going to support you, or accept you, or be there for you wasn’t the question, it was more making sure I wasn’t messing up with my language.
Becky: And language is really hard. We aren’t socialized to have control over our pronouns; having a conversation about language is a two-step process—first, discussing how we teach language and how we can chose the language we use, and second, taking that step to choose an appropriate pronoun.
Jordyn: And, I’ve messed it up—far more than once…which is really hard for me. It’s hard as an ally, it’s hard as your friend, and it’s hard because I know using the wrong pronoun is being disrespectful and unsupportive. But sometimes it’s that force of habit that makes things challenging.
Becky: We’ve definitely had conversations where you’ve started by saying “I don’t want to mess this up, but….” And, look, as long as you (or anyone) are learning and trying, that’s what I ask for. I don’t necessarily want to have a 15 minute conversation with someone about how they feel guilty each time they mess up my pronoun. Most importantly, we have to trust each other, and trust that our friendship is strong enough that one misused pronoun isn’t going to destroy it.
Jordyn: Still, I don’t want to put you in a position where you’re forced to constantly be a teacher.
Becky: But, I’m going to be a rabbi—being out there as a teacher is a role I’ve stepped into for myself. I don’t ever want to close the conversation about pronouns, or being queer. That being said, it can be exhausting.
Jordyn: Do you have advice, maybe with your rabbi hat on?
Becky: In thinking about being compassionate with someone about getting my pronouns correct, the biblical concept of “lifnei iver” comes to mind.
Becky: Leviticus 19:14 says: “You shall not curse a deaf person. You shall not place a stumbling block before a blind person, and you shall fear your God. I am the Lord.” As a person who identifies as trans and genderqueer and whose pronoun (intentionally) creates dissonance with my name, I try and remember that those whom I am encountering may be going through their own two-step process. First, they may be deaf towards the issues of gender and gender identity. I might be the first trans* person they meet. Rashi teaches that though the deaf person is specifically named, we can extend this verse to all those who are alive. I cannot curse someone because of their lack of knowledge. Similarly, withholding my pronoun or not correcting someone is putting a stumbling block in front of them. In the other direction, the person learning about gender or my preferred pronoun needs to acknowledge the stumbling blocks that exist in front of them. They need to know that they will stumble, and that unlike the blind person the Torah refers to, they need not be willfully blind.
Interested in learning more? Check out Becky’s interview with Jennie Roffman, a board member at Congregation Kehillath Israel, reflecting on Joy Ladin’s Through the Door of Life: A Jewish Journey Between Genders, or some of Keshet’s Trans* resources.
This past Saturday, Keshet Staff Member Joanna Ware joined Temple Hillel B’nai Torah to deliver a d’var Torah on gender justice and gender variance in Jewish text, as well as the effects of transphobia today. We have shared the text of Joanna’s d’var Torah here.
Shabbat Shalom! Thank you to Rabbi Penzner for the invitation to bring some Torah to all of you today. Rabbi Penzner asked me to speak in honor of the other holiday we’re marking today, International Women’s Day, and how it reminds us to work toward gender equality and justice. First though, I want to start with the text we just read.
This week’s Torah portion, Vayikra, is the first in the book of Leviticus, and it lays out for us a set of laws of ritual, sacrificial preparation. Sacrifices were the ancient Israelite’s way of honoring and nurturing their sacred relationship with the divine. We nurture relationships every day, with our loved ones and with what we understand to be holy and sacred, and while we no longer do so with ritual sacrifices, today prayer, study, mitzvot, acts of loving kindness, and tikkun olam serve as our stand-in for temple sacrifice; our means of nurturing our relationship with God, with Sacredness. What Vayikra reminds us, however, is that this relationship isn’t accidental or happenstance, and that God models for us an expectation of intentionally stepping in to relationship. The opening text of this Parsha, the opening text of the entire book of Leviticus, reads:
וַיִּקְרָא, אֶל-מֹשֶׁה; וַיְדַבֵּר יְהוָה אֵלָיו, מֵאֹהֶל מוֹעֵד
Vayikra al-Moshe, v’yedaber Adonai elav, meyohal mo’ed
And God called out to Moses, and Adonai spoke to him from the Tent of Meeting
We have a curious repetition here in the narrative, first God calls out to Moses, and then God speaks to him. Why both? Rashi teaches that God’s initial calling out to Moses is indicative of a loving relationship, of an invitation into an intentional, purposeful relationship; this text is read in juxtaposition to how God speaks to the prophet Balaam, where we are told that God “happens upon” Balaam; it is accidental rather than intentional. And then? We are taught that God’s relationship with Moses is loving, whereas God’s relationship with Balaam is “impure.” So we have one piece of a model for building loving relationships: act with intention, thoughtfulness, and care. Continue reading
When you think “Salem, Massachusetts” understanding and equality probably aren’t the first things that come to mind. My guess is that mention of the town is more likely to conjure images of witches and hysteria. Yet, this small town outside of Boston is taking action to protect the values of diversity, equality, and respect- and they did so without you noticing.
Earlier this week, Salem’s Mayor Kim Driscoll signed an anti-discrimination ordinance specifically aimed at protecting the rights of trans* individuals. Over 40 organizations joined together to shepherd the ordinance, bringing together people of faith, local politicians, and advocates for social justice to take a small but significant step towards making the world a safer and stronger place.
Mayor Driscoll celebrated the news, sharing “There are no second class citizens in Salem and we proved that we believe that… with the signing of our Non-Discrimination Ordinance helping to extend protection against discrimination on the basis of gender identity or expression in the matter of public accommodations… Over 40 local groups, organizations and individuals came together to help advocate for this ordinance which was unanimously adopted by the Salem City Council, once again demonstrating how much our community values diversity, equality and respect. Yep, we have come a long way since 1692!”
The ordinance was spearheaded by “No Place for Hate,” an Anti-Defamation League campaign. The ADL- which originated as a Jewish response to antisemitism- concentrates on anti-bullying initiatives through the No Place for Hate campaign.
Proving that home is where your values are, Salem follows Boston, Cambridge, Northampton, and Amherst to become the fifth community in Massachusetts to take an active stance on gender inclusion. My question? When will the rest of Massachusetts—and the country—take similar action. And, what can we do to galvanize action around this important issue of social justice?
As a resident of Salem, I often get questions about why I chose to live outside of the Boston city limits. While my answers usually boil down to issues of affordability, proximity to the ocean, and a love of the local arts scene, I’m proud to be able to point to this moment of inclusion. Our communities reflect who we are as people, and asking our elected officials to take a stand on inclusion is more than just an LGBTQ value, or even a Jewish value… it is the type of action that makes the place you live home.
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