It’s the last day of Pride month, and I wanted to share a little about what it means to me to be ally to the LGBT+ community, and specifically as someone who is an Orthodox Jew. An ally is a heterosexual cisgender person who supports equal civil rights, gender equality, and LGBT social movements, challenging homophobia, biphobia, and transphobia. I’ve been an ally since my college days. I was even president of the Allies association at Texas A&M University, marching alongside the LGBT+ community, handing out information about services available to LGBT+ students and staff, and supervising ongoing training for new Allies so that they could provide more safe spaces for students to feel comfortable opening up and exploring who they were.
I remember getting threats and jeers for marching with my kippah proudly on my head, but I didn’t care. I knew that whatever I went through was a fraction of what my fellow students had to go through on a daily basis, and I heard so many stories of people who had horrible hardships coming out to their loved ones; but I also saw the beauty and passion of the community. I saw people fall in love with partners they would eventually marry, and I saw how much joy and positivity the community added to our school and to my life personally. So much of the dialogue when I was growing up focused on the pain of coming out or the awkwardness of trying to navigate a heteronormative world; but I slowly began to realize that LGBT+ people not only deserved to be in the same world I lived in, but that they made it better. Ultimately it’s not about tolerance or acceptance, it’s about affirmation that these are whole people, not missing anything, and that they bring something to the table that no one else can.
It’s not been easy having this mindset while also remaining an Orthodox Jew. People would criticize me within my community for supporting a “lifestyle” that didn’t jive with their view of the Torah, they accused me of abetting sinners and encouraging people to stay in their wicked ways when they could be changed. I heard some of the worst kind of homophobia and transphobia from people that I shared a table with, and it boiled my blood to hear them say it. For a long time after college, I just ignored what they said and chalked it up to just ignorant people saying ignorant things.
But that is not enough.
It is not enough to sit idly by while people stereotype, defame, insult, and degrade good and loving people. It is not enough to simply be comfortable in the fact that you know you’re not a bigot, while allowing those around you to stoke the flames of bigotry. It is not enough to be an ally to your LGBT+ friends while staying silent amongst your straight ones. It takes more.
It takes action to be an ally. It means stepping out of the comfort zone you have because of your heterosexuality and cisgender identity, and taking a stand. It means having difficult conversations and answering hard questions.
As an observant Jew, it means even more. It means engaging with your community in a way that is inclusive and open. It means making sure that everyone feels safe and welcome in your home. It means grappling with Halacha, even erring sometimes, in order to fulfill the commandment to love your fellow as you love yourself. It means being understanding when people leave Jewish practice behind because they cannot deal with the internal conflicts, and working for a world where people don’t feel the need to leave. It means putting yourself out there as an example, that a ben Torah can be an ally too. You have to be able to answer LGBT+ peoples’ questions, and have good answers as to why sometimes we can flex and sometimes we can’t, all while remaining compassionate and loving.
I want someone to see me as a resource, a shoulder to cry on, a listening ear, someone to explain things, but most of all as just someone who has love to give. My kippah and tzitzit shouldn’t automatically make me an unfriendly person, and I hate that we live in an environment today where that is still the case.
Thank G-d, things are slowly changing. Rabbis are working on the issues specific to the LGBT+ community, and doing so honestly and with integrity. There are still people out there that will say the Kaddish and write off a son or daughter, but those days are numbered. Slowly, slowly, the religious community is starting to realize that these people are not going anywhere and we cannot change them. I hope one day that the inclination to grieve or to mourn over lost dreams will be replaced by the simple love we can share with one another.
The other day, I was in a very Haredi area buying a new hat, and the guy helping me out noticed my pride bracelet that I had made. He asked me if I knew what the colors meant, and I told him I did, thinking that he was going to explain to me how the rainbow was simply Jewish, and try to dismiss any connections to pride. Instead, he simply said that he liked it, and that it was nice that I made it. I’ll never know if he was being genuine or not, but his knowing smile told me that he wasn’t just pulling my leg.
I don’t want to make this post about me, because being an ally isn’t really about who you are. It means standing up for what’s right, and acting when you can to make the world a better place. As an Orthodox Jew, that’s always been my mission plan, to reveal the goodness in everything. As pride closes this month, being an ally shouldn’t stop today. It doesn’t take wearing rainbow colors or marching in a parade to make a difference, and people in the Orthodox world are in a unique position to change things for a lot of people that are suffering because of longstanding discrimination and misunderstanding.
At the end of the day, G-d is love, and He loves us all, and He made us all in His image; and He doesn’t make mistakes. Halacha will have to learn to move with the times, and we will move along with it. No one needs to compromise their beliefs, because ultimately we all should believe that everyone deserves to be treated fairly in life and that everyone has value and meaning in their lives.
I’ll still keep wearing my pride bracelet tomorrow, not because I want just showcase that I’m someone that can be talked to, but because I want to remind myself of what I stand for. I stand for a world where love is love, and G-d is ultimately understanding. I cannot change the world, but at least I can be one guy in a kippah that’s willing to listen and ready to stand up when the time comes. I don’t think that G-d would have it any other way. I don’t have all the answers, but that’s ok, no one does. All I can do is love to the fullest, and hope that love can continue to change the world.