How The Religious Institute Aims to Improve the Lives of Religious Bisexuals

In my life, I have been seen by others as a straight woman, a lesbian, a gay man, and even a straight man (which still baffles me).  Once people get to know me, they learn that I say I have attractions to people of multiple genders, but they don't often believe me.  When I started dating Mr. Boy, many of my friends who met me after my previous relationship with a man were shocked.  Even though I had stated my bisexuality (for lack of a more convenient term), my friends assumed that was talk and I was really only attracted to women.

In religious contexts in particular, even in otherwise queer-friendly spaces, this invisibility is worse and I have often encountered outright biphobia.  I think part of the reason bisexual invisibility is increased in religious spaces is the focus on finding one person to share your life with (I say one here because religious groups, as a whole, have not caught up to ideas of non-monogamy).  When people are in a relationship, this is praised in religious communities to an extent that erases sexual orientation.  This is particularly true in liberal Jewish communities where the reaction to someone saying they have a partner of the same gender is to ask if that partner is Jewish (another conversation for another time).

The Religious Institute today releases a book-length guide which will improve the experience of bisexual folk in religious communities.  The first resource of its kind, Bisexuality: Making the Invisible Visible in Faith Communities, is a comprehensive guide for religious communities to welcoming and inclusion people who have attractions to more than one gender whether or not they identify as bisexual.  The book asks the reader to consider whether the B in LGBT actually gets heard at her congregation.  Parts 1 and 2 of the book present an overview: Part 1 focuses on what bisexuality is and how people experience it and Part 2 on the justifications for inclusion of bisexuality on religious grounds from a variety of religious perspectives.  Part 2 also contains a brief contextualization of the "problematic" passages about LGBT folks from Tanakh and the New Testament.  The third part of the book outlines how to create a "bisexually healthy" religious community.  And the last part of the book outlines additional resources.  In short, the book attempts to address the issue Emily Alpert Reyes describes in her column "Why Bisexuals Stay in the Closet", which, incidentally, gets quoted in the book (props to friend and fellow University of Chicago Alum).

Suggestions in the book range from the often-overlooked-but-easily-implemented (writing out lesbian, gay, bisexual, and transgender so that the B isn't functionally silent) to the takes-specific-training-and-is-hard-to-implement, like the model of pastoral care it advocates.  That and the background information in Parts 1 and 2 enable this guide to be used by clergy and lay leaders regardless of prior familiarity with the issue, but also allow those with much experience to go even deeper.  The beginning of the introduction best describes the intricate issues examined in the book:

Imagine the following situations in your faith community:

• A congregant comes to you for pastoral counseling. He is excited, yet distressed that 

although he has always identified as straight, he has fallen in love with someone 

of the same sex.

• You are on the search committee for a new pastor in your community. One of the 

applicant’s profiles states that she identifies as bisexual. 

• A married woman in your congregation finds explicit homoerotic websites on her 

husband’s computer and comes to you for advice.

• A person everyone believes to be gay comes to a congregation party holding hands 

with a person of another sex.

• Two middle school students in the youth group announce that they are bisexual. 

Is your faith community prepared for these situations? Is your faith community open to 

people whose sexuality does not fit into the categories of gay/lesbian or straight? Does 

your faith community have access to resources about bisexuality and bisexual people? 

Even if you think you are good at theses issues, I encourage you to read through this book to see if your practices fall into some of the pitfalls the Religious Institute has identified.  I was surprised that some behaviors I thought were inclusive (hello big many-gender-loving trans guy here) could actually be detrimental.

Things the book does really well:

* Casts a wide net on what constitutes bisexuality that is well-explained.  The authors explicitly state who the guide is intended to help include, even, and perhaps especially people that don't use the term bisexual to describe themselves but experience same and other gender attractions on at least one dimension of sexuality.

* Combats the gender binary by using terms like "another gender" and "another sex" instead of "opposite sex" or "opposite gender".

* Talks about the ways in which bisexuals contribute specially to religious life and spiritual awareness.

* Presents nuanced and well-informed definition of sexuality and accounts of bisexual experience. I love the multiplicity of bisexual narratives in the book.

* Breaks down suggestions in a way that any congregation can start to implement immediately.

Things I don't like about the book:

* The phrase "bisexually healthy".  I assume it is meant to parallel the organization's use of the term "sexually healthy", but I don't think the usage is parallel and I think the term is confusing, even after it is defined.  I would advocate the words "friendly" and "safe" for bisexuals instead.

* The book is extremely monogamy-normative and does not address the issue of how to include and pastor to bisexuals who are not monogamous.  I personally think that the attitudes can exhibit the same poly shaming that is normative in many religious communities.  As a poly ally, this rubbed me the wrong way.

* Christian buzz-word terminology.  Uses of the terms "welcoming and affirming" and "faith communities" that originate or were popularized in Christian contexts present a barrier to non-Christians reading the book.  We would use "inclusive" and "religious communities."

Things that should be improved for the next edition:

* Better representation (particularly resource-wise) of religious traditions other than progressive Christian denominations.  In one resource list, Christian resources are divided by denomination, but no Jewish movement resources are listed.  Instead, there is one sub-header "Jewish" that lists Keshet and Nehirim.  This sort of listing, combined with the Christian-centric terminology

* More testimonials, with special effort to include testimonials of folks who are partnered to someone of the same gender.  Where partners are discussed in personal narratives, they are always of another gender than the writer of the narrative.

* A consistent use of gender instead of sex when the authors do not mean to focus on phenotypic, genotypic, or legal sex.

* Expansion to non-Abrahamic traditions - the book as it is now relies on the shared context for expression of values of Abrahamic faiths and the shared values of the Abrahamic religions.  Many other religious traditions are sexually healthy and would like to be safer, inclusive spaces for bisexual folks, and this guide would not be useful for them.  The authors state that it is intended for Christians, Jews, Muslims, and Unitarians.  But this sort of inclusion is necessary in all religious spaces.

In all, this is an incredibly practical and useful resource, and every religious (or faith, I suppose) leader should invest.  Good work, Religious Institute!

Nuanced Perspectives, Digital Media, and Human Beings

After a deliberate absence from digital media following the death of Mr. Boy, I have been re-immersing myself in digital content lately, returning to getting my news online, keeping up with my twitter feed, and catching up on my webcomics, fanfiction serials, and blogs.  Facebook still remains elusive, as any time I log on, somebody is still congratulating me on my marriage, and I don't yet have the strength to change my relationship status.  While on my calculated hiatus, I read the news in the local paper and also the New York times, and kindly bowed out of any discussions regarding new developments on the interwebs.  Returning, I have a new perspective on the way media is produced and reacted to online.

We make big controversies over things that are trivial and minimize or sideline those things that terrify us.  Fierce debate can occur about what really happened in the elevator with Jay-Z and Solange, what should have happened, and how all the players in that situation should act following the incident.  Since none of us have power over what happens in the Carter-Knowles family, we could speculate without consequence.

But when Elliot Rodger killed 6 people and injured 13 others because he felt entitled to have women who rejected him, the internet quickly broke into 3 camps that did not converse with each other.  I'll call the first camp the extremist camp.  This is the camp of people who believe Rodger was justified in doing what he did, or at least that he wouldn't have done it if women had been more reasonable.  Some members of this camp have since been arrested.  The second camp was the feminist camp, which saw Rodger's crime as part of a systematic hatred of women that should not be tolerated, exemplified here.  And the third camp is the isolated crazy person camp, which puts forward Rodger's history of mental illness as explanation of what happened.  After each camp responded, they moved on, focusing on other facets of existence.  They were able to do this by compartmentalizing the killings, either as part of their own crusade against uppity women or as an extreme case of a systemic societal problem (either as perpetrator or victim).  Although their voices on the internet are louder than proportional, advocates of mass murder are few, and the world treated the killings, if not the motivation behind them, as an isolated case.  We compartmentalize mass murder because to treat it as something that could happen to us or by us terrifies us and if we really stopped to consider how anyone could become or be a victim of mass murder, we would cease to be productive citizens.

Still, the approach of over-analyzing topics that we can wrap our heads around and not analyzing those we can't is extremely problematic, as Jonathan Z. Smith outlines in his essay about the White Night.  The essay, entitled "The Devil in Mr. Jones", counters the assertion that Jim Jones was an isolated case in religion and the best approach is to move one.  Smith argues that if we dismiss how the Peoples Temple was started, how it grew, how it developed into Jonestown, and how the White Night occurred as unrelated to the study of religion, we will not understand how Jones manipulated religious phenomena in a way that caused the deaths of over nine hundred people.  If we say that atrocities are only committed outside of a societal framework, we don't correct the societal framework in a way to reduce the occurrence of atrocities.

I've recently read some flame wars on the use of PrEP (a medical phrophylatic approach to reduce risk of contracting HIV).  A bit about the treatment: Truvada is administered to HIV-negative patients who are at high risk of contracting HIV, including men who have sex with men, sex workers, and injection drug users.  Early studies suggest that the prophylaxis is highly effective for males who are compliant with the protocol.  So the flame wars, instead of discussing how we can provide PrEP cheaply to those who may benefit, weigh the merits of advocating PrEP instead of condom use (as if we only have space to do one or the other), and whether we should even be trying to convince gay men that they should alter their behavior to avoid contraction of HIV.  People are arguing over how gay men act or think instead of how to allow this resource to be useful to as many people as possible.

As a Jew, it's been hard to escape the news about the recent kidnappings of students at Yeshivat Har Etzion.  Before going further, let me say the non-nuanced, unequivocal things I think about the situation.  First, these students are victims of a crime.  Second, it is the wish of any decent human being that they be returned safely as quickly as possible.  Third, I believe that the modern State of Israel has a right to exist and a right to govern the land it currently occupies.  Fourth, Palestinians are human beings and have a national identity and have a right to self-determination in their own land.  Fifth, a two-state solution to the Israeli-Palestinian conflict is the solution most likely to eventually achieve lasting peace and stability in the region, which should be a desired goal for the entire world.  I've followed reporting from various sources with various political inclinations regarding the kidnappings.  But the internet is in two camps: either Israel is at fault for its occupation or the Palestinians (as a whole) are at fault because Jewish teens were kidnapped..  There is no nuance to the argument.  Even Samuel Heilman's article urging a systemic look only advocates that Israel and its yeshivot do more to protect their students to prevent students in yeshivot from getting kidnapped in the first place.

In my own head, the argument is very nuanced.  It starts with compassion for the teenagers and worry about their lives and safety.  I am angry at the kidnappers, but am reserving judgment on whether they acted as a part of a larger organization.  Whenever conflict is at the brink of resolution, violence escalates.  And yes, while Heilman may not think it does much, I am reciting Psalms for the missing boys.  Then, my head goes to the point that Gush Etzion is in the West Bank, and in my mind it is immoral for Jews to occupy the area, and I don't understand any Jew who lives, studies, or sends their children to the area.  And I also know about the four villages in Gush Etzion that existed prior to Israeli Independence that were destroyed by the Arab forces in 1948 and their predecessor Migdal Eder.  And I know the land they were built on at that time was formally purchased despite the fact that it fell on the Arab side of the Partition Plan.  And I know that K'far Etzion was founded in 1968 in part by the families of people who had lived in Gush Etzion prior to 1948.  But, in my view times have changed, politics have changed, and the best way to have avoided the kidnappings in the first place is for Jews to withdraw to Partition Plan borders, or for Jews who do not want to to live under the authority of a Palestinian state.  Currently though, Jews, particularly those involved in perpetuating and expanding formal Jewish structures, living on Palestinian land are part of the problems of occupation.  Yet I know the reality of moving an established yeshiva is not simple.  And I know those kids.  Well, not Naftali Frenkel, Gilad Shaer, or Eyal Yifrah, but those like them.  They are reasonable men who took gap years, or occasionally grew up in Israel and studied at the yeshivot in Gush Etzion, some of which were prestigious.  The range of their politics about the Israeli-Palestinian conflict mirrors that of the Jewish community as a whole: from staunchly anti-Zionist to extremely pro-Israel.  They are, on the whole, nice Jewish boys, who taught me how to identify which yeshiva someone had attended by the specific type of kippah srugah he wore.  And the ones I lived near in college opened their homes to me, a non-observant (by their standards, at least) queer Jew because that was how they wanted to celebrate Shabbat.  And when I married the Catholic Mr. Boy, they sent us the well-wishes of mazel tov and sheva brachos [sic] because they wanted to be a part of our happy occasion.  They are the fiercest pronoun police and can't stand it when anybody does it wrong for me.  And they have taken down mechitzot so I may pray with them.  So, when I hear the developing news and I watch the minutes tick by, I don't see Naftali, Gilad, and Eyal.  I see Yoni, Rafi, and Zach*.  I see Asher, Avi, and Daniel*.

I don't have a way to reconcile my image of settlers helping perpetuate a system of apartheid with the providers of shabbes tisches and blessings for my big gay interfaith wedding.  And absorption in the internet's way of forming camps doesn't help.  But people do.  Being open to making friends with people I never thought I'd interact with, both online and in person, allows me to see the nuance in situations.  It allows me to know that unless someone can have access to a stable living environment and follow up care, he is not likely to be compliant with a PrEP regimen.  It allows me to recognize that Palestinians and settlers are human beings, both when they are living well and when they are choosing poorly.  And it allows me to admit that the stuff that horrifies me horrifies me because it is horrifying, whether it be the mass suicide of an entire religious movement or the kidnapping of boys, and I need to try to understand it rather than compartmentalizing it.

*Names changed to protect identities.

Stop Questioning My Gender Identity: On Piers Morgan, Janet Mock, and the trans narrative

Twice a week, on average, my Twitter feed erupts in some sort of controversy.  Like many activists, only "one side" of the issue appears in my feed, as I've constructed my twitterverse to be full of people whose thoughts, opinions, and interests are in concert with mine.  I have plenty of avenues to read the thoughts of people I respect that I disagree with, so I don't bother cluttering my twitter feed with homophobic, antichoice, conservative, transphobic, racist, procensorship, or interventionist sorts unless I also happen to be friends with them.  To be exposed to the opinions of people with whom I disagree, I need only read the newspaper, and if I want to be inundated with them, I can watch FOX News.  My twitterverse is therefore a space where I want to hang out: comfortable, welcoming, inviting, interesting, and safer, if not always safe.

The most recent controversy that popped up on my feed is the controversy over Piers Morgan's initial interview with Janet Mock.  The controversy has been extensively chronicled in the media, so I'll avoid rehashing it at length here.  In short, Janet Mock objected to the way Piers Morgan framed her story as being the story of someone who was formerly a boy and man and became a woman the moment she had vaginoplasty in Thailand.  Janet Mock's fan base got defensive and attacked Piers Morgan, calling him transphobic, and telling him he owed all trans* [sic] people everywhere an apology.  Piers Morgan objected to the criticism, accused Janet Mock of orchestrating abuse of him, and cited an article to justify his framing that she had been a man that Janet Mock did not write herself and critiques in the book, Redefining Realness: My Path to Womanhood, Indentity, Love & So Much More, which she was on the show to promote.  Morgan painted Mock as someone who was out to destroy his reputation, said that she did not object at the time, and repeated that he is a supporter of transgender rights.  Morgan's painting of the controversy fed into mainstream cultural narrative of transgender women: that they are deceptive, as did his overemphasis on Mock's coming out to her romantic partner, insinuating that if she had chosen not to do so, she would be a liar - a man trying to deceive another man into believing that he is a woman.  I do not believe Morgan meant to feed into this myth, but I also don't believe he did enough to avoid its presumptions.  Because of the controversy, Morgan invited Mock back to the show.  In the second interview, he asked her why he was being villified, what he did that could be interpreted as offensive, and why she did not object initially if she had a problem.  She explained (over and over) that she was assigned male at birth, she never identified as a boy or a man, she did not object initially because she was appreciative of the opportunity and scared about how an objection would be taken, and she reiterated that she did not villify Morgan.  She called him an ally and asserted the importance of him getting it right because of his platform as an ally.  She advised that we follow how trans women identify in order to describe them, rather than projecting our own assumptions on how they must identify or feel.  Morgan could not understand what a trans woman of color could possibly find scary about a straight white man.  The interview had several interruptions, but by the end, Mock seems to have communicated that there is a difference between sex and gender, if not that there was a power dynamic that made her fear of speaking out at the time justified.  While Redefining Realness is primarily about intersectionality, and Mock has stated that she cannot live a single identity, Morgan still reduces her appearance to a coming-out narrative and did not let her talk about the book.  Both interviews seem as though the questions were prepared only from the Marie Claire piece about Mock rather than a read of her book.

If Morgan had stopped after the second interview, it would have been an amazing thing for both of them.  Mock had the opportunity to explain what she found problematic, and Morgan had the opportunity to frame himself as an ally, trying to do his best to be supportive, and trying to understand if and how he failed so as not to repeat the mistakes.  However, then there was a panel, in which Ben Ferguson asserted that Mock was a man and boy and Amy Holmes said that the only reason that Mock appeared on Morgan's show is because she is trans (not, for example, that she had written a book as part of her activism).  While Morgan did a good job containing and reiterating what he had learned in closing the panel, there was no reason to have the panel for him to acknowledge he had learned something new.

Other than his insistence that he is a victim in the situation and his defensive stance, Morgan did exactly what allies should do: he asked questions, he listened, and he learned.  Mock, for her part, did exactly what she should do: she spoke up when she felt able that something an ally had done bothered her, and she patiently explained why while reiterating her understand of him as a supportive person.  As far as apologies are concerned, I don't believe anybody ever owes anybody an apology.  An apology is an expression of remorse for wrongdoing.  If Morgan wishes to apologize to Mock for mischaracterizing her story unintentionally, he is free to do so, and if Morgan wishes to apologize to his viewing public for not treating a guest in the most respectful manner possible, he may do so.  As far as all transfolk everywhere? The fault there lies with society, not with Piers Morgan.  We must give our allies the benefit of the doubt when they misstep.

Back to my Twitter feed: I felt alone, even though I'm not alone.  I identify as a man, but I have not always.  I used to identify as a woman, and I used to identify as girl.  I was never a boy.  Sure, I was a tomboy, and that led to many trying to impose the identity butch on me, but tomboy is a fundamentally girly gender expression.  I owned it.  I was the girl who liked sports. I was the girl who could spit farther than most boys.  I was the gamer, the geek, the stagehand, the techie.  I had Shirley Temple curls past my shoulders, wore mostly flannels and birkenstocks, and took pride at being able to get along with the men better than with other women.   was the kid who wanted to be an astronaut because Sally Ride's story inspired me (and also space is cool).  I still answer the curious question, "I didn't know women wear yarmulkes" with a strategic explanation that outside of Orthodoxy many women choose to.  I joke that it took me so long to come out as a man because I wanted to be Julie Silver whe I grew up. I still do, by the way.  I was raised on feminist literature and feminist ideals, and the women and men in my life emphasized the amazing women in the world.  I still took many of the amazing women in my life, particularly many of my early teachers, for granted. I looked forward to joining their ranks.  My eulogy for my grandpa was about his support of me growing into a strong woman.  Then my identity crashed.  As I learned more and more about the way the lens of gender is constructed, I learned that I my conceptions of my gendered self don't match how femininity has been constructed or how feminine masculinity has been constructed, and "woman" became too uncomfortable a term.  So I stopped using it.  For a while, I tried to be outside the constructed gender binary, but I identified with particular kinds of masculine constructions of gender identity, and I ended up feeling that the box "man" is broad enough to include me.  When I identify as a man, people see me for me, and I can interact without the gender dysphoria I used to have. When I identified as a woman, my masculinity was the most important, visible aspect of my identity.  Now, as an effeminate man, neither my effeminacy nor my masculinity stands out.  I sometimes am read as a butch woman, sometimes as a gay man, sometimes as delightfully androgynous (and therefore genderqueer - another problematic assumption), sometimes as a queer man, and very rarely as a straight man.  When I talk about the times in my life when I identified as a girl or a woman, I use feminine pronouns for myself, and when I talk about times since I stopped identifying that way I use masculine pronouns for myself.  This sometimes shocks the people I'm around; I've been known to make jaws drop when I say I used to be a Girl Scout.  Being socialized to be a girl and become a woman is an important aspect of my identity.  I don't compartmentalize me, and I know that it grants me a queer perspective compared to other men.  When trans activists claimed to speak for me that the language Morgan used would be wrong for any trans person, they were wrong, and they made me feel like my narrative wasn't valid.

Allies, haters, the indifferent, and trans activists should not discount my story because there are people who have always identified with a gender that does not match the sex they were assigned.  By being open about having been a girl and a woman, I am being true to myself at those times.  By identifying as a man, I let my gender presentation fade into the background, so I get to interact on a level that takes my gender as a given instead of a question.   And isn't that what Janet Mock wants for herself?

Transgender Day of Remembrance

Even though today has been horrible in terms of my current situtation, I wanted to take the time to remember those who have died because they are Transgender.

Would You Risk Arrest to Get Married?

Indiana law defines marriage as being between one man and one woman.  Indiana law also imposes strict penalties for perjury in marriage applications or for applying for marriage when ineligible and penalties for clergy that officiate at marriages which are done under false pretenses.  These laws have been on the books for years.

However, a new law restructuring Indiana penal code makes it easier to prosecute and convict folks for such crimes starting July 2014.  The practical implication of these changes, given the realities on the ground in my home state, is that the combination of these laws will be used to brand as criminals same-sex couples and the clergy who marry them.  It is a felony in Indiana for people to ask the government to look at a piece of paper.

I wish I could say that since I moved out of Indiana, the shenanigans of the state don't bother me as much as they did when I lived there.  However, they bother me more, I suppose, because I have no say in the matter anymore.

There are obvious objections to the ways the laws work together, and it remains to be seen whether any enforcement measures will be taken based on them.  I wonder if I would risk eighteen months in jail to apply for a marriage license.  Would you?

Showing My Parents the Gayborhood

So my parents were in town last weekend to see some museum exhibits.  While visiting Chicago, they came with me to Mishkan, which for Pride Shabbat was at Anshe Emet, on the north end of Boystown.  My parents have been to Chicago more times than I can easily count, but they had never been to Boystown.  So, after Kabbalat Shabbat, an awesome Ma'ariv, and a wonderful dinner with rainbow-sprinkled challah which reminded my mother of the challah made by Fantasia Bakery in San Francisco when she was growing up, I took my parents for a stroll down Halsted from Broadway to Belmont.

My parents grew up in the San Francisco Bay Area and are fairly liberal and accepting, if not up on current terminology.  However, Pride parades, or parades of any sort, are not their style, so I didn't invite them to go to Sunday's festivities.  As we walked, I shared a little about the history of Boystown, and pointed out the "famous" places, as well as my favorite places.  Upon seeing a drag queen outside of Roscoe's, my father remarked, "OK, now we're here."  My mom was a little shocked that "they still have bathhouses."

A Prayer for Queer Folk

אב הרחמים, gender-fuck father whose compassion cradles us like a mother cares for a newborn, we appealed to you in our darkest moments of internalizing the pain the world directs at us.  We cried out to you during beatings in alleys, with our heads in toilets, when our partners and friends died of AIDS, and, of course, when we finally let ourselves be free to enjoy the sex we wanted to have.  We asked you to put an end to our suffering, sometimes by ending our own lives.  We created communities of our own to let your love in when the world told us we were hated.

From the depths of the gutters we slept in when we were kicked out of our parents' homes, we called out to you and you answered us with the great expanse of a friendly drag queen's heel and her hand extended to pull us up and sit us down on the nearest bar stool.  You answered us in the still small voice of a goth girl techie who taught us oh those many uses for gaffer's tape.  You comforted us with show tunes, Gloria Gaynor, and the Indigo Girls.  You gave us the strength of each other which led us to have the courage not only to come into our own but to come out to the world.  You marched with us on Christopher Street and Folsom Street.  You cried with us as we lost amazing women to transphobia, and you learned with us as we developed and refined queer theory.

Some of us had faith in You from the beginning, and some of us still don't have faith in You.  Some of us rejected You when others told us You hated us, and some of us only found You when humanity abandoned us.  You are invoked all around us, but we lost hope in Your deliverance.  We lost hope when people made in Your image killed our brother Matthew Shepard and our sister Rita Hester.  Some of us lost faith but all of us lost hope.  We lost hope when we woke up with survivor's guilt when we survived the AIDS crisis.  We lost hope when kids continued to kill themselves even after Elton John and Ellen DeGeneres came out and so many others followed.  We lost hope when Mark Carson was killed in our safehaven of Greenwich Village.  We no longer knew how to call out to You.  The arc of progress seemed grayscale rather than rainbow. We convinced ourselves You weren't listening, that we just had to wait for humanity to catch up to Your justice and love.  And humanity wasn't looking too friendly.

Our Rock and our Redeemer, you sent us allies, who took up the torch we left at the door of the nightclub.  To us, some of them seemed like strange bedfellows.  However, when we cried that the country was burning they saw that it was not being consumed.  They fought when we were tired, and we took strength from them.  We were devastated when the US Supreme Court destroyed the Voting Rights Act and when they restricted the ability of employees to claim harassment against their employers, and we got angry at people, but not at You because we lost hope when, despite the illusions of progress, we were not safe in our own neighborhoods.  We called on You to guard our comings and our goings, but You seemed to be asleep on the job as our siblings, especially those of color continue to be attacked for walking down the street.

Our Strength and our Salvation, You nevertheless renewed our resolve as we held Pride Parades, Dyke Marches, and Trans Days of Action in our cities.  You allowed us to broadcast that it can be fun, invigorating, and complicated to be queer, but that coming out of the closet allows a person to be surrounded with complex and jovial folk.  As we lamented that Pride has become a spectacle that straight people come to gawk at and a forum for pandering to gay [sic] constituents, we became grateful that we have the privilege to feel that way.

מודים אנחנו לך, grateful are we for You, in the midst of all of this.  We are grateful for how far we have come.  We are grateful that there is more work to do because we have been struggling so long we don't know how else to live.  We are grateful every time we say the words "I love you," every time we see a rainbow - natural or manmade, every time we pass a single-user gender neutral restroom, every time we recognize what someone wants by a handkerchief, and every time we arrive home safely.  We are grateful for the opportunity to remember how grateful we are.

We pray that we may be cognizant of our gratitude constantly.  Knowing dark hours will still come, we pray that we may recognize the joy of Pride Month 2013 when we are enveloped.  We pray that we remain cognizant of our privilege, and that having more equal rights does not cause us to lose our focus on the marginalized members of society.  Appreciating the support we have been offered, we pray for the will to continue to form chosen families and mentorships as the world accepts our presence in more spaces.  We pray for the ability to show others that difference is positive.  We pray to stay queer.

נברך את מעין חיינו חי העולמים שומעת תפילה

Tzom Qasheh

The Seventeenth of Tammuz is a minor fast day in Jewish tradition which commemorates the breaching of the walls of Jerusalem in 70 CE.  Being a post-biblical minor fast, I did not observe it from the age of thirteen.  The day starts a three-week mourning period between it and Tisha B'av, the day the Second Temple was destroyed.  Tisha B'av is the saddest day of the Jewish year, and many other national tragedies are also commemorated on that day.  I started observing it at Olin-Sang-Ruby Union Institute, which was one of the first observances that made me more frum than my parents.  However, previous to this year, I had never observed Tzom Tammuz or the three-week period called bein hameitzarim (between the narrow places).

Last year, one of the women I am blessed to call "my rabbi" framed bein hameitzarim as the beginning of the trajectory to the High Holy Days.  We hit a communal rock bottom which allows us to do the spiritual work of t'shuvah and reconcile with God during yamim noraim.  So this year, I decided to try fasting for Tzom Tammuz.  Minor fasts are observed from sunup to sundown, and the timing of Tzom Tammuz made it a fast between about 5:15 AM and 9:15 PM.  But due to poor planning, I ended up accidentally fasting for about 28 hours.  Jewish law permits self-care exemptions to fasting, so I did take my medicine.

I wasn't feeling well the day of Tzom Tammuz and stayed home from work.  I spent a large part of the day, lying down, wishing the pain I was feeling would go away, and not really being able to eat even if I had wanted to.  It felt like the world was breaking, which, I suppose is the point.  When the day was over, a neighbor who is a good friend offered to feed me, which was good, because I wasn't sure if I could stand up for long enough to cook something.

As far as how the three weeks are going, I haven't felt too much in a mournful mood.  Although certain things in my life are not desirable (my significant other is very ill), I feel like the events of the week are those of celebration for the most part.  I don't mean to slight to the damage that repealing part of the Voting Rights Act or the limiting of what constitutes a supervisor for harassment cases does to society.  These are unfortunate losses in the fight for equal dignity.  But the Supreme Court asserted that people in same-sex relationships are human.  I didn't need a court to tell me this, but it sure helps that they did.  I feel grateful and victorious, not mournful and sad.  And the coincidence with Pride celebrations just added to my internalization of the collective effervescence.  Additionally, this year, Canada Day, American Independence Day, and Bastille Day all fall during the Three Weeks.  My love's yahrzeit will fall in the Three Weeks this year, but even that does not make me feel spiritually low.  I feel b'midbar, in the wilderness on the slow and steady march to Freedom Land.  We may not be there yet, but we can see it from the mountain top.  That makes me feel spiritually elevated.  I know that I am on the right path, and my community is too.  But then again, perhaps that was my rabbi's point anyway.

We Must Stop Blaming Queer Folk for Our Own Homophobia: A Considered Response to Jay Michaelson's Critique of Dan Savage

There's nothing like a controversy with Dan Savage at the center to get me back to blogging.  I toyed with the idea of writing this as an open letter to Jay Michaelson, but this conversation is really broader than his critique or the responses to it or his responses to them.

I have at times been overwhelmingly supportive of both Mr. Savage and Mr. Michaelson and at other times highly critical of both of their discourses on LGBT life in America, its intersection with institutional powers, and what to do about the problem of homophobic rhetoric from outspoken haters of my queer siblings in American society and American religion.

In an article for The Daily Beast entitled "Is Dan Savage the Gay Santorum?", Mr. Michaelson attacks Mr. Savage for his rhetoric about the Bible in conversation with queerness.  Mr. Michaelson argues that Mr. Savage buys into the organized religious conversation of homophobia and that he is pushing a false understanding of religion as in opposition to queerness.  Mr. Michaelson argues that the social construction of sexuality and homosexuality, which dates from the 19th century, was not original to the Bible and has merely been read into it.  While he is correct in recognizing that it need not be so, the Bible has been interpreted to reinforce the understanding of homosexuality as perversion and sin in society.  Furthermore, Mr. Michaelson argues that we should understand the verses in the Bible which are commonly understood to prohibit anal sex among males narrowly and that religious communities which take or can take such a narrow view of these verses are welcoming places for queer folk.  He argues that the communities that take these verses as only prohibitive of anal sex can be fully affirming of LGBT lives.  I find the assumption that religious values that entail restricting sexual acts and pleasure "support inclusion and affirmation of LGBT lives" a pipe dream rather than a current reality.  Luckily, that pipe dream is Mr. Michaelson's life's work.

I do not wish to enter an argument on what the original intent or current usage of specific Biblical verses means for religiously and secularly identified members of the LGBT community.  That conversation is already robust, and I don't think that's where the problem with Mr. Savage's statements lies or the problem with Mr. Michaelson's response.

Mr. Savage used inflammatory language, as he is wont to do in many circumstances, and shaming tactics to portray the Bible and anti-gay interpretations of it as worthless to the queer community.  He also used anti-gay inflammatory language to attack students who left his presentation because of that vulgarity.  He later apologized for attacking those students.

In Mr. Michaelson's response, he reacts to Dan Savage "feeding into homophobic rhetoric about gays and religion" and presents a moral equivalency between Dan Savage's understanding of organized religion (or at least organized Christianity) as homophobic with Rick Santorum's moral equivalency between homosexuality and bestiality that set off Dan Savage's "Google Santorum" campaign.

My first issue with this reaction is his use of a moral equivalency between Mr. Savage's suspicion of the motives of organized religious groups and Senator Rick Santorum's comparison of homosexuality to bestiality.  In Sen. Santorum's hateful comments, he implies that engaging in sexual relations with people of the same sex is akin to having sexual relations with animals that do not share our language or agency or have the ability to consent.  By calling all homosexual sex rape, Sen. Santorum criminalizes all those who have same-sex relationships, even Mr. Michaelson's description of loving, monogamous, same-sex relationships that some religions support.

Mr. Savage's comments about the Bible are based on the lived experience of discrimination and pain inflicted by various organized religious groups on LGBT persons based on their sexual orientation, gender identity, and gender expression.  Mr. Michaelson does extremely valuable work within religious communities to make them safe and affirming for LGBT persons, but that work would not be necessary if the organized religious world were already a welcoming place for us.  And many organized religious communities are far behind Jewish groups on efforts of reconciliation with queer folk.  The possibility of friendlier interpretations of Biblical verses exists, but that does not mean it is practiced by most organized religions.  I even find my supposedly rabidly liberal welcoming Reform Movement of Judaism alienating at some points.  Mr. Michaelson seems to assume that because narrow literal interpretations of Biblical verses concerning sexual activities are possible, they are universally adopted by organized religion.  This is false, and as much as I wish all organized religions were queer-inclusive, they are not.

My second and main issue with Mr. Michaelson's critique of Mr. Savage's comments stems from his assumption that because Mr. Savage is a gay icon, he should have to alienate himself from his personal history as a gay man in order to be inclusive of groups that hate him.  Systematic homophobia exists in American society, and even the most outspoken, sexually liberated queers have suffered because of it and have internalized it.  Homophobia hurts everyone, and queerness does not offer us immunity to it.  Dan Savage is not "part of the problem;" he is a product of it.

In the queer activist community, we hold to a myth that we have no shame about being queer and we have moved beyond any homophobia in society.  This myth is false and dangerous, and if we restrict speech about queerness to those who are not influenced by homophobic discourse, we must all be silent.  That is not a solution I can deal with.  When queers are homophobic, we must recognize it as a product of the systematic homophobia in society.  And when we are insensitive with our language, we should apologize as Mr. Savage has for the vulgarities he spouted at those who left his speech when he criticized the Bible.  Let us stop blaming queer folk for homophobia.  That is behavior that the true haters engage in, and Mr. Michaelson has engaged in it by his victim blaming as it relates to Mr. Savage. Blaming Mr. Savage for homophobic remarks that he internalized because of his upbringing in the homophobic atmosphere of the Catholic Church is unproductive.  We must call homophobia for what it is whenever people engage in it, especially when we do it through the ways we shape our discourse or through the ways we blame ourselves and the siblings in our struggle against it.  Instead of arguing over which queer should have a membership card revoked and be the newly-elected homophobe-in-chief, we should be calling attention to the destructive nature of homophobia everywhere it dwells, including within the queer community.  We must acknowledge we have internalized homophobia, even Dan Savage and even Jay Michaelson.  And we should work so that we may become the last fossils of that prejudice in society.

And Jay Michaelson, rather than blaming Dan Savage for being a homophobe, should continue working to establish more queer-friendly religious spaces.  Then young members of the queer community can determine for themselves that on the issue of the Bible, Dan Savage might not have the whole story.

Becoming a Better Ally

I have known people who are polyamorous and out about it for awhile, but over the last few weeks, I have had the realization about myself that I need to be more openly and comfortably polyfriendly.  I am trying to keep educating myself and be aware when my own assumptions about life are colored by the value I place on monogamy.  I want to be able to recognize, acknowledge, and problematize that my own monogamous desires are not shared by everyone, and to speak up when others also use their assumptions about an inherent value on monogamy to evaluate the world and other people.

I am growing particularly more cognizant of this as its own kind of advocacy as more and more of my heterosexual friends are identifying as poly.  I firmly believe that poly is a queer identity and I am becoming aware that my heterosexual poly friends are coming into a queer identity abruptly, not necessarily having already accepted queerness as a mantle.  I hope that more monogamous queer folk will accept lovingly and fully our poly siblings and vocally and actively the systems of oppression surrounding assumption and validation of monogamous relationships.

I know I am still learning and I want help and advice as I strive to be a better ally.

Update about an Alexander week

This past week has been difficult for me.  I was confronted with open unapologetic transphobia and the lack of ability of some I considered friends to check it.  I also had to face my inability to speak up for myself when hate was directed at me.  I had a strong ally who spoke for in that situation, but I worried that these friends were complicit in the hate.  The conversation was painful for both of us.

This week as well, I've seen people from within and without the queer community dismiss a friend's queer identity as invalid or at best a choice.  And I have seen this friend's pain because of that and I am angry on her behalf.

I also had a moment yesterday where I realized I was taking a paskn from Rabbi Arnold Jacob Wolf in order to be an ally and as weird as it was to be cognizant of living Reform Jewish law, it was powerful for me to live into that experience.  Reform Jews are so good about talking about choice and occasionally good about talking about ethical sensibility, but we are horrible at talking about laws and obligations.  Sometimes we not only find actions compelling, but we are compelled to certain action.  I hope to be able to devote a post to this soon.

Even When It's Not News

Zachary Quinto made headlines last week when he came out casually during the course of an interview.  I have long been wondering why celebrities have coming out press conferences still.  Quinto, like most people his age, neither feels the need to talk about his sexuality when it is not relevant, nor feels the need to treat his identity as abnormal.  But the media felt like Quinto had duped them into believing he was straight and he pulled a fast one on America.  Quinto talked about his experience as a gay man.  When will the media learn not to be more heteronormative than the rest of the country?

National Coming Out Day

This year, I hadn't even absorbed that the day was happening until it was almost over.  I have so blocked National Coming Out Day from my life and my consciousness that it wasn't until I read the onslaught of Facebook status updates of my friends coming out again.  These cursory reiterations of queerness and other identities are the confident statements of those who hare secure in their understandings of those aspects of themselves.

The most "celebration" I have ever done for National Coming Out Day has been attending the Matthew Shepard Memorial March put together by Chicago's Gay Liberation Network that used to be a much better organization called Chicago Anti-Bashing Network.  There is enough pressure within the queer community to come out without dictating a magic day to be ready.  And there is enough pressure outside and within the queer community to stay in the closet.

As one of my friends from NUJLS would say, coming out is a continual process.  Once you start, you're never done.  There is always someone new to come out to, and identity is complex and changes over time, so there's also always something new or some more nuanced way to come out.

I started thinking about coming out after my love died, and I don't think I told anyone until a year and a half later.  And it wasn't until after my first year of college that I came out to my supportive parents.  If National Coming Out Day had the prominence that it does now, I would have been pressured to come out before I was ready, and I think many people who have started the process of coming out are pressured into declaring their insecure identities to the world before they are ready.

So, if you're reading this and you're considering coming out, know that you are not alone.  You can talk to me or someone else who will maintain your confidentiality while you think your identity through.  Know that even in the closet, you have the support of an amazing network of people who care about you and you are already accepted by the LGBTQ community, or at least the people in it who will matter to you.  We are here for you whatever you decide and whenever you decide.

Cher!

So Chaz Bono is on Dancing with the Stars.  It's not a show I watch.  Much buzz has surround Cher and whether she is a good mother of her trans son.  Activists and pundits think that Cher using incorrect pronouns or referring to Chaz as a lesbian indicate that she is a transphobic hater of her own child.  This is an absurd analysis.  Cher puts a public face on all the supportive parents of transfolk that stick up for their children despite being largely uniformed themselves.  So when Cher messes up a pronoun, I try to have the same compassion with her I extend to my own parents when they mess up a pronoun because I know that they spend the rest of the day at least feeling awful that they screwed up.  And I think: such a loving parent who is not afraid of saying something supportive because the pronoun might come out wrong due to years of habit.  So Cher: thank you for continuing to be a strong ally for the queer community.  And everyone else: lay off and note that Cher is a loving and supportive parent.

Republicans and "Don't Ask, Don't Tell"

"Don't Ask, Don't Tell" is a failed Democratic policy.  Enacted during the Clinton Administration, its purpose was to allow lesbians and gay men to serve in the military.  At all.  In addition to fears of homophobia from higher-ups in the military, it was thought in 1993 that divulging the sexual orientation of a queer service member would leave that service member vulnerable to torture.  There is no evidence that the second is true.  The most prominent group pushing for the repeal of "Don't Ask, Don't Tell" was a Republican group, the Log Cabin Republicans, who were arguing in the courts that the policy was unconstitutional.  The Obama administration pushed for a legislative repeal to avoid embarrassment in the courts.  And they got a legislative repeal.

And now the Republican candidates are all pushing each other out of the way to be the first, loudest, and best proclaimers that if elected president they would reinstate the policy.  This has recently been magnified by the audience at a debate booing a gay soldier serving in Iraq asking a question while all the candidates stood idly by.  Rick Santorum, to whom the question was addressed, did not even thank the soldier for his service until a political pressure steam roller forced him to two days later.

Either the candidates all lack a basic understanding of the separation of powers or they want to abuse executive powers and/or the bully pulpit to enact unconstitutional policies.  Unconstitutional policies military won't last even under Republican authority.  Just look at segregation.  And if Republicans choose to be public faces of homophobia over public faces of supporting soldiers, they're going to lose the support of their base.

Unreasonable Expectations

New York legalized same sex marriage, and religious leaders across the state had a range of reactions to the news. One of the most intriguing reactions was the reaction of the Episcopal Bishop of Long Island, who demanded that priests in his diocese in same-sex relationships needed to marry their partners now that it was legal. Otherwise they would be living in sin. There is a 9-month grace period. after which partners must either marry or the layperson in the couple must move out of church property. This is perhaps the most intriguing implication of the policy for devout practitioners.

First, not all people involved in long-term relationships want to be married. Some couples I know do want to be married but refuse to marry until the federal goverment would recognize marriage of all pairs of consenting adults. Second, I understand that the Episcopal church privileges marriage as an expression of sanctified love and a recognized family unit within the church. However, I feel that for some people who have not yet had the opportunity to consider and evaluate either the legal or spiritual implications of their marriages, to rush them into marriage, even if they are already in a long-term committed relationship. Forcing marriage in a 9-month period seems coercive to my mind, even if the overall goal is in line with Episcopal theology. Pressuring people to marry seems antithetical to any moral philosophy, and I would hope that either the grace period is extended or the church will provide adequate counseling services for both partners in these relationships.

Glenn Beck and Jews

In July, Glenn Beck gave a speech in which he asserted that if Israel is threatened or Jews are being killed, the perpetrators of violence should count him a Jew and come for him first. The statement was somewhat of a political success for Beck, who has been criticized by many for his comments comparing Reform rabbis to Islamist extremists.

I have news for Glenn Beck. If you want to show solidarity with Jews, you cannot pick and choose which Jews you support. Judaism is not a religion of convenience, and the Jewish people are not a nation of convenience. So, let me introduce myself:

I am a liberal, transmasculine Jew, who is attracted to people of a variety of genders. I identify as queer. I was raised in the Reform Movement and still find my Jewish home in a Reform synagogue. I am young, Zionist, and a harsh critic of Israeli policy. I am for peace and Palestinian statehood, not necessarily in that order. I am not traditionally observant, but I am deeply religious. I believe in equal marriage, a woman's right make choices regarding her body, and big government. I believe that Israel needs to obey international law, and I personally hold Israel to a different standard with regard to its politics, policies, and international relations, but mine is a higher standard, not exemptions. I have no plans to move to Israel and no plans to start observing Shabbat in a tradtional way or plans to keep kosher. I have no plans to serve as anyone's token Jew. In my Judaism, recognizing the godliness in every human being is my paramount value. I believe in the separation of church and state in the United States, and I believe I should be able to walk down the street and not be harassed based on my gender expression, sexuality, or religion.

So, Glenn Beck, I ask you, if they come for me first, will you stand up for me? Will you say, count me in community with Kythe because he's a Jew? Or will you say "Kythe is not really a Jew, because good Jews aren't like Kythe?" The difference between you and me, Glenn Beck, is that you can choose in which contexts you affiliate with Jews. I can't.

I am a Jew always, not only when upstanding communiy members are under attack, but also when Jews murder young boys. I am not only a Jew in my synagogue or in interfaith dialogues, but I am a Jew when I am amidst groups of transgender folk, lesbians, gay men, bisexual people, genderqueer persons, and other people who have been systematically dehumanized by religious people and instituitons, including Jewish ones. Judaism is not a hat I take on and put off as it suits me.

I am glad that you were moved about persecution by your experience visiting Auschwitz-Birkenau. But I ask you, will you stick up for all those oppressed, or just those you approve of already?

Also, how will you stick up for others if they come for you first? You are a straight white man of considerable wealth. Using that advantage to end persecution is much better than using it to fall on a sword.

Say publicly that you'll stand up for people like me and I might take your commitment to be counted among Jews seriously. Until then, it's all enunciated hot air.

Summer's always hard

Summer is always hard, and I'm not talking about the extreme heat index numbers. For me, summer is the time when I lost those most important to me. Summer is the time when I read about the camp I used to attend and mourn that it is so heteronormative as to verge on homophobic, and is certainly institutionally transphobic. Summer has also become a time where I feel rather lonely.

Last week, the anniversary of my love's death hit pretty much as hard as it ever does. And all I wanted was to be back at OSRUI, taking refuge in the Tzofim Beit Teva or Tiferet's Ski Chalet. (Those who call it the Beit Am are being brainwashed by an attitude of Hebrew language supremacy at camp that I find detrimental, but that is perhaps for another post). I remembered one night in 1996. It was the first year of Tiferet workshop and the Ski Chalet did not yet exist. Tiferet used Metros and showered at Chalutzim. On this particular night, we had programming in the Art Center, not yet widely called by its Hebrew equivalent. The skies turned black all of a sudden and it started pouring. The lightning was very close, and we could not return to our cabins. We were preteens (that was the word before tweens for all you youngin's) not all scared but not too comfortable either. However, the songleader Josh Rabinowitz and the unit head Danny Maseng had their guitars and played us music until we fell asleep on the dance studio floor. And I found myself listening to my recording of Danny playing B'shem Hashem on loop not because his music is so amazing as to eliminate the pain of loss, but rather because at least I wouldn't be scared. His voice and that Carlebach tune combine in a way that still puts me at ease fifteen years later. And I missed camp, even its heteronormative aspects.

The most ironic element of missing camp wasn't its heteronormativity. It was that when I received the letter from my love's parents telling me of her death, the last place I wanted to be was OSRUI, where I had no access to modern conviences like the internet and the telephone. When I was in Chalutzim I spent half my camp summer cursing that I went to camp in the first place. Now when I have to deal with what happened, camp is the first place I think about, and I remembered writing my love a lengthy letter from Tiferet in 1996 describing what an amazing storm had rumbled through camp and how Danny and Josh had distracted us with wonderful music ranging from the chasidishe to James Taylor.

My Machon year at camp, I had a terrible time. I couldn't be out to staff or to campers, and I found myself much more aware of the institutional aspects of camp's homophobia and transphobia. I am told by those who have been there more recently that the situation is getting better, but I don't really believe them. The evidence is in the programming offered to campers, but that doesn't really help if counselors are still discouraged from coming out or discussing their own personal experiences of queerness as an identity. Obviously discussing personal sexual experiences with campers is bad, regardless of the genders of those involved. I resolved then not to go back until camp started moving rapidly in better directions of inclusiveness. My year on staff was my worst year at camp ever, mostly because the place I called home more than home for 10 years became a place that deliberately marginalized people like me.

But somehow, despite all this current animosity, OSRUI is still home for me. It's still the place where I first thought about becoming a rabbi. It's still the place where Judaism started making sense as a practice in addition to whatever religion was. It's the place I learned the power of music and art, not just from Ohad and Danny, but from the devastation my counselors experienced when Jerry Garcia died. (You may think I'm joking, but I'm not.) OSRUI is the place I learned about supporting my friends, and it's the place I learned how to give back massages. OSRUI is the place I learned that it's ok for a Jew to be an atheist, and it's also the place I learned to relate to God. OSRUI is the place I learned conflict resolution, but also the place I learned about solidarity. 70 Chalutzimniks chanting around the Migdal because there was no Israeli dancing our first Shabbat that summer may have been my first act of civil disobedience. OSRUI is the place I felt most alienated growing up with one Jewish parent (although there were lots of campers like me in that regard), but it is also the place where I first divulged my queerness to another person, a counselor whom I knew to be gay even though he never came out to me. My friends and even some former counselors and faculty from OSRUI populate half the contacts in my cell-phone, and I know that the bonds I have with old camp friends will last for longer than I can manage to keep in contact with those friends, although facebook has been a great help. But it pains me that I call a place that marginalizes me by omission home.

Of course, it's easier to talk about camp than loss. But what can I say about losing my love that I haven't said about a million times before?

The Ethics and Practice of Radical Hospitality

On Passover we say let all who are hungry come an eat, but in general, we don't open our doors until after dinner. In Genesis, Abraham runs out to meet his guests. How did Jews get from running to greet guests to symbolically opening a door and closing it without really inviting anyone in?

I've been thinking a lot lately about hospitality. What does it mean to welcome the stranger? What are boundaries to welcoming in modern society? How do we create open and welcoming spaces? And how do we invite people to them?

Emphasis has been placed lately on offical documentation of welcoming policies. If a congregation has on it's website that it is welcoming to queer folk or interreligious couples, that translates into the congregration being welcoming to queer folk or interreligious couples, right? I wish, but it's not always the case. Welcoming statements need to be backed up by welcoming actions. I feel welcomed by the people at my synagogue most of the time, but there are no gender-neutral bathrooms there, which makes using the bathroom at the synagogue a harrowing experience.

I wonder at how welcome Jewish spaces are for non-Jews and for Jews. My parent's synagogue keeps its doors locked even during services because of a combination of fear of violence and the prevalence of unsavory characters in the small but urban downtown area in which their synagogue is located. I find it extremely distracting when the doorbell rings in the middle of Shabbat services.

I don't know how we walk the line between practicing radical hospitality and ensuring safety, but I know we don't do it well most of the time. Our ethics are there, but where is the practice?

It Gets Better!

There's an Israeli pop song called Yih'yeh Tov - it will get better. This song, a fervent hope for peace, has also served as one of my reminders that life will get better. I believe that society and my life are moving in a positive direction, although not always monotonically. (Sorry for my math-nerdiness.)

However, in the past week, I have been reminded of a slightly different message. In response to the continued (and perceived worsening) occurrences of queer and questioning teen suicide attempts and completions, Dan Savage launched the "It gets better project." This project is a youtube channel where anyone, celebrities like Ellen DeGeneres, people prominent in the queer community like Dan Savage, and anyone else with access to a webcam (most libraries have them if you don't) can record a message of how it got better for that person. IT DOES GET BETTER! If you don't believe me, watch some of the multitude of videos already posted to the site http://www.youtube.com/user/itgetsbetterproject. I especially recommend Kate Bornstein's video. Kate is the author of Hello, Cruel World: 101 Alternatives to Suicide For Teens, Freaks, and Other Outlaw.

Let me be clear: THE MESSAGE "IT GETS BETTER" IS NOT ENOUGH! It is true, but it is not enough. We cannot expect queer youth (or anyone, for that matter) to sit on their hands waiting for some magic day when their lives will improve. We need to be supportive of their struggles now, find and work on ways to alleviate their current suffering, not simply assure them that it will lessen over time. Our schools are not safe, let alone welcoming. In many places in this country, including in my home town, discrimination against LGBTQ persons is legal. Furthermore, in addition to working to ease the lives of queer youth, we need to persuade queer, questioning, and straight youth to get involved in improving their own lives. THE STRUGGLE FOR EQUALITY FOR LGBTQ PERSONS IN THIS COUNTRY IS ONGOING.

So many older queer activists have moved beyond activism for physical safety of queer persons into an effort to include legal recognition of same-sex marriage. Many of these activists live in large urban areas where progress is furthest in the struggle for queer existence. They see the effort for legal recognition of their relationships as the final frontier of the fight for gay rights [sic]. Legal recognition of same-sex marriage may be akin to putting a man on the moon, but in so many places in this country, and in the entire world, we have not even been able to start a space program. Why are so many prominent queer activists focused on securing legal recognition of marriage when many queer youth are afraid to go to their schools for fear of being attacked? THE STRUGGLE FOR EQUALITY FOR LGBTQ PERSONS IN THIS COUNTRY MUST FOCUS FIRST AND FOREMOST ON OUR RIGHT TO EXIST. This right - the right to live - a right so famously laid out by Thomas Jefferson in the Declaration of Independence, a right that our country's founders fought to secure, still eludes LGBTQ persons in this country. I invite, and I urge, everyone to help me secure that right, for you, for me, and for those younger than me including but not limited to those people who identify as or are perceived as members of the queer community.

Be a role model - help make it better.

A FINAL MESSAGE TO ANYONE WHO READS THIS (AND EVERYONE WHO DOESN'T: YOU HAVE A RIGHT TO LIVE! EXERCISE THAT RIGHT!

A link:

The Trevor Project http://www.thetrevorproject.org/