tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5694977390069596082024-03-14T02:34:03.656-05:00Frum Gay GirlDisclaimer: The photographs on this blog are not of the people being interviewed and are only meant to be representative of the type of people who are telling their stories.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04731936564891970650noreply@blogger.comBlogger51125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-569497739006959608.post-3202631756150792402014-12-16T08:43:00.000-06:002014-12-16T08:43:49.682-06:00MEET THE WRITER<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I first met Goldie Goldbloom when I was in fourth grade. She was sitting behind me in synagogue and touched the sleeve of my sweater, saying, “What a beautiful cardigan!” It baffled me at the time; I didn’t know what the word “cardigan” meant.</div>
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I started this interview by asking Goldie if she remembered the first time she met me, and she had a different memory. It was during Sukkot and both my family and her family were eating a festival meal at a neighbor’s sukkah. I was just a baby, but Goldie said she remembered looking into my eyes and making some gesture about the food being terrible and the world being corrupt, and she says I looked at her from my mother’s shoulder in a way that suggested, “Well, at least there’s a shoulder to lean on.”</div>
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Though she was a fixture in the Chassidic community I grew up in, I didn’t have another conversation with Goldie until I was well into my teens. I was beginning to stray from the Chassidic traditions, and Goldie had just come out as queer, something our community could not tolerate. I found Goldie’s home to be a sanctuary where I was always welcomed into a loving family of writers, big hearts, and outcasts.</div>
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Over the past few years, Goldie has worked hard to create safe spaces where queer Jews can connect, share their stories, and exist outside of a community that wants to ignore them.</div>
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<span style="color: blue;">Read the whole article here:</span></div>
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<a href="http://thehairpin.com/2014/12/love-your-neighbor-an-interview-with-goldie-goldbloom" target="_blank">http://thehairpin.com/2014/12/love-your-neighbor-an-interview-with-goldie-goldbloom</a>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04731936564891970650noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-569497739006959608.post-29984999158728015892014-04-06T10:22:00.001-05:002014-04-06T10:32:07.417-05:00News source for Orthodox LGBT news<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-HU70w3xEEXM/U0FxQCunmVI/AAAAAAAADyc/uLLOh9qZuT0/s1600/census21k-5-web.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-HU70w3xEEXM/U0FxQCunmVI/AAAAAAAADyc/uLLOh9qZuT0/s1600/census21k-5-web.jpg" height="318" width="320" /></a></div>
<a href="http://www.scoop.it/t/orthodox-gay-jews" target="_blank">News source for Orthodox LGBT news</a> (click the blue lettering to go to the site)<br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04731936564891970650noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-569497739006959608.post-71454127947112141022014-03-24T22:06:00.001-05:002014-03-24T22:07:56.701-05:00THE YOUNG STUDENT: PAINFUL LOSSES<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 21px;"></span><br />
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This article originally appeared in Tri-Quarterly: <a href="http://www.triquarterly.org/interviews/frum-gay-girl" target="_blank">Tri-Quarterly</a><br />
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I am twenty-three. I’m only out of college for a couple of years. I used to be frum (observant) but now I am <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Off_the_derech" style="color: #292929; text-decoration: underline;">off-the-derech</a> (irreligious; literally, “off the road”). </div>
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In college, I was an observant Jew. I wanted to be part of <a href="http://www.chabad.org/" style="color: #292929; text-decoration: underline;">Chabad</a>, so right at the beginning of my college experience, I moved to a frum neighborhood and became integrated into the Chabad community. I boarded in a Chassidic rabbi’s home, and I worked for a frum family and for a Jewish educational organization. Basically, my life <em>was</em> the Chabad community. But then, over the past year, I became unhappy with how fake I had to be, to be a part of Chabad. It wasn’t just the queer thing—I’m gay, and <em>that</em> had to stay under wraps—but also I was questioning how I wanted to relate to Judaism.</div>
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Accepting the fact of being gay has always been a challenge for me, but it’s even more so for me as a religious person. In college, I realized I probably wasn’t going to be straight, although I really hoped I could be bisexual and get married and go about having a normal Jewish life. But that didn’t happen.<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-hvfg6_aJe-k/UzDsSIbmuaI/AAAAAAAADxY/Fgnv4a4W0Bo/s1600/sixty-six-18.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-hvfg6_aJe-k/UzDsSIbmuaI/AAAAAAAADxY/Fgnv4a4W0Bo/s1600/sixty-six-18.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-hvfg6_aJe-k/UzDsSIbmuaI/AAAAAAAADxY/Fgnv4a4W0Bo/s1600/sixty-six-18.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a>In the last few months when I was staying in the basement of the rabbi’s house, I came to the decision that I didn’t want to be <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Shomer_Shabbat" style="color: #292929; text-decoration: underline;">shomer shabbos</a> [observant of the strict Sabbatical laws] anymore, but my roommate found out and called her rov [rabbi]. Her rov told her to tell my rebbetzin [rabbi’s wife], who called me. She was like, “Call me!” That’s <em>never </em>a good thing to hear from your rebbetzin!</div>
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She said she knew I wasn’t keeping shabbos, and she wanted to let me know what that would entail. She explained that it meant I couldn’t cook in anyone’s kitchen, and that consequence was the natural outcome of my decision to be less observant. She said people would not be able to trust me to keep their standard of kashrus [kosher]. I decided it would be simpler to keep things as they were. Even after I left the rabbi’s basement and moved to my next home, I kept everything [shomer shabbos] for the sake of the children I took care of. I didn’t want to have my relationship with them compromised in any way. I am their caregiver, and I feel I need to stay frum for them, because they have gone through a lot of trauma already.</div>
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Unfortunately, last week I had to go to another state to take care of my sister, but those kids all call me and I read them bedtime stories over the phone—kosher stories from kosher publishers. Hopefully, I will be back soon and be able to work with them again. I definitely want to keep a connection with them, because their mother passed away almost five years ago, and their father is very sick, too. Two of the kids have special needs, and there are a lot of challenges in their home. Mostly, though, there is the trauma of losing their mother.</div>
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I was originally hired because they needed a female presence in the house. It was funny to me that I, of all people, was that person. It was a natural thing for those five little kids to see me in the role of Mommy. It was really important work. I was terribly important in their lives, and so, after a while, I <em>couldn’t</em> come out to them, not as gay and not as not-so-frum anymore, either. It would change our interactions. It would be another huge loss for them, and I just can’t do it to them. It would be cruel.</div>
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They still don’t know I am queer. No one knows. I hope not, anyway. It would have a very negative impact on the way I am perceived and the way people decide to interact with me. Orthodox Jews view being gay as a challenge you are meant to overcome. That view is so pervasive. I haven’t seen any gay frum people interacting with regular frum people, but I do know it happens. Just not in front of me.</div>
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I’m horribly afraid of rejection. Those people in the community mean a lot to me. I would be devastated if I lost the love of my rebbetzin’s family, and I don’t care if they are homophobic. I know if they knew I was gay, they wouldn’t receive me the same way, but they are like parents to me! I don’t want to lose them. And I really love the children who lost their mother. I want to be a part of their lives, and I would really hate for that to be taken away from me or for me to be taken away from them. We have formed a really significant bond, and it would be horrible for all of us if that were severed.</div>
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Even if the families were accepting, and they didn’t give me the whole “Overcome this challenge” speech, they wouldn’t want me around their kids because, in their minds, being gay is contagious, <em>and</em> it sets a bad example for the kids. People have hidden beliefs when they are Chassidic. There’s a ton of esoteric concepts, and it wouldn’t just be as obvious as “Your actions are influencing my kids.” It would be “Your <em>neshomah </em>[soul] is influencing my family, your soul is flawed. You are full of <em>klipah</em> [spiritual impurity], and it would drag down my home.” I don’t want people to be disgusted by me like that. I don’t want to be different. I don’t want to be judged.</div>
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In the frum community there is always a lot of pressure to get married and have a large family. To me, it felt very bad. I was seeing someone, a woman, but I couldn’t bring my partner to a shabbos table and have the same happy and enthusiastic reception. If I had brought a gay girlfriend to my rebbetzin, if I had been out about it, she would probably have taken me aside and given me a big talk about halacha [Jewish law] and challenges, and my needing to make sane decisions about my future, and since she has daughters, she would have been freaked out that I’d stayed in the same bedroom as her girls. She would have been horrified.</div>
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It was weird having a girlfriend while I lived in the frum community. I was very closeted, but half an hour away, in [the local gay area], I was super out. I certainly wasn’t very smart about it. I had my girlfriend come over for visits as my “friend,” and then, one shabbos, when my roommate was out of town, it was different. I had her sleep over. After the meal, we were just out walking, but my girlfriend had a tiny pride button on her coat. I made her hide it. And then, after shabbos, we were hanging out late at night, when everyone was sleeping. We were just sitting in my car, and she leaned over and kissed me, and I had a fit! It was 3:00 a.m., but I was so afraid we would get caught. She laughed at me. Who would see? I was so paranoid, I started coming up with a list. “A jogger!” I said. “Someone who works in a bakery!” Who knows? That’s how it is when you could lose everything. I was very clear about it. I knew I could lose my job, my finances, my housing, my friends, my community, my adopted family. And I couldn’t afford to lose all that.</div>
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Anyway, when I had already been part of the Chabad community for a while, my rebbetzin sent me away to a religious seminary. The seminary rabbi gave an explanation for why people are gay. That was so uncomfortable! It was the worst explanation ever! He said, “If either the husband or the wife in a marriage is repulsed by their spouse, it can cause the child born from them to be gay.”” If the husband isn’t into his wife, then the son is going to be attracted to men. Wow! I kept on hearing these dumb explanations: “It’s a choice!”” “H-shem [G-d] doesn’t give you challenges you can’t handle.” I davened [prayed] so long and so hard to have this problem go away, but nothing changed. I couldn’t handle it, but I still had the challenge!</div>
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Also, in the seminary, trans people and sexuality in general were always made fun of and looked down on. They were discussed as disgusting things to be shunned. One person asked, “Which side of the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mechitza" style="color: #292929; text-decoration: underline;">mechitza</a> does a trans woman sit on?” and Rabbi B [an internationally known rabbi] said, “That’s like a person who wants to be an elephant.” He turned it into a joke. It was so upsetting. Anyone who happened to be part of the queer spectrum would have been pushed far away from <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Yiddishkeit" style="color: #292929; text-decoration: underline;">Yiddishkeit</a> by Rabbi B’s response.</div>
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Even then, I knew Jewish trans people. All queer people have so many struggles, and trying to fit into the frum community is difficult for them, but it’s infinitely more challenging for trans people. As a result of the seminary rabbi, I became alienated and distanced. I felt like I wasn’t going to fit into the Chabad community, no matter how I behaved, or that there was something fundamentally wrong with me. Eventually, I felt suicidal and ended up in hospital for a while, trying to work through my feelings about queerness and Judaism. The rabbi in whose house I lived at that time wasn’t too excited about my being sick, and his family barely spoke to me after that. It was part of the reason I had to move out of that house. And afterward, I was different, not as involved in Chabad life, but still connected.</div>
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So many people in [the local gay area] have had bad experiences with religion and want nothing to do with it. So, in that area, I can’t be out about being Orthodox! I don’t fit in anywhere. All I want is to fit in and be normal . . . frum <em>and </em>gay. And not stigmatized. I still don’t know how to reconcile these two parts of myself. Before I had to leave to take care of my sister, I hung out with people who <em>used to be</em> frum. We got together on Friday night. We made <a href="http://www.chabad.org/library/article_cdo/aid/610626/jewish/Kiddush.htm" style="color: #292929; text-decoration: underline;">kiddush</a>, we made a seuda [meal] on shabbos day, but we went out on dates right afterward.</div>
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-4zlL9VbqJz0/UzDsLh0VYcI/AAAAAAAADvA/MSS3qH_SSoI/s1600/Queer+pistachios+lively+wedding+flower+girls.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-4zlL9VbqJz0/UzDsLh0VYcI/AAAAAAAADvA/MSS3qH_SSoI/s1600/Queer+pistachios+lively+wedding+flower+girls.jpg" height="320" width="307" /></a></div>
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Even now that I don’t eat kosher, I’m completely unwilling to eat treif [nonkosher] meat. I don’t keep shabbos, but I wouldn’t ever light after licht bentshen [the time to light candles on Friday evening]. I still daven shacharis and mincha [pray the morning and afternoon services, about an hour’s worth of prayer] every day. My partner is upset at how religious I am, and at me being shomer shabbos. It feels like I can never satisfy both parts of myself.</div>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Vz_XH72VKs8/UzDsFBtgxxI/AAAAAAAADtA/_iPxTdGCdQc/s1600/1-funny-photographs-pop-corn.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Vz_XH72VKs8/UzDsFBtgxxI/AAAAAAAADtA/_iPxTdGCdQc/s1600/1-funny-photographs-pop-corn.jpg" height="320" width="249" /></a></div>
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My partner and some of my non-frum friends ask me why I don’t just do all the <a href="http://www.jewishvirtuallibrary.org/jsource/Judaism/mitzvot.html" style="color: #292929; text-decoration: underline;">mitzvos</a>, or do none and trick the people I work for. I couldn’t do that. My rebbetzin is very honest herself. Most frum Jews are very careful about that, but she is special. She asks me to be honest about my level of observance, to understand what I could lose by not being frum. She innocently trusts me to say the truth about whether or not I am shomer shabbos. I can’t betray that trust. Now that I am living with my sister, my rebbetzin calls me up and asks me to keep shabbos and go to shul [synagogue].</div>
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I wish I could come out to her, but once, my roommate was at a shabbos meal with me, at my rebbetzin’s house. One of her little girls was playing with my roommate’s ring. The girl took it off my roommate’s finger and then put it back on again and said, “Harei at mekudeshes li [“Behold! You are consecrated to me,” the traditional words at a Jewish wedding ceremony]. We are married now!” My rebbetzin laughed and then frowned and said, “How would that even work with two girls? It’s <em>impossible</em>!” My rebbetzin made being a lesbian into a joke! It’s crazy, because she knows women who are lesbians, even women who are lesbians in the frum community. She had a very close friend who turned out to be a frum lesbian.</div>
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-y__BKjl62HE/UzDsPDmmXzI/AAAAAAAADwA/9Zs6orxdsi4/s1600/image585.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-y__BKjl62HE/UzDsPDmmXzI/AAAAAAAADwA/9Zs6orxdsi4/s1600/image585.jpg" height="400" width="318" /></a></div>
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I know two lesbians in the local Chassidic community. One of them is the head of an organization for gay frum Jews. When I didn’t know anyone frum and gay, I somehow found the book <em><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Keep-Your-Wives-Away-Them/dp/1556438796" style="color: #292929; text-decoration: underline;">Keep Your Wives Away from Them</a></em>. I looked at all the contributors’ info, and then I searched the names until I found a phone number for one of them. I called her up, and she was really understanding. I was in seminary at the time, so we met clandestinely. I met her wife, too, and we had a whole conversation about being queer and frum. She gave me the contact information for a frum lesbian in my community. It was all word of mouth.</div>
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-rZN_t5ycj0M/UzDsQVRxubI/AAAAAAAADwk/txE9ES3wKvs/s1600/nazi-camp-woman-smiling-for-photo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-rZN_t5ycj0M/UzDsQVRxubI/AAAAAAAADwk/txE9ES3wKvs/s1600/nazi-camp-woman-smiling-for-photo.jpg" height="400" width="268" /></a></div>
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When I went to the frum lesbian’s house for a shabbos meal, it was the most authentic meal I’d ever been to. It was beautiful! Then, when I returned to my rebbetzin’s house, I realized how closed down I had to be in her house, and how much I didn’t want to be like that. My rebbetzin’s home <em>is</em> open and inviting, as long as you fit their picture.</div>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-uwuEiqQ6I7I/UzDsKXtUl4I/AAAAAAAADuk/_7D_ZwaJYZE/s1600/KHei_NYC-Cohens_0021.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-uwuEiqQ6I7I/UzDsKXtUl4I/AAAAAAAADuk/_7D_ZwaJYZE/s1600/KHei_NYC-Cohens_0021.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></div>
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In my experience, there has only been one rabbi who was compassionate to my whole situation. Because of his accepting attitude, I came out to him. I wanted to ask him what I should do. I told him I struggled with attractions that are inappropriate, and he said, “To women?” He said it’s not the most important thing to get married and have a family. He said there are other things you can do as a Jewish woman. He also referenced a gay man who got married and had a kid. He didn’t freak out at me, but he still had this idea that if I really wanted to, I could change. He was a <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Baal_teshuva" style="color: #292929; text-decoration: underline;">baal teshuva</a> [returnee to Judaism], <span style="line-height: 1.538em;">and he was supposedly a hippie before he became frum, so that might have affected his worldview.</span></div>
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-3RUYQ5rGHlw/UzDsPto1tSI/AAAAAAAADwU/i8XgEntCkdw/s1600/malka-an-chava-evans.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-3RUYQ5rGHlw/UzDsPto1tSI/AAAAAAAADwU/i8XgEntCkdw/s1600/malka-an-chava-evans.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></div>
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Maybe hippies really have it right. I’m a big fan of Ve’ahavta lerei’echa kamoicha [Love your neighbor as yourself]. There aren’t any strings attached to that. There’s no “so long as your fellow Jew is . . . ” It’s not, Love these Jews but not those Jews. That’s the whole point. My rebbetzin really stressed the idea of the community waiting for everybody to be back from the <a href="http://www.sichosinenglish.org/essays/04.htm" style="color: #292929; text-decoration: underline;">Bais Hamikdash</a> [Temple] before davening for rain. We wait for <em>everyone</em>, and everyone is important, no matter who they are or what their level of observance is, no matter what their challenges are. That was <em>inclusive </em>instead of exclusive. I want the community to be like that. You can’t be afraid of other people, and exclude them, and have this negative view, and really be holy. </div>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-6i4HW_t9oSg/UzDsSYKGNRI/AAAAAAAADxg/QeUjv4gdxKo/s1600/tumblr_lqwe3lVyqD1qz762fo1_500.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-6i4HW_t9oSg/UzDsSYKGNRI/AAAAAAAADxg/QeUjv4gdxKo/s1600/tumblr_lqwe3lVyqD1qz762fo1_500.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;">NB. These photos are only used for illustrative (or humourous) purposes and do not represent the people described in this article.</span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04731936564891970650noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-569497739006959608.post-64490622873078412482014-01-20T11:46:00.002-06:002014-01-21T14:07:11.345-06:00ESHEL RETREAT<!--StartFragment-->
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ZEg4HEzhIOs/Ut1ZKvaxI8I/AAAAAAAADoY/g4LnCI51I5c/s1600/site_28_rand_895602964_kandahar_maxed.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ZEg4HEzhIOs/Ut1ZKvaxI8I/AAAAAAAADoY/g4LnCI51I5c/s1600/site_28_rand_895602964_kandahar_maxed.jpg" height="225" width="400" /></a></div>
I am aware that this shul is my favourite
shul in the whole world, much as I am aware that I am the most comfortable in
my skin in this place, year after year.<br />
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-BNyUv5A3jZA/Ut1bYQLCtNI/AAAAAAAADo0/FJli7fQXxxE/s1600/300px-IFJRC-Synagogue-Winter.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-BNyUv5A3jZA/Ut1bYQLCtNI/AAAAAAAADo0/FJli7fQXxxE/s1600/300px-IFJRC-Synagogue-Winter.JPG" height="265" width="400" /></a></div>
The huge windows next to me look out
over a frozen lake and up towards a mountain of fir trees. Snow falls in huge
fat spiraling flakes, mesmerizing, exquisite. The singing swells, luscious,
many harmonies rippling through the room. Snow light pours in through the
windows above the aron kodesh.<br />
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-VCkprHMWOE8/Ut1baAKLqkI/AAAAAAAADpk/BbOAnnr2m90/s1600/tumblr_mvp1bqaBGt1swwqebo1_500.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-VCkprHMWOE8/Ut1baAKLqkI/AAAAAAAADpk/BbOAnnr2m90/s1600/tumblr_mvp1bqaBGt1swwqebo1_500.gif" /></a></div>
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<span lang="EN-US">Yes. I am at another <a href="http://eshelonline.org/" target="_blank">Eshel</a> at the <a href="http://isabellafreedman.org/" target="_blank">Isabella Freedman Center</a>, the fourth one I have attended. The people who fill this room
are my friends and my extended family. Some wear <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bekishe" target="_blank">zaidener bekishe</a>s and black
hats. Some wear pressed jeans and designer shirts. Some have wigs and some have
scarves and some do not cover their hair at all. But we are all family, whether
we look the same or practice the same or speak the same or believe the same
things or are the same age or come from the same parts of the world because,
for once, we are in a room that is filled, exclusively, with Jews who are
connected with Orthodoxy and identify as Lesbian or Gay or Bisexual or Transgender
or Queer.</span></div>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-nhOxYfxAEd4/Ut1ZLI5aiKI/AAAAAAAADoU/tCYfXHbHLe4/s1600/w-duncan-080913.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-nhOxYfxAEd4/Ut1ZLI5aiKI/AAAAAAAADoU/tCYfXHbHLe4/s1600/w-duncan-080913.jpg" height="221" width="400" /></a></div>
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There’s nothing like it.</div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US">The sense of unity alone is something to live on for months.</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US">The sense of delight and pleasure and
exhilaration and discovery…</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US">The sense of belonging…</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US">There is a session on LGBT blogging and I sit next to the writers of <a href="http://frumgaymarried.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">Frum Gay Married</a> and the <a href="http://jewishpinkelephant.com/" target="_blank">Jewish Pink Elephant</a>. We talk about why we write our blogs and what have been some of the outcomes. We cry. We laugh. We talk and talk and talk some more and at the end, there are questions and comments. Many of the people say thank you. Thank you for letting our voices be heard. Thank you for being there when I needed to know I wasn't the only person frum gay person in the world. Thank you for validating my experience. For reducing the loneliness.</span></div>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-YMvMYq_duSQ/Ut1ZJbzjUXI/AAAAAAAADoI/R6P43ajbnMg/s1600/iStock_000018642257Small.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-YMvMYq_duSQ/Ut1ZJbzjUXI/AAAAAAAADoI/R6P43ajbnMg/s1600/iStock_000018642257Small.jpg" height="212" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span lang="EN-US">This year, there are a larger number of Chassidic
women, and for that, I am grateful. I am feeling like this blog is worth the
effort and time it takes. I am feeling like slowly, slowly, people within Chassidic
and yeshivish communities are finding Eshel and beginning to connect. Cousins
discover each other. Neither knew the other was part of this community. </span></div>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9cnkb5N_pgM/Ut1ZGYAhtZI/AAAAAAAADm0/5kqCxsB9Ysk/s1600/1395349_649998625032280_480854195_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9cnkb5N_pgM/Ut1ZGYAhtZI/AAAAAAAADm0/5kqCxsB9Ysk/s1600/1395349_649998625032280_480854195_n.jpg" height="320" width="173" /></a></div>
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Old
friends from yeshiva see each other across the room, and their eyes widen. You
too? </div>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-bA46F1Pck3g/Ut1ZGddJPSI/AAAAAAAADm4/_U7yXNCdIpQ/s1600/1374229_654130431285766_2091022085_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-bA46F1Pck3g/Ut1ZGddJPSI/AAAAAAAADm4/_U7yXNCdIpQ/s1600/1374229_654130431285766_2091022085_n.jpg" height="320" width="213" /></a></div>
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<span lang="EN-US">A young couple sit in a hidden corner, holding hands, smiling shyly at one
another. families carry their children through the admiring crowds of adopted aunties and uncles.</span></div>
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-QzUrq7dPKNU/Ut1dmhQNTEI/AAAAAAAADqA/ETMqmu9RVWo/s1600/5649192835_55c594b63d_m.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-QzUrq7dPKNU/Ut1dmhQNTEI/AAAAAAAADqA/ETMqmu9RVWo/s1600/5649192835_55c594b63d_m.jpg" height="256" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span lang="EN-US">Eshel. Community for those who have none.
Family for those who might have lost theirs. </span></div>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-AGO0wRT1zG4/Ut1gqSYW42I/AAAAAAAADq0/lkNRZwjx34c/s1600/F130815HOMB003-e1376570109414.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-AGO0wRT1zG4/Ut1gqSYW42I/AAAAAAAADq0/lkNRZwjx34c/s1600/F130815HOMB003-e1376570109414.jpg" height="225" width="400" /></a></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04731936564891970650noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-569497739006959608.post-71852931398799473412014-01-17T00:41:00.002-06:002014-01-17T00:41:21.692-06:00NEWS SOURCE FOR FRUM LGBT JEWS<a href="http://www.scoop.it/t/orthodox-gay-jews" target="_blank">News for (LGBT) Jews</a>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04731936564891970650noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-569497739006959608.post-28466403498766765052014-01-15T02:00:00.000-06:002015-02-12T23:55:20.475-06:00GITTEL'S DAUGHTER: The child of an Orthodox transwoman <!--StartFragment-->
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-KzydQUOGsTc/UtY5mJN6S7I/AAAAAAAADkU/tU6dBf8k3H8/s1600/602083_451717528236764_1380797930_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-KzydQUOGsTc/UtY5mJN6S7I/AAAAAAAADkU/tU6dBf8k3H8/s400/602083_451717528236764_1380797930_n.jpg" height="400" width="400" /></a></div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;">NB. The author of this interview is not related to the author of the previous post. It is purely coincidental that they are appearing around the same time.</span><br />
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M: My birth father is a lesbian. Her name
is Gittel (names have been changed to protect the privacy of all of the
individuals in this interview). I don’t see myself telling just anyone this
story.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Usually people have a
harder time hearing I am not religious than that my birth father is
transgender. They’ve heard of Off-The-Derech but they haven’t heard of
transgender. But I should start the story at the beginning.</div>
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<span lang="EN-US">I grew up Orthodox in a large city in the
United States. I have an awesome family. I’m nineteen and the oldest of seven.
Even though my step-dad is not my biological father, he feels like my father. My
mom remarried when I was three years old and I had a very normal childhood. I
didn’t think there was anything different about me. I went to religious school and
youth group and I was very social. </span></div>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-1Ehx96aeljc/UtY5nkPxOtI/AAAAAAAADk4/rCphUs-gqLI/s1600/Kfar_Darom_large.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-1Ehx96aeljc/UtY5nkPxOtI/AAAAAAAADk4/rCphUs-gqLI/s400/Kfar_Darom_large.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><o:p> </o:p></span>Growing up, we always referred to my birth
father as “Daddy”. My brother and I never asked where Daddy was, but in 5<sup>th</sup>
grade, I wanted to send my daddy a letter. I showed my mother that I had a
letter but my mother said she had to discuss it with a psychologist first. Afterwards,
I never brought it up anymore. It wasn’t an issue. That year was hard for my
parents. I used to yell at my dad, “You’re not my <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">real</i> dad.”</div>
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<span lang="EN-US">Later, in 10<sup>th</sup> grade, I had an
advisor, because I had a tough time in school. There were a lot of talks with
my parents. My dad was really pushing me to go to classes, and at some point,
the advisor said, “You don’t have to listen to him. He’s not your <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">real</i> father,” and I responded, “YES HE
IS.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He treats me like his
daughter, no questions asked. I was three when my mother married him, and they
had another five kids together. He treats me the same as the other kids.</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US">When I was younger, and also when I was in
high school, my mom always said my birth-father wasn’t ready to be a father. I
honestly thought he was mentally ill. I thought he was locked up somewhere. So
I didn’t think too much about him. When I was about fourteen, or maybe fifteen,
I found pictures of my dad, because my mom had cut up pictures of me and him
(baby pictures) and removed them from the album. I put these pictures in my
purse and carried them around with me. I don’t know why. I wasn’t missing
anything. I was always told that I looked like my daddy, so there was that. I
would prefer not to look so similar. I would prefer that there wasn’t such an
obvious relationship. It’s funny, because my brother was told that he looked a
lot like my step-father. But he’s also Gittel’s son.</span></div>
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-zUzUPWPEGF0/UtY5oZYxHeI/AAAAAAAADk8/EP11TbcVz7I/s1600/father-son1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-zUzUPWPEGF0/UtY5oZYxHeI/AAAAAAAADk8/EP11TbcVz7I/s400/father-son1.jpg" height="318" width="400" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><o:p> </o:p></span>Not long after I opened my first Facebook
account when I was sixteen, I got a message from someone saying, “I know your
birth father. I know he hurts.” A whole lot of stuff, giving me information
that I clearly didn’t want to know! I showed it to my mom, and I asked her if I
should read it or delete it, and she said she would prefer that I delete it. I
messaged this lady saying please don’t message me again. But then she messaged
me again with even more details that I didn’t read.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Who does that to a sixteen year old? It’s not something you
message someone about on Facebook! I thought, for a little bit, that maybe it
was my birth father, using a fake account, trying to get to me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then I figured out it wasn’t.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">Just before I turned seventeen, when I had
gone out with my friends, my parents called and said they wanted to talk with
me. I was freaking out. I thought I did something wrong!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then, when I came home, they told me that
my grandfather wants to fly me to the Belgium to spend a month with him. I
said, “You scared me! I thought something serious happened! You called me to
come home!?” But <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">then</i> they told me
they wanted to tell me why my original parents got divorced. </span></div>
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-U_2wstd0F38/UtY5noyHxGI/AAAAAAAADks/o3997r_3kE8/s1600/MG_7939-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-U_2wstd0F38/UtY5noyHxGI/AAAAAAAADks/o3997r_3kE8/s400/MG_7939-1.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><o:p> </o:p></span>My parents were worried that when I
traveled to Belgium, my birth father would find out that I was in Europe and
try to contact me and they wanted to be the ones who told me the story. Until
then, all my life, my mom always told my brother and me that the reason she got
divorced was because my birth father wasn’t fit or ready to be a father.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">That night, when she started talking, first
she brought up an article about Joy Ladin, an Orthodox transgender woman, that
we’d read a year or so earlier. I don’t remember exactly what my mom said when
she began to tell me about my birth father, though I know she never said
anything negative to me. That was difficult, too! My mom <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">hates</i> keeping secrets. We are extremely open and talk about
everything so I am sure it was even harder. Afterwards, my parents told me that
if I had any questions I could ask, but I didn’t have any. My mom wanted to
know how I felt. How should I feel? She just told me that my birth father is now
a transgender woman and a lesbian!</span></div>
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</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><o:p> </o:p></span>When they told my younger brother [who is
the son of my birth father], the only thing he wanted to know was “What
happened to the tallis and tefillin?” I love him.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">Hearing this story resolved some mysteries
for me. When I was about twelve years old, I guess, I found an old cassette
tape that my mom had recorded ten years earlier, to send to a friend. On it, she
mentioned that she had seen my birth father walking around London with lipstick
and she thought she might have to get a divorce. When I heard that, I thought
my birth father must be a gay man, so I never talked about finding the tape or
hearing what it said with <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">anyone</i>. And
then, when my mother told me about Gittel, my birth-father, it clicked in my
mind.</span></div>
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-SfINQdOVSAA/UtY5n78e59I/AAAAAAAADk0/Vd7SBA5qMQ4/s1600/PitchTrans_concept2_final.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-SfINQdOVSAA/UtY5n78e59I/AAAAAAAADk0/Vd7SBA5qMQ4/s320/PitchTrans_concept2_final.jpg" height="320" width="290" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><o:p> </o:p></span>That night when I learned about Gittel, I
needed to get out of the house, to talk and share with my friends. My mom told
me not to tell my younger siblings. She told me I could talk about it with a
friend, so I went out in my friend’s car, running errands. It was already
night, and I told her, “My birth father, he’s a woman.” She said, “You don’t
tell me that when I’m driving, M! What’s wrong with you?!”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">In general, things don’t bother me. Things
flow over me. It took me a long time to tell most of my friends. I had thoughts
about what it meant about me, about the way they would view me, but part of my
reluctance was sheltering them, for sure. One of my closest friends still
doesn’t know because I know she wouldn’t be able to deal with it. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">Apparently, there had been a court order
that Gittel couldn’t contact me until I was eighteen. My mom didn’t think the
court order was a good choice. But for me, I <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">do </i>feel like it was the right choice. Where I grew up, the schools
I went to, the friends I had…my life would have been very different if I had
known about my birth father being a transgender woman. If I knew when I was
younger, I would have dealt with it, but I feel it was very healthy finding out
when I was older and had an open mind. As a younger person, I went to a very religious
school and I am sure a transgender parent wouldn’t have been accepted. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">When I turned eighteen, Gittel [not her
actual name] messaged me on Facebook. When she messaged me first, she had
opened up a fake Facebook account in her previous name that was obviously not
real because it had no pictures or messages or friends or anything. I think
after that first contact, she just friended me with her real Facebook, but
there was no conversation. No chat. Still, that was the beginning. Just after
that, Gittel and Zahava (her partner) invited me to their son’s bar mitzvah on Facebook, though the event was a year away. I didn’t think I would
go, but I was trying to figure out if I<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">
wanted</i> to go or not. If it’s something I would be interested in being at.
So I didn’t respond right away. I just left it. </span><br />
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
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</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><o:p> </o:p></span>Then, a few months before the bar mitzvah, they
contacted me again, asking if I wanted to come to the simcha (happy event), so
all of a sudden it was real. They offered to fly me in to Belgium! I thought a
lot about it, for such a long time, discussing it with my mom and my friends,
and then I decided that it’s important for me to go and get to know them and
decide if I want a relationship with them or not. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And I decided to come to Europe, but it was clear to me that
if I was coming to the Europe, I would have to go see my grandfather, because he wasn’t doing so well at that point. And also, I didn’t want to spend too
much time with my birth-father’s family. I wanted it to be short. I wanted it
to be manageable. I had a lot of people telling me, you can come stay with me,
take all these telephone numbers, find somewhere else. People were surprised
that I would stay at their house. Zahava (Gittel’s partner) actually offered
for me to stay elsewhere but it seemed silly to me.</div>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-rMjPPzvEYWo/UtY-aR4V_UI/AAAAAAAADmM/D9yZ3nST5RE/s1600/DSC_0207-M.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-rMjPPzvEYWo/UtY-aR4V_UI/AAAAAAAADmM/D9yZ3nST5RE/s400/DSC_0207-M.jpg" height="400" width="265" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">When I was planning the trip, everyone
asked me, “What does your mom think?” But she didn’t speak. At some point, I
confronted my mother and she told me, “I have two worries. 1. You might become
not religious. 2. That you might stay there and not come home.” That was never
in my plans. I know myself. I knew I wouldn’t stay in Europe. I don't even speak French! My mom still has
very positive feelings towards Gittel’s family. She had a relationship with
them. My mom tried never to say anything negative to me about Gittel or about
them. My mom is awesome. She’s really cool. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">I can’t put my finger on what ended up
turning me off to religion. I never really connected with it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then, about a year and a half ago, I
came to terms with not being religious. It is still very difficult for my mom
though, since she doesn’t like the influence I have on my siblings. We fought.
But at one point, she asked me if I no longer keep shabbos and kosher, and I
said I don’t. Then the fights calmed down, after it was all out there. It’s
good to get everything out in the open and not keep secrets.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">Anyway, since I had been friends with
Gittel on Facebook for almost a year, I knew what to expect when I finally met
her. It was a good ease into it. I had no expectations for anything so I wasn’t
surprised. I think I try to avoid expectations, I don’t know if it comes from a
healthy place or not. I know Gittel was very surprised to see me in pants, not
because she told me. She’s frum and the pants bothered her.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">She says a lot. She says she feels like I
was raised well. And that I lucked out not to grow up with her. I know that she
tried to follow us as much as possible online to find out about us. But there
aren’t any pictures of me or my brother around the house. I was always told
that it’s painful for her not to be part of my life and that she would like to
have a relationship with me and my brother. I was in touch with Gittel’s
cousins, and her family used to tell me that “my father” loves me, or that
“there’s someone out there that’s in pain and would like to have more of a
relationship with you.” But the fact is, there aren’t any pictures of us in
Gittel’s house. We aren’t Zahavah’s kids. I wish (there is a long pause while M
cries) she kept one picture of us from when we were little kids on her desk,
something.</span></div>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-JwZQjkHj9Fw/UtY-6pjmOOI/AAAAAAAADmk/GMzwYLj7F4g/s1600/3-40028-021.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-JwZQjkHj9Fw/UtY-6pjmOOI/AAAAAAAADmk/GMzwYLj7F4g/s400/3-40028-021.jpg" height="287" width="400" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Gittel doesn’t exactly feel like a parent
to me. But if people ask me about “my mother”, I don’t correct them. I’m
nineteen, though, and I don’t feel like I need a new parent. I already have two
parents. Gittel is a relative of mine who I know cares about me. I do care
about her too, but I don’t have words to describe what kind of relation she is
to me.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">I think that the frum community, where they
live, people mostly accept them. I don’t see how they could live in New York or
Israel or in some of the other really frum places. I wish it were different. Here,
where they live, there is more acceptance than in other places. The hardest
thing for me is actually that Gittel and Zahava and their children are frum,
more so than any other thing. I don’t know why.</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Tg1rm6ldQhI/UtY-aYmJG4I/AAAAAAAADmQ/qt0KquejO5U/s1600/Snapz-Pro-XScreenSnapz026-620x410.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Tg1rm6ldQhI/UtY-aYmJG4I/AAAAAAAADmQ/qt0KquejO5U/s400/Snapz-Pro-XScreenSnapz026-620x410.jpg" height="263" width="400" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I’ve said this and I believe it: Gittel
made a choice that affected her relationship with us [her children], but I’m
happy about the choice she made. It’s better than growing up with a miserable
father. It enabled me to have a normal childhood. I <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">did</i> luck out.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">I wouldn’t change my life. I am happy with
who I am and what I am, even though there is this corner of my life that
doesn’t fit into my world. If I could erase this part of my life, I would. Not
Gittel but the challenge of her. But really, I am at peace with everything I
have gone through in my life.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">Now, I relate to Gittel as Gittel. I have a
mother and a father and a Gittel. To someone who doesn’t know, I refer to her
as my biological father or my birth father. But I, myself, I don’t know how to
refer to her. She’s just Gittel to me.</span></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04731936564891970650noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-569497739006959608.post-3839441944289968772013-12-16T13:19:00.005-06:002013-12-16T13:20:26.011-06:00THE ROV'S LESBIAN DAUGHTER: Forbidden Love at the Bungalow Colony<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-GdN8U49Imss/Uq9KnzXpDOI/AAAAAAAADX4/zlUAP4uojaY/s1600/1845554032.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="231" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-GdN8U49Imss/Uq9KnzXpDOI/AAAAAAAADX4/zlUAP4uojaY/s400/1845554032.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
I am a chassidish woman, in my thirties. I grew up in a very careful house, the kind where stockings are important, hairstyles are important. My father is a rov. I am married. I have a family of my own but sometimes, it feels like I have two families.<br />
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-2jZnkbGqnNo/Uq9KzBVj1xI/AAAAAAAADa4/S3Q2iob8vyA/s1600/satmar_hasid_marriott090526_22.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="267" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-2jZnkbGqnNo/Uq9KzBVj1xI/AAAAAAAADa4/S3Q2iob8vyA/s400/satmar_hasid_marriott090526_22.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
Before I was married, there was a girl I liked. She lived on the same street as me. We were best friends. I didn't like her. I <i>loved </i>her. When I looked at her, it was if there was a silvery cloud around her. She shone in the face, like the biggest tzideikis. We were in the same class, all through school and she loved me too. She said she did and I know she did.<br />
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I didn't know that when I got married I wouldn't feel the same way for my husband.<br />
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Then, when this friend and I had both been married for quite a few years, we began going to the same bungalow, in the country. We had bungalows very close, one to the other, and we had pitzelach, the same.<br />
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-neJPdA2IaFo/Uq8_jCmXOBI/AAAAAAAADWQ/UqiOeN92vmo/s1600/road+sign+miles.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="255" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-neJPdA2IaFo/Uq8_jCmXOBI/AAAAAAAADWQ/UqiOeN92vmo/s400/road+sign+miles.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
In the summer, when our husbands were not with us, we sat on the screen porch and we sewed clothing, dresses, things for the children, and we moved the machines onto the same porch so we could work together and schmooze and watch the kids.<br />
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It started, we made lunch together for the kids, and then it just seemed easier to have the supper together too. It was like we were a family, her and me, even though her mother and some of her sisters were in that same bungalow.<br />
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The worst time is shabbos because that is when the hubbies come back and we have to be very careful then. It's not like she can come over and say we are sewing together! Usually, shabbos is my favorite time of the week, but not in the summer. Then it is the worst.<br />
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My little girl asked me when I was lighting candles, ""Mommy, did something bad happen to you?" I told her no, no, of course not, but you can't fool the children. She knew.<br />
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One day, my friend and I were talking about this other woman we both knew, someone who was maybe doing something she shouldn't with another man, not her husband. I said to my friend, "That's not my problem! I'm not interested in going off with another man. One man is more than enough for me." She looked at me so long and strong, but we didn't say anything, just looked.<br />
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The next day and for a few more days, we sewed and cooked and watched the kids just like before, but then, one day, as I was sewing, my friend came up behind me and she leaned down very close to me and asked, "What do you think of this s'choirah (fabric)?" She held it out to me and ran it across my palm, very slow and gentle, and I caught in my breath. I looked out of the window to make sure no one could see, because there were many women and children all over there, even her mother in that bungalow, but it was towards the middle of the day and no one was there because they were giving lunch.<br />
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Then, I looked to see what my children were doing, and they were busy in the next room with playdough.<br />
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"So what do you think?" she said again, and this time, she put her hand on the back of my neck and all the hairs there went up, and I felt myself blushing all over and very very hot.<br />
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She touched me on the shoulder of my chalat (house dress) and then she put her finger on my lip and I thought I was going to die from her touch, like my whole body suddenly jumped to life and then stopped. "You have beautiful lips," she said. "I can't stop looking at them." Her voice was scratching, like she was scared and I was scared too. But that's what she said! I also couldn't stop looking at her lips. First her eyes, then her lips. I thought there was something wrong with me and then she said it's the same with her.<br />
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You know what happens to people like us if you get caught? If people saw us there in the bungalow, or if they thought something, they would talk about us, they would talk about our families, all on the sudden no one would let their children play with our children and when the husbands came up, they would hear about it and, to save face, they would have to throw us out, because otherwise they are as bad as we are. If it was her mother or her sisters who found us out, I don't know what would happen but it would be very hard.<br />
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I am not going to say it was all my friend, because it wasn't. I wanted her too. She's all I can think about sometimes. I make stupid excuses to leave the house to call her, when I should be at home. Sometimes, I can't believe my husband doesn't know something is going on, and sometimes, a lot of the time, I think he doesn't <i>want</i> to know. Once, I said to my friend, "Gevalt. You know we are going to burn in H-ll." And she said "I don't care."<br />
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But now I don't know where I am in life, what exactly I am. I don't know what I should do. It's not like my life with my husband is bad, like some ladies have. It's just that I miss my friend, the way we are when we are together is not the same when it is a man with a woman.<br />
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In between, in the winter, it feels like a long time to wait to see her again and I get the depression in the winter from not seeing her and not having that. A woman understands a woman, can talk with her and touch her in the ways that feel the best. A woman feels peaceful and easy and comfortable in the house, not like a man who comes in and is full of expecting things to be done for him. Where's my laundry? Bring me coffee! We are going to my mother's house for shabbos and I don't care what you say!<br />
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Every summer, when I go to the bungalow, I wait on shpilkes for that first knock, when she comes to my screen door, and there she is, still standing there, smiling her smile, the way she does, and with her face all shining, the way it always does. That's what I live for.<br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04731936564891970650noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-569497739006959608.post-70093315514345180012013-12-12T21:59:00.000-06:002013-12-13T11:38:07.518-06:00FEARLESS QUEER CHASSIDIC GIRL<!--StartFragment-->
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<b>This evening we are privileged to be speaking with a young person from a chassidic community, "Nicki". Please remember, as you read, that names and identifying details have been changed to protect the identities, and that none of the photographs are of the actual people. Nicki wrote most of this article, although parts of it were responses (in writing) to questions posed by the interviewer.</b><br />
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<span lang="EN-US">Hello ladies and gentleman! My name is Nicki and I am an unapologetic pansexual non-binary person. </span><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #1a1a1a; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"> </span><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #1a1a1a; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">I never thought that I am part of the LGBT community but I was
anyway. I didn't know what all the terms for people like me are, but I am as
curious as can be, so I searched till I knew all the terms for what I am. Nobody guessed that I am part of the LGBT community. I am very good at hiding feelings and if there was any inkling to someone that I might be, they didn't say anything. It's a taboo subject here.</span><br />
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<span lang="EN-US">My story begins twenty years ago,
when I came out the womb wanting to kick some ass. </span>I was raised in a Chassidic house and environment in Brooklyn N.Y but never conformed. My parents had a problem with that but their love for their daughter was on overdrive (thank g-d).</div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #1a1a1a;">When I was in middle school, I was bullied a lot and I was physically and emotionally abused by a teacher. My parents didn't know about it cause I didn't want to hurt them. But all of the sudden, I went from being a star student to almost not passing. My parents knew something was amiss so they took me out of that school and changed me to another.</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="color: #1a1a1a; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">I would like to think that this story
is a blessing in disguise because if not for that, I would never be so popular and I
would never have met my first love. I would never be so strong for other
battles that came and will come my way. Forgiving my bullies and my tormentor
was the best thing ever. I got rid of the package that was keeping me back.
Don't misquote me: I am very against bullying, but if you are bullied, know that
there is always a new day.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #1a1a1a;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;">In high school I saw many hypocritical things which made me denounce Chassidism, but my faith and love of Hashem is still going strong. At that same time I became romantically involved with another student letting me to this funny interesting story.</span></span><br />
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<span lang="EN-US">As adults, we think children know nothing
about life but their truthfulness and innocence pick up the slightest
deception. A few years ago, I was at my girlfriend’s house and her niece - a
fourth grader was there too. We weren’t yet out, so we couldn’t cuddle or kiss
in front her, but we schmoozed, sang and flirted a little. While I was there,
my girlfriend’s niece asked us with curiosity, “What is the relationship between
you both?” We paused, looking at each other. “We are best friends,” I
answered.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>With confusion in her
eyes and voice she asked, “Are you sure that’s the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">only</i> relation?” We didn’t answer that, but I found it very amusing!</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US">I long since parted with my first love and what looking for in partner is s</span><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #222222; line-height: 14px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">ocial smarts, confidence, self respect, integrity, forgiving, not being afraid to say that he/she is sorry. Being scholastically smart is a plus.</span></span></div>
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A year ago, I came out to my parents and they went crazy, telling me that I shouldn’t talk like that because it’s a “poeridig crazy thing”. They told me that I don’t feel these things and if I do I won’t feel it when I get married. I felt like a piece of garbage, which led me to have a notorious affair with razors and forks, cutting myself, but then catching myself in the middle, ( logic always kicking in telling me that tomorrow is another day). <i> </i>I am planning to come out to them cause I want they should hear and listen to me.</div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="color: #222222; line-height: 14px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I admire lots of people. I know it's old school but I admire Larry Kramer for taking a stand against AIDS and preaching for safe sex. Even though he had right wing political enemies and enemies from the LGBT community who thought he wants to undermine them but he didn't care. He didn't back down and he was fearless. At the end, he became a winner. Never give up on yourself or what you stand for.</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #1a1a1a;">This past Chanukah we had an event and one of my sisters came up to me and started telling me a story about a lady hitting on her. She used terms like “faggot” and “homo”. I was mad and told that i am not interested in hearing the rest of the story cause I will not tolerate the usage of hate words. She ran to my
father saying that I am sticking up for these people. They both ganged up at me, screaming. Now I was fuming so I ran to my room to chill. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #1a1a1a;">After the party, my other sister asked what the whole fight was all
about and I told her the story. She asked why I care so much, so I came out to
her. She hugged me, and told me that she still loves me. When I told her that
mom doesn't know about me (being queer) or about Eshel, she volunteered telling my parents
about me. I told her it’s a bad idea and I will tell them
when I am ready. She asked me this question, wanting to show her support. That
was a great moment. Ten points sis!</span></div>
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I don’t know about the future cause I am living in the present.<br />
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<span lang="EN-US">I take to heart William Shakespeare words “To thine own self be true, and it must follow, as night as day, thou canst not then be false to any man”.</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US">Thanks for listening! Bye!</span></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04731936564891970650noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-569497739006959608.post-63388118774430487582013-12-09T03:36:00.001-06:002013-12-09T03:36:15.184-06:00FINDING OUT MY MOTHER WAS BISEXUAL<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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When I was little, maybe between the time I was eight and fifteen, my mother used to take me everywhere with her. I am not sure why that was, because I had other siblings and they didn't go with her. It might be because I was a very sickly child and she didn't want to leave me alone or with a babysitter. I'm not sure.<br />
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At any rate, every Tuesday, for all those years, my mother went to visit her friend on Tuesdays. Her friend was this beautiful, tall, elegant woman who had the most beautiful home in the most fancy neighbourhood in my city. I called her by her initials, C.T.<br />
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C.T. and my mother liked to talk and so I was sent outside to play, near the river. There were a lot of chinese geese in the yard, with shiny black bumps on the fronts of their heads. These geese were pretty friendly, but they left their droppings everywhere, so eventually, I didn't play in the yard for the hour or so that my mother talked with her friend. I read.<br />
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Now, this went on for a LONG time. I am talking about seven years, every single Tuesday without fail, for at least an hour each time. And most of those times, I never went in and saw C.T. herself. I just went straight to the garden and sat down and began reading a book. It's not like I wasn't a curious child. I totally was. But in this one space, in this one place, I was completely incurious.<br />
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Recently, I was talking with my brother, and he said something about my mother being bisexual. I was extremely surprised. Why would he say that, I asked. He laughed and laughed. "Remember C.T?"he asked. I did, of course, remember C.T. "What did you think that was?" he asked, and in my innocence, I said, "Mum's best friend?" Not quite, he said, and I realized something then, that even though I know many LGBT individuals, and have a connection with that community, until you are ready to see something about someone you know, it will stay hidden.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-3bblB2ocPkQ/UqWLZvAsoJI/AAAAAAAADJ8/MGrfZxG3pPQ/s1600/9228929215_18cb0b5795_c.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-3bblB2ocPkQ/UqWLZvAsoJI/AAAAAAAADJ8/MGrfZxG3pPQ/s400/9228929215_18cb0b5795_c.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;">My sister is clueless!<br /><div style="text-align: left;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Maybe that is what is so hard when people come out to their families. Maybe the family had been seeing it all along. Maybe they already had seen it all. But they were blind to it. They weren't ready to see, just as I hadn't been ready to see my mother as bisexual until over twenty years after the fact. And then, when the family member begins to tell their truth, begins to say that they are not, in fact, straight, there is that challenging moment of "Oh no! I knew it! But I didn't </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><i>want</i></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> to know it! And I'm not ready now..."</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">What do you think?</span></span></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04731936564891970650noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-569497739006959608.post-82436765974294895812013-12-05T16:43:00.004-06:002013-12-05T16:43:31.500-06:00THE CHASSIDIC WRITER: A Lesbian Mother of Seven<!--StartFragment-->
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I’d like to give this interview as a follow-up
to my “Berkeh’s Story” that was posted here a short time ago.</div>
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<span lang="EN-US">I was born in Dallas, Texas in 1956, into an
immigrant family—my grandparents had lost all their money in the Depression and
then drove down to Texas with everything they owned in their car. They were
Russian Jews with an orthodox background, although we were all Reform by the
time I was growing up. We were a tight family. We met every week for a big traditional
meal.</span></div>
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-B6OSNs2hdCw/UqDJapr6BmI/AAAAAAAADCc/OHeI6QBb3gQ/s1600/flappers_0.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="261" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-B6OSNs2hdCw/UqDJapr6BmI/AAAAAAAADCc/OHeI6QBb3gQ/s400/flappers_0.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<span lang="EN-US">I was a dreamy girl, artistic and edgy and
idealistic. In adolescence, I found it painful when the other girls began flirting
with boys. I didn’t understand how to do that, and knew I was different. I had
friends, but somehow still felt terribly lonely. In high school, I fell in love
with a girl but it was socially dangerous to even name what I felt. I wrote
long letters to her, I obsessed over her. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But it didn’t have a name. I didn’t know anyone else who felt
like <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">that</i>, either.</span></div>
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When I met the first Lubavitch shluchim to
come to Dallas, I was still full of desire that easily became a dissociated
floating desire to bind my soul to a great mystical other. I believe that for
me, religion was where I put physical longing.</div>
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I’m interested in the interrelationship of spiritual
and sexual desire. They both go to the core of who you are.</div>
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I never told the girl I fell in love with
how I felt. She was a straight girl and I wouldn’t dare. One weekend, we had plans
to go camping, but it looked like rain. This was 1971, and I was sixteen and
had just graduated high school. I’d come across this poster about a <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">shabbaton </i>(weekend learning event that takes place over the Sabbath). Because it was raining, we
went to that <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">shabbaton</i> instead and I
fell in love with religion! My life changed by a caprice of the weather. The
hassidim promised me unqualified love. They promised me G-d! I was swept away.</div>
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-0xIMqShj-hE/UqDJIopiXuI/AAAAAAAAC-Q/AflfSx2N26A/s1600/Chabad+Fashion+Ad2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="305" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-0xIMqShj-hE/UqDJIopiXuI/AAAAAAAAC-Q/AflfSx2N26A/s400/Chabad+Fashion+Ad2.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<span lang="EN-US">A young Rabbi Moshe Feller was there. I
call him the consummate salesman. He encouraged us to come to his new institute
in St. Paul, Minnesota. I didn’t have money but he said he would take care of
me. I was going to college in the fall but I went off that summer to St. Paul, to
<a href="http://www.baischana.org/" target="_blank">Bais Chanah</a> Institute for Women, and talked my girl friend into going with me. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US">After a while, my friend left. She said she
really hated it. I grieved losing her terribly, but it didn’t stop my headlong
fall into frumkeit (Orthodox Jewish religion). I soon had the worst case of “baal tshuva
syndrome” (returnee to Judaism)—spouting mystical lines, obsessively attending to every detail in
halacha with no compromise and no common sense, the kind of baalas teshuva that
embarrasses lifers. That was me at sixteen.</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US">But the shluchim in Dallas were thrilled
because I was their first. When I left the Institute, I went to their home
every couple of days of what remained of my summer, just to help me cope with my
parents, who were so upset about my new frumkeit. I moved out and on to
college, since I had a scholarship and thus means of support. I had little
contact with them after that, and would not for years. I was lonely and
confused, too young to be on my own, and the more unhappy I was, the more I
clung to yiddishkeit. I began to study chassidus to dispel all the rising doubts,
and fear, about my new Chassidic life. I studied a lot.</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US">I used to dream I was a yeshiva boy. I
would lose myself in learning, live in those gorgeous books, apart from the
huge world that was looming too soon on my young life. I became reasonably
fluent in learning, for a baal tshuvah. Then, when a new <a href="http://www.chabadaustin.com/" target="_blank">Chabad House</a> opened in
Austin, I transferred to the university there.</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US">But I was a girl. I was told clearly that I
could attain all those religious goals, and God’s loving approval, not through
study but through marriage and children. I wound up with a shidduch (arranged marriage) at eighteen,
and got married a month after my nineteenth birthday. The shliach in Austin
made the shidduch. By that time, I was a Chassidic soldier—I just wanted to
please G-d and do “the right thing,” and I would do anything to that end. I
never thought about loving my husband, or desire. Nobody asked.</span></div>
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I had seven children in a ten-year span,
and I fell in love with every one. That’s what my life became. I also became,
of course, a day school teacher, and I was good at it. But no matter what I
did, I lived with terrible loneliness, in the middle of so many people always
around me! My marriage was empty. I watched the burden of supporting a big
household and the inexplicable lack of anything vital between us wear him down
over the years. We got so we rarely spoke, slept apart, and he lost interest in
sex (can I blame him?) <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He worked
and worried about money, and turned always back to his learning. Today, I think
it is a crime against non-homosexuals for gay people to marry them and steal
their youth, waste their love. It’s not just about us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-6Z6UMxLIfbg/UqDI-C6r3II/AAAAAAAAC8E/Bfl2GeDN-k8/s1600/052710_15_b-1.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="326" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-6Z6UMxLIfbg/UqDI-C6r3II/AAAAAAAAC8E/Bfl2GeDN-k8/s400/052710_15_b-1.gif" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;">not the actual family<br /><div style="text-align: left;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I was always sick with low-grade stuff, allergies, mild persistent asthma, fibromyalgia, chronic fatigue. I had gay dreams I didn't </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">dare tell anyone about, developed insomnia, then panic attacks in my sleep. </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">This went on for years. I never talked about these things.</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"></span>My last child was a preemie, and I quit
teaching. As he got older, and I got older, and had more quiet time, I simply
became more conscious. But at the time, it felt like something had happened to
my hormones and I started feeling like an adolescent, as if I’d frozen in place
at age sixteen for years, and then, when I unfroze, felt…everything. Natural physical
longing settled over me. I would lie alone in my separate bed and pray that I
would get to hold a woman in my arms and feel her healing love and touch, just once in my life.</div>
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<div style="text-align: left;">
<span lang="EN-US">Then I became intensely, briefly attracted
to one woman in the community and this alarmed and scared me. So I went to a
therapist to try to put it in its place.</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US">All of this was taking place in Texas, in a
small Chabad community. I thought I was the only frum gay woman in the world.</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US">The last thing you do in the frum community
is share your secrets. I had friends, and found the frum community loving and
supportive of its own, if you met their criteria, but even friends did not
confide in one another. Secrets, once released, can hurt your children, hurting
you in your most vulnerable place. So, I began to write, a way to finally talk,
then I hid my writing under my bed. But as soon as I started doing that, I realized
I wasn’t the only one hiding stories.</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US">When you live in the frum world, you have a
group identity and a group voice. Like everyone, I had accumulated my secrets
over the years. But I wrote many stories through those sleepless nights, all of
our secret stories. I hid them all.</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US">Our Houston community had no high school because
the shliach there felt it was important to send teenagers away from the pervasive
secular influence. I found sending my kids away one at a time devastating. The
yeshiva in many ways replaced us as parents. But at yeshiva, my sons sat long
hours, were forbidden to speak of girls or talk to girls, and were constantly
exhorted with very final answers to cosmic questions before they could even
formulate their natural young questioning. I remembered being young and dreamy
with that adolescent grandiosity that makes a kid feel they can choose any
path, accomplish the world, and my kids didn’t seem to be allowed that. I could
see what I hadn’t seen in myself, that they were being stamped onto one path
and pushed quickly past their adolescence, and I began to feel terrible about
the whole yeshiva thing. </span></div>
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Old dreams of making love to a woman
returned. In the daytime, I would say to myself, why am I dreaming I’m a man,
because I refused to imagine in the daytime that I was a woman making love to a
woman in that dream. Panic attacks in my sleep returned, and sleepwalking, and
insomnia. I wrote and wrote through those nights.</div>
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When I wrote “<a href="http://frumgaygirl.blogspot.com/2013/11/falling-in-love-in-yeshivah.html" target="_blank">Berkeh’s Story</a>,” I didn’t
imagine myself to be Berkeh. I wrote the story purely as an act of empathy. Only
now, years later and with a more educated eye, I can see why so many who read
the story once it was published presumed the author was gay. But at the time, I
wouldn’t allow myself to <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">think </i>the
word lesbian or gay, and I thought I could hide behind the label of “fiction.” I
wrote it, and hid it under the bed with the others.</div>
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<span lang="EN-US">I had a friend in Crown Heights, a kind,
deep person, who did “spiritual counseling.” Because she was so naturally un-judgmental,
one and then a stream of secretly gay women started showing up, like an
underground railroad of chassidishe women from Crown Heights, Boro Park,
Williamsburg. She told each one that there is nothing wrong with them, that
despite whatever they thought and felt, they were good people, and they should
go back to their husbands. I think this is what most of them wanted to hear and
they were simply grateful for her unqualified acceptance of them as whole and
good people. She was the first person to whom I admitted these feelings. </span></div>
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I shared “Berkeh’s Story” with this friend
and she told me to submit it to a<a href="http://www.momentmag.com/" target="_blank"> Moment Magazine</a> short story contest. There
were nearly a thousand entrants, and Berkeh won the competition! Moment
Magazine had the second largest circulation of any Jewish periodical, and for
five minutes, my story was everywhere—very exciting and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">very </i>scary. One story had come out from under the bed.</div>
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My husband was a graduate of an Ivy League
school. He worked in IT. He had suppressed a great deal of his interests to
become frum and he was quietly proud of me for writing, though he wouldn’t read
what I wrote because it would take time away from learning Torah. He decided he
wasn’t worried about Moment Magazine because he didn’t think there were any frum
Jews who read it.</div>
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Then one day, the Rav called me. I was
scared to death. I had been taught, “If a Rav says black is white, it is
white.” You make yourself a <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">rav</i> and
you only ask a <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">sha’aleh </i>(question about Jewish law) when you are
ready to accept, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">b’kabolos ol </i>(with innocent and complete acceptance), one
hundred percent of what he says. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Now
he was calling <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">me</i>. He said, “Is that
Leah Lax? I thought you were a <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">fruma
veiber mit a sheitl</i>,” (a religious woman who covers her head with a wig). Suddenly
I felt dishonest saying yes. Instead I said, “That’s what they say about me.” He
asked how I dared to put such a story in a magazine. People had come to him
about it. He said, “You‘ve hung out our dirty laundry.”</div>
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I was shaking hard. That was the first and
only time I ever talked back to a Rav. It was the first time I argued. I argued
for Berkeh. Berkeh is a good boy. He is many of our boys. All I did was show
his real feelings. The Rav hung up on me.</div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">I am NOT dirty laundry. </span></div>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-fWCPOWGpBt4/UqDyscxfsHI/AAAAAAAADHs/RHfVzBUVco8/s1600/images-84.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="366" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-fWCPOWGpBt4/UqDyscxfsHI/AAAAAAAADHs/RHfVzBUVco8/s400/images-84.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;">Thanks to Frum Satire, whose picture this is</span></span></div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US">I had been taught that <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">halacha</i> is a whole package, a contract with God. I didn’t know how
to take just some of it. With that conversation, I felt the contract break
within me. And it was pivotal. </span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">After that, inside me, it was all over. In
time, I let myself fall in love with a woman. I divorced my husband. I left the
community. I stopped keeping <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">halacha</i>
gradually because it was embedded in me, but I could never find a compromise. How
could I continue to honor a contract that implied that the love that I have to
give is dirty laundry?</span></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">I had never met an out lesbian. It would be
years more before I met anyone else both gay and frum—I still felt like the
only one in the world. But I had heard of this one Jewish lesbian that
intrigued me. She wasn’t frum, but I wanted a friend, someone who might
understand. I went to meet her, determined to try to forge an honest connection
with someone at last, thinking no one in my community will know. </span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">Falling in love with a woman the first time
was amazing. The most glorious thing! It all happened hard and fast and I
couldn’t sleep or eat from the rush of hormones that left me half nauseous and
dreamy. I was forty-six years old going on sixteen, amazed that love could be
the most natural thing in the world, and that without knowing, I knew just what
to do. </span></div>
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But once we got involved, I was followed
and people even took pictures of me pulling into her driveway.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">I thought, H-shem gave me this gift that
feels like a spectacular celebration of the life He gave me. Halacha judges me,
people judge me, but H-shem gives me this amazing part of myself that halacha
and rabbis want me to shut down. I’d say that, in a way, that first love experience
was a big part of my separating halacha and rabbanim from G-d in my mind, and deepened
my faith in G-d. </span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US">Still, I wish I’d had the courage to tell my
husband and children “I’m a lesbian,” complete the divorce, and move out, all <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">before</i> getting into a relationship. The
style of our parenting had always been to protect our children by keeping them
innocent, so I never told them I was gay or, G-d forbid, that I had fallen in
love with a woman, even though some of them were grown.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Years later, they would look back on my
“protection” and the little lies I used to build it, as simple dishonesty. As
betrayal. From your own mom. Whom you always loved and trusted.</span></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-US">Lashon
hara</span></i><span lang="EN-US"> (slander) was flying. People confronted my children and husband
and never me. My younger kids began acting out. I stayed on too long, trying to
at least make the bar mitzvah of my youngest son for him. That event, when it
finally came, was a false show of togetherness that makes my son wince today to
remember. </span></div>
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-EGM8vA_8hGE/UqDynIvRYSI/AAAAAAAADHA/xUVS0kc8-mc/s1600/VH-funny-animal-reading.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="395" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-EGM8vA_8hGE/UqDynIvRYSI/AAAAAAAADHA/xUVS0kc8-mc/s400/VH-funny-animal-reading.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
A while after I moved out, my husband insisted
I come and speak openly to the children. I did a terrible job of coming out to
them. I planned what to say for days, but I never got a word out. The kids didn’t
let me speak, and all spoke at once. They were very hurt, not nearly as much
about my being gay as my having an affair and hurting their father.</div>
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-gfHhO6ocCF4/UqDyj9CB12I/AAAAAAAADGs/Ji6Cd-a0CuU/s1600/Funny+Babies+Wallpapers+4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-gfHhO6ocCF4/UqDyj9CB12I/AAAAAAAADGs/Ji6Cd-a0CuU/s400/Funny+Babies+Wallpapers+4.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<span lang="EN-US">Being gay? Well, that part didn’t surprise
them at all. Sigh. Nobody knows you like your kids. Some didn’t speak to me for
months afterwards.</span></div>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-R6FTW3fnGnI/UqDJU6K56EI/AAAAAAAADA0/uBqmrVQ808c/s1600/beautiful-eyes.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-R6FTW3fnGnI/UqDJU6K56EI/AAAAAAAADA0/uBqmrVQ808c/s400/beautiful-eyes.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<span lang="EN-US">My two youngest wanted to stay with their
father. They were thirteen and fourteen. That was hard. We lived in the South
where there is less tolerance for issues of sexual orientation, and my lawyer
said, “Don’t even try to get custody.” So I moved less than a mile away, and I
saw my kids very often. Their father supported that.</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US">After I left, the community treated my two
youngest like orphans, with great pity, and they <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">hated</i> that. That pity drove them away from <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">yiddishkeit </i>(Jewish life). They said, “They act like you are dead!” They told me,
“How can people reject you and at the same time say they love me, when you are
a big part of me?” Kids really hate hypocrisy.</span></div>
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-16rG-WJSNOs/UqDJReN9YMI/AAAAAAAADAE/dq8CUxCJKck/s1600/article-0-0F6F710400000578-742_468x313.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="267" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-16rG-WJSNOs/UqDJReN9YMI/AAAAAAAADAE/dq8CUxCJKck/s400/article-0-0F6F710400000578-742_468x313.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<span lang="EN-US">I lost my community, my friends, my family,
in part my kids. I started over with nothing, alone. Gradually I found my way,
and through it all, never stopped writing. I went to a university and developed
my craft. Writing forced me to stay honest with myself. I got a job, new
friends, new community. When I met my partner, what drew us together was how
very much we shared in the present, not the past. </span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US">My life with her is peaceful, affectionate,
funny, endlessly interesting. Having this good whole life has helped me
enormously in my relationship with my kids, like a great pool from which I dip
and share patience, strength, and good humor with them. I didn’t <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">let</i> my kids reject me. I just showed up
and said, “I’m still here. I’m your mom.” </span></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">There’s some damage, on both sides. The
healing continues. A few just don’t include me in their lives as much as
before. I struggle terribly with their reticence about my partner, and so does
she. She came into my life ready to play grandparent, with no children of her
own. But all the grandkids are in frum homes, and she has had to gradually face
the reality that they won’t open that door.</span></div>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-29y08S6wVx4/UqDJEleJT0I/AAAAAAAAC9Y/uRB09g6v34s/s1600/538069_412982848736350_956131851_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-29y08S6wVx4/UqDJEleJT0I/AAAAAAAAC9Y/uRB09g6v34s/s400/538069_412982848736350_956131851_n.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<span lang="EN-US">Years have passed. When I go to my kids’
houses, they have stopped being embarrassed, even the ones in Crown Heights. I
arrive in my pants and uncovered hair and my son walks with his arm in mine
down a busy street. We are close. </span></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">Not long after I left, I went to my ex-husband
and said, “I never wanted to hurt you.” But he said he had forgiven me a long
time ago. He said, too much was in H-shem’s hands, not ours. “We didn’t get to
choose that you are a lesbian.” We’ve been on good terms ever since. Not everyday
friends, but amiable co-parents. The others in that community shunned me,
walked on the other side of the road, wouldn’t talk with me. He was the only
one who stayed the same. Really, he got better. Warmer.</span></div>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-e3QZ2bqidWQ/UqDJovk4GsI/AAAAAAAADFY/M3bj8hz7xoc/s1600/s_nf_00916_154664.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-e3QZ2bqidWQ/UqDJovk4GsI/AAAAAAAADFY/M3bj8hz7xoc/s400/s_nf_00916_154664.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
<span lang="EN-US">All those years of my marriage, I took
women to the mikvah (pool for ritual immersion), since we didn’t have a mikvah lady. I thought it was a
very spiritual and beautiful thing to do. I wasn’t conscious of any attraction
to any of those women. But when I read the earlier interview with the mikvah
lady posted on this blog, I cried. After the divorce, I heard that my community
was freaked out that a lesbian had taken their women to the mikvah for years. At
the time, I thought they were horribly wrong and unfair, but eventually I saw
why they were upset. I can understand.</span></div>
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-e7w3jKoMNnw/UqDyoZ9119I/AAAAAAAADHM/F_hOAk4vjyQ/s1600/birhday-baby.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="375" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-e7w3jKoMNnw/UqDyoZ9119I/AAAAAAAADHM/F_hOAk4vjyQ/s400/birhday-baby.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<span lang="EN-US">The last time I went to the mikvah, I felt
my whole Jewish life was there, the kallah about to marry, all the times I
immersed just before and after the births of my children, all the other months through
twenty-seven years of marriage.</span></div>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-V1KWyno6KW8/UqDJkOhtjsI/AAAAAAAADEU/mPMbEMVuNKA/s1600/mikveh-after-baby-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-V1KWyno6KW8/UqDJkOhtjsI/AAAAAAAADEU/mPMbEMVuNKA/s400/mikveh-after-baby-1.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
I co-created an exhibit called <a href="http://www.mikvaproject.com/" target="_blank">The Mikvah Project</a>
and it has been traveling around for fourteen years. I made it with a
photographer and interviewed women talking about mikvah. The women knew they
would remain anonymous. The photographer didn’t show their faces. So they
opened up. It felt good to listen and to allow them to show their true feelings.
It was the first time I’d heard frum women talk honestly about their inner
lives.</div>
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But one woman I interviewed made me look at
myself like never before. It probably snapped my last connection. She said she
fell in love with other girls throughout her young years, then had her shidduch
and married. She kept on saying she was happy, but emptiness was written all
over her. Her shoulders slumped. Her clothes hung on her. Her face was lined
and sad. But I’m happy!</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">I knew she was gay when she said, “I just had
to make a kind of surgery on myself.” I flushed red and had to stop her and
walk away to catch my breath. Finally I saw myself through all those years. She
had cut out her sexuality so she could be the good wife and mother—a violence
to her soul. </span></div>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-XhgkP25ZKuU/UqDJOs_c_5I/AAAAAAAAC_U/cj0eV7doeWI/s1600/Modesty-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-XhgkP25ZKuU/UqDJOs_c_5I/AAAAAAAAC_U/cj0eV7doeWI/s400/Modesty-1.jpg" width="324" /></a></div>
These days, I don’t need anything from the
frum community. I don’t need acceptance. I am free. I can say what I think and
not worry that I’m not complying.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">But if I could, I would ask things for my
frum children. I would ask for them to have the freedom, within the community,
to have real friendships where you can admit doubts and sins and other normal
human things you don’t talk about in the frum world. I would ask for women to
be paid according to their skills and important qualities, and equally to the
men, since my older daughter was a marvelous talented teacher but had to leave
it because she was hungry and had no medical insurance, while the full-time
male employees had a salary and benefits. I would ask for the frum community to
erase that overarching pressure on all of them to conform, because that crushes
everybody indiscriminately when, really, we’re <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">all</i> different. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">Today, I will only live in a community that
is as diverse as possible, one in which the only criteria for belonging is to
be an individual. In that kind of community, I can be wholly present. I can
offer all of myself.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">My partner, Susan, and I travel a lot. And I
keep on writing. Writing is my lens for discovering, late in life, this
awesome, varied amazing world from which I was hidden for so very long.<a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=569497739006959608" name="_GoBack"></a></span></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04731936564891970650noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-569497739006959608.post-68904448596760487382013-12-04T07:56:00.002-06:002013-12-04T13:09:56.619-06:00NATIONAL SHABBATON FOR FRUM LGBT JEWS<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 18px;"></span><br />
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-kxatieK0qIk/Up80W2AL1mI/AAAAAAAAC7w/feDbUNAx-v4/s1600/2008.02_Winter_Regional_in_Myrtle_Beach_Pro_Pix120_.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="267" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-kxatieK0qIk/Up80W2AL1mI/AAAAAAAAC7w/feDbUNAx-v4/s400/2008.02_Winter_Regional_in_Myrtle_Beach_Pro_Pix120_.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<h2 style="border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; font-style: inherit; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0.75em; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;">Obviously, this is not an interview, but it's a reposting of an advertisement for Eshel's national shabbaton for frum LGBT Jews. For those who have not yet gone, I can only say this: GO. It's absolutely amazing. There are a wide variety of frum Jews there, from the most chassidish to the most modern, as well as a big variation in ages, from teenagers to alter- zaidies. Some people bring their children. But everyone comes together and there is a sense of great love and support and wonder. There is a great sense of community. So, if you haven't yet come to an Eshel retreat, this might be the year to try it.</span></span></span></h2>
<div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;"><br /></span></span></span></div>
<div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;">Since this is a reposting, the register now buttons (and other links) won't work. But if you want to go directly to the original page (where the buttons DO work), click here:<a href="http://www.eshelonline.org/save-the-date-national-retreat-january-17-19-2014/" target="_blank"> Eshel shabbaton</a></span></span></span></div>
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</h2>
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National Retreat</h2>
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<b><i>Eshel presents</i></b></div>
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<b>A Retreat for Orthodox</b></h2>
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<b>Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual and Transgender (LGBT) Jews*</b></h2>
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January 17-19<sup style="line-height: 0;">th</sup>, 2014</h3>
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<em style="border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-size: 18px; font-style: italic; font-weight: inherit; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">Parshat Yitro</em></h3>
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<b> <b><a href="http://bit.ly/1aBNatk" style="border-bottom-color: rgb(188, 127, 77); border-bottom-style: dashed; border-bottom-width: 1px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; color: rgb(188, 127, 77) !important; font-family: inherit; font-size: 12px; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;" target="_blank" title="Register"><img alt="register3-300x130" class="alignright" height="77" src="http://www.eshelonline.org/wp-content/uploads/2013/09/register3-300x130.jpg" style="border-bottom-style: none !important; border-color: initial !important; border-color: initial; border-color: initial; border-left-style: none !important; border-right-style: none !important; border-style: initial; border-top-style: none !important; border-width: initial !important; border-width: initial; float: right; font-family: inherit; font-size: 12px; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 5px; padding-left: 15px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; text-decoration: none !important; vertical-align: baseline;" width="178" /></a></b></b><b>Where, When and What?</b></div>
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<a href="http://isabellafreedman.org/" style="border-bottom-color: rgb(188, 127, 77); border-bottom-style: dashed; border-bottom-width: 1px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; color: rgb(188, 127, 77) !important; font-family: inherit; font-size: 12px; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;" target="_blank">Isabella Freedman Retreat Center</a></div>
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116 Johnson Road, Falls Village, CT 06031</div>
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<a href="http://www.eshelonline.org/wp-content/uploads/2013/09/Eshel-1013.064.jpg" style="border-bottom-color: rgb(188, 127, 77); border-bottom-style: dashed; border-bottom-width: 1px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; color: rgb(188, 127, 77) !important; font-family: inherit; font-size: 12px; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><img alt="Eshel 1013.064" class="alignright" height="199" src="http://www.eshelonline.org/wp-content/uploads/2013/09/Eshel-1013.064-300x199.jpg" style="border-bottom-style: none !important; border-color: initial !important; border-color: initial; border-color: initial; border-left-style: none !important; border-right-style: none !important; border-style: initial; border-top-style: none !important; border-width: initial !important; border-width: initial; float: right; font-family: inherit; font-size: 12px; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 5px; padding-left: 15px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; text-decoration: none !important; vertical-align: baseline;" width="300" /></a><b>Friday, January 17<sup style="line-height: 0;">th </sup></b> — <b>Sunday, January 19<sup style="line-height: 0;">th</sup></b></div>
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This weekend will bring together LGBT Orthodox Jews to celebrate together; we will have spirited <i>davening</i> (prayer), delicious healthy kosher food, <i>shiurim</i> (classes), singing, and sessions relevant to our lives as LGBT <i>frum </i>Jews.</div>
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There will be plenty of time scheduled to hang out, sit by the fireplace on Saturday night, and get to know all the members of this growing community. This will be a fun and spiritually uplifting weekend.</div>
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<b>Who is this for?</b></div>
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*Orthodox or traditional LGBT Jews. We also welcome formerly Orthodox, Ortho-curious and anyone who wants to experience a traditional Shabbat with other LGBT Jews.</div>
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<strong style="font-weight: bold;">The program!</strong></div>
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Our retreats draw from the many talents of our participants. There is a wide range of topics that we explore during the weekend, and modalities of learning, including text study, topics on identity, learning new songs, skills training, and more.</div>
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Let us know what you would like to share with the rest of the participants!</div>
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<a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=569497739006959608" style="border-bottom-color: rgb(188, 127, 77); border-bottom-style: dashed; border-bottom-width: 1px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; color: rgb(188, 127, 77) !important; font-family: inherit; font-size: 12px; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Please fill out this short form to let us know what you would like to teach.</a></div>
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https://www.surveymonkey.com/s/EshelPresenter</div>
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<b><span style="border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-size: 12px; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline;">Registration and Pricing<a href="http://bit.ly/1aBNatk" style="border-bottom-color: rgb(188, 127, 77); border-bottom-style: dashed; border-bottom-width: 1px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; color: rgb(188, 127, 77) !important; font-family: inherit; font-size: 12px; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;" target="_blank" title="Register"><img alt="register3-300x130" class="size-full wp-image-2082 alignright" height="77" src="http://www.eshelonline.org/wp-content/uploads/2013/09/register3-300x130.jpg" style="border-bottom-style: none !important; border-color: initial !important; border-color: initial; border-color: initial; border-left-style: none !important; border-right-style: none !important; border-style: initial; border-top-style: none !important; border-width: initial !important; border-width: initial; float: right; font-family: inherit; font-size: 12px; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 5px; padding-left: 15px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; text-decoration: none !important; vertical-align: baseline;" width="178" /></a></span></b></div>
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<b><a href="http://bit.ly/1djsjPi" style="border-bottom-color: rgb(188, 127, 77); border-bottom-style: dashed; border-bottom-width: 1px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; color: rgb(188, 127, 77) !important; font-family: inherit; font-size: 12px; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;" target="_blank">All prices include full room and board. See what accommodations look like here.</a></b></div>
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<b>Sign up by Dec. 10<sup style="line-height: 0;">th</sup>, 2013 to get an early bird discount!</b></div>
<table border="0" cellpadding="0" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 0px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-collapse: separate; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-size: 12px; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin-bottom: 1.4em; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; vertical-align: middle; width: 451px;"><tbody style="border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-size: 12px; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
<tr style="border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-size: 12px; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><td style="border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-size: 12px; font-style: inherit; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 4px; padding-left: 5px; padding-right: 10px; padding-top: 4px; text-align: left; vertical-align: middle;" width="293">RATES</td><td style="border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-size: 12px; font-style: inherit; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 4px; padding-left: 5px; padding-right: 10px; padding-top: 4px; text-align: left; vertical-align: middle;" width="93">Early Bird By Dec. 10<sup style="line-height: 0;">th</sup></td><td style="border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-size: 12px; font-style: inherit; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 4px; padding-left: 5px; padding-right: 10px; padding-top: 4px; text-align: left; vertical-align: middle;" width="58">After Dec. 10<sup style="line-height: 0;">th</sup></td></tr>
<tr style="border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-size: 12px; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><td style="border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-size: 12px; font-style: inherit; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 4px; padding-left: 5px; padding-right: 10px; padding-top: 4px; text-align: left; vertical-align: middle;" width="293">Standard Plus Single (Based on Single Occupancy)</td><td style="border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-size: 12px; font-style: inherit; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 4px; padding-left: 5px; padding-right: 10px; padding-top: 4px; text-align: left; vertical-align: middle;" width="93">$550</td><td style="border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-size: 12px; font-style: inherit; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 4px; padding-left: 5px; padding-right: 10px; padding-top: 4px; text-align: left; vertical-align: middle;" width="58">$605</td></tr>
<tr style="border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-size: 12px; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><td style="border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-size: 12px; font-style: inherit; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 4px; padding-left: 5px; padding-right: 10px; padding-top: 4px; text-align: left; vertical-align: middle;" width="293">Standard Plus Double (Based on Double Occupancy)</td><td style="border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-size: 12px; font-style: inherit; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 4px; padding-left: 5px; padding-right: 10px; padding-top: 4px; text-align: left; vertical-align: middle;" width="93">$450</td><td style="border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-size: 12px; font-style: inherit; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 4px; padding-left: 5px; padding-right: 10px; padding-top: 4px; text-align: left; vertical-align: middle;" width="58">$495</td></tr>
<tr style="border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-size: 12px; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><td style="border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-size: 12px; font-style: inherit; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 4px; padding-left: 5px; padding-right: 10px; padding-top: 4px; text-align: left; vertical-align: middle;" width="293">Standard Single (Based on Single Occupancy)</td><td style="border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-size: 12px; font-style: inherit; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 4px; padding-left: 5px; padding-right: 10px; padding-top: 4px; text-align: left; vertical-align: middle;" width="93">$475</td><td style="border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-size: 12px; font-style: inherit; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 4px; padding-left: 5px; padding-right: 10px; padding-top: 4px; text-align: left; vertical-align: middle;" width="58">$525</td></tr>
<tr style="border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-size: 12px; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><td style="border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-size: 12px; font-style: inherit; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 4px; padding-left: 5px; padding-right: 10px; padding-top: 4px; text-align: left; vertical-align: middle;" width="293">Standard Double (Based on Double Occupancy)</td><td style="border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-size: 12px; font-style: inherit; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 4px; padding-left: 5px; padding-right: 10px; padding-top: 4px; text-align: left; vertical-align: middle;" width="93">$400</td><td style="border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-size: 12px; font-style: inherit; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 4px; padding-left: 5px; padding-right: 10px; padding-top: 4px; text-align: left; vertical-align: middle;" width="58">$440</td></tr>
<tr style="border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-size: 12px; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><td style="border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-size: 12px; font-style: inherit; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 4px; padding-left: 5px; padding-right: 10px; padding-top: 4px; text-align: left; vertical-align: middle;" width="293">Standard Triple (Based on Triple Occupancy)</td><td style="border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-size: 12px; font-style: inherit; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 4px; padding-left: 5px; padding-right: 10px; padding-top: 4px; text-align: left; vertical-align: middle;" width="93">$340</td><td style="border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-size: 12px; font-style: inherit; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 4px; padding-left: 5px; padding-right: 10px; padding-top: 4px; text-align: left; vertical-align: middle;" width="58">$375</td></tr>
<tr style="border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-size: 12px; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><td style="border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-size: 12px; font-style: inherit; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 4px; padding-left: 5px; padding-right: 10px; padding-top: 4px; text-align: left; vertical-align: middle;" width="293">Economy Single (Based on Single Occupancy)</td><td style="border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-size: 12px; font-style: inherit; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 4px; padding-left: 5px; padding-right: 10px; padding-top: 4px; text-align: left; vertical-align: middle;" width="93">$390</td><td style="border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-size: 12px; font-style: inherit; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 4px; padding-left: 5px; padding-right: 10px; padding-top: 4px; text-align: left; vertical-align: middle;" width="58">$430</td></tr>
<tr style="border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-size: 12px; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><td style="border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-size: 12px; font-style: inherit; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 4px; padding-left: 5px; padding-right: 10px; padding-top: 4px; text-align: left; vertical-align: middle;" width="293">Economy Double (Based on Double Occupancy)</td><td style="border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-size: 12px; font-style: inherit; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 4px; padding-left: 5px; padding-right: 10px; padding-top: 4px; text-align: left; vertical-align: middle;" width="93">$315</td><td style="border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-size: 12px; font-style: inherit; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 4px; padding-left: 5px; padding-right: 10px; padding-top: 4px; text-align: left; vertical-align: middle;" width="58">$345</td></tr>
<tr style="border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-size: 12px; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><td style="border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-size: 12px; font-style: inherit; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 4px; padding-left: 5px; padding-right: 10px; padding-top: 4px; text-align: left; vertical-align: middle;" width="293">Dorm</td><td style="border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-size: 12px; font-style: inherit; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 4px; padding-left: 5px; padding-right: 10px; padding-top: 4px; text-align: left; vertical-align: middle;" width="93">$230</td><td style="border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-size: 12px; font-style: inherit; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 4px; padding-left: 5px; padding-right: 10px; padding-top: 4px; text-align: left; vertical-align: middle;" width="58">$260</td></tr>
<tr style="border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-size: 12px; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><td style="border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-size: 12px; font-style: inherit; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 4px; padding-left: 5px; padding-right: 10px; padding-top: 4px; text-align: left; vertical-align: middle;" width="293">Youth ages 5-15 (Based on double/triple occupancy)</td><td style="border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-size: 12px; font-style: inherit; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 4px; padding-left: 5px; padding-right: 10px; padding-top: 4px; text-align: left; vertical-align: middle;" width="93">$125</td><td style="border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-size: 12px; font-style: inherit; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 4px; padding-left: 5px; padding-right: 10px; padding-top: 4px; text-align: left; vertical-align: middle;" width="58">$140</td></tr>
<tr style="border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-size: 12px; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><td style="border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-size: 12px; font-style: inherit; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 4px; padding-left: 5px; padding-right: 10px; padding-top: 4px; text-align: left; vertical-align: middle;" width="293">Children 4 and under</td><td style="border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-size: 12px; font-style: inherit; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 4px; padding-left: 5px; padding-right: 10px; padding-top: 4px; text-align: left; vertical-align: middle;" width="93"> $25</td><td style="border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-size: 12px; font-style: inherit; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 4px; padding-left: 5px; padding-right: 10px; padding-top: 4px; text-align: left; vertical-align: middle;" width="58">$25</td></tr>
<tr style="border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-size: 12px; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><td style="border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-size: 12px; font-style: inherit; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 4px; padding-left: 5px; padding-right: 10px; padding-top: 4px; text-align: left; vertical-align: middle;" width="293">Financial Aid – Double Occ. or dorm accommodations</td><td style="border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-size: 12px; font-style: inherit; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 4px; padding-left: 5px; padding-right: 10px; padding-top: 4px; text-align: left; vertical-align: middle;" width="93">variable</td><td style="border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-size: 12px; font-style: inherit; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 4px; padding-left: 5px; padding-right: 10px; padding-top: 4px; text-align: left; vertical-align: middle;" width="58"></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-size: 12px; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin-bottom: 1.5em; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
<b>Registration Closes on January 9<sup style="line-height: 0;">th</sup>, 2014</b></div>
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<b><a href="http://www.eshelonline.org/financial-aid" style="border-bottom-color: rgb(188, 127, 77); border-bottom-style: dashed; border-bottom-width: 1px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; color: rgb(188, 127, 77) !important; font-family: inherit; font-size: 12px; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Financial Aid</a></b></div>
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We are committed to making our weekends as inclusive and accessible as possible, however, there is a limited amount of financial aid available for those who, for financial reasons, cannot otherwise attend.</div>
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<b>There are a few steps to applying for financial aid:</b></div>
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1. Write an email to info@eshelonline.org and request the financial aid <b>application.</b></div>
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2. Fill out and send the completed form back to: info@eshelonline.org.</div>
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The final deadline for applying is <b>Dec. 15<sup style="line-height: 0;">th</sup></b>,<b> 2013. </b>After that applications will be taken on a case-by-case basis.</div>
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You <b>should hear back</b> from us between Dec. 1-21<sup style="line-height: 0;">st </sup>about whether you have received financial aid.</div>
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3. <b>Register</b> for the Retreat: If you are awarded financial aid, you will be given registration instructions with a special registration <b>code</b> to use. You must register for the retreat within <b>ten days</b> of being awarded aid, after that we will offer the aid to the next person waiting.</div>
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Please note that we cannot accommodate aid requests after you have registered.</div>
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<b>Be an Eshel Angel!</b></div>
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If you are able to donate funds to enable people to come to the retreat, please <a href="http://www.eshelonline.org/donate" style="border-bottom-color: rgb(188, 127, 77); border-bottom-style: dashed; border-bottom-width: 1px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; color: rgb(188, 127, 77) !important; font-family: inherit; font-size: 12px; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">donate here</a>. Your contribution is greatly appreciated and will go to those who cannot afford to attend.</div>
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<b>Halachic Information</b></div>
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We ask that everyone keep <i>halakhik shomer shabbos</i> practice in public areas, however no judgment will be made about anyone for not having a particular level of observance. All food will be strictly kosher, the retreat will be shomer <i>shabbos</i>, and we will have traditional <i>davening</i>/prayer. (On the registration form, you’ll be asked what kind of <i>davening</i> you’d like to participate in during the weekend.) We will offer a variety of learning options, from traditional text study to experiential workshops covering a wide variety of subjects.</div>
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Shabbat starts at 4:31 pm and ends at 5:35 pm. We ask that no one arrive or leave after Shabbat starts or before it ends. We also request that participants spend the entire weekend together.</div>
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<strong style="font-weight: bold;">Transportation</strong></div>
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Transportation to and from the retreat is at your own expense. Eshel will try to assist you in finding transportation to and from the weekend.</div>
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For directions and transportation information, please visit the Isabella Freedman website <a href="http://isabellafreedman.org/guest/directions" style="border-bottom-color: rgb(188, 127, 77); border-bottom-style: dashed; border-bottom-width: 1px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; color: rgb(188, 127, 77) !important; font-family: inherit; font-size: 12px; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">http://isabellafreedman.org/guest/directions</a></div>
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<b>Confidentiality Policy</b></div>
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Some participants may not be out as LGBT in their daily lives, or may have other important reasons for keeping their attendance at the Shabbaton confidential. You have affirmed that you WILL NOT POST OR DISTRIBUTE PHOTOGRAPHS or audio/video recordings of other attendees publicly unless you have the EXPLICIT permission of every attendee represented therein. This includes distribution or posting online on flickr, Facebook, MySpace, and similar sites, as well as anywhere else in which photographs and other representations are publicly available.</div>
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<b>Refund Policy</b></div>
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Participants who cancel their registration more than 2 weeks before an event are eligible for a refund less a $25 processing fee. Participants who cancel within the last two weeks prior to an event receive a 100% credit toward a future retreat less a $25 processing fee. If you cancel less than 72 hours before the start of the retreat or leave the retreat early no refund or credit is available.</div>
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<strong style="font-weight: bold;">Questions? Please email us at info@eshelonline.org. Please help us spread the word about the shabbaton!</strong></div>
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- See more at: http://www.eshelonline.org/save-the-date-national-retreat-january-17-19-2014/#sthash.QogBQbTQ.dpuf<br />
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If you'd like to ask any questions about the shabbaton or about Eshel, please feel free to email me at <a href="mailto:hiddenjews@gmail.com">hiddenjews@gmail.com</a><br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04731936564891970650noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-569497739006959608.post-1531088473259501972013-11-29T10:21:00.001-06:002013-11-29T10:28:32.102-06:00THE GOOD RAV: A Chassidic Talmud Chacham and Rabbi speaks:<!--StartFragment-->
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-kf9RQbFN5pI/Upi5WtGmSII/AAAAAAAAC7Y/X_Z85UO6EM0/s1600/images-77.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-kf9RQbFN5pI/Upi5WtGmSII/AAAAAAAAC7Y/X_Z85UO6EM0/s400/images-77.jpeg" width="246" /></a></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;">Generic photo of a rabbi. NOT the speaker</span></span></div>
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<b>This is a transcription from a speech given by a chassidic rabbi, a paskening rov, who does not identify as gay but who has been very supportive of LGBT people. This was not a private answer, but something that was said in front of an extremely large audience. Any mistakes are mine and not the rabbi's. </b></div>
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I’d like to start with my personal journey
regarding Judaism and homosexuality. It goes back over twelve years. It was
late Thursday night. I came back after a long meeting and my wife said to me
“Why are you crying?” I told her I’m sad for a young Jewish man, an Orthodox
young man in his mid-thirties, who’d been to yeshiva for a number of years. He
had come around after making an appointment and cancelling it, and then making
another appointment and cancelling that one too, and then again, until he
actually took courage to come around. </div>
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He presented me with three questions:</div>
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<span lang="EN-US">1) I have never been attracted to women. I
have always been attracted to men. I know there is a commandment in the Torah
to be fruitful and multiply. Pru urvu. I have to have children. Is it indeed
incumbent on me to get married and have children?</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US">2) To the extent that I am a homosexual in
orientation, meaning that I am only attracted to men and not to women, how
would you behave towards me if I came to your shul? Would you allow me to daven
before the amud? Would you allow me to get an aliyah? Would you allow me to be
part of the community? What would happen if you knew I wasn’t just a homosexual
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">in orientation</i> but I was actually
active, and engaged in a relationship with another man? Would that make a
difference to you?</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US">3) If it’s true that the Torah in the Book
of Leviticus makes it clear, unequivocal, that it’s forbidden to engage in male
homosexual liaison, I have to ask the question; G-d made me this way or He
allowed me to develop like this, nature, nurture, but at the end of the day, I
never chose it. From a very young age, this is what I recall. This is who I am.
But G-d says, “Don’t engage in male-to-male intercourse”, so that means that I
am obliged and presumed to remain celibate for my whole life. I won’t ask you
why would G-d should do such a thing, to allow a [gay] person to develop
through nature, nurture, providence, biology - and at the same time, constrain
him in such a way as to give him a commandment that means that he has to remain
lonely, to live a loveless life, craving for closeness, intimacy, physical
intimacy included in sexuality, nevertheless deprived, frustrated, living a
life of misery.</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US">[The young man] posed those three questions
that night and I hope to answer those three questions here now…</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><b>With regard to marriage</b>, I said to him what
I thought then was the obvious answer. I still think it is and I am surprised
that there are others who disagree. If anyone, man or woman, draws another
person into a marital relationship knowing that the other person is
heterosexual, if a gay person draws another person into a relationship knowing
that the other person craves a normal marriage and they are gay and they don’t
inform their spouse of their orientation, this is an ethical crime of the
highest order. </span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US">Even if they do achieve what might be called informed consent,
such a marriage is, “generally speaking” (there are always exceptions to every
rule) an unconceived marriage for a number of obvious reasons. Even though,
halachically, a man is obliged to get married and have children, there are circumstances when a person is not emotionally or physically equipped to have children. If a
person is not attracted to women, then this would mean he would be exempt from
fulfilling the positive commandment “Be fruitful and multiply.” <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Halachically, I explained that there is
a category <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;">*</span>, there is only a certain extent that a person must push themselves
or expend his resources in order to fulfill any given commandment, including
this primary commandment of getting married. If a person’s psychological
infrastructure was such that it didn’t attract him to women, he is not obliged
to steel himself and live in a marital relationship in order to have children. </span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US">Subsequently, even recently, I have
realized how important it is that this message gets across. Firstly, because I
myself have seen many cases where people have been encouraged by spiritual
leaders, psychological counselors, lay leaders, to get married and very often these [gay] people have gotten married with the best intentions and subsequently, they’ve
suffered the consequences. They, their spouses, their children. In the
aftermath of an acrimonious divorce, things become extremely messy, extremely
painful for them. </span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US">The other reason is, because only recently
in a kiruv journal that’s published in Flatbush, it was suggested that people
who go through therapy, even though they are going to have relapses, even
though it’s almost inevitable that there will be relapses into homosexual
conduct, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">should</i> get married. I find
this to be mind-boggling! I feel it is important that people should be aware
that getting married is not just a privilege, it’s a responsibility and a duty,
and if a [gay] person doesn’t have the ability to remain committed and is
unlikely to be able to suppress his inclination in all ways and at all times, then
it’s better that he doesn’t get married. On the contrary, to give up the dream
of marriage and having children and bringing grandchildren to ones own parents is
an extremely difficult thing, and those people who do that, knowing that they
are not able to honour the marital vows, are in actuality doing an act of
altruism, in depriving themselves of blessings that they themselves may crave,
the blessings of family life and children.</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><b>With regard to the second question</b>, I said
to him, paraphrasing what my friend Rabbi M said, the Torah prohibition is not
about orientation, it’s about <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">actions</i>.
Clearly, whatever a person is, no matter what his orientation is, he should be
welcome in shul. He should be a full-fledged member of the synagogue, and there
should not be ostracizing and then, he’d never be disenfranchised. We should
accept any member, man or woman, regardless of their orientation. </span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US">There are,
however, two types of communities. There are those communities that only allow
people who observe the entire Torah to be part of their community. If you do
even <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">one</i> sin, then you are out.
Clearly, such a community would not allow an active homosexual Jew to be a part
of their community. But the vast majority of Jewish communities today <i>do</i> allow all
sorts of people, many of whom don’t keep a whole host of laws, to be part of the shul
membership. And it must be added, people who are dishonest in business are allowed
to be members of those shuls. Dishonesty in business is an infringement of a
law against ones fellow man, an interpersonal crime, whereas homosexual
relations are actually only a crime between man and G-d. There is no human
victim here. It’s not in an exploitative context. </span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">Rambam, Maimonides, writes in a number of places, in his magnum opus, the Mishneh Torah, that
forbidden sexual relationships come under the category of Bein Adam Lemakom, between
man and<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>G-d. Therefore, in a
community that makes room for people who don’t fully observe the shabbos or the
rules of niddah, Taharas Hamishpacha, family purity and so on, there is no
reason they should not <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>allow even<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"> practicing</i> homosexuals to be part of
their community, provided they [the homosexuals] are respectful to the ethos of
the synagogue. But that’s true with regard to ALL people. We allow heterosexuals
to be part of our community, sometimes we have shabbatonim for young boys and
girls on Friday night, we don’t check up on them when they go home, and provided they are respectful to the shul, they behave in accordance with the ethos of
the shul, then of course they can be fully participant in the shul.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">I believe that most people are
not compelled to do things all of the time. There may be exceptions to the
rule. In terms of assessing the severity or the lack of severity of a
particular crime, you have to take into consideration the context. Today, even
if people know something is forbidden, and they know that’s what the Torah says
and that’s what the rabbi preaches from the pulpit. Even if they know that’s what they
are supposed to do, they were raised in a society that disregarded these prohibitions. Generally speaking, they are classified in halachic literature as a tinok
shenisba, a child taken into captivity. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">As condescending as the term may sound,
Maimonides, in his Laws of Rebels, Hilchot Mamrim, chapter 3, section 3, used
this term to describe second generation Karaites, who although they knew all
their Jewish obligations and were quite familiar with the rabbinical tradition,
and knew what they were supposed to do, nevertheless, since they were brought
up in a society that disregards these rules and did not consider them to be binding
, they weren’t held responsible to the same degree type as someone who had received
an education right from a young age in keeping the laws of the oral rabbinic
tradition. The same thing applies here. In western society where many people are brought up under the influence of the <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Zeitgeist, according to which the sexual morality of the day
doesn’t necessarily honour the Torah’s view, such people, where
the cap fits, can also be deserving of the title tinok shenisba. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">If I say nothing else but this, dayeinu. When
G-d judges people, he does not judge them according to the objective category of
the crime. He judges them according to their <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">subjective</i> circumstances. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Now, any heterosexual, myself included, who thinks about their
own challenges, knows that he often slips and falls, even when he could have done
better. Think about the plight of homosexuals, such as the young man I was
speaking to on that night, who was constrained in a homosexual orientation such
that he was not able to have any other outlet. How many of us would <i>actually</i> be
ready to commit ourselves to a life of celibacy and avoid all transgressions at
all times? I think if we look at ourselves honestly in the mirror and if we put
our hands on our hearts, we will acknowledge that this would be a <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">very</i> difficult achievement. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">Therefore,
understanding the circumstances and the context in which a homosexual finds
himself is most important. If G-d judges people according to their circumstances,
we too, should do so as well. While that does not mean in any way shape or form
that we want to rewrite the halacha, the law, the Torah states explicitly that
which it states, nevertheless, it does make a <i>huge</i> difference in the way we
approach an individual who is
confronted with a special set of challenges, circumstances which are most
difficult. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><b>I finally come to the last question</b> I was
confronted with that night:</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">Lamah asah H-shem kacha? Why did G-d make
me this way? This question has been so powerful that some rabbis have felt
compelled to assume that there must be some magical cure, or way of
transforming homosexuals, making them into heterosexuals. Recently, some rabbis
issued a Torah Declaration that said that reorientation <i>must </i>be possible for
all people because G-d, who is merciful, would not create people to have them locked
in an unfulfilling life, lonely and loveless, and that the only way they could
get out of this [isolation] would be through a prohibition. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">This argument, in my opinion, is theologically
flawed, because we find that G-d actually <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">has</i>
put lots of people in these circumstances. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We can find many people who, whether by providence or from
biology, are in circumstances where the only way to escape misery would be through
violating halacha. There are people who, because of physiological, biological,
emotional or even halachic conditions, can’t get married, and such people have
to live a celibate life. And the only way they are able to find intimacy and
physical love would be if they were to violate the halacha.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">There have been, in the past, many people
who were constrained and unable to have children because of premature ovulation,
and the laws of niddah affected their ability to have the blessing of children.
That’s an example of people committed to keep the halacha who have even suffering
childlessness their whole lives, in order not to transgress the halacha. There
are people in around the world who have to give up a lot, to live in
destitution, even die of poverty, in order not to break shabbos. The idea that despite
the nisyonos that G-d gives people, we can somehow straightjacket G-d and insist,
and say G-d would<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"> never</i> do that, is
not correct and not reflective of reality. Therefore I don’t think that is a statement
that can be supported. I don’t accept that as the answer to the theological question [of
why did G-d make me like thus]. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">How then do I deal with the theological question?
The answer is very simple. I don’t. I don’t have an answer. The question is an important question but it doesn’t have anything to do with homosexuality
or heterosexuality or anything to do with sexuality. It has to do with <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">all </i>of these and many more. It has to do
with the general question in theology of why do great people suffer from
infertility? Why can’t great people find love and spouses? Why do great people
suffer from many tragedies, and great, small, or medium-sized difficulties in their
lives? We have no ability to answer that. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Therefore, it’s important to place this question in the right
context. It’s not unique to the sexual portion of Leviticus. It is something
about the human condition and the way G-d created us. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">In my own meetings with homosexuals, I have
four goals that I<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"> do</i> believe can be
achieved, I strive to achieve them and to a large extent, I have achieved them:</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-family: Cambria; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">1.<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span><span lang="EN-US">Someone who is homosexual
should not lose his life from depression, from feelings of impotence, through drugs,
through ephemeral relationships and promiscuity.</span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-family: Cambria; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">2.<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span><span lang="EN-US">Someone who is homosexual
should not lose their family, through them alienating their parents and
siblings, or through their parents or siblings alienating them.</span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-family: Cambria; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">3.<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span><span lang="EN-US"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Homosexuals should not lose their rabbis, their communities,
their place in their shul, either through their shul alienating them or them
alienating their shul, or through identifying themselves completely by their
orientation and going off somewhere else.</span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpLast" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-bidi-font-family: Cambria; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">4.<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span><span lang="EN-US">Homosexuals should not lose
their G-d, They shouldn’t feel that just because they have such a tremendous
challenge and just because they haven’t always been able to meet the
requirements of this challenge according to the Torah, therefore, it’s all or
nothing. Strangely, no heterosexuals seem to feel that their failings make them
that way [excluded from the frum community]. For some reason, this is a mistake
that’s happened; that people feel it’s either all or nothing. We have to
somehow make sure that people should recognize that G-d loves<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"> all</i> Jewish people, and the Jewish
community should make room in their home for <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">every</i> Jew. </span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpLast" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpLast" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<span lang="EN-US"> As I said before, we should do everything in our power so that homosexual Jews should not lose their lives, not lose
their families, not lose their communities and not lose their G-d.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04731936564891970650noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-569497739006959608.post-67160269738351034392013-11-28T02:54:00.000-06:002013-11-28T10:53:43.566-06:00FRUM GAY MAN: Struggling to integrate two worlds<!--StartFragment-->
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<span lang="EN-US">I’m 21 yrs old. I live in New York. I grew up in an Orthodox community in the midwest and consider myself Orthodox, though I struggle
religiously. I work as a makeup artist and I am openly gay. </span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><o:p> </o:p></span>Growing up, gay wasn’t a thing, but I went through
a lot of bullying in middle school. There was one kid who targeted me and later
on, when I made a blog, I wrote about him but didn’t mention his name. He was a
bad seed. None of the teachers liked him. He would torture me. He got into my
head, psychologically, and he also hurt me physically, and he’d get other kids
to hurt me too, or he’d hurt them. The school didn’t do much about it. And <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">then</i>, in 7<sup>th</sup> grade, his
father became my principal.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That
kid used to call me a girl, gay, faggot. He said those things, and I would go home
crying every single night. I was worried that he had somehow embedded the idea
of being gay in my mind, just through the constant name-calling. That was my
first experience with “gay”. I thought being gay wasn’t a real thing. Just a
product of the bullying.</div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><o:p> </o:p></span>That cruelty made it harder growing up in
orthodox community. And I was always told you marry a woman and have kids, and
that’s the way it is. When we went through the posukim having to do with gay
people in school, it was very casual. They didn’t stop to discuss it. It was
black and white, a condemnation. And if it was in the Torah as wrong, surely
there couldn’t be real people who were gay. I thought something was
psychologically wrong with me. I didn’t know any other gay people either, just
Jack and Will from Will and Grace. My first experience seeing two men kissing
was weird for me. I’d never seen anything like that in my life and it was
strange. I saw a whole different side in Tel Aviv. I got over that weirdness.</div>
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In high school, the bullying got worse. I
went out of town for yeshiva in 9<sup>th</sup> and 10<sup>th</sup> grade, but the
principal and mashpia guessed I was gay and they decided to make me their
project. They caused a lot of emotional damage that still affects me. High
school was terrible. It made me feel worse about myself, depressed,
self-conscious. For 11<sup>th</sup> and 12<sup>th</sup> grade, I wanted to go
back home, and I ended up in a local yeshiva. I never discussed being gay, but
it was something I struggled with. I began to do research online, and found
JONAH, and I thought that would be my way out, a fixing, a magic way out. I got
in touch with them and I started therapy with them. It was a horrible
experience, and the only good thing that came out of it, was that I was able to
come out as gay. The only reason I even told my mother I was gay was because I thought
they would be able to cure me. I told her, thinking it was all over and I would
be straight. They made me believe I could change.</div>
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<span lang="EN-US">I came out to mother through email. I was
so afraid of telling her that I couldn’t even talk to her. She texted me she
loves me unconditionally, no matter what. That night, she said she knew it as a
fact since I was in kindergarten, that I am gay. I was always different from
the time I was little. I came out when I was seventeen and by then, my parents
had had time to prepare themselves. They were shocked but still supportive. My
mother supported me in going to JONAH. They never forced me to do it, though.
And when I realized it was unhealthy and I stopped, they were okay also. They just
wanted me to be happy. </span></div>
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I left the yeshiva before my final year, and
I was homeschooled. I was able to sort out my life and move on. The yeshiva
didn’t kick me out. I just didn’t want to put anyone in an uncomfortable
position.</div>
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I have two older sisters and one younger
brother. My sisters knew I was gay, but maybe my brother didn’t. It wasn’t a
surprise to them. I was just confirming it to them. It was a shock but they all
handled it really well. When people asked my sister about it, she said, “It would
be selfish for me to say that it’s hard for me, since it’s S who is going
through this thing.” I have a better relationship with my family than I ever
did.</div>
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<span lang="EN-US">My mother and my siblings thought I was gay
because I have stereotypical qualities. I was different. My mother had a good
intuition because I was very flamboyant. It made it easier for me later on. If I
wasn’t so flamboyant, it would have been harder to come out, harder to get
accepted. </span></div>
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I’m not uncomfortable with who I am. It’s
who I am. It’s not me shoving it in their face…I am just being me, the way I
have always been. I don’t carry a sign, but this is just how I am. It’s nice
that I have so much support these days and from my family. I feel lucky to be
born in this generation.</div>
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<span lang="EN-US">My dad and I had an interesting
relationship. We are very different. We didn’t connect so much, but ever since
I came out, he’s tried really hard to be there for me as a parent. He struggled
with not understanding it, but he never had a problem with me actually being
gay.</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US">I was always a good kid. So that made it
easy. I was good at home and good in school. One good thing is that my parents
don’t care about other people’s opinions. All Jews are Jews. They don’t like
those labels. They accept all Jews. In my father’s mind, me being gay was our
family’s thing, and everyone else’s opinions are irrelevant. He is a big baal tzedoka
and he gives to many places, but he stopped giving money to the organizations
and rabbis who signed the [homophobic] Torah Declaration. Family first! He has
my back, and that improved our relationship. </span><br />
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
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It’s surprising, but I didn’t have any
issues from the community, because everyone kind of guessed already. I left to
Israel after 12<sup>th</sup> grade, and that also gave everyone in the
community time to absorb it. It was shocking because I was so young and my
family was so prominent. Everyone offered opinions, but we were already at a
very strong point by the time that was happening.</div>
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<span lang="EN-US">In Israel, I went to Bar Ilan’s American
program. The dean knew I was gay, and he seemed cool with it, but he told me to
keep it on the down-low. I thought he was just being cool, but actually, he
didn’t want anyone to know. Then, when everyone <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">did</i> know, the dean started to have an issue with it. I hadn’t
realized that not being out [being on the down-low] was my condition for being
in the program. One of the teachers told me that the program was considering
kicking me out. I went to the dean and said, “My family and I will be pressing
charges of discrimination on the basis of sexual orientation if you continue with
your plan to kick me out.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We’ve
already spoken to a lawyer.“ I managed to finish out that year there.</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US">There were a few boys in the program who
wrote mean things on my door, I spoke with someone in the administration every
single day for six months until it was finally taken down. The program wasn’t
good about me being gay. At the end of the program I spoke with the dean in front
of my father. I said the only reason I am talking about this now is because
there will be other boys who come after me who are gay, and may be not as strong
as me, and you could cause them to have a serious issue [suicide]. You could have a major
problem on your hands if you treat them the way you treated me. </span></div>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-d4VJtj23xDc/Upb2qJyd0DI/AAAAAAAAC2s/il2KuCCblxE/s1600/orthodox_boys-1024x775.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="302" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-d4VJtj23xDc/Upb2qJyd0DI/AAAAAAAAC2s/il2KuCCblxE/s400/orthodox_boys-1024x775.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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When I returned to my hometown, people
weren’t so surprised about me being gay anymore. It was what it was. No one
talked about it. Some people were overly friendly towards me who had never
spoken to me before. “Oh my gosh! How are you?” They talked to me like I was
some kind of cancer patient. I preferred the people who were talking about me
behind my back!</div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">One person who helped a lot was Rabbi
Litwack, my rabbi in 7<sup>th</sup> and 8<sup>th</sup> grade. He’s the one who
said it’s not so black and white. He doesn’t believe it’s something I can
change, and he told me that though I can’t do every single mitzvah, I can still
be a good Jew. He told me, if you are in an accident, how can you put on
tefillin? A kid who is autistic can’t do a lot of the mitzvos. He told me a lot
of supportive things. I go out to dinner with him or out for shalosh seudos.
He’s a really big influence and role model for me. He is part of the reason I
am still connected.</span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">Certain situations make you realize who
your real friends are. The people who really care about me, have stayed my
friends. The only person I had a really negative reaction from is also someone
I think might be in the closet.</span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">It’s difficult to be out and Jewish. I’m
not going to say it’s not. When you are finally out, you make a lot of friends
who have been through similar experiences. My mother and father can’t completely
relate to my situation. But finding people who <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">can</i> relate is amazing. But still, I am tied to a community that
rejects me. That is the experience of many of my friends, too. Your belief
system is in a different community, the Jewish community, and that poses a big
challenge as a person. I am confident and comfortable as a gay man who is
Jewish, but as an orthodox Jew, every day is a struggle. I always told my parents,
I want to keep Shabbat because I feel a connection rather than out of habit.
Now, it’s on and off for me, because I struggle to reconcile these two worlds.
That’s the hardest thing for me. It’s a purgatory. You don’t know where to go
because you are in-between two communities and you’d like them to be
intertwined, but for me, I just can’t make it happen. </span></div>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-66PShtgIvRw/Upb2un_2BCI/AAAAAAAAC34/U1umgt4IWZM/s1600/w-1.orthodox-111213.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="221" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-66PShtgIvRw/Upb2un_2BCI/AAAAAAAAC34/U1umgt4IWZM/s400/w-1.orthodox-111213.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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I have friends who claim they are
successfully both gay and Jewish, but to <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">me</i>
it doesn’t feel fully possible. It’s a big struggle and it’s difficult. There
are no official answers, just vague opinions from Rabbis. I don’t believe it’s
fully possible to be completely comfortable with both, completely content. I <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">think</i> you can, but the connection is
challenging, like water and oil.</div>
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It’s interesting, because I took AP
psychology, and they say that when you go through something traumatic, it’s
hard to remember. It goes in your subconscious. The majority of my life, I was
in the closet, and I barely remember a thing about it. Now, I am just out and
about. Now, my earlier life feels like I am telling an old story. It feels so
far away and sad. It feels like I am a different person now. I used to be
miserable and alone and sad and depressed, and I had to pretend I was happy. It
makes me sad.</div>
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<br /></div>
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<span lang="EN-US">Now, though I struggle with being
religious, I am completely happy and feel so good and so deserving to live my
life without having to adjust myself to please others. I lived like that for a
long time. Im ein ani li, mi li?…”If I am not for myself, who will be for me?”.</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US">I have goals but I don’t plan. Man plans
and G-d laughs. I’m so young. I want a relationship because I feel like I am at
that point now. Because of my circumstances, I had to grow up real fast. Most
people my age are still in the closet.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>But I am past that. I want to find someone to be in a relationship with.
I want to continue growing my business too. In the beginning it was hard, but
now I am busy.</span></div>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-OlUZtO1QGsM/Upb2mUDNUII/AAAAAAAAC1w/ZRtejuR2PA4/s1600/header-gay-05-630x300.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="190" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-OlUZtO1QGsM/Upb2mUDNUII/AAAAAAAAC1w/ZRtejuR2PA4/s400/header-gay-05-630x300.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><o:p> </o:p></span>I don’t know about having kids. I <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">always </i>thought that I wanted kids, and
now I am an uncle and I <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">love</i> that. Eventually,
I’d like to start a family with someone. I’d like to find someone Jewish, someone
who I could relate to and be able to open up to. I’m a very guarded person. I
build up walls because of everything I’ve been through. In a relationship, I’d
like to be myself and be comfortable and to feel like I don’t have to be
defensive.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">I want to go to the <a href="www.http://eshelonline.org/" target="_blank">Eshel</a> shabbaton this
year, and I want my friends to go with me. All my friends aren’t sure what they
are going to do, but I really love going.</span></div>
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-wDAQ_LvvnM0/UpcEIp4nWCI/AAAAAAAAC6A/-9EnAvAMeGo/s1600/_MG_3051c.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-wDAQ_LvvnM0/UpcEIp4nWCI/AAAAAAAAC6A/-9EnAvAMeGo/s400/_MG_3051c.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">Everybody has their struggles and obstacles
in life, even though we can’t see everyone else’s struggles. Something I think
is crucial is respect. Just because you might not agree with the way I am, it’s
not your business. You don’t need to have an opinion on it. Have respect for me
even if you don’t agree with me. I am tznius, and you don’t even know what, if
anything I am doing behind closed doors. I am not going to damage your children.
I am not recruiting. Please accept me for who I am, not reject me, based on a small
part of who I am. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">The first few years after she was married,
my sister had a hard time having children. Imagine if everyone in shul looked
at you, and gave you dirty looks and talked about you because you couldn’t have
children. Imagine if that happened to you. That’s what it’s like for me,
walking into shul, an immediate bad feeling, based on something I have no
control over. Please just find it inside yourselves to be respectful.</span></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04731936564891970650noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-569497739006959608.post-22349901152202343712013-11-22T14:37:00.002-06:002013-11-22T14:38:20.049-06:00FRUM FATHER OF A BISEXUAL DAUGHTER<br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 20px; line-height: 27px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">This article originally appeared in the Jewish Week (10/11/2013), and is </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 20px; line-height: 27px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">reposted here. Frum Gay Girl did not do this interview, but believes it will be of interest to the readers of the blog. You may read the original together with the comments generated at this link: </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><a href="http://www.thejewishweek.com/editorial-opinion/opinion/my-secret-father-lgbtq-child-not-what-you-think">http://www.thejewishweek.com/editorial-opinion/opinion/my-secret-father-lgbtq-child-not-what-you-think</a></span></span><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-UAxCtDJO6Xs/Uo--pTr77dI/AAAAAAAACyw/oLTm-KgMR2E/s1600/x166183605221592680_1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-UAxCtDJO6Xs/Uo--pTr77dI/AAAAAAAACyw/oLTm-KgMR2E/s1600/x166183605221592680_1.jpg" /></a></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I am a Modern Orthodox Jew, the product of a Torah u’Madda (Torah and secular) education. I am not sure what I expected to discover at this first-ever weekend “Shabbaton,” hosted by <a href="http://www.eshelonline.org/" style="color: #0062a8; text-decoration: none;">Eshel</a>, for Orthodox Jewish parents of LGBTQ children last April. </span></div>
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Our youngest daughter “came out” to us as bisexual more than seven years ago and we have guarded the secret between us, our two other daughters, and our son-in-law. We immediately embraced her and told her that we could never love her any less than we do -- which is the most you can love anybody. Many years have passed and we have long accepted our daughter for who she is. We worry less about our daughter’s future as the rest of the world outside the Orthodox Jewish community accelerates to accept same sex-relationships. But we still worry how our extended family, community and Jewish world will react when we are “all out.”</div>
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Here’s the problem: Our Torah -- God-given and True -- explicitly forbids male same-sex sexual relationships of a particular sort and although the Torah makes no direct mention of lesbian relationships, the Rabbis have forbidden those as well. So as long as my community and my friends don’t know, I have not had to deal with my “dirty little secret”-- the one I know but didn’t articulate before the Eshel retreat.</div>
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My secret isn’t my daughter’s sexual orientation. I could not be prouder of my daughter and have no need or desire to keep that a secret from anyone. My secret is that I do not accept the rigid Orthodox view of same sex relationships and I have been embarrassed to share that out loud in my relatively “conservative” Orthodox shul.</div>
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I know that humans don’t choose their sexual orientation much in the same way I know that the world is not flat and was not created in six physical days 5773 years ago. I am a doctor by profession. I have lived through the period where doctors thought autism was caused by “refrigerator mothers” who could not attach properly. Despite its patent absurdity, that now- debunked psychiatric hypothesis survived well into the 1970s. We know better nowadays. Various psychiatric narratives also blamed mothers and fathers for “producing” gay children.</div>
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Therapy to “cure” same sex attraction has been a disaster in so many ways. Science has progressed, thank God! I try to remember to thank God for revealing to us the amazingly complex laws of His world.</div>
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We now know that gender identification and sexuality are primarily biologically determined, likely during a critical period of fetal development. Anyone who still thinks children “choose” to have same sex attraction is ignoring science. Our tradition bends to accommodate new knowledge. The Rambam dealt with this issue in the 12th century when he asserted that we must reconcile scientific knowledge with conflicting Torah passages by reinterpreting scripture as long as the scientific “knowledge” does not contradict basic tenets of the faith.</div>
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So many LGBTQ children describe how hard they fought to try to be “normal”. One estimate is that gay children are 8 times more likely than their heterosexual counterparts to attempt suicide. In Israel, nearly 25 percent of teenage suicides occur in LGBTQ children – can any sentient being think that young people deliberately put themselves in this psychologically painful and dangerous position volitionally? Really? </div>
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My God and the God of our fathers and mothers, who watches over every human being, created my youngest daughter and one of my nephews with the capacity for same sex attraction. And we are supposed to ignore them or reject them? What are their options? Celibacy? Torah Judaism embraces the inherent value of sexual intimacy in a marriage (even for infertile couples).</div>
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My problem, then, is with broadening the interpretation of the <em>pesukim</em>, or verses, that prohibit and label as abominable male–male intercourse of a particular sort – and using those verses to exclude same-sex couples from Orthodox Jewish life.</div>
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My Orthodox Jewish roots are deep. If my daughter chooses to leave my faith, that would break my heart. If she chooses to spend it with the Jewish female love of her life in a community that allows her to continue to participate in its shul and celebrate her life milestones within an accepting Orthodox community, my life would be complete. If we teach our LGBTQ children that they must deny their sexuality in order to stay within Orthodoxy, we are literally driving them away. They have no choice in that particular dialectic.</div>
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Neither do it. Baruch Hashem, I am God-fearing and the continuity of my father’s faith, a Holocaust survivor, is a core value for me and my family. But if forced to choose between an Orthodoxy that rejects and pushes away my daughter or my father’s faith, I choose this: to bend my father’s faith to embrace his granddaughter. He probably wouldn’t have understood her situation very well. But I am sure that is what he and God actually want; they want all their children to stay in their “tent.”</div>
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These and many other thoughts surfaced during the intensely beautiful Eshel weekend I spent with other parents of LGBTQ children, all of whom were struggling within their various flavors of Orthodoxy (haredi to modern). Through a weekend of openness and sharing with parents who love their children no less than I, and hearing their stories of pain and joy, we created a Shabbos of healing. This was a traditional Shabbos with a traditional minyan. We had Torah learning and amazing sessions where we could feel each other’s struggles and hear from some who have dealt with this issue for more than a decade and who shared the joy of the continued Jewish engagement of their LGBTQ children.</div>
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I learned with Rabbi Steven Greenberg, the first openly gay Orthodox rabbi and later had the incredible opportunity to speak with him personally. I davened with a new “wholeness” in my heart. Our love for our children fueled our groping for a way to bend our tradition to embrace what we know is true in our hearts. We cried, laughed, and sang together. By the end of our wonderful Shabbos together, we were wishing out loud that all the attendees lived together in the same physical community.</div>
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Our precious children were made the way they are by our God and the God of our fathers and mothers. Our Orthodox Jewish God loves his LGBTQ progeny no less than His other children. I am sure of this. This very same God wants us to find a way to reinterpret our pesukim, our rabbinic literature and our tradition today, with our current knowledge of LGBTQ issues. The roots of our tradition extend thousands of years nourishing the <em>eitz chaim</em>, or tree of life, whose living branches grow and extend with each passing day, just as our faith is renewed in our hearts daily. At the Eshel Shabbaton, we parents were joined in a vision of creating the welcoming space in our precious Orthodox tradition in which our beloved LGBTQ children can breathe, thrive and lead Orthodox Jewish lives.<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times; font-size: small; line-height: normal;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-MaMuV-TGvCI/Uo-_eGcfw8I/AAAAAAAACy4/d2zPIhEm6hk/s1600/tumblr_mpl30eVdbW1qzrcrso1_1280.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-MaMuV-TGvCI/Uo-_eGcfw8I/AAAAAAAACy4/d2zPIhEm6hk/s400/tumblr_mpl30eVdbW1qzrcrso1_1280.jpg" width="400" /></a></span></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04731936564891970650noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-569497739006959608.post-27262156147955353582013-11-19T17:56:00.002-06:002013-11-19T17:56:24.915-06:00THE MORAH: Lesbian Chassidic Girls' School Teacher<br />
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-UMlz-CS_yKs/Uov4A8rmmvI/AAAAAAAACxs/nWrUTMPcUp0/s1600/42211a.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-UMlz-CS_yKs/Uov4A8rmmvI/AAAAAAAACxs/nWrUTMPcUp0/s400/42211a.jpg" width="263" /></a></div>
I am in my late 40's. I am no longer a part of the chassidish community I grew up in, though I was a respected morah in the girls' high school until fairly recently. I am still chassidish, just a different kind of chassidish. I lost my job when I came out as a lesbian. Actually, that's not quite true. What happened was not that I lost my job. I wasn't <i>rehired</i> for the position I'd held for more than twenty years. No one said anything to me. But when it was time to hear about the new school year, there was a big fat silence.<br />
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wJ0MDni3n-I/Uov2ITDFEZI/AAAAAAAACwE/kM-Pzmd_DxU/s1600/P1020307.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wJ0MDni3n-I/Uov2ITDFEZI/AAAAAAAACwE/kM-Pzmd_DxU/s640/P1020307.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
I waited and waited, even past the beginning of the school year, because that was my income and I couldn't believe they wouldn't rehire me without at least saying something. When I didn't hear anything by the beginning of Tishrei [first month after school starts], I went in to see the principal, but she tried to avoid talking with me. Then, when she saw that I wasn't going to leave, she slipped out a side door and wouldn't talk with me later on the phone.</div>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-em1EOM7bviM/Uov4BW7SH5I/AAAAAAAACx0/nlUx6ett_FU/s1600/annoying-nasally-jewish-woman.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="307" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-em1EOM7bviM/Uov4BW7SH5I/AAAAAAAACx0/nlUx6ett_FU/s400/annoying-nasally-jewish-woman.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
This was someone who had been my very good friend. I looked up to her like I looked up to no other Rebbetzin. I decided to try to speak with her again on a different day, so I came in unannounced and surprised her. </div>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9H4PlNuyDe8/Uov4B9TgcjI/AAAAAAAACx8/-Qtm5G7UtPs/s1600/danielle_salzberg.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="275" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9H4PlNuyDe8/Uov4B9TgcjI/AAAAAAAACx8/-Qtm5G7UtPs/s400/danielle_salzberg.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
She was not pleased. She folded her arms and pulled away from me. "I love you," she said. "We have been friends for many years. But I can't lie. I hate what you are doing to yourself. You can't deny that the Oibershter (G-d) would be very disappointed in you. Your soul is higher than this! The Rebbe would be very disappointed in you too. How can you allow yourself to behave in this way? You, who were a role model for the entire school in tznius and aidelkeit [modesty and refinement]!"</div>
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I felt tears coming into my eyes. I didn't want to cry in front of her. I wanted to be strong. I had been strong in the face of the many friends, family members and neighbours who had said hurtful things to me or even refused to have any contact with me after I came out, but in front of this one person, someone who had helped me through every crisis with my ex-husband, I couldn't be strong. I began to sob.</div>
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"I'm not going to deny it," I said. "I'm a frimmer yid (religious Jew) and I know that what I am doing isn't what G-d wants from me. But I also know that I am never going to get married to a man again. I also know I need companionship, friendship, help in my house with my kids, support and love. Will you condemn me to living my whole life alone?"</div>
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"You <i>could</i> have a girlfriend," said my principal. "But you could only be <i>friends</i>. Even if you lived in the same house. You couldn't ever be physical with her. That would be okay in the eyes of the Oibershter, even if other people in the community would look at you strangely and not allow their children to come to your house. And, even with that compromise, I could never have you teach in my school." I believe she thought she was making room for me, being accepting in her own way, but instead, it drove a stake through me. </div>
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"Could <i>you</i> live like that?" I asked her, and she admitted that such a life would be a terrible nisoyon for her. "But my issues are not your issues," she said. "You have to battle this nisoyon [spiritual test of being gay] day and night, wth tooth and claw. Who knows - maybe this is why your soul is here on this earth? To have such a harsh nisoyon must mean that you have a very lofty soul."</div>
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I stared at her. I didn't know what to say. I felt completely crushed. To her, my life was not human and painful and challenging, but just some object lesson out of a story book, cut and dried, an easy thing to dissect, completely lacking real emotions and real human connections. "It's not a nisoyon for me," I replied. "My life is <i>much</i> better since I admitted that I am a lesbian. And I don't believe that H-shem created me the way I am and then cursed me to live alone. I don't understand what it all means. I do not deny the Torah, but neither do I know what everything means. I don't know why bad things happen to good people. I don't know why H-shem made me gay and also said that acting on my gay impulses is bad. I dont understand ANY of this."</div>
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"You made a <i>choice. </i>A choice which goes against all that Torah wants from us," she said. "Now you are stuck with it. You'll see. In time you'll have to come back, begging, because being gay isn't the life for you. You'll be empty. A shell." She turned away from me and didn't turn back. I got up slowly. I felt as if I had been run over with a steam roller.</div>
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"I did not make a choice," I said. "This life, this self, was <i>given</i> to me."</div>
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I cried the whole way home. Tears were streaming down my face. I was afraid that all the people walking past would see, so I pulled up the (never before worn) hood of my coat, to cover my face. It was hard for me to get a breath, and then, it started raining. I've always thought that H-shem was crying with me, that even if the principal couldn't feel how painful this all was for me, He could.</div>
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When I came home, my children asked me what was wrong. I didn't know what to tell them. We needed the money I make from teaching, since my ex-husband does not support us at all. Inside, I was frantic, while outside, I had to stay calm, not to upset the kinderlach (children). "Something upsetting happened, but we will be alright," I said. "Der Oiberhster vet unz helfn" [G-d will help us]. My children gathered around me and hugged me and patted my face. "We love you, Mommy," they said. We lit the fire and sat down with hot cocoa and snuggled, reading books. My oldest daughter made cookies and served them to all of us. "Here Mommy," she said, serving me first. "Life is still sweet, no matter what happened."</div>
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Later, my girlfriend came over to see how I was, and she also comforted me. And later still, several friends from the small circle of frum gay people I knew came over and reminded me, again, that I had support, and that many people loved me and that even if my home community denied me, I still had another community to fall back on and that they would be there for me, however many times I needed them.</div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04731936564891970650noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-569497739006959608.post-1550442663097077752013-11-18T14:44:00.001-06:002013-11-18T14:48:53.433-06:00ORTHODOX LGBT FAQs<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;"><span class="textH1" style="color: #505050; font-family: Arial; font-size: 20px; font-weight: bold;">Orthodox LGBT FAQs (courtesy of JQY)</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;"><span class="textH2" style="color: #18619c; font-family: Arial; font-size: 18px; font-weight: bold;">Common Orthodox questions, criticisms, and concerns vs. Supportive Orthodox Rabbinic Responses</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;"><br />Over the years, JQY has spoken at various panels and has had many private conversations with Orthodox Rabbis. We have compiled this fact sheet as a resource to describe the common questions, criticisms, and concerns that our members have heard from friends, family and community members, and that they have struggled with internally. We have paired each question with responses we have<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;"> received from supportive Orthodox rabbis.</span></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">If you have any questions about any items on this fact sheet, or if you would like request a JQY panel where we can discuss these questions in greater depth, please</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;"><a href="http://www.jqyouth.org/request_panel.shtml" style="color: blue; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; text-decoration: none;">contact us</a></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;"><br /></span><br />
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<tr><td align="left" bgcolor="#ffffff" valign="top" width="50%"><b>Common Questions, Criticisms, and Concerns</b></td><td align="left" bgcolor="#ffffff" valign="top" width="50%"><b>Supportive Rabbinic Responses</b></td></tr>
<tr><td align="left" bgcolor="#ffffff" valign="top">Hashem does not give us anything we can not overcome. Doesn't this mean that homosexuality can be overcome?</td><td align="left" bgcolor="#ffffff" valign="top">Many challenges in life are not changeable. We do not tell deaf people that they can “overcome” their deafness and hear. We learn to live our best lives with life's realities.</td></tr>
<tr><td align="left" bgcolor="#ffffff" valign="top">Everyone has their nisayon (test) in life, some of which are very difficult, isn't being gay or lesbian just a nisayon for a person to overcome?</td><td align="left" bgcolor="#ffffff" valign="top">A person's nisayon (test) is to make the most of their lives and be the best Jew they can be. We don't say the nisayon of a deaf person is to hear the shofar, it is to find his unique relationship to the commandment. A nisayon is intended to bring a person closer to G-d, it is not intended to make a person live in misery.</td></tr>
<tr><td align="left" bgcolor="#ffffff" valign="top">Since homosexuality is called a toevah (abomination), doesn't it mean that it is an ethical evil that goes against Jewish hashkofa (thought) and must never seem normal?</td><td align="left" bgcolor="#ffffff" valign="top">We do not know taamei hamitzvot (the reasons for commandments), eating shrimp and wearing shatnez (cloth containing wool and linen) are also called a toevah (abomination), if a person struggles with a sin between him/her and G-d that does not make him/her an evil person.</td></tr>
<tr><td align="left" bgcolor="#ffffff" valign="top">Isn't being “out” worse than merely sinning because the person is advertises the sin publicly, which is itself yehareg va'alyaver (death is preferable to the transgression)?</td><td align="left" bgcolor="#ffffff" valign="top">Being “out” actually says nothing about whether one sins, or is public about sinning. Out LGBT Orthodox Jews can still be tzniut (modest), and not discuss specific sexual behaviors publicly. One should not make assumptions about someone else's private life or their sexual behaviors just because the person is 'out'.</td></tr>
<tr><td align="left" bgcolor="#ffffff" valign="top">Straight people don't go around telling people that they are straight, why do gay people feel the need to do so?</td><td align="left" bgcolor="#ffffff" valign="top">Just as straight people would correct you if you assumed he or she were gay, gay people do not need to lie or pretend to be heterosexual when they are not. Every wedding, anniversary, and shidduch (arranged marriage) is a proclamation of one's heterosexuality. We do not ask an agunah (a woman who can not remarry due to not receiving a 'get') to say that she is no longer attracted to men, even though acting on this attraction would be a sin.</td></tr>
<tr><td align="left" bgcolor="#ffffff" valign="top">Doesn't pride or celebration of one's sexuality go against the Jewish tradition of tzniut (modesty)?</td><td align="left" bgcolor="#ffffff" valign="top">It is important to combat the internalized shame that many LGBT people experience with self-esteem i.e. pride. Furthermore, the strength and bravery it takes to come out, overcome obstacles, and persevere is what is celebrated, not any specific sexual behavior.</td></tr>
<tr><td align="left" bgcolor="#ffffff" valign="top">We actually do not know whether homosexuality is genetic or environmental. Doesn't this mean that a person can and should change?</td><td align="left" bgcolor="#ffffff" valign="top">Whether someone is 'born gay' or becomes gay due to environmental factors does not imply that being gay is somehow a choice or changeable. Many things that are caused by the environment are in fact unchangeable.</td></tr>
<tr><td align="left" bgcolor="#ffffff" valign="top">If we are openly affirming or accepting of gays, won't this be encouraging homosexuality and lead those who are on the fence to become gay?</td><td align="left" bgcolor="#ffffff" valign="top">Speaking out against homosexuality does not prevent anyone from being gay; it just increases the shame and internal suffering that LGBT people experience in the Orthodox community. Sensitivity and being welcoming is the torah way, and can be life-saving for individuals suffering in silence.</td></tr>
<tr><td align="left" bgcolor="#ffffff" valign="top">We can love the sinner, but we are supposed to hate the sin, so how can we be supportive of gay Jewish organizations and homosexuality?</td><td align="left" bgcolor="#ffffff" valign="top">Identifying as gay does not imply anything about whether or not a person is “sinning” by engaging in specific prohibited behaviors. Hating the sin should not mean denying a person the resources that they desperately need.</td></tr>
<tr><td align="left" bgcolor="#ffffff" valign="top">Sexuality may be fluid for some, so shouldn't everyone at least make an attempt in 'reparative therapy' if it helps some individuals?</td><td align="left" bgcolor="#ffffff" valign="top">Helping some does not justify hurting others. Many individuals have reported being harmed by these types of therapies, which are often conducted by unlicensed individuals who face no repercussions for irresponsible and potentially damaging interventions.</td></tr>
<tr><td align="left" bgcolor="#ffffff" valign="top">How can we say “it gets better” to a life that halachicaly (from a Jewish legal standpoint) can have no sexual outlet?</td><td align="left" bgcolor="#ffffff" valign="top">We don't say to agunot (women who can not remarry due to not receiving a 'get') that “it can never get better”, or that there is no value or place for them in Jewish life just because we can not legitimize any of their romantic behavior.</td></tr>
<tr><td align="left" bgcolor="#ffffff" valign="top">Why should LGBT Orthodox Jews be treated any different from those who desire other sexual sins like adultery?</td><td align="left" bgcolor="#ffffff" valign="top">If we are to use adultery as an analogy, it would be similar to the case of an agunah (a woman who can not remarry due to not receiving a 'get'), who through no fault of her own may not have any halachicaly (from a Jewish legal standpoint) permitted sexual behavior or marriage.</td></tr>
<tr><td align="left" bgcolor="#ffffff" valign="top">Isn't homosexuality yehareg v'al yaavor (death is preferable to transgression), putting it in a different category than other sins, similar to murder?</td><td align="left" bgcolor="#ffffff" valign="top">If we are to use murder as an analogy, it would be similar to the case of brain death and organ donation, where, although it is technically yehareg v'al yaavor (death is preferable to transgression), where sensitivity, ambiguity, and compassion are all imparted on those making decisions, even when they may be against rabbinic advice.</td></tr>
<tr><td align="left" bgcolor="#ffffff" valign="top">While desire may not be a choice, behavior is always a choice. Shouldn't we therefore judge those who we know engage in sexual behavior as sinners?</td><td align="left" bgcolor="#ffffff" valign="top">In cases of Jewish suicide, halachic burial (burial according to Jewish law) is almost never observed because we assume that the behavior is engaged in when a person is in an altered mental state. Individuals who have Aspergers, ADD, or other different issues are often exempt from general orthodox expectations. We can not truly judge a person until we are in their shoes.</td></tr>
<tr><td align="left" bgcolor="#ffffff" valign="top">Shouldn't we avoid legitimizing or celebrating relationships that involve sin?</td><td align="left" bgcolor="#ffffff" valign="top">Rabbis often counsel and celebrate couples who may not be following taharat hamishpocha (family purity laws) they still celebrate their relationships, and expect that the community not make any assumptions about possible sinful activity.</td></tr>
<tr><td align="left" bgcolor="#ffffff" valign="top">Kedushin (Jewish marriage) can only be between a man and a woman. How can we ever legitimize marriage between two people of the same sex as halachic marriage (Jewish legal marriage)?</td><td align="left" bgcolor="#ffffff" valign="top">Refusing to go to attend a loved one's life events or not permitting someone's partner to attend a simcha (celebratory event) can damage relationships and create alienation and negative feelings toward Judaism. Attendance is a sign of love and support, and can help a person maintain their connection with Orthodoxy. It is not the same as legitimizing. A parent can celebrate a loved one being happy and not being alone without legitimizing the halachic nature (Jewish legal status) of his or her relationship.</td></tr>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04731936564891970650noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-569497739006959608.post-8526301267497658502013-11-16T21:42:00.000-06:002013-11-16T21:52:11.422-06:00FALLING IN LOVE IN YESHIVAH<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', courier, monaco, monospace, sans-serif; font-size: 19px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I was a hassidic mother, and it was that crazed hour when the kitchen becomes the hub, sparring grazing kids and </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', courier, monaco, monospace, sans-serif; font-size: 19px;"><span id="yui_3_7_2_1_1384537155998_2257" style="background-color: transparent;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">neighbor kids all swirling around my efforts to make dinner. Truth is, as a carefully-suppressed lesbian, I welcomed the way that cacophony out-shouted the loneliness. Then the phone rang. That was my mothering line for three boys in yeshivas and the connection felt tenuous</span></span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', courier, monaco, monospace, sans-serif; font-size: 19px;"><span id="yui_3_7_2_1_1384537155998_2258" style="background-color: transparent;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">, so I always dove for it. It was my third, then sixteen. After talk about learning and friends, he threw in the latest gossip: a boy in the Chabad yeshiva in Manchester England had jumped off the roof of his dorm. The official word was neutral, but my son said the boy did it because he was gay. "</span></span><span style="font-style: italic;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Everyone knows</span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">," he said, as if the story was electricity shot through yeshiva world. The boy</span></span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', courier, monaco, monospace, sans-serif; font-size: 19px;"><span style="background-color: transparent;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> killed himself because he was gay.</span></span></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', courier, monaco, monospace, sans-serif; font-size: 19px;"><span style="background-color: transparent;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"></span></span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The news bent me double.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"Berkeh's Story" was a place to put my empathy.</span><br />
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-cQ9wOIKV-Jg/UoW7xUQWY-I/AAAAAAAACuo/CE9PDo0vjPc/s1600/yeshiva-mumps.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-cQ9wOIKV-Jg/UoW7xUQWY-I/AAAAAAAACuo/CE9PDo0vjPc/s400/yeshiva-mumps.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><u>Berkeh’s Story</u></span></span></b></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> (originally published in Moment Magazine and reprinted here with permission)<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">by
Leah Lax<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The young men huddle together shivering
on the front stoop of their yeshiva, towels under their arms, waiting for the
school bus that picks them up outside their dormitory, two blocks from the
Rebbe’s synagogue on Seligson Avenue, every morning at six-fifteen. Their
shirttails hang out over black, straight pants, ritual fringes dangling at
their sides like a tailor’s forgotten threads. Several wear fedoras that hang
off the backs of their heads. Faces are expressionless, shoulders and arms
curved forward against the damp morning breeze. Two stand with backs turned to
the wind and hands cupped over a cigarette, squinting smoke-stung eyes.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Berkeh is among them. He wishes he could
do this alone. He dreams of a private pool where he could immerse without eyes
around him. Like a fish in the ocean of Torah.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">When the school bus arrives, the boys
climb in with slumping postures and tired steps. Some set their feet apart and
stand in the aisles to begin their morning prayer routine, trying to
co-ordinate their swaying to the motion of the bus, unconsciously stroking
their new soft beards as they pray. They clutch open pocket-sized prayerbooks
that are so careworn they won’t quite close, pages fingered daily for months,
years, the corners darkened and shining. Some sit, brows knit and lips moving
silently. Others stretch growing legs into the aisle, heads back on the seat
and eyes closed, trying to snatch a few more minutes of sleep. Shoulders touch.
Limbs sprawl over one another. The bus bumps and snorts and sighs.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">At the mikvah, the boys come alive. All
but Berkeh enter the pool area and strip off clothes, chatting, then descend
the steps to the small tiled pool where they jump into the warm water for this
routine morning requirement, this ritual purification for prayer. The younger
one’s splash one another, all elbows and jokes. They duck their own heads and
each other’s under the water, laughing and spluttering, then run for the few
showers.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“Kazen gets number one!”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“Lenowitz second!”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The boys are equal here, all
locker-room naked, long ago past the bathing suit phase when they once hid
their budding selves, when each was sure his was a singular, private thing. All
but Berkeh. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">There have been times, when he
was younger, when Berkeh managed to immerse himself before the others came in,
which he did with an urgency that left him stiff-jointed. He would step down
into the pool, glance around and duck one swift time beneath the water, hoping
to seize for that brief moment a feeling of free-floating submersion, to be a
drop nulled in the greater pool. But if someone stepped in to join him he
looked away from them and left with his head down, as if he could be anonymous
by avoiding their eyes.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Now, at twenty, Berkeh’s days
begin like this one. He showers as soon as they enter the building while the
others are still in the pool, then waits on the bench in the inner area, dry
and clothed, disappointed in himself for not joining them. He is afraid he will
stare at their bodies and terrified of what they would say if he did, and yet
he is unable to call attention to himself by refusing to come along. Berkeh
wishes he could dull himself enough to participate. He trains his eyes on the
white tiles hoping they will leave a blank white picture in his mind’s eye.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The others come out of the
water, luminescent drops clinging to the wet flattened rows of hair on young
limbs and shimmering in thin new beards. It seems to Berkeh as if the clothing
the boys pull over themselves is a transparent, ephemeral shell obscuring
nothing, but simply placing their bright flesh in an inaccessible place. He
wants to crumble the shell in his fingers. Then he shakes himself to shake the
wish away. He </span></span><span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">has</span></span><span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> to look at them until he no
longer imagines he can see lean muscles and sinewed firmness beneath the
clothing, until he stops rubbing his fingers on his palm in an unconscious
caress. If he works at it, he thinks, hopes, his vision will grow clouded and
his eyes might stop drawing down in a reflexive sweep below their chins.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Shivering again in the January
chill beneath a gray low sky that muffles sound, the students climb aboard the
ancient bus, which beeps its way into traffic and back to the study hall.
Berkeh leans the back of his neck on the rusted chrome railing and is soon asleep.
Shlomo is waiting when they arrive.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It is Shlomo shaking him,
pulling his arm. “Come on Berkeh.
Let’s go.” The hot coffee smell of Shlomo’s breath is on his face.
Berkeh’s lazy smile is a flash of pleasure aimed at Shlomo’s sandy wiry hair
and quick toothy smile. “Already?”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">To Berkeh it is a wonder
Shlomo doesn’t go to the mikvah in the mornings. Shlomo insists he doesn’t feel the need to go through empty
motions and doesn’t fear questions. For him it is a simple matter, but how,
thinks Berkeh, could it be simple?
</span></span><span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I
am here, in this yeshiva, and this is what we are supposed to do</span></span><span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">. The one time Shlomo has
questioned Berkeh, it seemed as if the two spoke different languages. “Why must
you go to the mikvah,” Shlomo insisted. “Can you put on a different skin?” </span></span><span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I want to</span></span><span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">, Berkeh wanted to say. Yes.
Like a chameleon. “I want a match like the others, and a wedding,” he told
Shlomo. “I want this community to celebrate me when I take my place among
them.” Shlomo nodded, sighed.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The two enter the yeshiva
building, Berkeh’s cocoon. In the lobby, Berkeh looks up at the vaulted ceiling
and then behind at the closed door. Outside, the brightness of things, the
world and its contentions, dim when doors close behind them. Their world is an
interior, of rabbis and the cacophony of male voices in the study hall.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The two boys meet again after
the first class. They linger in a side hallway before morning prayers. For
those few minutes Berkeh forgets where he is expected to be, their amity
peppered with nudges, finger pokes to the chest, hands on arms, and closed-lip
smiles with foreheads tipped forward almost touching. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Late last night in bed, Berkeh
had to wonder if there were two Berkehs, two separate beings that flip and tug
one another. When he joins the boys in class and locks his mind with theirs in
Talmudic intricacies and mystical worlds, </span></span><span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">that</span></span><span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> is his reality. But when he’s with
Shlomo… <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Berkeh’s eyes stay on his
friend as they enter the synagogue and separate to go to their customary
places. How could Shlomo be so sure, so calm? He is like a river with a steady current as Berkeh struggles
to swim against it.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">At the front of the room is
Rabbi Raichik, a local rabbi-turned-businessman who joins them most mornings
and leads the prayers. Berkeh positions the black leather boxes of his </span></span><span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">tefilin</span></span><span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> on his head and forearm as a
mass of voices surround him, wrapping them all up together like a human prayer
shawl. His own lone voice rises up among them and then still farther, searching
release. He closes his eyes, sways, and both hears and does not hear the words,
until the last. “</span></span><span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It
is incumbent upon us to praise the Master of All, to ascribe greatness to the
Creator of “In the Beginning…</span></span><span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Several of the boys approach
as Berkeh is putting his </span></span><span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">tfilin</span></span><span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> away in its velvet bag. They slap his shoulders, touch his
arms. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“Hey, Berk. You ready for
Goldenberg’s </span></span><span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">faher?</span></span><span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> That test’ll be tough!”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“Berkeh never gets ruffled.
He’s probably got it cold!”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Shlomo approaches and Berkeh
is suddenly conscious of his chest rising and falling. He holds up one hand in
an affable manner to fend off the boys. Rabbi Raichik is watching from across
the room. Shlomo puts his hand on Berkeh’s shoulder and speaks quiet words warm
in his ear. “Let’s get a head start on that test—I haven’t done a thing.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“Elbow grease does it, guys,”
Berkeh says to the others. “Turning pages.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Berkeh and Shlomo face one
another across a narrow wooden table in the crowded study hall, the table
strewn with books of many sizes in Hebrew or Yiddish. There are several
dog-eared dictionaries. Some of the other students have already settled in,
some still arriving. A hum and tangle of voices begins to rise as partners
square off to spar over Talmudic texts. Their days are spent like this, in
pairs parsing out the tangle of Law—revealing God’s Will. Berkeh relaxes. He’s
ready to learn. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Whenever he digs into the
oblique commentaries, he aims for each line of text to turn itself inside out
and divulge the secret that nothing is as it seems. Physical light is really
darkness. Simple things are complex and the complex can be distilled down to a
simple vivid point of God’s essence that shimmers its way down through multiple
worlds. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Berkeh and Shlomo have been
study partners since they first met at summer camp as boys. Other pairs of
study partners have always surrounded them as they do now, all facing another
across a table. This is just what Berkeh wants for him and Shlomo; a bond of
Torah, two heads joined, separated from bodies. But Berkeh looks across the
table and sees a young man with a body. He is still troubled about their
conversation the day before, when Shlomo related his conversation with his
father. Berkeh was horrified.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> When
Shlomo was last home to visit, he went to the local </span></span><span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">beis medrash</span></span><span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> to study in the evenings. He
came home one night to find his father waiting up for him. They sat together in
the kitchen, his mother already sleeping. His father’s manner was gentle, but
his too-steady gaze made Shlomo feel transparent, and small. It seemed, Shlomo
told Berkeh later, as if a mass of elements had come together and it was time
to talk. So he told his father. Everything. How he felt. What he felt. The
slow, solid conclusion about who he is. And about Berkeh, although he wouldn’t
say his name. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Shlomo’s father was shouting.
“You can’t do this!” he said.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> “</span></span><span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Do</span></span><span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> this?”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“You think you can’t help it,
but you can’t love a… a man.” <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“Ta…”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“</span></span><span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">To’eivah!</span></span><span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> I thought you were my son!”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“You want to flip a switch in
me?”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“Yes!” his father said. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“I can’t be anyone else,”
Shlomo shot back. There was desperation and a sliver of leftover hope in his
voice. Shlomo was on a roller coaster, as if he could see his father’s
toy-sized figure below watching him leave when he had wanted his father in the
seat next to him. He wanted to span the impossible distance, reach down and
bring his father back. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">His father raked his steel
grey hair with an agitated hand. Somehow the community and Shlomo’s life in the
yeshiva were all rolled into that view. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“Your mother has found a girl
for you, son, you’ve got to try…” His father said.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“Is that why you were waiting
up for me?” Shlomo said, and looked away, knowing the burden he was putting on
his father to tell his mother. It was the way that, with her, he was at best
awkward and newly arrived at manhood.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“Stay in yeshiva. Stay…stay,” his father begged, when eyes
were half shut for both of them, against what both wanted not to see, but also
from fatigue. But Shlomo stood on
now-heavy limbs to go up the carpeted stairs to his childhood room, kept intact
for him like a shrine. He would not sleep, enshrouded like that in his parent’s
hopes. “I’ll stay,” he said, and, “Don’t worry,” irony in his tone. </span></span><span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Until I leave.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">To Berkeh, it was as if Shlomo
was speaking his foreign language again. Leave the yeshiva? And go where? They
didn’t know the ways of the world. And to even imagine that Berkeh’s father
might listen to him talking about forbidden desires, or be able to face him,
requires thinking in Shlomo’s strange language. No, Berkeh’s father’s language
is one of Law and Torah and community, in their world of husbands with wives
and children. Their world is created by words—if God withdraws His Word for a
single moment, the world will cease to exist. But there is no word for Berkeh,
for what he is, as if he is invisible, not made by God. There is only a name
for an act that Berkeh desires and doesn’t want to desire. Shlomo’s father had
said it: </span></span><span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">To’eivah.</span></span><span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> Abomination. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">In the study hall, Shlomo
slouches down in his seat. Under the table, his right knee brushes Berkeh’s
thigh. Berkeh jumps at the touch and pulls away, then almost as instinctively
leans his thigh into Shlomo’s leg and relaxes it there, and Shlomo’s leg
presses back. Berkeh frowns in concentration and digs more into the text, but
his pulse quickens, and he hears his own breathing, guarded and fast. He looks
down at his book to find Shlomo’s blue green eyes dancing between the lines. He
tries to discuss what they are learning, forces his voice forward in a halting
stubborn singsong: “</span></span><span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Two
grasp onto a single prayer shawl. One says, “It is mine,” and the other says,
“It is mine</span></span><span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">As they proceed, Shlomo’s hand
strokes the side of his other knee in time with their singsong and Berkeh picks
up that rhythmic motion. He closes his eyes only to envision Shlomo’s leg and
the hand stroking it. His nostrils flare. Beads of sweat arise on Berkeh’s brow
and upper lip. He tries to keep his mind from forming any image other than the
blurred letters. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">He feels Shlomo’s hand moving
up his thigh and the tightening in his groin—an involuntary reach toward that
hand—and Berkeh can’t think. The study hall fades away, but the clamor of
voices still goads him, chides him. He becomes weak, his head light, tongue
frozen. Nothing is real but Shlomo’s hand. Berkeh is in a vortex eddying and
swirling downward to that one point, his existence one thing only: Want. He
wants. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">A book slams shut. Berkeh sits
up shaken, numb. His gaze darts across the sea of students. Mortification
leaves him queasy, the hairs on his arms standing up, goose bumps on his skin.
He tries to swallow. He thinks in panicked relief of the suit jacket on the
back of his chair that he can use to cover evidence of his erection. Shaking,
he puts his forehead into the palm of his right hand. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> “That’s it,” Shlomo says. I can’t.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“Hey, ” Berkeh says. “We have
a test.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“I can’t be here. That’s it.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“Is it, is it me?”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“Not you. It’s here. The
yeshiva. I can’t be here. And neither can you.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Berkeh swallows, tongue-tied.
Shlomo’s words shrink him. Draw him. “How could you leave?”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“I’m forced out,” Shlomo
whispers. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“Where will you go?”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“I’ll find a place. Where I
can learn Torah without pretending. I don’t know. Maybe my parents’ living
room. Don’t you know it can’t be here?”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“No,” Berkeh said. “No!”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Shlomo takes his hand. His
whisper is fierce, pleading. “Come with me, Berkeh!”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Days later, Berkeh is in the
study hall when he hears his name over the intercom. There is a telephone call
for him. He closes the book and makes his way around the narrow tables and out
to the lobby. There is a group of boys near the phone. Berkeh sighs. Cell
phones, internet, all forbidden, and one very public telephone for all of their
communication.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“Hey, Berkeh. Where ya’ been?
Get this already—I gotta make a call!”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“Sorry, Itz.” He lifts the
receiver, still warm from the last person, and leans forward, his back to the
others. “Hello?”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“Shalom Ber?” <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It is his father. Berkeh
smiles, pleased, but wary. “Tatteh, is everything all right?”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“Sure.” There is a pause.
“Rabbi Raichik called us.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“Rabbi Raichik?”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“I don’t—we don’t know that
much about him.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“He’s a businessman, Ta, but
he gives a lot of money and he’s a scholar. And…” Something was taking shape in
Berkeh’s mind. “He’s found a lot of brides for the boys.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“He’s most impressed with
you.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“Me?” But there is thrill in
being recognized like that.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“He’s offering for you to go
out with his daughter.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">There is a little explosion in
Berkeh. “</span></span><span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Me</span></span><span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">?!” His face flushes. Berkeh
is grinning. Yes, he thinks. The whole yeshiva will put a crown on his head.
This will be his proof, his arrival. He sees the students lifting him up on a
chair as they dance at his wedding. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">But Berkeh can’t seem to find
his next breath. Shlomo. He can’t imagine being without Shlomo. “Ta, I don’t
know what to say.” <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“What do you think?”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“What do I think. What do I
think?” He tries to envision
himself married. But Shlomo. He looks around. “Ta, there are a lot of people
here.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“Just go out with her, okay?
No commitment. You have to see if she’s the right one.” <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">There is a pain beginning in
his stomach. He squeezes his eyes shut. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“Berkeh, are you ready for
this?” <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“Were you?”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">His father laughs. “Of course
not. You know,” he said. “You’ll learn.”
<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Berkeh thinks,</span></span><span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> I can learn to love
her.</span></span><span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> He says, “I
can learn.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“Shalom Ber, we’re proud of
you. Mom and I.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Berkeh’s chest goes tight with
love for his father. His voice goes soft. “Okay, Ta. Yes. I’ll call her.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> “Good.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“Ta?”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Silence. His father doesn’t
say it. He doesn’t say he loves him. </span></span><span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I love you, Ta.</span></span><span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> The words hang there. There’s a click.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">He turns to find the impatient
group of boys have grown quiet. A line of eyes. One shoots him a sly smile and
points a thumb upward, a vote of belonging. Late at night there will be furtive
boasting in the dormitory, exchanging notes about girls, tips, teases. Berkeh
is a comrade. He has a girl. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">But he sees Shlomo at a
distance listening to one of the younger boys, a known gossip with red ears.
Then Shlomo is searching Berkeh out. Berkeh feigns a confident smile to the
boys and raises his thumb in return, then strides off past Shlomo’s pain. He
stops for a moment at the front window. Outside, a young man in low-slung jeans
leans against the bus stop to light a cigarette. A woman passes in vigorous
stride, her dog straining ahead on a taut leash. Cars rush past. The rolling
bluish clouds seep downward.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Berkeh borrows a car, an
Oldsmobile that smells of cigarettes, blue paint dulled and vinyl roof laced
with cracks, a cassette of Yiddish Gems stuck in the tape deck. Since his
father’s call Berkeh has avoided conversation with Shlomo. When they studied,
he kept his focus on the text. Only once Shlomo had closed his book and tried.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“Berkeh.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“I don’t want to talk about
it.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“But, Berk!”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Berkeh felt he was being
pulled down a dark corridor to an unknown frightening place. “Look,” he said
past the constriction in his throat, even as the light glinted on Shlomo’s hair
and he saw pleading desire in his eyes. “If Raichik’s daughter is good enough,
I’ll marry her. Can’t you understand?”
<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Berkeh stops at the curb in
front of the Raichik’s home. He wants to be swept along with a tide of his
peers down its old deep-set path. It should be easy. Someone mentions a girl.
The parents talk. You go out with her, and then life takes its course:
Engagement, wedding, buying furniture, plans for the first year—all a standard
form, all his friends the same. That was the pride in it, being the same. It
meant you had arrived, joined a fine exclusive club. You measured up, blended
in indistinguishable, breathless at the calculated acceptance.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">In the car, he hesitates.
Should he go to the door? What will he say if her mother answers? His lips
purse in indecision. In the end, he honks, twice. It is a quiet time in the
neighborhood. Old magnolias and live oaks rustle above their shadows. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">When she emerges, she lets the
screen door bang and skips down the concrete stairs, opens the car door and
gets in with a flounce, smoothes her skirt, looks modestly downward and then
straight into his eyes to offer the first hello. A scarf around her shoulders sets
off her face above a long neck, like a long-stemmed rose.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Berkeh’s first thought is that
she must have gone out with others before him. He tries to relax, tries not to
think that he will say the wrong things, or that she might see that a barely
visible Shlomo clinging to his shoulders. “So you’re Shayna Raichik,” he says.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“Did you expect someone else?”
She is smiling.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“Just checking.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Berkeh puts the car in gear
and pulls out onto the narrow lane. They drive in silence, as Berkeh doesn’t
know what to say.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“Where are we going?”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">He doesn’t look up. “The
Ambassador?”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It is common for the boys to
take their dates downtown to the grand old lobby of that aging luxury hotel, as
protocol requires they go to a public place where passers-by formed a kind of
chaperone. The hotel’s location downtown and at a distance from their
neighborhood is good, as the only couples allowed to be seen in public together
inside their community are engaged or already married. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“Oh, no,” Shayna says,
sounding playful and appalled. “That old place?” she says. “It’s stifling.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">His foot jerks on the
pedal. Berkeh is completely
confused. He grips the wheel. “Then where?” he says.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“The Arboretum?”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“The Arboretum?” Berkeh says.
“But no one will be there.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“Well, not hundreds, like at
the Ambassador, but oh, I don’t care—there’ll be someone there, we won’t be
alone, and anyway, I can </span></span><span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">breathe</span></span><span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> there.” She pauses. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Berkeh is driving on with no
destination.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“You want to know if I can be
your wife, right?” she says. “How can you find anything out about me when we’re
sitting on some hotel couch and chatting about, I don’t know, how many siblings
we have?”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“How many do you have?”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“Eight, and you?”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“Four.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“Small family.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“We take what we get.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“Mom’s going to have another
in May.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“Shayna?”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“What?”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“How old are you?”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“Eighteen for two more months.
You?”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“Nineteen.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Berkeh makes a turn and merges
onto the highway. He takes a deep breath. “Park Lane is off 59,” he says. “I
think I can get into the middle of the park from there. I wonder if the tennis
house is open.” Soon, he turns off
the roadway onto a gravel path, pulls to a stop in a lot outside the gated
entrance.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“Uh oh,” she said.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“What is it?”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“Wrong shoes.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“You still want to go in?”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“I can handle it if we walk
slow.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">There is a lush garden just
inside the entrance, followed by a path that is wide and well trampled through
a cultivated forest deep and dense. Along the way, trees are labeled as if
transplanted here for preservation. They walk slowly, looking, smelling.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Many of the trees are old and
blackened, knotted branches heavy with rough bark. Olive green leaves are
interspersed with spots of sunlight and the delicate yellow-green of new
growth. Shayna stops at a turn in the path and leans her head back to breathe
it in. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">To Berkeh, the park is too
self-contained and controlled. A garden of Torah. Rows of flowers stand at
attention along the path, their beauty contrived, transcending the wild cruelty
of the natural world. His father’s garden. But then, as they walk, he notices
rot, and twisted roots, and new cuttings struggling to take hold. They pause at
a tree, sprouting fresh greenery, that lies on its side, its roots torn and in
the air, helpless. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“I wonder what could bring
down a young tree like that?” Shayna says. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> “Maybe the soil isn’t right,” he says. “Maybe the earth here
can’t hold it.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Varieties of mushrooms are
scattered around the trees. Their small, tilted caps teeter on firm upright
stalks glistening from an earlier rain, seeking to spread their fecund spores.
How would it feel, he wonders, to walk openly here with Shlomo, relaxed,
unpressured, unjudged, unseen, the breeze touching our faces?<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">They drink in sun and green,
tinged with car exhaust. Just off the path they find a hollowed tree, very old
and large, its hole a cave. “Don’t you wish,” he says, “that you could climb
in?” He imagines curling up in there away from everything, the smell of moss
and greenness in that womblike peace. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“It would be delicious for
about five minutes,” Shayna says, and looks at him, puzzled. Then her face
softens, and there is a look of delicate interest, almost wonder, and a hint of
a smile, as if she sees something rare and specialized. She looks down to his
feet and then up again to his face, like a whispered touch. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Berkeh doesn’t respond, discomfited
with being examined. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">After a turn in the path they
find a bench with clusters of wildflowers around its feet set against a tree.
They are in a clearing behind the old tennis house. Shayna sighs and sits down,
kicks off her shoes, and leans over to rub the top of her foot. Berkeh joins
her on the bench, leaving a proper modest space between them. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“You’re not a big talker,” she
says.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“I’m sure you already know
plenty.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“Why do you say that?”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“How many questions did you
ask before you accepted the offer to go out with me?”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">She laughs. “About a hundred.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“I guess I passed,” he says.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“The preliminaries.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“And why did I pass?”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">She pauses. “Well, you have
all the standard criteria.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“Like what?” he says, but he knows.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“A good, religious boy.
Careful with prayers. Good family. Dedicated to learning. Good reputation in
yeshiva.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“You just described dozens of
guys.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“My father likes you.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Berkeh raises his eyebrows. “</span></span><span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">That’s</span></span><span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> important.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“Of course it is.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“To him,” he says. “And to me.
I mean, he’ll probably look for someone he can take into his business.” For a
light-headed moment Berkeh pictures himself behind a desk managing real
estate. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“Well?”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“What?”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“How many questions did you
ask about me?” she says.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">He blushes. “Uh, zero.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“Zero?”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“</span></span><span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">You’re</span></span><span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> Rabbi Raichik’s daughter.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“Rabbi Raichik’s daughter,”
she says. “So I could have three hands and one eye sticking out of the top of
my head and you’ll still go out with me because I’m Rabbi Raichik’s daughter?”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“Well, once.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“Once.” But she smiles. “And
Shayna? Shayna without a last name, thank you. How many times will you go out
with her?”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“At the present moment, he
says, “the calculation is approximately four hundred and twenty three. But
don’t worry. Those are just the points you got in the first hour.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">She laughs, leans back. The
bright sunlight through the leaves above them make a pattern across her face.
Her smile is more gentle than Shlomo’s, but it seems too soft. Everything about
her seems too soft. Not unpleasant, he tells himself, resolute.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“I don’t want to go home,” she
says. “I could just stay here.” She turns to him. “You’re, I don’t know, nice to be with. I feel safe with
you.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> He
has already begun to tell himself that this could become a pleasant friendship.
Then she reaches her hand toward his face and holds it there, palm close enough
for him to feel its warmth, a whisper away from the forbidden touch. She is
trembling, her mouth slightly open. He is frozen in place. “I wish,” she
whispers. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Berkeh reddens, shifts, looks
down at his feet. “I don’t think,” he says. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Shayna flushes and withdraws
her hand. She bends over and puts on her shoes. When she stands, their eyes meet, and then both look quickly
away, embarrassed. They walk back slowly and do not speak of her almost-touch.
He hopes they are walking away from that moment, for the awkwardness to pass.
He wants to see them sharing space in a separate undemanding way, easier in a
way, without the electrifying confusing feelings he has when he is with Shlomo.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It is growing dark, their
shadows overlapping on the path. On the drive home, they speak on and off. The
empty moments are easy between them, in spite of Shlomo’s stubborn image on the
periphery. “Don’t forget me,” she says as she gets out of the car. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">He calls her as she walks up
the steps to her home.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“Yes?” she says. She turns but
doesn’t come back.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">He leans across the seat so
she can see his face through the passenger side window. “Next time,” he says,
“wear tennis shoes!”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">She laughs that laugh of hers.
“You bet!”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">On Sunday evening a group of
boys from the yeshiva enter the cavernous lobby of the Ambassador Hotel. One of
their recent graduates is getting married and the mood is high. The group is
heading to the main hall for the celebration. From the wedding hall, they can
hear the sounds of happy conversation, clink of catering dishes, the first
soundings of wedding music. The boys are eager, already affected by the fresh
joy radiating from the milling celebrating crowd. Berkeh is among them,
indistinguishable from the others in appearance, camaraderie, pleasure that yet
another friend has reached, in marriage, fulfillment. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The group comes upon Shlomo in
the lobby and sweeps past him with waves and greetings. But Berkeh catches
Shlomo’s nod toward nearby chairs and, helpless to that, he sends the other
boys on. The two then sit together in the old chairs of heavy brocade over dark
wood where Berkeh had intended to sit with Shayna on their first date. The
floor is covered with worn red velvet carpeting, the high ceiling studded with glistening
yellowed chandeliers. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Shlomo looks as if he hasn’t
slept. Berkeh reads the familiar face, each shadow and line, as he has read it
since they were boys. Berkeh sighs, then pulls his shoulders back and tells
himself that he must be the </span></span><span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">ner
Hashem</span></span><span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">,</span></span><span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> the candle of God, wavering,
small and weak, yes, but constant in its reach to the above. Loyalty. Yes. But
he is riveted to the presence before him. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">This, thinks Berkeh, is what
desire is. Aching helplessness. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">For a few minutes the two sit
watching the wedding traffic in the lobby. An onlooker might think them bored
and waiting for someone. Then Shlomo leans forward as if it is necessary to
whisper beneath the vaulted ceiling that steals sound and says,<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“I’m leaving tomorrow.” The
words stand between them unembellished, alone because Shlomo is alone. “I’ll
miss you,” Shlomo says. “I can hardly think of going without you.” <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And loss washes over Berkeh.
He needs to fall to the floor. Now that the loss is real, he is surprised at
the size of it. He has pelted himself forward down a different corridor, but
how can he cut away the part of himself that is Shlomo? Berkeh wants to grab
Shlomo and beg him not to leave. If he feels that touch just once more, it will
open something Berkeh can no longer stop. He will forget Shayna, forget the
yeshiva. Forget his father. He wants to say something that will make Shlomo
open that door. “Shlomo, I,”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Shlomo will not knock at a
door he knows to be locked. He stands to go.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Berkeh swallows. Then he
stands, too. Then, in the same way that Shayna had reached out to him, Berkeh
reaches out to Shlomo’s face. The pads of his tremulous fingers trace the side
of the familiar nose, the lips, travel across Shlomo’s cheek, fingers now
curved in a caress, and rest there on the line of curled hair in the thin,
blond beard.</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Shlomo puts a hand on Berkeh’s
shoulder and steps closer to him.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Two fellow students pass,
headed back into the wedding hall. One, turns and looks back at Shlomo and
Berkeh, curious, just in the moment that Shlomo raises his second hand to
Berkeh’s other shoulder and leans forward. The young man’s shoes are polished,
and his eyes are bright with excitement and vodka. “Hey, you guys coming?” he
says. The second friend hovers, impatient. Then Berkeh sees a too-long interchange
between those two sets of eyes, two knowing grins.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Berkeh steps back from Shlomo
as if he’s been burned. He is nauseated, full of raw fear. “Sure,” he calls
out. I’ll be right there!” The two boys look at each other and laugh, and then
they are gone with a dismissive wave.
<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The heat of Berkeh’s
humiliation turns to rage. One look at Shlomo feed the fire in him. He spits
out his words. “You go ahead and leave,” he says. “Maybe </span></span><span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">you</span></span><span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> don’t belong here.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Shlomo’s look is narrow and
cutting. He laughs. “We’ll see,” he says.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Berkeh turns to the wedding
party in a fury, ready now. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The hall for the wedding
celebration is divided down the middle by a lattice partition elaborately woven
with decorative ivy and flowers. The area on one side is for the women, all of
them elegantly coifed and in formal gowns. The other side is a sea of black
suits and black hats. At one end of the partition there is a long table heavily
draped in pink satin and laden with fruits, pastries, and every imaginable type
of dainty, and dotted with flowers, ribbon, and ivy, a place where both men and
women hover, nibbling from flowered plates. A five-course meal will be served
later.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">A band is playing on the
stage. The lyrics are Hebrew, often lines from Biblical texts, but the music is
a wild mixture of liturgical, klezmer, rock, folk, classical music and Israeli
tunes, all of it at the same fast pace, the same earsplitting volume. Berkeh
enters the men’s side, Shlomo at a distance behind him, just as the band comes
to a dramatic stop and the lead player shouts into the microphone in an Israeli
accent, “Ladies and gentlemen: Mr. And Mrs. Yossi Bendell!” The bride and groom
appear at the doorway and the band goes into a frenzy. The couple split there
and are swept into wild dancing on their respective sides.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The men whirl in circles
around the groom, arm over arm. They step, they jump, they sing. Hats come off.
Jackets and ties and collars are opened, shirts unbuttoned. Berkeh pictures
himself as the groom, makes himself want again the warm satisfaction of such
honor, like an arrival. He jumps into the current. Red faces with open-mouthed
smiles flew past, and his feet carry him as if on air. Berkeh dances arm in arm
in one of the concentric circles around the groom, ready now to meld indistinguishable.
The groom dances in the center with first his father, then his father-in-law,
his new brothers-in-law and others he wishes to honor. Around and around. With
each circuit Berkeh catches a fleeting image of Shlomo on the periphery,
separate, different. With each sighting Berkeh steps higher and grips the
shoulders of the dancers on either side of him with more surety.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Bottles of vodka are passed.
Unknown hands appear at Berkeh’s face to tilt tiny plastic cups of vodka into
his mouth. A flush rises into his ears.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">All clasp arms, whirling,
whirling. More vodka is passed, this time in a silver goblet, and Berkeh tips
the cup himself now. He feels warmth in his face and head, blurring in his feet
and tongue. He dances, furious, enthused, determined. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">An hour passes, and part of
another. Berkeh spins out of the circle to catch his breath and finds Shayna
standing at the Viennese table. She flushes when she sees him. The band pauses
between pieces. As he reaches for a petit four, she says to him, “You’re different
from the others. I like that.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“I doubt that,” he says,
noticing the foreign slur in his voice. He grins.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“Oh yes?” she says, teasing
him. The band starts up again. Dancers are wiping brows, stripping off jackets
and jumping back in.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> Berkeh waves his arm with the pastry in his hand at the
circles dancing again around bride and groom, the motion of his arm large and
liquid. “You know,” he shouts above the music. “That could be us.” <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Shayna’s eyes widen,
glistening at what she takes to be an invitation. “I would like that,” she
mouths.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“Yes?” His face is bright.
“Hah!” he says. He puts down the pastry and with fists raised and new, fierce
joy jumps back into the whirling circle, full of the image of himself as head
of a household, father, scholar and community leader, a </span></span><span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">mentch</span></span><span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">. Best of all, his father will
dance at his wedding. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">A few men rush in and without
ceremony strip a table of its pink settings. They put a chair on the table,
lift the groom to sit on it, and lift up the table with the groom on it until
he can see his bride on the other side of the partition and salute her. Berkeh
dances with the others around the groom and everyone claps and shouts and
sings. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It is all becoming a
pantomime, Berkeh’s ears growing deaf from the music. One of the rabbis digs
beanbags out of his pocket and begins to juggle. Three others appear balanced
three up on each other’s shoulders like a drunken tower and waver up to the
groom. Another jumps in wearing a clown face over his beard. More vodka is
passed.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The men lower the table and
the groom jumps off. The whirling circle breaks into several smaller ones, one
inside the other, each in the opposite direction. Spinning couples of men fly
in and around it. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Berkeh moves to the innermost
circle, to a place where he can’t see Shlomo past the dancing men. His head
spins with the music. He, too, strips off his hat and jacket and tosses them
aside and turns and turns, red-faced and grinning. His limbs are light and
unconnected. He has become an inner part of a huge and noisy machine, a place
where he doesn’t have to think, doesn’t have to know anything but the stream of
motion all in the same direction. Just move, go, and the pleasure of fitting
into the larger flow and of forward motion will fill him. His feet carry him
along with the others, and then he is shoved forward to dance with the groom.
Just as they begin, someone hands Berkeh a larger cup of vodka and shouts
“Mazel tov!” and Berkeh drinks it all. Then Berkeh grasps arms with the groom
and jumps into a faster dance, and the groom’s feet trip through an elaborate
series of hazy steps while the music pulsates and fills Berkeh’s whole brain
with its beat and laughter spills out of him. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The groom lets go too quickly
for the next one, Berkeh’s feet are not ready, and he flies away and into
Shlomo, who seems to be there waiting. Shlomo grasps first one of Berkeh’s arms
and then both to steady him while the inner circle of dancers widen to
encompass them, and the groom and his brother melt away, as if the spinning circles
are focused now on them, including the passing faces of the two boys that saw
them in the lobby who are laughing now and pointing and Berkeh laughs with
them. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Now Berkeh and Shlomo are the
pulse that drives the machine. For the smallest moment that seems to be between
the beats of the music, Shlomo’s beard is against Berkeh’s cheek and Berkeh
feels one of Shlomo’s hands at his back, feels Shlomo’s warm breath on his
face. Berkeh thinks he hears Shlomo’s rhythmic words in the pulse of the music.
Same. We’re same.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The music’s speed increases
and the two are holding one another as a single spinning teetering top, each
hand gripping a forearm against the centrifugal force that can rip them apart.
For a full minute they are blurred together as the fleeting image of the
laughing faces burn into Berkeh’s brain and Berkeh holds on, face contorting,
shoulders rising, a wave going through him, and they are fused into a single
spinning top, balanced in twirling motion. The music drives their feet and
Shlomo’s pulsing arms fill Berkeh’s hands. Then Shlomo’s blue green eyes are in
front of his and Berkeh feels the bear hug of Shlomo’s chest pounding against
his and the cold air on the tears spilling down his cheek.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04731936564891970650noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-569497739006959608.post-54045706388157013502013-11-14T20:20:00.001-06:002013-11-14T22:27:17.552-06:00HAPPILY MARRIED LESBIAN<!--StartFragment-->
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-gQeDhPctju8/UoV_ASg3HyI/AAAAAAAACr8/VABTxS-5MnM/s1600/how-curly-hair-makes-every-day-a-struggle-1-8875-1372209113-0_big.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="265" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-gQeDhPctju8/UoV_ASg3HyI/AAAAAAAACr8/VABTxS-5MnM/s400/how-curly-hair-makes-every-day-a-struggle-1-8875-1372209113-0_big.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<b><span lang="EN-US" style="color: black; font-family: Cambria; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Tell us a little bit about yourself?</span></b><br />
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<span lang="EN-US" style="color: black; font-family: Cambria; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Hi. I’m A, and I am an Orthodox lesbian. I am 38 and I have a wonderful
wife as my partner, two amazing kids which are my pride and joy and am
fortunate enough to live in a an Orthodox community that has been very warm and
welcoming to me and my family.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-w2Qn_EQ-6e0/UoV4H43lY8I/AAAAAAAACpg/NfN_O1IL4Ww/s1600/Family3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-w2Qn_EQ-6e0/UoV4H43lY8I/AAAAAAAACpg/NfN_O1IL4Ww/s400/Family3.jpg" width="346" /></a></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="color: black; font-family: Cambria; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I first realized I was a lesbian when I was 16… well… really my
first big crush was when I was 12, but the first time I knew without a doubt
that I was a lesbian was when I was in a relationship with a girl when I was
16.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>At that point I was just becoming
frum and had a huge internal struggle that lasted years about whether I should
become frum or give it up and be true to my heart.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I concluded that giving up Yiddishkeit was like giving up
air and I eventually joined a chareidi community, married a man and started a
family.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I told only the man I
married, but not the rest of the community that I was a lesbian.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We were married 11 years, but
ultimately it didn’t work out.</span></div>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-PVtAqU6R_90/UoV4G7PsZhI/AAAAAAAACpY/XWk40bqYioU/s1600/Chris2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-PVtAqU6R_90/UoV4G7PsZhI/AAAAAAAACpY/XWk40bqYioU/s640/Chris2.JPG" width="390" /></a></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: black; font-family: Cambria; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Yeah… it’s like that.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<b><span lang="EN-US" style="color: black; font-family: Cambria; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Tell us about your connection to Judaism?</span></b></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="color: black; font-family: Cambria; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I’ve always seen Judaism as a means to connect and communicate
with our Creator. One of my earliest memories as a child was sitting in
my bedroom when I was about two and thinking it odd that there was someone
there in the room with me, though the room was empty. I used to talk to
that presence and tell it about my thoughts. Later when I was taught
about what G-d was, it was clear to me that that was who I had been talking to.
I’ve always felt very close to Hashem, like He’s right there next
to me every minute of every day.</span></div>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-O5skXaWYDSQ/UoV4IkaKhPI/AAAAAAAACpw/vfatDSxWD-Y/s1600/Kid.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-O5skXaWYDSQ/UoV4IkaKhPI/AAAAAAAACpw/vfatDSxWD-Y/s400/Kid.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<b><span lang="EN-US" style="color: black; font-family: Cambria; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">What do you love about Jewish life?</span></b></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="color: black; font-family: Cambria; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I love being a part of community and connecting with mitzvot.
I’m a very tactile hands-on kind of person. I love when I get to use my
hands to do mitzvot like building sukkas or putting up an eruv. I also
love doing things where you can really see the ways in which your actions help
individuals. I love building and creating community. I’ve always
felt myself a pawn in Hashem’s plans and I love when I can see that Hashem’s put
me in places in life to be able to step in and make a difference in another person’s
Jewish experience. I think I really like HaKadosh Baruchu’s world and His
people. I love connecting with that. It brings me joy. It makes me feel like
there is something important I can do with life. I think a lot of life is
really difficult and muddy and complicated and complex. I think I find
that I tend to focus my efforts on the mitzvot that seem really clear and
simple to me. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-kV_hkbCsk94/UoV4L3ZJI8I/AAAAAAAACrE/CoNERbDhOH4/s1600/sawhorse-092409.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-kV_hkbCsk94/UoV4L3ZJI8I/AAAAAAAACrE/CoNERbDhOH4/s1600/sawhorse-092409.jpg" /></a></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="color: black; font-family: Cambria; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p> </o:p></span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: black; font-family: Cambria; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-no-proof: yes;">This is a terrible idea!</span></i></div>
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<b><span lang="EN-US" style="color: black; font-family: Cambria; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">What do you mean somethings are complicated?</span></b></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="color: black; font-family: Cambria; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Well… I think there are a lot of opportunities to do mitzvot and
we all just do our best to fulfill them all to the best of our abilities.
Sometimes I worry about whether I’m doing it all right, doing it
correctly. For example, one conversation I had with someone recently… How do
you know when you are helping someone or hurting someone by giving
tzedakah?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If a man on the street
is clearly a drunk, comes up to you asking for a dollar to buy a sandwich, is
giving that dollar helping him or giving him more opportunity to drink in
excess?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We do our best and Torah
guides us, but some things I find muddier then others. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But things like Hachnasas orchim on Shabbat are easier…just invite everybody and whoever shows up shows up!</span></div>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-dSB8UkGPGUA/UoV4MMKQG1I/AAAAAAAACrQ/VmEL7o-F0V4/s1600/tzedakah.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="265" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-dSB8UkGPGUA/UoV4MMKQG1I/AAAAAAAACrQ/VmEL7o-F0V4/s400/tzedakah.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<b><span lang="EN-US" style="color: black; font-family: Cambria; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">What is Shabbos like at your house?</span></b></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="color: black; font-family: Cambria; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Well, in our shul there is a hosting committee. A group of
community members who are in charge of making sure everyone who needs a meal
for Shabbos has one and we rotate shabbatot . My wife and I are on the
rotation and when it’s our turn (and often when it’s not) we like to fill our
dining room up with as many guests as we can. Especially on Yomim Tovim!
Often times we host a person or two over to sleep at our house for
Shabbat who would otherwise have too long a walk to shule from their house or
who is visiting from out of town.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-4x8W6nN7sOg/UoV4JNmbpoI/AAAAAAAACp4/a8NUXpc3hhc/s1600/Shabbat.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-4x8W6nN7sOg/UoV4JNmbpoI/AAAAAAAACp4/a8NUXpc3hhc/s400/Shabbat.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<b><span lang="EN-US" style="color: black; font-family: Cambria; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">What’s the craziest Shabbat you’ve ever hosted?</span></b></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="color: black; font-family: Cambria; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Well, that would have to be Teva Shabbat. A few years
ago my shul was doing a Shabbaton program about Jewish ethics around Tikun
Olam, Sustainability and building stronger communities through community
gardening. We called it Educating from the Earth and we brought in two
speakers for Shabbat, a <a href="http://forward.com/articles/177810/rabbi-steven-greenberg-talks-about-being-orthodox/" target="_blank">Rabbi Greenberg</a> from </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Cambria; font-size: 16px;"><a href="http://www.clal.org/" target="_blank">CLAL</a>who would discuss Jewish ethics
around sustainability and caring for the Earth Hashem has given us as well as
one of the founders of the<a href="http://www.jewishfarmschool.org/" target="_blank"> Jewish Farm School</a>, Nati Passow, to talk about ways
young Jews were finding a deeper connection with their Judaism through
farming. </span></div>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-QVzByL8uO_g/UoV4IuSDxMI/AAAAAAAACp0/Gjt3jysIn8c/s1600/DSC05316.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-QVzByL8uO_g/UoV4IuSDxMI/AAAAAAAACp0/Gjt3jysIn8c/s400/DSC05316.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="color: black; font-family: Cambria; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p> </o:p></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Cambria; font-size: 16px;">We had a movie on community gardening Motzei Shabbat and a program
on Sunday to plant the seeds to start our own community garden. At the
time my wife and I had the two of us, our two kids and a boarder living in our
small little house. It was originally a 2 bedroom 1 bathroom house that
we expanded by putting a play room and bedroom in the basement and another
bedroom and office in the attic.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Anyway…
small house.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The boarder we had was
someone who had worked at the Teva Jewish Environmental Education program at<a href="http://isabellafreedman.org/" target="_blank"> Isabella Friedman</a> for a couple of years and she and I were two of the main
coordinators of the Shabbat program so of course we planned to host the two
guest speakers for Shabbat. We also had 3 community members who really
wanted to be a part of this event, but lived too far away to walk to shul so we
hosted them too. </span></div>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-vQxo1xUDtBE/UoV4J1FE8gI/AAAAAAAACqg/bt_ZbWhVCz8/s1600/abrahams-tent-michoel-muchnik.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="294" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-vQxo1xUDtBE/UoV4J1FE8gI/AAAAAAAACqg/bt_ZbWhVCz8/s640/abrahams-tent-michoel-muchnik.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Cambria; font-size: 16px;">Quite a full household… but what made it really crazy was when my
housemate came up to me and told me with great excitement that we were
apparently fortunate enough to have the <a href="http://www.jclimatebus.wordpress.com/" target="_blank">Topsy Turvy Teva Bus</a> passing though that very weekend and they wanted to come to our program for Shabbat and
needed someplace to crash. So, besides the people already staying at
the house we made room for another 6 more to join us as well, with their double
decker bus parked in our driveway. </span></div>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-FmNP2dzXtLg/UoV4HyXztRI/AAAAAAAACps/DP8HASSSak0/s1600/DSC02817.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-FmNP2dzXtLg/UoV4HyXztRI/AAAAAAAACps/DP8HASSSak0/s400/DSC02817.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="color: black; font-family: Cambria; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p> </o:p></span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: black; font-family: Cambria; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">You’re gonna put that where?!!!</span></i></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Cambria; font-size: 16px;">But here’s the thing with that crazy story… As one of the
coordinators I was on the phone with the Rabbi from CLAL and the founder of the
Farm School coordinating who was speaking during the dinner and who was
speaking during the lunch and what the program was going to look like and it
hit me in the middle of the conversation… The Rabbi from CLAL, wasn’t just any
R. Greenberg… it was R. Steve Greenberg from the movie “<a href="http://www.snagfilms.com/films/title/trembling_before_g_d-002" target="_blank">Trembling Before G-d</a>”. </span></div>
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-pc54YbkYTMk/UoV60-dV6CI/AAAAAAAACro/QCPaOaonwb8/s1600/StevenGreenbergAndStevenGoldstein.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="427" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-pc54YbkYTMk/UoV60-dV6CI/AAAAAAAACro/QCPaOaonwb8/s640/StevenGreenbergAndStevenGoldstein.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="color: black; font-family: Cambria; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p> </o:p></span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: black; font-family: Cambria; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">R. Steve Greenberg, first openly gay Orthodox Rabbi.</span></i></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="color: black; font-family: Cambria; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p> </o:p></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Cambria; font-size: 16px;">I was really excited about this because there was a small group of
Orthodox LGBT/Queer identified people in my shul community who had come out to
my wife and I confidentially but not to anyone else in the community. As
a result, my wife and I knew who they were but they didn’t know each
other. So I’d talked to my Rabbi at my shul and created a side program
that weekend. We had a very quiet get together with all those people and
R. Greenberg over seudah shlishit at my house. My rabbi also knew other
LGBT people that I didn’t know and all told we have about 10 folks at my house
who all knew each other, but didn’t know that they all identified on the LGBT /
Queer spectrum. It was fantastic and beautiful. We all sat
around my living room and shared our stories about being Frum and Gay and how
we found ourselves in this community concluding the Shabbat with one of the
most moving Havdalahs of my life under the stars in my back yard right next to
the crazy fantastic Teva bus. I LOVE, LOVE, LOVE this sort of thing.</span></div>
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<b><span lang="EN-US" style="color: black; font-family: Cambria; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">What did that feel like for you?</span></b><span lang="EN-US" style="color: black; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="color: black; font-family: Cambria; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">There were two different feelings for me. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I felt good, as a community organizer,
knowing that I had done something positive, and that something was made better
by giving these people the opportunity to connect to one another. And
secondly, as an individual experiencing the moment, I felt empowered.
Whenever I go through an experience like that, I stop and look at myself in the
past, and remember when I felt alone, thinking that there couldn’t possibly be
anyone else like me… I lived with that loneliness for a long time. When
moments like that Seudah Shlishit happen… of having so many other LGBT / Queer
Orthodox Jews around me I take that memory of sadness and loneliness and bring
it into the in the light of the present and with that light shatter the sad memory.
It’s a feeling of relief, not having to question whether G-d loves me, cares
for me, and has a plan for me. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-PNFkrS6ibWM/UoV4JPZ0TYI/AAAAAAAACp8/Rge19EnMF0U/s1600/Stronger2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-PNFkrS6ibWM/UoV4JPZ0TYI/AAAAAAAACp8/Rge19EnMF0U/s400/Stronger2.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: black; font-family: Cambria; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">You mentioned
that your shule is welcoming to you and your family, what do you think it is
about them that makes them a welcoming community?</span></b></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="color: black; font-family: Cambria; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"> I don’t know.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
think there’s just a culture there of being sensitive to difference in
general.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There’s a commitment to
really making sure every Yid who wants to be there has a space to be
there.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There are some folks in the shul who have trouble making it
up the flight of stairs to the 2<sup>nd</sup> floor where the davening is, so
my shul schedules a Shabbat once a month in the 1<sup>st</sup> floor
auditorium so these folks can be included.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There’s a person in my shul who’s allergic to perfume and
rather than telling her too bad, the shul puts up signs that explain that someone
is allergic to perfume and that if someone has come into the shul with perfume
they should please go wash it off before entering the davening.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In as much as is reasonable, they make
sure everyone has a way to access the shul and the community.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I think at first there were some in the
community who were uncomfortable and it took time for these folks to warm
up.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But after a little while I was
just another community member like everyone else.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-JbKAclCeNDc/UoV4Jt6nKnI/AAAAAAAACqI/AINKbDkbkvs/s1600/Values-Welcoming.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-JbKAclCeNDc/UoV4Jt6nKnI/AAAAAAAACqI/AINKbDkbkvs/s1600/Values-Welcoming.jpg" /></a></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: black; font-family: Cambria; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">What do you think
it was that helped those community members to warm up who seemed uncomfortable
at first?</span></b></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="color: black; font-family: Cambria; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I think being physically present and just going about being
unabashedly there as a member of the community changed their minds to some
extent.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I think time helped.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I think time gave them the chance to get
to know me as a person and that made it hard for them to see me as just an
issue. I think also having little kids running around the shul helped. It’s
hard to see children as just a by-product of an issue. And my kids are pretty
charming.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><span lang="EN-US" style="color: black; font-family: Cambria; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><span lang="EN-US" style="color: black; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-X-PAVVfEw3s/UoV4LfBC-kI/AAAAAAAACq4/idthvixxvOo/s1600/lesbian_couple.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="260" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-X-PAVVfEw3s/UoV4LfBC-kI/AAAAAAAACq4/idthvixxvOo/s400/lesbian_couple.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: black; font-family: Cambria; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">What were you
afraid of when you came out to your community?</span></b></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="color: black; font-family: Cambria; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I was afraid of the unknown when I first came out. I was afraid I
wouldn’t have a place to be. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was afraid I was going to lose my Judaism because
there’d be no community that would accept me, no place where I could still hold
onto Torah and mitzvot, and I was afraid I would be pushed out of any places
where I could experience Jewish life.</span><span lang="EN-US" style="color: black; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-kOpLWGV0pbs/UoV4K3BIKgI/AAAAAAAACq0/uOojFkaJhWo/s1600/images.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="289" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-kOpLWGV0pbs/UoV4K3BIKgI/AAAAAAAACq0/uOojFkaJhWo/s640/images.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Cambria; font-size: 16px;">I started off in a chareidi community. I knew many people that I
really loved and cared for in that community. I was part of that community for
almost 20 years. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When I was
getting a divorce, knowing full well that I was not going to try marrying a man
again it seemed perfectly clear to me that there was NO HOPE with maintaining
connection and friendships within that community. The first thing I did after I
got divorced was try to find a different community. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I never tried to connect within my first community once I
knew I was going to be out. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I ran.
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was convinced that I wasn’t
safe. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-J6gF0dcDvbg/UoV4LiLsX3I/AAAAAAAACrY/beVRhKrhtEs/s1600/nachshon-600x369.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-J6gF0dcDvbg/UoV4LiLsX3I/AAAAAAAACrY/beVRhKrhtEs/s1600/nachshon-600x369.jpg" /></a></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: black; font-family: Cambria; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">In hind sight, do
you think that that was the right decision?<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="color: black; font-family: Cambria; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">If I had to do it again, with all the knowledge I have now, I’d
like to hope that I would try to gather the courage to ask the people I cared
about whether or not they would accept me before deciding for them. </span><span lang="EN-US" style="color: black; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-2YNuS7qzT6I/UoV4Jz82r1I/AAAAAAAACqc/sn7vSYjPDXY/s1600/curiosity-fear-of-unknown-sign.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-2YNuS7qzT6I/UoV4Jz82r1I/AAAAAAAACqc/sn7vSYjPDXY/s1600/curiosity-fear-of-unknown-sign.jpg" /></a></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: black; font-family: Cambria; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">What do you like
about being Frum and Gay?</span></b></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="color: black; font-family: Cambria; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I like myself. I always have. Even from a young age, I always
liked who I was. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When I was
married to a man I felt I had to cut off a huge part of myself in order to have
access to my Judaism which was another huge part of myself.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I felt like I was missing myself and
unable to be solid and real. The best part of being frum and gay is being able
to be whole. I know who I am. I know what my strengths are. I know what my
weaknesses are, and I get to bring the <i>whole</i> me, all of me, exactly as Hashem
made me, everywhere I go. </span><span lang="EN-US" style="color: black; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-IaFO6COsAy4/UoV4G7_txVI/AAAAAAAACpU/dn2kwAwRzWg/s1600/Cute.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-IaFO6COsAy4/UoV4G7_txVI/AAAAAAAACpU/dn2kwAwRzWg/s400/Cute.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: black; font-family: Cambria; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">What do you worry
about?</span></b></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="color: black; font-family: Cambria; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I do worry about other gay Jews in places where they can’t find
the ability to love and accept themselves, or find family and friends with the
ability to love and accept them. I know what that does to a person.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ve lived it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ve been very lucky in life to have
ultimately found a community that accepts me and welcomes me, and I think that
obligates me to make myself available to help others who don’t have that. </span><span lang="EN-US" style="color: black; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-8-_z5wk9Lxs/UoV4KzPKM6I/AAAAAAAACq8/LrFLoBxp3s4/s1600/image.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="263" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-8-_z5wk9Lxs/UoV4KzPKM6I/AAAAAAAACq8/LrFLoBxp3s4/s400/image.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: black; font-family: Cambria; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Can you share
with me a story about being able to help other Frum Gay Jews?</span></b></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="color: black; font-family: Cambria; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Hmmm… <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There are
several <a href="http://tirtzah.wordpress.com/" target="_blank">online support groups</a> for Orthodox gay Jews, and I try to connect with
new people who show up in these groups.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>There was one young man who came online during a very busy point in my
life and I missed his introduction. The only thing he said was, “Is there
anybody in [and he named the city I live in]?” and I totally missed it! I was
dealing with some other stuff, but one of my friends, who knew I was in that city,
gave Y [the young man online] my email address directly, and I invited him over
for Shabbat. We weren’t sure if we would meet at shul or at my house, because
he was walking from the other side of town, so I waited at shul for a while,
and then walked home and there he was, sitting in the glider on my front porch and
the first words out of his mouth were…. “You’re real.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I knew exactly how he felt. </span><span lang="EN-US" style="color: black; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04731936564891970650noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-569497739006959608.post-29678869810957868662013-11-13T11:14:00.001-06:002013-11-13T11:14:25.835-06:00BLACK GAY JEWISH MOTHER: Welcoming the Stranger<!--StartFragment-->
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-6bVsz0SeJbM/UoOrjEtK80I/AAAAAAAACl8/kkMtGErbIHE/s1600/6391081281_1b6deecfbe_z.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-6bVsz0SeJbM/UoOrjEtK80I/AAAAAAAACl8/kkMtGErbIHE/s400/6391081281_1b6deecfbe_z.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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I am a black gay Jewish diversity advocate.
I’m a writer and I’m a doula. I live with my partner and we have two cats. I
like to call myself a yogi but it’s really not so true. I don’t do enough yoga
for that. I’m pretty much the same as I was as a kid: I’m extroverted. I’m
social and I like to talk, but I’m 34 now.</div>
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<br /></div>
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<span lang="EN-US">My first crush was in high school. I lived
in a little town in Ohio and didn’t know any gay people. I thought gay people were
very male, very white, and super flamboyant. And there weren’t really any black
lesbians that I could readily identify with. I was pretty straight for a long
time. I was engaged to a man when I was 21 and I didn’t come out until I was 26
or 27, but when I did, I came out in a big way. I came out to a friend, and he
said he was gay too! He is now a gay man, married to a woman, with children,
because his religion prohibits him from living a gay life. </span></div>
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-JJg5VIwi2s8/UoOrlpP1onI/AAAAAAAACmI/uXmhB5D2tYk/s1600/black-jews-in-america.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-JJg5VIwi2s8/UoOrlpP1onI/AAAAAAAACmI/uXmhB5D2tYk/s400/black-jews-in-america.jpg" width="372" /></a></div>
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Then I started online dating. I had gay
male friends, and I didn’t know any lesbians. I dragged a bunch of straight
friends to lesbian bars. I ended up meeting my partner online and eventually, I
told my mom about her. My mom told me not to tell anyone. She thought it was a
phase. After three months, not talking to my mom (my best friend!) about my
relationship became harder. Our conversations became flat and generic, “How’s
the weather?” I ended up sending an email to my entire family, introducing
myself as a lesbian, and also introducing my partner. That email started a huge
internal family fight. I have never read the emails but I’ve decided I will
when there’s enough distance, when I am 40.</div>
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-3dt4L-MWFP4/UoOrrGJYjZI/AAAAAAAACnI/wHBrsxR-p5A/s1600/Ethiopian-Jews-e1359328366360.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="276" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-3dt4L-MWFP4/UoOrrGJYjZI/AAAAAAAACnI/wHBrsxR-p5A/s400/Ethiopian-Jews-e1359328366360.png" width="400" /></a></div>
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I’ve been together with my partner for 5
years. She’s a good one! She’s Jewish, born and raised. She is less religious
than me, but our house is very Jewish.</div>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-w0lqrgoUYGc/UoOu3Mn-7yI/AAAAAAAACoA/hNuASdIYPGg/s1600/28seder_span-articleLarge.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-w0lqrgoUYGc/UoOu3Mn-7yI/AAAAAAAACoA/hNuASdIYPGg/s1600/28seder_span-articleLarge.jpg" /></a></div>
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There’s a real lack of understanding about
who Jews of color are and who they are not, and how one can be Jewish differently
from other peoples’ norm. I’d rather not discuss my private details on shabbos
at the table. A lot of Jews of color feel invalidated by their schools, shuls
and communities. I volunteer for the <a href="http://www.jewishmultiracialnetwork.org/" target="_blank">Jewish Multi-Racial Network</a>, an
organization that was started 15 years ago by parents who had adopted children
of color and then realized communities weren’t supportive of their families.
Now it’s dedicated to making Jewish spaces safer and more inclusive for
multiracial families and Jews of color. We are currently writing a diversity
curriculum and I am writing the handbook and I am on the second draft now, We
hold an annual retreat for families to meet with each other and for the kids to
be in space where they can be with other kids who look like them.</div>
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-P6giKpmXDng/UoOrl2v3QrI/AAAAAAAACmM/XoJqQeu1rLs/s1600/black-mom-biracial-child.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="267" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-P6giKpmXDng/UoOrl2v3QrI/AAAAAAAACmM/XoJqQeu1rLs/s400/black-mom-biracial-child.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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I just did a talk for the Princeton JCC,
making the JCC more inclusive to multiracial families and Jews of color. When I
give talks about this subject, my desires are multifaceted. I really want
people to genuinely be welcomed. We were once strangers and we should have
learned from that to be good hosts. People say it but they don’t live it. I
want everyone to feel like every other person in the shul. I hope for <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">welcome</i>. I want people to realize that
their family isn’t the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">only</i> way or
the only vision of who a Jew is or what<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Jew looks like.</div>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-eDt4cp7ucKU/UoOu3yH81hI/AAAAAAAACow/GnHyZHrnRS8/s1600/47ff24c99be454494ca0486e42672ce1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-eDt4cp7ucKU/UoOu3yH81hI/AAAAAAAACow/GnHyZHrnRS8/s400/47ff24c99be454494ca0486e42672ce1.jpg" width="268" /></a></div>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-eDt4cp7ucKU/UoOu3yH81hI/AAAAAAAACow/GnHyZHrnRS8/s1600/47ff24c99be454494ca0486e42672ce1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a>This is similar to<a href="http://www.eshelonline.org/" target="_blank"> Eshel’</a>s goal. A lot of
the work is modeled on<a href="http://www.keshetonline.org/" target="_blank"> Keshet’s</a> work on inclusion for gay Jews. The Shabbat
over Labor Day, my organization held a shabbaton, and I spoke about teshuva,
and ended by saying we have always been a multiracial nation. There have always
been Jews who aren’t like your idea of what Jews look like. It’s not because
the world is going to sh*t, it’s just because the world actually IS diverse. I
also think that human history tells us that people have always migrated. It sad
that there have to be niche organization to help the inclusion of Jews who are
on the so-called fringes. It’s important to keep reminding people that we have
always been a diverse nation.</div>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-DYv0oCE-TJQ/UoOrj0WmAiI/AAAAAAAACls/io3JaMq4nAk/s1600/78d8bdb8db9083f78d3d3cdbbeb83122.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-DYv0oCE-TJQ/UoOrj0WmAiI/AAAAAAAACls/io3JaMq4nAk/s400/78d8bdb8db9083f78d3d3cdbbeb83122.jpg" width="328" /></a></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><o:p> </o:p></span>I said last year that I was going to do a
Jewish geography project, where I would take each weeks parsha, and I would
figure out where that place on the map, so we could get an actual picture of
all the places that Jews have been and how diverse we are. It’s so sad that
thousands of years of diversity have been whittled down to Woody Allen. No one
questions a Chinese Christian. But a Chinese Jew. That’s strange!</div>
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-W2xjcgkgdpg/UoOrmjwV07I/AAAAAAAACmg/ibTA0p35da8/s1600/blackjews121224_2_560.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-W2xjcgkgdpg/UoOrmjwV07I/AAAAAAAACmg/ibTA0p35da8/s400/blackjews121224_2_560.jpg" width="306" /></a></div>
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<span lang="EN-US">In ten years time, I hope to be a mother. I
hope to be an amazingly accomplished doula and a published author. I’d like to
retire from JMM, because there shouldn’t be a need for us anymore. Because
obviously there are diverse Jews, brown and black and queer. Well! I can dream!</span></div>
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I’ve wanted to be a mom my whole life. But
coming out, it’s so scary. Holy sh*t! How do I have a baby? Mommy and daddy
love each other and they have a baby. But what do I do? These days, being a
doula, I am the go-to lesbian about how to get knocked up. I have a group of
friends in their 30’s who are already pregnant, and another group of younger
friends who look to me for answers.</div>
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<span lang="EN-US">I think family is really important to both
my partner and me. We both want to be mothers and we both want to carry babies.
I think that being a lesbian shouldn’t change your desire to have a family. I
think there are friends that are happy with no kids and that experience is also
valid, but for me, I want it. I really want it. </span></div>
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I think two children sound about right for
us. Sometimes, I think I’d like a very large family and then I think I want to
be able to not over-extend myself. We both had one sibling growing up, but we
also think it would be interesting to foster kids. But right now, two is our
magic number.</div>
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There was a study in 2011 that said that
kids raised by lesbians are better off. I don’t think you need 2 people to
raise a child. I think any queer person who wants to raise a child, goes
through so much to get that child. Much more than anyone else. We really want
it! It’s something we think about and plan for a really long time. It doesn’t
just accidentally happen. I think this might be true also of anyone who wants
to adopt. When someone is trying that hard, it indicates that there is thought
put into it. You want this child! You are more invested. Most Jewish parents
who are queer are just as committed to their kids as the straight parents I
know.</div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><o:p> </o:p></span>I’ve only experienced homophobia once. It
was on my 28<sup>th</sup> birthday. My partner took me to the Museum of Natural
History and I requested a crown and a unicorn for my birthday. My partner got
me a pink princess crown that said, “Today is my birthday!” and I wore it all
day. A white man with a guitar rode by us and then circled back. I was holding
hands with my partner. “I hope that’s sisterly love and not romantic love,” he
said. Then he started telling me how [G-d] doesn’t like gay people. But I don’t
let people talk sh*t to me. I told him that the last person who G-d talked to
directly was about 2,000 years ago, and I also didn’t remember [G-d] talking
about holding hands. Could he show me in the Bible? Now, we hold hands in a gay
area, but we don’t do a lot of PDA outside of the house, because as two women, you
never know [what could happen].</div>
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As Jews, our community talks a lot about
welcoming the stranger and being loving to everyone and being a light unto the
nations, but if you stick out in any way, then you can be cut down in a second.
Differences still aren’t fully accepted. There are plenty of opportunities to improve
our treatment of others, whether they are Jews of colour or queer Jews or both.</div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04731936564891970650noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-569497739006959608.post-6535031524574017142013-11-08T01:15:00.001-06:002013-11-08T01:15:42.364-06:00YESHIVA BOCHUR: Child of FGP (Frum Gay Parent)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I am studying in yeshiva. I am a chassidishe bochur and I am serious about my learning. I am nineteen years old. One of my parents is gay. I feel lucky to be away from home, because some of my other siblings are still home, being part of it every day and I don't think I could handle that.<br />
<br />
It is very awkward for me. I don't tell the other bochurim, because they would think I am also gay or that my family is messed up. I told my best friend, and he thought it was okay. He didn't really care about it at all. That was surprising.<br />
<br />
When I first found out that one of my parents is gay, I went to my Rosh Yeshiva and I asked him what I should do. He said I shouldn't do anything. He said I shouldn't argue or try to convince anyone to behave differently. He said that person is still my parent and that being gay doesn't mean that my parent is a bad parent.<br />
<br />
But I worry that I won't get the same kind of shidduch that I might have gotten if both my parents were normal. I know everything (including my shidduch) is in H-shem's hands, but regular frum people aren't going to like having their daughter go to a house were there are gay people.<br />
<br />
I also worry that it will affect my younger siblings, and that they won't stay frum because of it. I want them to stay frum, and I want my family to stay the way it always was. I don't want us to be the nebbech case that everyone has to pity or whisper about.<br />
<br />
I still love my parent who is gay. I don't care about the gayness. Well, I do care, but it doesn't stop me loving my parent.<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04731936564891970650noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-569497739006959608.post-11502425052249072982013-11-05T12:43:00.002-06:002013-11-06T00:50:55.602-06:00LESBIANS IN SEMINARY<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I am part of a chassidish community. I have several children. But before I got married, I fell in love with a girl in my school. I wasn't the only girl that it happened to, but I think I was ridiculous about it. I was obsessed with her. She was short, and had dark hair and she was very tznius, the most tznius person in the whole school. She wasn't the thinnest person and she had very bad hearing and she really didn't care about the way she looked but I was, curiously, so so attracted to her. She made me crazy with wanting. And she knew that I wanted her and she teased me, egged me on, asked me to rub her back or scratch her itches or whatever.<br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #b45f06;">Picture by Sophie Blackall</span></span><br />
I wanted to look at her all the time, and when she went away to do other things or talk with other girls, I made sad eyes, and sat in a corner and moped. She got very annoyed with this and used to tell me to stop it, to go find someone else to hang out with, but I couldn't stop.<br />
You have to understand: We were in a sleep-away seminary in Israel and we shared a room with a couple of other girls. She was sick at that time. She had a permanent headache and cough that made her weak, and at night, she would cough and cough and moan, and eventually, I would wake up and ask her what was wrong, and she would say that she felt sick and I would ask her what she wanted, what she needed, and every night she said the same thing: Please rub my chest. And this very tznius girl would open up her buttons, just one or two, and point at the area just below her collar bone and say, "It feels so good when you rub it." So I'd climb into the bed right behind her and put my arm over her shoulder and I'd rub that place, and all the time, I was dying. Dying!<br />
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Her hair smelled so good, her shoulder, and she was right there, beneath my arm, and my hand was on her skin. This went on for weeks, and each night, she fell asleep while I was rubbing her chest and I got up and went to my own bed. And each day, I was exhausted, and fell asleep on my desk and dreamed about her.<br />
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Then, one night, I was rubbing her chest as usual, when she reached up and held my hand still. It was very quiet in the room. I could hear the other girls breathing, in and out, and my own breath sounded crazy loud and I couldn't control my breathing at all. I thought I will wake up all the girls with my breathing because it sounds like a steam engine. I needed to take a bigger and bigger breath of air just to not faint. She held my hand and then, very quietly, she said, "Go lower."<br />
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I wasn't sure what she meant, but then she unbuttoned two more buttons on her nightgown and she pulled my hand lower onto her chest, where you feel, instead of bone, softer skin. "Rub here," she said. I was completely oismentsch (out of myself), but I also could feel every part of myself, as if my skin had grown new nerves on the old nerves. I didn't move my hand right away, and I couldn't breath either. That's how it was, when we started.<br />
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The next day, she acted as if nothing had happened. She pushed me away when I wanted to sit near her. I tried to give her food or little presents, but she wouldn't take anything from me. But that night, the same thing happened. She opened her buttons, and took my hand, and put it where she wanted to be touched. And all the while, I couldn't see her face. I could only feel her body. And each night, she moved my hand lower and lower. And neither of us was sleeping.<br />
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I don't know about her. I don't know what her life is like now, because we aren't in contact. I can only talk about myself. That experience changed me forever. I knew, then, that I liked girls, and I knew that boys didn't have anywhere near the same interest for me, and that has been true ever since.<br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04731936564891970650noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-569497739006959608.post-74113866797355902402013-11-04T00:16:00.002-06:002013-11-04T17:50:19.801-06:00THE GAY BAAL TESHUVA<!--StartFragment-->
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We are interviewing B, a distinguished therapist and a frum gay man. Though frum earlier in his life, he went through a period of estrangement from religion and is now making his way back.</div>
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<b>Can you tell me your favourite memory from when
you were a kid?</b></div>
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B: Oh my god, this could
take a year to think of. Do you have any chocolate? Let me think. (Long silence) I don’t know how old I was, seven or eight, my parents
took me out to a fancy restaurant for my birthday with a band and the waiter
wore a tuxedo and at one point, the waiter went by the table and mumbled
something and my dad just nodded and the next thing I knew the band started
playing happy birthday and the waiter brought a cake with a lit sparkler and
set it down in front of me and I said “FOR MEEEEE???” I never thought that
would happen for me. I was in a
restaurant with adults, no other kids there, and the band had played
music…I didn’t think I was very important, I guess, and this was a disproof of that
belief about myself.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<b>You’ve told me about wanting to be in yeshivah,
tell me about your yeshiva experience?</b></div>
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B: Everyone in my family used to think
I wanted to become a rabbi because I attended yeshiva, but I never really wanted to be a rabbi in shul. It
didn’t seem like fun.<br />
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The first night I
was in yeshiva I sat on the floor of a coat room next to the Bais Medrash, and
I was writing in my journal, I wrote “I think this is as close to living in a
monastery as I’m ever going to get.” And then I got a lot of sh*t from the
bochurim (young men) because I was sitting on the floor and that’s only something that an avel (mourner) should do. There were no chairs. I just wanted to sit on the floor. It was
comfortable for me to sit there, by myself, which is why I sat there with my
journal, until I was surrounded by people telling me I was doing the wrong thing.</div>
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One of the main
features of my experience in Yeshiva was being told how I was doing things
wrong.<o:p></o:p></div>
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I had long hair. I
always wore jeans and a flannel shirt, never put on a black hat, refused to cut
my hair. Those were the most obvious things. I don’t think anyone ever said
anything to me about not davening from the chassidish siddur, but I didn’t. I used my own. Actually, it was a chassidish siddur, just not Chabad.<o:p></o:p><br />
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Oh, as I look back on it
now, I realize that I get down on myself so much, the last thing I needed was to
have other people in my environment telling me I am doing things all wrong. It’s
kind of like, if you’ve already eaten a big meal and then someone insists that
you eat something else, you wind up with a stomach ache.</div>
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<b>Did you know you were gay in yeshivah?</b></div>
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B: I knew I was attracted
to other guys. The word “gay” didn’t happen in my life for a long time. Thankfully, there was nobody
in the yeshiva who I had a crush on. That would have made life even more painful and conflicted than it already was. But I often went on mivtzoim to Rutgers
University, and I once stopped somebody there who was adorable and some weeks
later, erev shabbos, there he was in Morristown! He came to stay for shabbos. I was both astonished as well as overwhelmed with excitement. Obviously, other bochurim had continued "working on him" on subsequent Fridays after I made the initial connection, some weeks prior. I
think that was near the end of my time in yeshiva and I didn’t have much time
with him but I started teaching him to read Aleph Bais, and I was sharing with him how important
it was to me that I was getting to teach him to read hebrew, because everything he would learn after
that would be based on his ability to read Hebrew…it would be the ground of
everything that he would learn for the rest of his life and I was honoured to be able to provide that
for him. Actually, for me, I think it was like getting to spend the rest of our lives together, and actually, to some extenet, that is the case.<o:p></o:p><br />
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That shabbos, we took
a walk together, and I so badly wanted to confess my strong feelings for him.
But I didn’t. If I would have stayed in yeshiva and he was there too, I would
have been <i>much</i> more tortured than I already was. I still have an inkling that he felt similarly towards me. We had a very special connection. But who knows?</div>
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<br />
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Times;">Thursday nights were a wonderful time there. Everyone used to stay up later than
usual because every once in a while, the Rosh Yeshiva would come into the Beis
Medresh, sit down in one of the classrooms which would immediately fill with
bochrim. He would teach a maamer,
translating from the Yiddish. And
it was late, you know. So people
started getting sleepy and leaving one by one. Once he was convinced that no one else was going to leave,
he nodded to this one guy, sort of the shamesh, who left and then came back with
a gallon of Shmirnoff Vodka! The
farbrengen was about to begin. L’chayims
were poured for each of us around the table. The Rabbi lifted his cup and said “L’chayim!” and so
did everyone else. Then they tilted
their shots back and drank. Everyone but me. I mean, there was no tonic, no 7-up; just straight
vodka. I couldn’t drink that
stuff. Then the Rosh Yeshiva
looked directly at me and said: “Dov!
L’chayim!!” I drank.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Times;">After the l’chayim, we sang a niggun. Over and over we’d repeat the wordless
tune. Then the Rabbi spoke,
but now, not from a book, but from his heart. And after a while, we’d make another l’chayim and sing
another niggun. And the whole
cycle would repeat, who knows how many times. I definitely felt as if we were approaching the Throne of
H-shem. That was one of the most
important experiences I had there.
I remember one night – we had some wild nights! - he lined all of us up
and took ahold of each of us by the beard and kissed us each on the lips. There was nothing sexual about
this. It was an act of brotherly
love between Jews. It was
beautiful. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Times;">The two most meaningful things I learned in Yeshiva were the
niggunim and to make l’chayim. Which
isn’t to say I didn’t appreciate the learning, ah, the other learning that
is. But those two skills, if you
will, have given me so much, which I still appreciate to this day, almost 40
years later. (Yikes!) <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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I remember I must have
been there a while, one Thursday night, I asked the Rosh Yeshiva for some time,
and when I went into the office, I asked him, “What about masturbation?” and he
asked me what I meant, and I said, “Is it okay to do it?” and he was like no,
it’s an aveirah (sin). I<i> think</i> he told
me, It’s like taking G-d’s head and putting it into the toilet bowl. I was shocked at the idea of not masturbating. I said to him, I feel like you are telling me to say goodbye
to my best friend. But wanting to be a good Jew, and do what G-d wants, I
decided to give up my best friend. And here’s what I learned: I learned that it
gets easier the longer it goes. </div>
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<br />
<br />
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I also learned to appreciate the laws of tznius (modesty), which had seemed so outdated and so anachronistic, in our modern culture. This is what became
clear to me, I remember being in Manhattan with my family one evening, walking down Fifth Avenue, and there was a huge Calvin Klein billboard, an underwear ad. Part of me wanted to
fly up into the ad, I was so taken with the model's beauty. As a result of my quickly building excitement, I also realized that in order to contain myself, I had to avert my gaze. And then it became so clear to me, the laws of negiah and dressing modestly…if someone has committed to keeping their sexuality contained, rather than allowing it to explode outward, it becomes too difficult when you are surrounded with
stimulating images. This didn’t have to do
with homosexuality, per se, but with sexuality in general. It was more an appreciation for what is sometimes
considered an “outdated” set of laws…It’s not so outdated, if you start thinking
about it.</div>
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I only dress with sleeves this short when I'm at home.</div>
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Keeping shabbos
changes your whole week. You have to plan. Guarding your zera (seed) takes planning
too. Everything changes with each obligation that you take on. Each thing is
important. Each thing has value. All sorts of halochos, mishnayos, even a whole tractate of mishna
goes right out of the window, if we say “That’s not relevant anymore.” I don't want to do that.<o:p></o:p><br />
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<b>Tell me about your learning schedule:</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
B: I studied longer and
harder in yeshiva than I did in
college and grad school put together. It eclipsed everything. When I went to
the bathroom, I would take my human physiology text book so that I wouldn’t
waste my time.<o:p></o:p><br />
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Nowadays, I study
Tanya before I daven in the morning, I don’t do the portion you are supposed to
do, but I read and understand whatever I can each day. At night, I study the daily portion of Chumash, but after going through it for some years, I found that i kept stumbling over the same words. So, a few years ago, I started making flash cards with the
words that were difficult for me and the phrase in the posuk where the word was
contained and identifying info, with a couple of different translations on the
other side of the index card, before reading th day's parsha, I run through the flashcards first. Only then do I go through the portion, which becomes much easier once i know what all the words mean.And then I try to understand the Rashi as well. My goal is to be able to
look at any part of chumash and know what all the words mean. It’s just so
basic. There’s so much to know, Tanach and Mishna and Gemarrah. At least before
I die, I should know the words of Chumash! It’s just a tiny bit of all we have to learn as Jews., but shouldn’t I
be able to be comfortable with any piece of Chumash? </div>
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All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy though...<br />
I don’t think that my
tehillim saying is part of my learning, but I recite them. When I was a young
kid in Hebrew school, one of the teachers told a story about a blacksmith who,
while he worked, he recited tehillim all day, and when he died, the melachim
were all excited that this man was entering heaven, and that made an impression
on me, because even though I didn’t start saying tehillim until relatively recently,
I guess I want to be important in heaven. That sounds ridiculous. I’m going
to change that. How self righteous can you get?!<o:p></o:p><br />
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<b>Are there any mitzvahs that are extra important for you?</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
B: I wouldn’t buy a condo
until I found one that had a spot for my sukkah. I was tired of sneaking into
the sukkahs at shuls and relying on friends. I wanted to be able to eat all of
my meals in a sukkah.</div>
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A long time ago, way before I went to yeshiva,
I
found a booklet on mezuzah, which then became
a very important mitzvah for me. I wanted kosher mezuzos on
all the doorways. It meant that this is a Jewish household. Not a token Jewish
household, not a mezuzah case without a parchement, but
a kosher mezuzah on each doorway, infusing my entire home.<br />
<br />
Kiddush levana. Giving
maaser. Davening shacharis. I despise getting up in the morning. So to have
enough time, especially as I add to my davening, I have to get up earlier. Now
I say an abbreviated psukei
d’zimrah but maybe one day...</div>
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Keeping kosher has
been hard for me, I stopped eating milk and meat in junior high even though I
loved cheeseburgers, and stopped eating shrimp, which was my number one favourite food. When I moved into my condo, my first home, I decided this is MY place, it
has to be 100% kosher. And it was hard to give up some of my family’s old
utensils that had meaning for me, but they couldn’t be koshered and I had to
let them go. Having separate sinks and counters and pots and pans and dishes, and having mezuzahs is a way for me to maintain that my home is a kosher
Jewish home.<br />
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One Elul, 3 or 4 years ago, I decided, that
for the duration of the month, I wouldn’t eat any treif meat
(since at the time, I had been allowing myself a burger
or steak every once in a while when I ate out) ,
and once Yom Kippur and Sukkos came and went, I was like, “So now do I start eating treif
again?! So
without intending to do so, I gave
up eating treif. It’s frustrating sometimes, because going out to nice (unkosher) restaurants is one of my
favourite things to do in life, I
just have to remind myself that refraining from eating (mamash) treif is my way of being a Jew in the world. It’s not only about doing things; it’s about not doing
things too.<br />
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That’s where I am
holding now. I’m afraid if I do more, I will just scrap the whole thing. It’s like someone who asks for money, and then they ask for
more, I say, no that’s all I have, that’s all for
now. So too with this, that’s all for now: I don’t want to overburden myself so I'm going slowly.<br />
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-AU;">Which parts of you make you feel like less of a
Jew?</span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-AU;">B: Being gay. Since pru
urvu (To be fruitful and multiply) is a mitzvah, the first mitzvah, in Parshas Breishis, it feels like
something very essential, almost primitive, that’s a mitzvah that I am not able
to be mekayam at this point. I remember being in junior high and having
fantasies of a home with a wife and children and a shabbos tish (Sabbath table). Part of
me still hasn’t fully accepted that that isn’t the route that I took. I guess I
am still deceiving myself, even though I am turning 60. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-AU;">Being at Eshel events,
has made it clear to me that the two groups of people I feel most uncomfortable around are frum Jews and gay men, especially attractive gay men. Oh my gorsh, what a statement! I want so badly to be
part of </span><i>both</i><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-AU;"> worlds and no matter what success I may meet with, I still
experience myself to be on the outside.</span></div>
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Not having children
makes me feel extremely disenfranchised from the Jewish nation. I’m not going to say, even though I’m almost 60. A day doesn’t go by without me thinking
about the prospect of having children. For one reason, my grandfather, my dad’s dad,
was a cohein, and he had a son and a daughter. My dad told me that I was a
cohen and I asked him how he knew, and he said because
<!--StartFragment--><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt;">Grandpa told him he was.
And I asked, “but how did Grandpa know?” And he said “Cuz his father
told him.” And I went “Ohhhhh!”</span> My parents had one girl and two boys, and although my
sister’s son is a rabbi, he of course isn’t a cohen. My brother married a non-Jew, so that’s
the end of that! So if I don’t have a son,
<!--StartFragment--><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt;">this line of the </span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Times; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: Times; mso-fareast-font-family: "MS 明朝"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-fareast;">Cohuna
which I am on, ends here. That kills me.</span></div>
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<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-AU;">And aside from that,<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>part of the
reason why children are important to me is because, unlike in Christianity or Buddhism, I
think that being Jewish is really about being </span><i>part</i><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-AU;"> of a people and there’s<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>this long line that goes back to Avrohom
and Sarah. And the thought that it’s come all this way, maybe for thousands of generations, and it’s going to stop with me, tears me apart. I
want to be part of the people, I want to be part of moving us forward into the
future and it doesn’t feel right that I am childless.</span></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-AU;">Could you talk about attempts to make a family?</span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-AU;">I’ve had the good
fortune to be invited into the bosom of a very warm and delicious family which
has completely changed my experience of life. I now have children in my life, who
sometimes get excited when I come in, and even when they don’t, at least their
dog gets excited! Always knowing I have a place for shabbos and yontiff is an amazing
comfort. It’s a nechoma (comfort) for me. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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I’ve never given up my
fantasy of a four flat, with one floor for me and my partner, another floor for
my wife and her partner, and a floor where we raise our children and then the
first floor, which would be business offices where I would run my business, but
I’ve done nothing to actualise this fantasy that I’ve had for over 20 years. My
last therapist pointed out over and over how I repeatedly confuse tofel/iker (the main thing versus the unimportant), by getting so focused on details that I would
totally miss the actual point of the whole thing. </div>
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What I’m going to say is
funny but actually tragic. Years ago, there were t-shirts of a woman aghast and the caption
was “Oh My God! I forgot to have children!” I’ve been so busy, first coming out, which I did in my late 20's and 30's, and then establishing myself
professionally, which also happened late as a result of not trusting my
competence. So here I am now, realising that it’s pretty late in the game. </div>
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When I left yeshiva, I remember dropping Jewish practices: my tzitzis, shabbos, kashrus, my kippah. I remember when my kippah came off, I stopped making brochos
because my head wasn’t covered, But I knew I still wanted to make
brochos, so I started again. T<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Times;">his time even when my head was uncovered. Realizing I didn’t have to stop making brochos
before eating and drinking just cuz I wasn’t wearing a kippa was a welcome revelation. Actually, to me it seems like a proper
use of iker and tofel. I’m not
saying it’s not important to cover one’s head. But since I am not ready to wear
a kippah in public, why deprive myself of the pleasure I get from acknowledging
Hashem’s goodness in providing for my needs? Surely that is more important than is a mere head-covering!</span><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Times;"><br /></span>
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Times;"></span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Times;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Times; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: Times; mso-fareast-font-family: "MS 明朝"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-fareast;">Later on, </span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Times; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: Times; mso-fareast-font-family: "MS 明朝"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-fareast;">I
missed so much of what I’d given up and
started to add</span></span> them back into my life. I had let enough
things go that I didn’t feel like I was a worthy member of an Orthodox shul. At the same time, I had
little interest in more modern shuls. They didn’t feel authentically Jewish to
me, they feel chopped up and disjointed. Orthodox shuls feel more whole to me. Maybe I am very wrong but I imagine there is more likelihood that some people in frum shuls are actually trying to communicate with Hakadosh Boruch Hu. I’m
thinking of Rabbi W [the shliach tzibbur in a large local chassidic shul] right now. But I could be very wrong about that generalization.</div>
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<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-AU;">I don’t always get
the warmest feeling from people at the chassidic shul, and since I’ve told some of the people there
that I am gay. I imagine that everyone knows now and isn’t thrilled with my
presence. However I also know that I tend to make up stories that leave me feeling
isolated and marginalised – which goes back to the two groups of people I am most
uncomfortable with! </span>So that outsider feeling I experience in that shule may be all
in my head. I have a long history
of believing I am inadequate and feeling quite ashamed of myself.<br />
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-AU;">What’s the hardest thing about being frum and
gay?</span></b></div>
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<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-AU;">B: The only kehillah that I am part of, where I feel loved and
respected, is not Torah observant. When I find a place that is Torah observant
and I feel drawn to it, I am aware of how alien I experience myself to be, as I
imagine myself to be not loved or respected. So then I have to chose: Will I daven
in a way that is meaningful to me, but where I don’t think there is a place for
me, or with a group of people who care about me deeply, as well as caring about being Jews,
but insist on doing the Jewishness in their own ways, not in the ways of
halachah?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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The hardest thing is
having my feet in two different camps. Having my feet in two camps isn’t
restricted only to being frum and gay…in the days when I was going to gay bars to meet
men, I quickly learned when asked what I do, to stop saying I am a
psychotherapist, because when I said that, the person I had been speaking with got the impression
that I was trying to read their mind, and then I’d be suddenly be alone,
so I started said I was a waiter. That worked better. Even in the
world of therapy, I find myself divided, because the kind of therapy that I practise, Gestalt, is not au courant especially here where I live, so when I am talking to
a group of therapists, my vocabulary and outlook are hard for the others to understand, and I get the impression that what I
say doesn’t make sense to the professional audience I am speaking to.</div>
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I just want to
connect!</div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-AU;">On Rosh Hashana, you went to a chassidish shul and the
aliyos were auctioned off, and the man sitting next to you gave you the first aliyah
of the year. How can you consider yourself “alien, unloved and respected”?<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-AU;">I take responsibility
for some of my paranoia, but this man who is so kind to me, to offer me this
honour two years in a row, this year, he added, when I thanked him, “You
deserve it”…I imagine he doesn’t feel like he fits into the shul so well either.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt;">This is a very quiet man, who seems to keep to himself. While others might be conversing, his
nose is in his siddur. The</span><!--EndFragment-->
only time that he raises his voice
is during the shnudering. (auction of aliyos). When he told the gabbai (shul sexton) that he was giving me the aliyah he had purchased, I had the
impression that the gabbai exhaled and rolled his eyes. But I could have been
wrong about that. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-AU;">A lot of my experience
in that shul is good, <span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt;">which is why I go there as often as I do, which admittedly, isn’t often.</span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Times; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: Times; mso-fareast-font-family: "MS 明朝"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-fareast;">. I always make it a point to be there
on Rosh Hashanna, solely because of the way tikias hashofar are carried
out. </span><!--EndFragment-->
way the khal (community) recites kapital M’Z (Psalm 47) out loud seven times before
the tekios, everyone says it, everyone! And then the rov starts min hameitzar (Out of the Depths prayer before shofar blowing),
every word, he’s saying it from so deep inside himself and he makes the brochos
so slowly and carefully, even though during the actual blowing of the tekios, the rabbi seems a bit unskilled, so sometimes it’s frustrating, waiting three four five minutes until he squeaks
out a tekiah, but really it doesn’t matter. The whole reason I go to this shul is to be
there for tekios shofar. </span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt;">There is clearly so much kavana and attention being brought to this
momentous moment; for me it exudes kedusha. Speaking of which, saying kedusha in that shule is also a
high point for me, as it’s screamed out, sung out, clapped to. It would be danced to, if we were
allowed to move our feet!</span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Times; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: Times; mso-fareast-font-family: "MS 明朝"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-fareast;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><br />
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<b>Are you ever confronted by your
fear of </b><b>frum</b><b> Jews?</b><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-AU;"> </span></div>
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<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-AU;">Constantly. I just had an insight. Every time I say “frum
Jews”, I really mean confronting a fear of my own “inadequacy”.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b>How is the </b><b>frum</b><b> world
changing?</b></div>
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<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-AU;">My friend, now,
finally gets invitations to chassunos that are addressed to her and her
girlfriend, from the baal tefillah of the Chassidic shul. Five years ago, she would get the invitation, but not her girlfriend, which was very hirtful for them. It seems to me that that's a huge deal. A lesbian couple is receiving an invitation to a chassidic chasuna. Amazing!</span></div>
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<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-AU;">I’ve met a man at Eshel
who told me that he got smicha (rabbinical ordination) at 770 (Chabad) and when I said “You live in
Crown Heights?” he said that there are a lot of gay men who live in Crown
Heights. Some are out and some are not. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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In one month I am offering a two day conference on working with shame for therapists. It’s kind of
like a big coming out party for me. The reason why I have chosen to do a
conference on shame is because I am aware of its profound influence on my life. I am
aware that many of my answers all boil down to a sense of shame about myself.<br />
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The direction that shame takes us is deeper inside ourselves and away
from the world which creates a sense of isolation and estrangement. Coming
out is davka (exactly) the antidote to shame. Moving outward is the
only way that we can ever connect with other people. It’s the only hope we have
for finding the sense of connection and community which is what all people
long for. </div>
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<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-AU;">As I say in the conference, at bottom we are all dogs! A dog wants
nothing more than to be with others, a dog is happy just sitting at the feet
of its master or friend. A dog alone is unhappy.
<!--StartFragment--><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt;">That aloneness is what I feel both when I imagine I’m not welcome in a frum
minyan, as well as when I’m davening with friends I love, but whose davening
practices leave me a bit empty.</span> I did notice this
past Yom Kippur, in my own chavura, when I was the shliach tzibur for Kol Nidrei, that I put myself
out more freely than I ever have in the past and I noticed the response was
more lively, more enthusiastic than I’d ever experienced in the past. I <!--StartFragment--><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt;">believe the more I put myself out there in an authentic way, the more</span> I am available to
be met.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-AU;">If you could ask the frum world for one thing?</span></b></div>
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<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-AU;">Don’t be so afraid.
I’m talking both to myself and to the frum world. To the frum world I'd like to say,When you roll your eyes and
judge people with your opinions and your words, you make them “other”. It’s about fear. You are afraid of what will happen if you allow yourselves to be open to difference. The Jewish world is soooo frightened of difference. I
think our brutal history makes it understandable, but it’s a harsh way to live
and it creates a harsh environment for all of us. I would ask
you, for my sake, as well as for your own, to try and be less scared. Or to put
it in a positive direction, to open up, to love. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04731936564891970650noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-569497739006959608.post-43562718543835995292013-10-28T17:02:00.000-05:002013-11-04T17:51:49.777-06:00THE MIKVA LADY<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I've been a mikva lady for sixteen years. I like it. When my kids grew up and were no longer needing as much attention in the house, I found I had the time to do work outside the home and the work I ended up doing was supervising tevilos (immersions). The mikva.<br />
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The mikva is a mitzva that I really appreciate. It's very holy in there. The women say the most intense prayers of their lives and I am a witness to that. There is also a lot of crying, because many of the women have special things they ask for, in the merit of the mitzva. Maybe children. Maybe good shidduchim (matches) for their kids. Parnossah (income). Sholom bayis (marital harmony). Whatever. I think that intention changes the nature of things.<br />
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For me, when I used the mikva, the thing I wished for is not to be gay. Because I'm gay. it gave me a lot of worries, being the mikva lady, you better believe it! Imagine if the women found out! They would think I was a very bad person. Instead, I was obsessed with making sure that no one could ever say I had looked at them in that way. I am always very careful to hold up a robe or a towel when the woman is coming out of the mikva and to keep her covered and tznius otherwise. I think the only way they might be able to tell that I am gay is because of how respectful I am of women.<br />
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Sometimes there are arguments or discussions in the mikva (not that people talk in there very much, but sometimes) about what is right for women, and I always say that women should be treated well, that we deserve good things, that no one has the right to treat a woman badly. I tell women whose husbands aren't treating them right to go to the Rov. Maybe they could tell I am gay from that? I don't know, but it's always worried me. It makes me crazy! I just want to do a good job for the ladies and not ever have someone point the finger and say I was doing my job for a bad reason, because I am perverted, evil etc. I'm not! I love my work and I love the mitzva and that's all there is to it!<br />
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My special favorite is when new brides come in and they are very nervous, but usually excited too and their mother is there, often secretly crying, and I think about how this is the beginning of a new Jewish home, a beginning in holiness and tahara (purity). I don't think every bride feels like she is in love. That's ridiculous. I don't think that's as important as the feeling of commitment and excitement to be starting a Jewish home.<br />
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You asked me how I knew I am gay and that's a good question. I didn't know until I saw how some women feel about their husbands. They feel so connected! You can see how excited they are and happy and whatever when they come in to the mikva and I knew, absolutely knew, that that was not the case with me. I knew I liked spending time with my best friend, a woman, far more than I enjoyed spending time with my husband. It's not that he's not a good guy. He's nice. But, you know how it is when you are with a friend, someone you are really comfortable with, and the words just flow, and you feel so at ease and that's how it is with me and other women. But not with men. I'm just not interested in their company. So, when I figured that out, it was a hallelu-kah moment! And not in a good way, if you know what I mean.<br />
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But I figured I don't have to do anything about it. It's just information for me to hang onto and know about myself. It's not like I'm going to break my family up over it or anything. My husband is a decent man. Part of that is because then, all these women who have been coming to my mikva, are going to start rethinking themselves and me and wondering if all these years they've been kosher. And they have! They really have! I couldn't bear to think how much hurt there would be to all these people if I came out or somehow got found out. That would be the most terrible thing ever. And there's no point to it.<br />
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I don't want to find a female partner. I don't think I could be part of the chassidish world if I did that, and this is where I have work, friends, my whole family! I do sometimes imagine what it would be like. Uh...warm...friendly...more talking. But that's all. Just imagining.<br />
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I've recently been talking to a friend about this, someone who actually is frum and gay, or as much like that as someone can be. She keeps everything, but I wouldn't say she's an active part of the community. People stare at her and they for sure talk behind her back. But there's a lot of people who admire her too, for being who she is and not bowing to pressure. Still, I wouldn't want to be her. I think my job makes it that I can never come out.<br />
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It's a good question, if gay women should be able to use the mikva. I think they should. Because they are still building a Jewish home and if they want to do the mitzva of mikva and it's important to them, why shouldn't they be able to do it? It's a beautiful mitzva. Are the frum police going to come into their homes and tell them they can't light shabbos candles because it's only for straight couples? No! So we shouldn't do that with the mikva either. Mitzvos are for everyone.<br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04731936564891970650noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-569497739006959608.post-77848357507264585592013-10-27T17:16:00.001-05:002013-10-27T17:16:06.359-05:00THE LESBIAN PROFESSOR: NOT OUT TO FAMILY AND FRIENDS<!--StartFragment-->
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I’m not out in the community where I live
in England. I’m Israeli. I grew up in a religious family and we are Ashkenazim.
I was married for a very short time to a man, but I had no children. We didn’t
get divorced because I was gay but for different reasons. I was about
thirty-eight when I realized I was gay. I was reading a book and only halfway
into the book, I realized it was about more than “friendship” between two women.
One of the heroines in the book had a life much like mine, and I started to
look back on my own life and learn a bit about what it means to be a lesbian.
It was a revelation. This is who I am!</div>
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In a way, it was a relief. It was hard,
too, because at that time I was the only Orthodox woman who was gay that I
knew. Besides, you know the stories about the woman who has so many cats and
lives all by herself on the other side of the community? I didn’t see myself
like that, a crazy cat lady. I’m allergic to cats! I’d never met a lesbian in my
life. I thought I’ll probably live by myself for the rest of my life. I thought
that’s okay. I still think so.</div>
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Back then, in the 90’s, I thought I am
different from everyone else in the Orthodox world.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I had this feeling that I don’t want to get married to a
man. Now what? Where do I go from here? I found out a very important detail
about myself and then there’s nowhere to go!</div>
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Well, I got older and nothing happened. I
kept it to myself. I got my masters in Jewish Studies and I started to do research.
I didn’t even know how to get on the internet at that time, the web was in
diapers, but I still started to look for a forum within the Jewish world. I
knew I wasn’t going to become non-frum because of being gay. My question really
was: How will I live now? I even thought about doing my dissertation about it.
I did research, and I realized I can live by myself. It’s not such a big deal
in halacha, and worse comes to worst, someone will slap me! Someone will try to
shame me! But if someone hits me, I will hit them back! (I’m a tough Israeli).</div>
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Ultimately, I knew I’d have to go back to
Israel to find out more about being gay. I returned to Israel and I started to
look around and I started learning about LGBT life, mainly through the
internet. The first time I went out to do something with my knowledge, there
had been an ad in paper, The Pink Times. Someone put an ad in there, that they
were looking for educators to help youth. I thought, ‘I am an educator and a
counselor, so maybe I could help youth.’ I went to the first meeting and there
was a famous woman there, and some other people, all gay, all looking gay. I
told them I was frum. And they said, “We do not want of your sort. Because you
try to make us frum.”</div>
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I left that meeting thinking I was <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">definitely </i>the only person like me. I felt
I had to leave, but the next time I wanted to explore, I went online, and there
was IOL, (Israel on Line) and I found a forum, and on the forum was the first
openly gay, young frum lesbian, and she said to me, “You’re frum!” I was so
shocked! I realized I wasn’t by myself! There was more than just me.</div>
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The community was very very small at that
time, but a year later, a group of women started a frum lesbian forum and
slowly, it grew. Then I left again for England, and that group created Bat Kol.
I kept in touch with everyone through that group, and I was as supportive as I
could be. I couldn’t always get to the meetings, because I worked overseas.</div>
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I am in my sixties now. I live as a single
person in a Noah’s ark of people, because everyone surrounding me is coupled,
all heterosexual. I have no gay friends in this town. I don’t know any one. Plus,
my gaydar is bad.</div>
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<span lang="EN-US"> <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta;"> Gay or just very very happy?</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US">I met my last girlfriend thirteen years
ago, online. We were together for seven years. I had one other girlfriend, but
she was my first girlfriend and it didn’t last. With a same gender partner,
there is warmth and wit and intelligence.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>You don’t have to say too much to be understood.</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US">One member of my community is a shadchanit
[matchmaker], and she tried once to set me up, and I asked her not to anymore. I
told her that where I am, please don’t bother. And at my age, it’s a little
more complicated anyway. So then, the shadchanit got off my back. I’m closeted,
but on the other hand, sometimes people <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">do</i>
understand things without needing to be told. I don’t need to have a sign on my
nose.</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
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My family don’t know I am gay, but I did
come out to my niece. She told me her mother (my sister) thinks that I am gay.
And my cousin called me one day, after looking at my Facebook page and asked me
if I’m gay, and I said yes! I won’t lie. I’m not a liar. But as long as I don’t
have a partner, there’s no reason for me to come out.</div>
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<span lang="EN-US"> <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">But, if you don't look at Facebook, you won't know I'm gay...</span></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US">My mother, I think, A”H, did not like my ex-girlfriend.
Maybe she knew but didn’t ask. Just like in the American army. My father is in
his 90’s and I don’t feel the need to come out to him. If he asks me, I would
not lie, but there’s no reason for me to come out. I don’t ask myself a
question like that, what would happen if I came out to my family, because I
would be completely utterly alone and lonely if they rejected me.</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"></span>I do not have close friends in the
community where I live now. I <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">do</i> have
close friends but they don’t live here. They live in Israel and I am out to
them. It doesn’t work that easily to meet people here. I can’t always be
running back to Israel. I work here now. </div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span>I used to work in Jewish education for the Jewish
Agency but now I am the head of the Hebrew department at an English university.
There are a lot of gay people in academia. At university, I have no problem if
someone knows I am gay. I’m me. That’s all.</div>
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There are two sides of me and they live
very peacefully together. I don’t see any problem. The only thing that is hard
is that I am by myself. I don’t even wish for a partner, but just someone that
I can be completely me with. And she should live nearby! I do have a non-Jewish
friend who I met through my ex. She’s not gay but we are good friends. One of
the things I like to do is go to estate sales, and she knows the area very
well, and I get to see unusual places. There’s wonderful things to see and find
in these old houses in England. Her husband sleeps in on Sunday and she is
happy to go out with me. And I can talk with her about everything, because she
knows that I am gay. That loneliness is the hardest part of my life. I have no
conflict with being frum and gay.</div>
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<span lang="EN-US">In Israel, I belong to a group, not Bat Kol,
that are gay. Some are married to men, some are ultra-orthodox, and it’s a very
eclectic group. We meet twice a year, at least one Shabbat a year, and it’s a
wonderful group! Thank G-d for all these smart phone apps and skype, so we can
talk as much as we want. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">That’s</i>
something that didn’t exist before. The people in my group don’t see any
problem with being frum and gay and neither do I. </span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
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I don’t know what is the best part of being
frum and gay! I have no idea how to answer. At least I know who I am and I am
not confused. I don’t see the contradiction between these parts of myself. I
have grey hair and blue-grey eyes. What’s hard about that? That’s who I am. No
contradiction but different parts of myself.</div>
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I did all the confronting when I was
eighteen, and I was a student. I had to ask myself then, ‘Why am I frum?’ and
then, when I realized I was gay, I had to confront the gayness, and from that
moment on I just live my life, as I am.</div>
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If a young woman would come to me and say I
feel I am gay and I want to stay frum, then I would help her find a way to do
it. I try to be the best D I can be and it’s not a conflict in my life. I try
to do the best I can, combining all elements of my life, but it’s not a
constant plaything for me. My mind gets to rest.</div>
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<span lang="EN-US">I don’t have the need to belong to a group
but it’s nice to know there are other people beating with the same feelings and
expressions. At some point, my group did talk about what’s okay, what’s not
okay. We all read the same books and articles and the gemarah. We had many
talks on the subject of lesbian women. I wonder if anyone can get to the pages
where we did that discussion online? Maybe that information is buried after all
these years? Well, it was nice to be able to talk with people about these
subjects. I was really really closeted back then, and during those online
chats, it was like being able to be all the parts of myself, and yet still a
bit secretly because we used screen names. And then, when we finally met the
actual people in the group, not under a screen name, that was <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">very</i> nice. It was suddenly true that we
had known each other secretly for 15 years, but under nicknames!</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US">I think the integration of frum gay people
is happening already. In many communities. I would still like to see that if
two women walk down the street and go to shul and they are a couple, it would be
exactly like a man and wife going to shul for holidays and Shabbat and no one would
think it is a strange thing. They would see them as a family. Here in England,
once in a while, there’s a gay minyan, but it’s not in walking distance, so I
can’t go. I wish that whoever wants to live openly, can live openly just like anyone
else. If they think they need to break a glass to live together, then so be it.
Anyway, that’s what I am seeing - in some communities, gay couples are accepted
just like any other family.</span></div>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-8xBxiJKRiDM/Um2N9yXXiyI/AAAAAAAACXY/C-hT8_DT7ys/s1600/family3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-8xBxiJKRiDM/Um2N9yXXiyI/AAAAAAAACXY/C-hT8_DT7ys/s1600/family3.jpg" /></a></div>
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There’s an Israeli group on Facebook called
(translated)<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"> </i>“I’m a Frum Feminist and
I Have No Sense of Humour.”<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"> </i>It’s not
even a year old, but in the last seven months, almost five thousand women and
men have joined. In the last few months, the changes they have brought on have
been incredible! Even fully Orthodox shuls have allowed women to dance with
Torah, and many other things too, and suddenly it’s become, why not? That’s the
attitude I want to see towards the frum gay community. Normalcy. If two women
in Satmar want to go into the shul with their little boy or girl, it should be
normal. My grandparents were Satmar.</div>
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-fBZbrCqDcSg/Um2KTS5notI/AAAAAAAACWU/976IWBRyFnE/s1600/neck-tzniut-guideline-768x1024.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-fBZbrCqDcSg/Um2KTS5notI/AAAAAAAACWU/976IWBRyFnE/s400/neck-tzniut-guideline-768x1024.jpg" width="300" /></a></div>
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<span lang="EN-US">Yehuda Meshi Zahav, he is the head of Zaka.
Twenty years ago, he was the leader of all the anti-zionist guys that gave the
Israeli police the worst time ever. They demonstrated all over Yerushalayim. He
was horrible. But suddenly, after a terrorist attack that happened right in
front of him, he realized that Israel was not such a bad country. He was
completely anti-zionist, but he changed his perspective and now helps the country.</span></div>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-B_UvSTpR8z0/Um2N9VQA1wI/AAAAAAAACXI/Jbro0SD16JA/s1600/0202124-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-B_UvSTpR8z0/Um2N9VQA1wI/AAAAAAAACXI/Jbro0SD16JA/s400/0202124-2.jpg" width="306" /></a></div>
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It should be just okay to be yourself. Young
girls who suffer from their families because they are gay, should just find
acceptance. I can feel the change. I can<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">
see</i> change in the frum community. In less than a generation, the change
will be there.</div>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-FWHnM6Evl-c/Um2KTmtLjzI/AAAAAAAACWs/TvuRwyMNZw0/s1600/purim9.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-FWHnM6Evl-c/Um2KTmtLjzI/AAAAAAAACWs/TvuRwyMNZw0/s1600/purim9.jpg" /></a></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04731936564891970650noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-569497739006959608.post-1997817868800970492013-10-22T11:55:00.001-05:002013-10-22T11:55:35.622-05:00HELP!: HOW TO READ THIS BLOG<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-apa_RDTzT8M/UmatTDj5UvI/AAAAAAAACUo/qLFycq4fPfk/s1600/537213_692715554090407_1818058885_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-apa_RDTzT8M/UmatTDj5UvI/AAAAAAAACUo/qLFycq4fPfk/s400/537213_692715554090407_1818058885_n.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-apa_RDTzT8M/UmatTDj5UvI/AAAAAAAACUo/qLFycq4fPfk/s1600/537213_692715554090407_1818058885_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a>It turns out that there are lots of people reading a blog for the first time who are coming to this site for information. And then, they can't figure out how to get to it. If that sounds like you, here's help:</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-3aRRF_DWzGc/UmatTBhmQBI/AAAAAAAACUs/AqRMdeinhKk/s1600/frown-920x1024.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-3aRRF_DWzGc/UmatTBhmQBI/AAAAAAAACUs/AqRMdeinhKk/s400/frown-920x1024.jpg" width="358" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
1. There are a lot of interviews. You can see (and click on) some of the popular ones on the right hand (your right hand) side bar (where there are titles and little pictures).<br />
<br />
2. You can find interviews about things you are interested in by looking at the "Cloud" called Labels, which is also on the side bar. It's a lot of words in decreasing size order. If you click on one of those words, you will be taken to a group of interviews that have that word as a subject.<br />
<br />
3. If you keep on scrolling down, still on the right hand side, your right hand side, you will see something called Blog Archive. In there, you can see all of the recent articles, but if you click on (let's say) September, it will show you the titles of all of the interviews from September.<br />
<br />
4. At the bottom of the right hand side, you will see a list of resources for Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, and Transgender Jews who are also frum. you can get to these resources by clicking on them. Many of those sites have other contacts and information for you.<br />
<br />
5. Within the interviews, anytime you see coloured (usually blue) text, if you click on it, it will take you to a helpful link, usually organizations or articles having to do with frum gay Jews.<br />
<br />
6. My email address is hiddenjews@gmail.com. it's listed at the top of the page, and if you click on it there, it will take you directly to email.<br />
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Happy reading!<br />
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-HcjkFhwJBo0/UmatTMKsAGI/AAAAAAAACUk/9fUO6xAMQyM/s1600/970401_626123364082960_2037396573_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-HcjkFhwJBo0/UmatTMKsAGI/AAAAAAAACUk/9fUO6xAMQyM/s400/970401_626123364082960_2037396573_n.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
Now you are one of the cool Jews.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04731936564891970650noreply@blogger.com0