Every June, I look forward to pride – not just for parades, music, and rainbow flags, but because it is a sacred reminder: You are still a sacred reminder: You are still a sacred reminder: You are here. Resist it. Still love. Still building a world where everyone can live as their full, true self.
Pride always feels like home. This is the first space I feel that I hug myself. Where can i get all i carry – Jew and Queer – that doesn’t have to choose between identities. But this year, that feeling of likeness of feelings is more uncertain.
Since October 7, we have seen a sharp increase in antisemitism – all over the country, around the world, and right here in Great Boston. And I heard from the friends of the Jewish brothers and sisters, they asked if it was safe – or welcome – to show pride in this year.
Not because they feared people outside the movement, but because they were not sure if their whole self was shut down inside it.
It’s not hypothetical. In Chicago, the dyke marches clearly excluding the participants who carried the rainbow flags to the Jewish stars. In Washington DC, groups of Jews were told their presence of pride in events that did not want Israel to criticize Israel. In Philadelphia, organizers discourage an organization of HGBTQ Jewish because of his principle of Israel. In San Francisco, Jewish pride participants faced harassment for carrying symbols like David’s star. And only days ago, two of the Israeli Embassy Embassy was killed outside the capital Museum of Washington, DC, after attending an event that promotes peace and humanitarian diplomacy. This terrible attack promotes the vulnerability of Jewish communities who continue to face while antisemitism will rise across the country.
I hear the questions: Am I happy when I wear David’s star? Should I keep my connection with Israel? Will I be judged or exclaimed in simple Jews?
In Temple Israel in Boston, we hug the amount of Jews to “Maklaket L’Rem Sh’mayim,” or “misunderstandings for heaven.” This means that we have many views about all the subjects of the Jews, including Israel and the war in Gaza. And we work hard to stay relationship with differences. That is what the true community means: make space for encouragement, because of disagreement, and for each other.
That same spirit is on the Boston Pride.
The power of pride is often the radical inconsistency – the urge of these people in each race, background, gender, faith, and politics deserves, and love. Should include Jewish LGBTQ + people with all our diversity.
We gathered by a shared wish to live completely and without hiding or shrinking about who we – not in any particular perspective.
To be clear: the criticism of Israeli policy is fair, and often necessary. But when the Jews LGBTQ + people feel pressure to recognize their Zionist identity or control their grief to receive, that is the problem. That’s not justice – it’s red.
This year, I joined a festive bridge, an organization working to advance the LGBTQ + life in Jewish life – and joining the Jews in LGBTQ + spaces. Join, we work with guarantee guarantees here in Boston to ensure that the Jewish voices are accepted – not despite our identities, but because of them.
To those who organize Boston Pride: Thanks. Your leadership is possible. As you prepare for these events this year, I hope you keep listening to the LGBTQ voices in Jews and making the place for everyone we are.
At allies at LGBTQ +: Let us continue to build a movement that rooted true unity. That means standing antisemontism in all its forms – even if it’s subtle, even if uncomfortable.
And with every Jew Quier thinking when you’re still in pride: you do. You are a good idea for who you mean. Show up. Wear your symbols of pride, both Jews and again. LGBTQ is strong in Boston + community because you have.
I will return to the Boston Pride this year – marching not only for myself, but for all who are told that they are also Jews, the most politically, or very strong. Because it is our movement, too. And we deserve to be there – perfect and happy.
Andrew Oberstein was the Rabbi in the Temple of Israel in Boston, the largest Boston congregation.
