By: Willie Recht
Chief Development Officer
Sadly, not a lot has changed since I wrote the Pride Shabbat message last year. The “anti-Zionist” (and I am being generous here) sentiment has only grown stronger and the division between queer Jews and the broader LGBTQIA+ community has widened. Personally, this sucks. I was hoping—maybe delusionally so—that when we approached this year’s Pride, things would be in a better place, and I could write a message of a different tone from that of the struggles and angst I shared with you all last year. But they have not, and again I have been faced with such questions as, “Should I even participate?” And, more importantly, “Should the Jewish community?”
While I am tough enough to withstand ugly words, hateful signs, and even physical intimidation (as was the case at last year’s Pride), the last thing that I would want to do is put myself, my family, or my community in true physical danger.
While this might sound dramatic, think back just three short weeks ago when a group of Jews—including a Holocaust survivor—gathered peacefully in Boulder and were lit on fire in public and broad daylight. And weeks before that, a couple were shot dead in front of a Jewish institution in Washington D.C. Couple these gruesome hate crimes with the war with Iran, the world’s response, and the fact that Jewish communities in multiple cities across the United States have pulled out of Pride Marches and you get a sobering picture. Even our queer Jewish friends in Colorado Springs made the difficult decision not to participate in their local Pride festivities this year out of concern for their safety. Taken together, the big picture does not leave a lot of room for “Pride.”
And now, I have to write about it. I tried to give it lightness, and it just wasn’t there. As I sat down to rewrite this message about Pride and attempted to connect it to this week’s Parsha – Korach – I had a hard time. And then I found something that seemed somewhat relatable, with a dash of hope, shared by Rabbi Lord Jonathan Sacks (z”l). He talked about disputes, some of which are for the sake of heaven, and those which are not. In this week’s parsha, it is displayed that Korach was the embodiment of what the Sages called argument not for the sake of heaven. They contrasted this with the schools of Hillel and Shammai, who argued for the sake of heaven. The difference between them, according to Bartenura, a 15th-century rabbi, is that an argument for the sake of heaven is an argument for the sake of truth. There are Korachs within the LGBTQIA+ community, and I do not believe those who choose to disrupt Pride and spew anti-Zionist and antisemitic rhetoric (it’s the same to me) create these disputes for the sake of truth. Not real truth.
The most egregious instance in this parsha is the accusation levelled by Datan and Aviram: “Isn’t it enough that you have brought us up out of a land flowing with milk and honey to kill us in the wilderness?” This is a forerunner to the mistruths, alternative facts, and unholy disputes we face today. These were obvious lies, but they knew that if you said them often enough at the right time, someone would believe them. Sound familiar?
This is precisely what led to the he hundreds of people who shut down last year’s Pride March and stormed the stage at the festival, getting a crowd of thousands to jump up and down, chanting, at best, “Free Palestine” with flags and signs that read, “Jews are not allowed at Pride.” And this is only one small example of what the queer Jewish community is facing across the globe.
So, what is one to do? What am I to do? And what is the Jewish, and queer Jewish community to do?
For many, and even myself at times, hiding feels like the easier and safer way. Like many others, I refuse to let fear and false narratives dictate my choices or diminish my presence in either of my communities. I am choosing to march in Pride this weekend because queer Jews belong in queer spaces, period. Our stories, our struggles, and our joy are part of the LGBTQIA+ narrative, regardless of what protesters or misinformed organizations claim and/or permit. I will show up not to instigate, but rather in the spirit of Hillel and Shammai. I will take up space not just for myself, but for the queer Jewish community who feels caught between worlds and who questions whether they belong. Our visibility is an act of resistance against those who would erase us from any community we call home.
So, this weekend, I will show up. And I will march. I will march for resilience, for belonging, and for the right to celebrate Pride as my full, authentic self—Jewish and queer, undaunted by those who would have us choose sides. It might be scary at times and uncomfortable too, but we have a right to be there and to be present. It is impossible to predict exactly what will happen, but I want to thank the JCC, JEWISHcolorado, The Center, and SCN for taking the safety of all participants at this year’s festival seriously.
There is still time to sign up to march with the Jewish community and we would love to see you downtown this weekend. Our presence matters.
Lots of love, and Shabbat Shalom.
Willie
Please email Willie Recht at wrecht@jewishcolorado.org with questions or comments.