by Amram Altzman for Newvoices.com
I
had the honor of speaking at the Jewish Orthodox Feminist Alliance’s
Voices of Change conference last week, where I, only for a day, became a
high school student once again and spoke on a panel about navigating
relationships and sexuality in high school as a feminist. While
speaking, the topic of Shemirut Negi’ah, or the rabbinic prohibition of
members of one sex touching members of the other sex, came up. It was
there and then that I realized how abandoned I felt by the guidelines
that dictate the movement with which, at least on a theological level, I
identify.To be sure, I’ve felt some sort of separation between myself and the Orthodox world since I came out of the closet over two years ago (something that has been chronicled in New Voices), and I always felt somewhat abandoned by the Orthodox community. However, that separation between myself and Orthodoxy became even more pronounced as a result of speaking at the conference.
To be clear: I spent about fifteen whole minutes being shomer negi’ah when I was in sixth grade, and then promptly stopped — at the time, for no apparent reason. Since then, I’ve never really looked back, and do not regret my decision.
However, in starting to seriously think about issues like this, I’ve come to truly understand just how much of the Jewish legal tradition — the same tradition that I was taught was timeless, applied to me, and that, as a “Good Jew,” I was charged with protecting and transmitting to the next generation — no longer applied to me. Given the fact that the rabbis who wrote the Talmud, the basis for the whole genres of legal literature that came after it, could not fathom two members of the same gender entering a lasting, romantic relationship and raising children, and that homosexual acts (or, at the very least, male homosexual acts) are biblically prohibited, there was never any need to include such discussions in the Talmud.
Thus, according to the strictest interpretations of rabbinic literature, if I wanted to obey the letter of the law, I would be barred from physical contact with women, but not from men. And, given the fact that I am queer, this seems horribly backward.
While I’m not about to become shomer negi’ah right now, the fact of the matter is that the Modern Orthodox community has started looking past the biblical prohibition that, in the past, meant that LGBTQ people could not remain part of the Modern Orthodox community. Halakhah, or Jewish law, however, has stayed behind.
Continue reading.
Habayit
Hayehudi yesterday decided to support a bill that would grant tax
exemptions to same-sex parents, after vehemently trying to topple the
bill with a compromise draft of its own. The bill, sponsored by Yesh
Atid MK Adi Kol, will be brought for a preliminary vote in the Knesset
on Wednesdau.
In
Alvin Orloff's novel Gutterboys—written in 2004, but set in the punk
fever of the early 1980s—Jeremy Rabinowitz is a shy 19-year-old Jewish
kid desperate to fit in with the gay Manhattan avant-garde....or to just
find a boyfriend who'll love him forever. Unfortunately, the best he
can manage is to sneak into dance clubs with his (regrettably female)
best friend, Lizzie, the lead singer of a New Wave band.
In
September 2012, Dr. Haim Kaplan, a high-ranking surgeon at Sheba
Medical Center, Tel Hashomer, went on sabbatical. That was more than a
year ago. Dr. Kaplan was the only surgeon in Israel who was authorized
to perform sex-reassignment surgeries — and since he went on sabbatical,
no such operations have been performed in Israel, even though he has
since returned. The fact that Israel has one of the world’s highest
doctor-to-patient ratios on earth does not change the untenable
situation for Israel’s transgender community, and the waiting list for
the surgery is only growing longer.
Reconstructionist Judaism has a new leader. For the first time, she is a woman — and a lesbian.
As
a candidate to become the Middle East's first openly gay mayor, Nitzan
Horowitz is hoping his bid to run Israel's famously liberal city of Tel
Aviv will help homosexuals across a region where they are widely frowned
upon.
friend's house party at 2 o'clock in the morning, tired from drinking.
Nearing the corner of Kingston Ave., I hear an aching chant. It is a
prayer, the v'ahavta, and it comes from an elderly woman in a ratty
dress, shuckling on the mezzanine of the Chabad synagogue. I stop and
blink once, twice. She sees me and motions for me to come over, to join
her. I sit beside her and begin to recite it, this prayer I know with
easy memory. A communal longing surges through me from the bottom of my
ribcage, igniting my bone marrow. It is only after we end the prayer
with a quiet, resounding "amen" that she asks for my name.
Publications
aimed for a queer Jewish audience, like any niche-aimed work, tend to
concentrate on certain themes. There are your coming out to your
community publications, there are your famous-queer-Jews publications,
there are your “my story” publications.
When my uncle Bill Murstein died on June 7,
1967, at age 70, he was eulogized as a civic leader, philanthropist, and
noted owner of his eponymous department store, Wilmurs, which had been
the major retail presence in Hamilton, Ohio, for 32 years. The extensive
obituary in the Hamilton Daily Journal cited his many
accomplishments, local and national, and the edifices he endowed,
including the William Murstein Synagogue at Hebrew Union College,
Jerusalem, and the Murstein Alumni Center at Miami University. But the
article made no mention of Sanford Eaffy, his companion of at least 33
years, who had died just four months earlier.
In the next few years, the number of transgender rabbis in America is expected to double — from three to six.
Ariel
Schrag began her comic book career as a young freshman at Berkeley High
with “Likewise”, her first graphic memoir. She has since completed a
whole series about her high school experience including, “Potential”,
“Awkward”, and “Definition”. She even went on to create “Stuck in the
Middle”, a comic about her experience in middle school.
JTA
- The largest wildfire in California’s history has led to the
evacuation of a Jewish summer camp and destroyed at least one of its
buildings.
The
London Olympics last year, I’m sure you’ll agree, were a smashing
success, despite all the public grumbling about “unreadiness” and
“terrible British weather” that preceded them. Michael Phelps and the
U.S. women’s gymnastic team were dizzyingly triumphant, nobody died in
any freak accidents and/or terrorist attacks, and thanks to Kenneth
Branagh and his Abraham Lincoln costume, the world finally learned of
the glorious achievements of Isambard Kingdom Brunel.
A
number of years ago a friend asked me to co-write a ritual to mark his
gender-transition to manhood. I say “friend,” but it would be more accurate to
call him “queer family.” I am also a transgender Jew, and he is as close to me
as my brothers are. Even so, I was hesitant. 
After responding to private inquiries sent to me over
the last few weeks asking for my view on the Wolpe-Naim Affair, I’ve decided to
express my thoughts in this essay. In a nutshell, Conservative Rabbi David Wolpe
of Sinai Temple in LA recently announced that his synagogue would begin
performing gay marriages. In response, synagogue member Michael Naim circulated
a letter harshly criticizing the rabbi’s decision. Mr. Naim also chose to leave
the synagogue.
When
it comes to the acceptance of transgender Jews, the American Jewish community is
itself in a moment of transition. 
Lucy Renee Mathilde Schwob was a prolific writer,
photographer, and actor who didn't like to be called any of the above. But while
she eschewed labels in her personal life, her art revolved around identity. In
her theatrical and often androgynously
It
was a cold day in February 2008 when I hopped on the M train from my
home in Manhattan and headed to Brooklyn Adorned, a tattoo shop on
Bedford Avenue in Williamsburg. The shop was spacious, clean, and
comfortable—not what I expected from a tattoo parlor. Artistic pictures
of tattoos hung on the wall as if they were featured in a museum. As I
wondered if my tattoo would proudly be displayed on the wall, a tattoo
artist named Yoni looked at me, glanced up at my yarmulke, and asked,
“So, where do you want your tattoo, yeshiva boy?”
NEW
YORK (JTA) — For my bar mitzvah, my parents got me a laptop. For what I searched
for on it, they got me a shrink. 
During June, designated as LGBT Pride Month, we often
read Parashah Balak. It is a curious tale, replete with a talking donkey and the
roundabout air of prophecy; a story of attempted curses that ultimately lead to
blessings. 

Jewish Week's “36 under 36” section, now in its sixth
year, was born after Jewish Week staffers reflected that there ought to be a way
to honor the best and the brightest young stars in the firmament of New York's
Jewish community.
Last week, the Supreme Court heard testimony in two
cases that may decide the future of same-sex marriage in the United States. But
personally, I’ve been more concerned lately with same-sex divorce. 