For Transgender Converts, Changing Gender and Finding Faith Come Together

Judaism Plays Key Role in Personal Journeys of Transition

By Naomi Zeveloff for The Jewish Daily Forwards

Growing up female and Methodist in the Midwest, Kadin Henningsen was inexplicably drawn to Judaism, empathizing with characters in Holocaust documentaries on TV.

Then in junior high, Henningsen had a revelation while reading Chaim Potok’s “The Chosen”: “I remember thinking I was supposed to grow up to be a Jewish man.”

Less than two decades later, the premonition came true. At 30, Henningsen transitioned genders and converted to Judaism, all within the span of a single summer. “It was a circular process,” he said. “The more entrenched I became in Jewish knowledge, the more comfortable I started to feel with my masculine identity.”

Henningsen’s conversion certificates were the first documents that referred to him with male pronouns. Today, at 35, he is an active member of Beth Chayim Chadashim, a Reform congregation in Los Angeles that bills itself as the world’s first lesbian, gay, bisexual and transgender synagogue.

Henningsen is not alone in his trajectory. Transgender converts constitute a vocal — and some say growing — minority within the small community of LGBT Jews. For some trans converts, or, as many call themselves, “Jews by choice,” conversion was intrinsically linked to gender transition; the process of soul-searching unearthed one truth after another. For others, Judaism was a lifeline during a time of immense vulnerability and isolation. When friends and family members grew distant, transgender individuals found community at the Hillel House or at the local synagogue.

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Marking Gender Transition in the Mikveh

One Transgender Jew Writes a Ritual for Another 

By Max Strassfeld for The Jewish Daily Forward 

 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.

While there are several rabbis in my family, I am an academic and not particularly skilled at creating ritual; however, I grew up immersed in a strong, tight-knit Jewish community and am currently finishing up my doctorate in Jewish studies. Out of loyalty to him, I overcame my initial reluctance and promised to try and write something.

At the time, transition rituals for transgender Jews were scarce, although they are becoming more common.

Today there are rituals for many aspects of transition, from taking hormones to changing names. My friend requested a ritual specifically to precede his top surgery, a common procedure undertaken by some transgender men and genderqueers — people who don’t identify as solely male or female — to flatten the chest so that it appears more masculine. While there are traditional Jewish blessings for surviving an ordeal (for which surgery can certainly qualify), these did not seem to fit the moment.

Before my top surgery, for example, I was certainly scared, particularly since I had never undergone surgery. But as a transgender Jew, surgery felt like my bar mitzvah: It represented both a trial that I had to survive and a blessing marking a new stage in my life. I knew I wanted to write a ritual that could capture the complexities of what surgery represented.

My friend’s only guidelines were that he wanted the ritual to center on the mikveh and that he wanted my co-author and me to be the witnesses to his immersion. Since the mikveh is a space that is segregated by sex, we realized from the outset that we were going to have to tackle Judaism’s investment in dividing the world by gender. In general, the broader Jewish community does not always accept the variety of ways in which transgender Jews self-identify. That means that transgender Jews, particularly those of us who do not “pass” as male or female, enter into a sex-segregated space with some trepidation.

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Portrait of an Orthodox Israeli Drag Queen

Daniel Estrin profiles the man behind Rebbetzin Malka Falsche

By Batya Ungar-Sargon for TabletMagazine

Tablet contributor Daniel Estrin has a gripping photo essay in the Associated Press, chronicling a young Israeli cross-dresser, Shahar Hadar, through the stations of his life. In addition to being a cross-dresser, Hadar is also an Orthodox Jew who tried, unsuccessfully, to escape his sexual orientation through marriage. Estrin pairs his characteristically thrilling story-telling skills with some beautiful photos to bring us the tale of the young man who davens by day, dresses in drag by night.

Hadar’s drag persona, Estrin tells us, is “Rebbetzin Malka Falsche”—Rebbetzin False Queen. Rather than separate his drag routine from his religious identity, Hadar weaves the two together in Rebbetzin Malka Falsche, an embodiment of Hadar’s own struggles:

“She blesses, she loves everyone,” said Hadar of his alter-ego, Rebbetzin Malka Falsche. The stage name is a playful take on a Hebrew word meaning “queen” and Hebrew slang for “fake.” Her philosophy, and Hadar’s, draws from the teachings of the Breslov Hasidic stream of ultra-Orthodox Judaism: embrace life’s vicissitudes with joy.

“Usually drag queens are gruff. I decided that I wanted to be happy, entertain people, perform mitzvoth,” or religious deeds, he said.

An encounter with a popular Israeli rebbetzin is what launched Hadar’s inner journey at age 19.

Estrin’s work for Tablet includes a profile of Yityish Aynaw, the newest Miss Israel. He has also reported a series of Vox Tablet podcasts, among them the award-winning report on Jerusalem’s light rail, and the story of a doomed relationship between two men, one Palestinian and the other Jewish.

Wolpe vs Naim: on gay marriage and barking dogs

Posted by Mark Paredes on JewishJournal.com

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.

For the record, I happen to know and respect both men, and am sure that their parting was difficult. I recently dialogued with Rabbi Wolpe at Sinai Temple, and have had the honor of spending a Sabbath evening with Michael and his beautiful family. I agree with most of their views on Israel -- to the extent that they converge, I probably agree with all of them -- and on the issue of gay marriage and Judaism they both get points from me: Michael wins on substance, while the rabbi prevails on style.

I agree 100% with Michael that homosexual acts are condemned in Scripture, and that rabbis shouldn’t conduct same-sex marriage ceremonies. I’ve read every single Conservative responsum on this issue, and do not find the pro-gay marriage ones terribly convincing. Their basic argument is usually that a newfound respect for human dignity (one that apparently eluded biblical prophets and rabbis for centuries) allows for the sanctification of gay relationships and the setting aside of traditional Jewish teaching on sexual morality.

However, missing from the responsa and from Rabbi Wolpe’s public statements is a declaration that these progressive views represent God’s will. Media reports indicate that the rabbi has simply wanted to do this for a long time, and waited for the right moment to announce the policy change. Nowhere have I read that the good rabbi claimed to have received inspiration from God to make the change. While I appreciate his honesty, the truth is that if Rabbi Wolpe doesn’t claim to receive divine inspiration or sanction to perform gay marriages at his synagogue, then there’s no reason to back his decision.

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