My Queer Jewish Soul

Recently, many of us shouted and shared the words “Chag Shavuot Sameach,” as we counted the last Omer, ushered in the cheesecake binge, and pulled an all-night Torah study (I made it until 3 AM). Many of us also shared a quick “Happy Pride Month” with our friends, family, and neighbors, as that day marked the beginning of Pride Month. I celebrated both by engaging in a neurodivergent and queer-centered Torah study and binge-watching Bible movie series from home that night.

I find it fascinating that Shavuot often falls during Pride Month. As a queer, Black, Jewish, and autistic woman, I don't consider this alignment random. With so many attacks on both the LGBTQIA+ and Jewish communities, both in the past and especially now, these intersecting celebrations of unity and eternal love carry deep power and give us a unique message. Shavuot celebrates the giving of the Torah on Mount Sinai to all Jewish people, the guidebook that helped our people become a nation and gave us the fundamental values of how to treat one another that still resonate today. Pride Month honors the ongoing fight for liberation, dignity, and the right to exist authentically. Together, they remind me that Hashem loves ALL of who we are, not just the parts society finds acceptable or “proper”.

I understand if this blog post surprises you—I’ve never written openly about these parts of myself before. You might wonder why I would take pride in being, well, proud. Or why I’d decide to come out as queer. That must mean I’m either a) not observant, or b) willfully rejecting God’s intentional design for my life, right? I once shared these beliefs. I’ve belonged to religious communities in the past that treated being queer, disabled, or neurodivergent as flaws to fix—instead of truths to honor and identities to embrace. It made it hard to accept others or all of myself.

So, why did I change my mind? I’ve asked myself this question. The truth is, it has taken a lot of healing, introspection, Torah study, self-reflection on my identity and internal biases, and a reevaluation of my relationship to labels to come to an understanding of how embracing my unique identity is not a “sin” but instead can be an expression of gratitude and an acknowledgement of Hashem’s distinct presence in my life. I have even gone as far as to reevaluate my relationship with Jewish observance and redefine what Jewish expression means for me. The conclusion I came to was that I wanted to be more observant and that being queer, disabled, and/or neurodivergent, and observant are not mutually exclusive.

A person can be queer, disabled, and/or neurodivergent, and still fully committed to Jewish observance. Plus, observance doesn't just look one way, either, and can vary in practice (that’s a whole other blog post). These practices and identities can coexist, inform one another, and even deepen our spiritual connection to the Divine. And no one should be shamed for choosing different types or forms of observance. Much of what we assume about religious conformity comes not from the Torah itself, but from a Western perspective on it.

I like to think of it this way. Following Torah makes us stand out because it has always been a call to be intentionally distinct and nonconformist.

“You shall be holy to Me, for I the LORD am holy, and I have set you apart from other peoples to be Mine.” (Vayikra 20:26).

Some could even conclude that the Torah was rebellious and/or revolutionary for its time because its requirements were so deeply rooted in resistance. This is how I view my queer and neurodivergent identities: as distinct expressions of the divine, holy dissent embodied in the giving and observance of the Torah.

But, hey, these are just my raw musings, and I'm learning more every day. I'm open to friendly discourse as I explore these ideas honestly, and I never intend to be offensive or off-putting to anyone who may think differently or disagree. My perspectives may change, but my neshama—my inner soul—remains constant. So, it doesn't matter if you clicked on my article to critique or to simply ask as I have: "is there space for my queer neshama in Judaism where I will feel at home?" I welcome you. Let's explore and question together. That's what learning and growing are all about.

This is my first Pride Month since coming out as queer—a gray aroace and nonbinary woman—and I intend to be vocal about it, so expect a lot more from me here. In the coming weeks, I’ll be studying at a virtual Beit Midrash dedicated to examining gender beyond the binary through the lens of Talmud and other Jewish texts. Check it out here. I’ll have much more to share as I continue to grapple with these concepts, study, and deepen my relationship with Hashem and the divine spark within. One day soon, I’ll be a rabbi diving even deeper into these very topics—building communities rooted in Torah observance, spiritual dissent, and radical acceptance. For now, my daily practice is to live more confidently in the identity that best reflects my connection to the infinite.

A late Chag Shavuot Sameach and Happy Pride Month!