This past weekend I experienced two major firsts; it was the first time that I attended Atlanta Pride and the first time that I experienced Antisemitism. I came to Pride to experience what I thought Pride festivals and parades were intended to be, a space for individuals of all kinds to come together and celebrate acceptance and community. While I enjoyed myself overall, there were a few things that didn’t sit right with me and still aren’t sitting right with me. There is a serious lack of solidarity between oppressed groups.
Atlanta Pride is a weekend long event with a variety of activities in Piedmont Park. I participated in two of the many marches held over the weekend, the Trans March and the Dyke March. As I lined up for the Dyke March, my friend and I were talking and making a joke about being on “Jewish Time” and how like many collectivist cultures, Jews frequently run late. One of the women standing next to us stated something to the affect of “I figured they’d be on time, if not early because, ya know, the connection between time and money.” I was stunned. My friend and I made it clear to the woman that that was a hurtful statement and she apologized. We let it go and went on with the March.
Writer with a sign that reads: “This Queer has Chutzpah”
The following day was the main event, the Parade. I had decided to join SOJOURN: The Southern Jewish Resource Network for Gender and Sexual Diversity because of my love for the organization. I climbed aboard the float with people of all ages from different congregations and organizations from around Atlanta. I even made a sign, that I loved. As we drove, the kids on the float eagerly threw candy and trinkets to the crowd. I warned them to pace themselves because we still had a good bit of Parade left. Yet, within the first leg, they had nearly thrown everything and began to toss anything they could get their hands on into the crowd. It was shortly after we had run out of items that a woman on the street asked if we were throwing anything. The music was blaring and her question went unnoticed. A few seconds after having asked her question, I watched the woman turned to her friend and maje a comment that of course they weren’t throwing candy, they’re Jews…insinuating that Jews are too cheap to throw candy. I believe I was the only person on the float that heard the comment and we still had a good bit of the parade to go, so I let it roll of my back and continued on.
It wasn’t until now, a day later that I have time to process what happened this weekend. To be honest, I’m not at all certain just quite what to make of my experience at Pride. I can say this, I am vastly disappointed in the queer community. These experiences have made be seriously rethink what it means to be a part of Pride and what being in the queer community means. I expected pride to be a place of solidarity and understanding, where people gather to support one another and feel accepted when at other times they do not. I was let down, marginalized, and made to feel like I did not belong and that so many others did not belong. I am disheartened. This is not what having pride looks like and this is not the queer community I want to be a part of. I guess I expected solidarity, and I guess that expectation was too high. I wanted to come to Pride and experience togetherness and acceptance, but it was clear to me that that was reserved for few groups and I was not in one. As sad as it may be, Pride left me feeling rather ashamed of the queer community. But the one thing I’ve learned it’ the value of Jewish space in the queer realm and queer space in the Jewish realm, but most importantly Queer Jewish Space.
There are issues that fall at this intersection that need a space to be discussed and that is why I am so glad to have had the opportunity to be in Queer Jewish space through Nehirim and NUJLS conferences. I am overwhelming grateful for the work Keshet and SOJOURN: The Southern Jewish Resource Network for Gender and Sexual Diversity in creating dialogue and change at that intersection. My pride experience confirmed just how important that work is and how I need to be a part in making that change.
Voice of a Queer Jew-By-Choice 