The Struggle, pt. III

I've grown. I'll admit it and I'm proud of it. I've grown so much over the past few years, and as this post marks my second year of the blog, I'll admit that things have changed; that I've changed, that the community has changed, that life got a lot better. And I am extremely thankful for the love and support of those around me.

But it's not over. The struggle isn't over because I've found a semblance of peace and happiness. Because sometimes, I still feel off. Sometimes, I still feel out of place. I feel alone. Not because I am alone, but because I live in a community that sometimes makes me feel alone. It's not that I want acceptance- I have that. It's not that I want a relationship- I have one. But when it comes down to it, the Orthodox Jewish community is a heterocentric hub with 2000 years of tradition. Almost always, men will marry women in Orthodox communities. Shabbat tables will discuss the latest boy-girl couples and engagements and weddings. And I can't change that. But I also can't change who I am. Am I selfish for expecting everyone to help me feel comfortable? Perhaps. But no matter how much my straight friends love me, I will always feel different. No matter how much of a place I have in my community, I will never feel like I fully belong.

There are times when I get hugs from my friends and wonder- will they hug their children if one day their kids come out of the closet? There's so much more growth and work to be done because in reality, while my community has accepted me, have they accepted homosexuality? The answer is obviously no. And the answer probably will be no for a long time, and that's a really hard fact for me to face. That's another aspect of feeling alone, that I am alone in being accepted, that there are so few Orthodox gay Jews out there who are happy and comfortable in their communities.

I was warned about this years ago, when gay friends told me I would never be able to stay in the community I love so much. I was warned that I would feel out of place or rejected. Thank God I didn't. And I don't. I know my friends love me and my community loves me. But that doesn't help me feel like everyone else, because I will never be like everyone else. There are neighborhoods and communities out there where majority of the population is gay, or it's 50/50, and that's when someone doesn't feel alone. But when someone goes against their society's created standard for "normal" (ie- being Frum and gay), they will feel alone.  And that's part of the dissonance, discomfort and disparity of being gay in a Frum community.

Weakness

I've been waiting for the right topic to hit me, and after a long weekend it finally did. I had a wonderful weekend. I spent Friday Night Dinner with over 250 LGBT identified Jews. Some Orthodox, some not, some older, some younger, a varying group of individuals, most of whom I was privileged to meet. It really was a great meal, with Shabbat themes and a feeling of Jewish communal warmth. The next day, I ate lunch in the park with over 20 of my Jewish and gay friends, most religious and some not, but again, a beautiful day. Saturday night I celebrated a friends birthday, and enjoyed the night out. Sunday was the Israeli day parade, but when I came home at around 5 pm, things slowed down.

I went back to my regular life, which right now is time between my school year and my summer job, and consists of hours of television watching, and going out to meet with friends. For me, too much time like this is detrimental. I'm one of those people who needs to be structured and working to feel happy and productive with their daily lives, which I do not have right now. So I sit thinking, staring at the TV and ultimately finding all the things in my life that worry me, stress me out, began to feel hopeless and helpless, and until a few friends helped me out of it, was a very painful time.

But in that time- something stuck out clear as day- weakness. I realized that for all my strength and courage, for all the support so many people in my life give me, I still sometimes feel weak. I feel confused, scared, uncomfortable, worried about so many different things in my life and thought there was no way out. But then I realized that it was okay, and that it was "normal" to struggle and even to hurt sometimes. I wanted to share on the blog, that it's okay to feel sadness and to struggle- because we all do. The important thing is to pick ourselves up and continue being strong, in spite of the struggle and regardless of the troubles we may have.