Ga’ava means pride; you can never take that away from us

Inspired by the social media noise, nonsense, and clickbait of the weirdly queer antizionist Jew-hate movement and my doomscrolling feed alternating posts, stories, and reels featuring drag queens dancing in skintight floor length Palestinian flag dresses before running for their lives as an Islamist terrorist drove his car into the crowd at Berlin Pride, I decided to share a few thoughts with my readers.

These thoughts are specific to my experiences, and I was wondering if others have their own versions of what I am about to share, especially since tomorrow is Montréal Pride’s annual parade, which once against sought to limit the participation of the LGBT Jewish community.

Ten years ago, I attended the Philadelphia Trans Health Conference. The feelings of joy I experienced over those few days of community was overwhelming. Thousands of attendees from all over the world. Trans people. Families. Friends. Allies. Three days of not having to explain “what is trans” because everyone there already understood. As the conference ended there were big hugs and promises to stay connected. To keep sharing our stories. To keep inspiring one another.

I was at the gate about to board the plane for the short flight back to Montréal, when news broke that an Islamist gunman had massacred 49 people and injured dozens more at gay nightclub Pulse in Orlando, Florida. In an instant, euphoria was replaced with reality. They still hate us. We aren’t even safe in our own spaces.

I shared my sadness and the devastation felt by the LGBT community on my socials. I cried. And cried. And cried. And then I started to experience something different. I was furious. And disappointed. Not a single cis hetero friend reached out to see how I was doing after such a gruesome hate-filled headline-making event directed at the very community that is such an integral part of who I am. These were my people being murdered. Don’t you care? Why don’t you care? Apparently, the only people who cared were other members of the LGBT. We texted each other not only in grief over the tragedy of Pulse, but in how our straight friends appeared oblivious to the emotional toll it was having on the mental health of their friends in the queer community.

I didn’t know how to act. Instead, I reacted the only way I could in these times of virtual friendships rewarded with likes and emojis. I started unfriending people. I’m not sure anyone noticed because I don’t recall receiving any messages about why I was no longer “friends” with so and so.

After October 7, 2023, the entire Jewish community experienced a version of what the queer community had gone through barely ten years earlier. This time around though, I found myself having to explain to my cis hetero Jewish friends and family that the disappointment and hurt they were feeling was exactly what I went through after the Pulse shootings. They understood.

The queer community who had been so vocal about their disappointment and erasure in their time of hurt and fear were silent. They know I am Jewish. They know I have friends and family in Israel. These were my people being murdered. Don’t they care? Why don’t they care? This time I acted. I challenged my queer friends by asking at first, then demanding, why they hadn’t checked in on me and my family. They were silent still. So I acted in the only way I could in these times of virtual friendships rewarded with likes and emojis. I started unfriending people. I’m sure they noticed because it’s easy to remain silent when Jews are involved. Unless you’re Iranian. They understand.

It has been 10 years since you cried into your smart phones about how no one understands your hurt, sadness, and disappointment. Yet the only lesson you’ve apparently learned is how to treat others with the same ignorance you received. Worse still. You wave the banners and shout the slogans of the very people who would eliminate you from existence if given the chance. Keep it up, though, and they’ll get that chance sooner or later.

In the meantime, I’ll be proudly waving my Israeli flag, my Pride flag, and the flag of my Persian friends. Because I understand.