The Sacred Work of Being Seen: A Jewish Pride Reflection

There’s something sacred about not having to explain yourself. It means walking into a room and being seen as whole, not despite who you are, but because of it. That’s at the heart of Pride Month: a communal “we’re glad you’re here and that you’re you.” And saying that out loud is so important in the Jewish community. 

We celebrate Pride because we believe in the sacredness of every identity. Every person in our community is created b’tzelem Elohim —in the image of the Divine— and we’re richer because of it.

In my Jewish circles, we talk a lot about belonging. We draft mission statements about inclusivity. We write policies. We wrestle with how to honor our differences while still showing up for each other. Sometimes it feels like the only thing we agree on is that we should probably form a committee. 

Still, Pride reminds me: the work of building a truly inclusive community is never done. And every year, the Jewish community is asked to engage with Pride in both quiet and large ways.

For years, I marched with Keshet in the Boston Pride Parade. Every time, I was struck by the unapologetic, full-bodied joy of queerness and Judaism dancing side by side. We were visible and proud, not just present. The people cheering from the sidewalks saw that joy and, hopefully, embraced the idea that there’s room for inclusivity in Judaism.

But I hold just as tightly to the quiet moments, and I know how fortunate I am to have found homes at welcoming Jewish institutions. For so many, walking into a synagogue for the first time, maybe after a long absence, maybe in a new city, and seeing a rainbow sticker on the door means so much. There’s power when the bulletin casually mentions an LGBTQ  family observing a milestone, or when gender-inclusive language is used from the bima. 

It means so much to me that SVIVAH —a community I help build and hold so dear— centers itself as a space for Jewish women, and still pauses to add an asterisk after the words. SVIVAH defines its community with that asterisk, stating: As always, SVIVAH welcomes all those wishing to be included in a circle of Jewish women. If you want to be with us, we want you with us and welcome.

I’ve been thinking a lot about that asterisk. It’s small and easy to overlook. For some, it’s just a footnote. But for many of us, it’s the heart of the sentence. It’s where community lives. It’s where we name the fullness of who belongs: queer Jews, trans Jews, nonbinary Jews, anyone who hasn’t always fit neatly into the box. The asterisk doesn’t weaken the message: it sharpens it. 

It’s a small thing. But it says: “You are safe. We see you. We meant you. We’re holding space for you.”

I want to live in a Jewish world where, across the board, inclusivity isn’t an afterthought but a starting point. I want difference to not be something to “navigate,” but something to celebrate. I want communities that are strong enough to hold everyone and even realize they are stronger because of it, not despite it. I want communities that welcome LGBTQ people to lead Torah study or to speak, not just on queer issues, but as full participants in Jewish life. I don’t want anyone to wonder if the welcome applies to them. 

Let’s continue to build Jewish spaces that don’t just welcome people, but make them feel expected. This Pride Month, let’s remember that belonging isn’t something we declare once in June; it’s something we keep practicing every single day.