In January, I observed International Holocaust Remembrance Day with the organizations A Wider Bridge and Queers Against Antisemitism. I did so to honor the members of my wife’s family who were murdered at Auschwitz.
As a trans faith leader, I was honored to grieve with a diverse group of Jewish people united against antisemitism, despite their wide-ranging political affiliations and perspectives on the war between Israelis and Palestinians.
Shortly after, I was contacted by a queer group, asking me to renounce the event and certain Jewish individuals. The request alarmed me.
Let me be clear: Opposition to war and advocacy for Palestinian dignity and human rights are matters that people of all faiths should support. Criticism of Israel is not antisemitism. But it is antisemitism when Jews are shamed, blamed and scapegoated unless they denounce who they are, ignore their traumas or erase their identity.
Since Oct. 7, 2023, antisemitism has surged not just globally, but in progressive and LGBTQ spaces, too. A Wider Bridge has been tracking the rise of antisemitism in LGBTQ spaces and is providing the community with recommendations about how to stay safe during Pride Month. Here in the Bay Area, it’s even showing up in places that previously centered radical inclusion.
For decades, I’ve worked alongside unhoused people, people living with HIV, trans elders and queer youth. I’ve washed feet, presided at gravesides and marched for justice. I’ve seen the beauty of radical welcome — and the harm when fear draws lines between who belongs and who doesn’t.
The May 21 killing of two young adults outside the Capital Jewish Museum in Washington, D.C., proves this harm isn’t hypothetical. Just days later, in Boulder, Colorado, a man hurled Molotov cocktails and used a makeshift flamethrower against a peaceful Jewish march, injuring 12 people, including an 88-year-old Holocaust survivor.
The disturbing, hate-filled messages sprayed on the San Francisco cafe Manny’s during recent ICE protests are signs that local antisemitism is growing increasingly violent. The shameful death threats directed toward Manny Yekutiel, a gay civic leader who gives so much to the community, are abhorrent any day but are especially terrifying during Pride Month.
Just hours before Sarah Milgrim and Yaron Lischinsky were killed outside the Capital Jewish Museum, Sarah was planning a trip for LGBTQ individuals around the globe. Seeking to open intersectional conversations about how the war has affected LGBTQ Jews and increased antisemitism, Sarah was actively seeking to provide humanitarian aid in Gaza and improve our planet.
I wrote this piece at a table in Beersheva, a city not far from the Gaza border. I had just visited the Nova festival site and a local kibbutz that has been shuttered since the attack on Oct. 7. Breaking bread, striving for peace, speaking truth to power and loving beyond borders, I was also grieving the empty chairs that would have been Sarah’s and Yaron’s. I was in Israel on an eight-day Pride mission with 20 delegations from around the globe. The trip, planned by Sarah, was to culminate on June 13 with Tel Aviv Pride, which was ultimately canceled due to missiles launched by Iran the morning of the parade, and the war that followed.
Tel Aviv Pride was canceled, but queer community was not vanquished. Drag performers told stories of hope. Activists led viral dances in bomb shelters. Lesbians got engaged at the Carmel Market.
Similarly, we should not let antisemitism vanquish Pride in the Bay Area! We must continue to protest, demand change and create equality for all our neighbors, especially those who are the newest to arrive.
To queer Jews across the Bay Area: You are not alone. You are beloved exactly as you are. Wear your stars. Sing your songs. Show up unapologetically whole.
Long before spray-paint becomes physical violence, we must speak up, widen our tables and have harder conversations. This Pride season, as the streets fill with glitter, protest signs and the sacred defiance that defines Pride, I’ll be there — not just as a pastor, a pacifist or a longtime San Franciscan, but as someone who believes, with every fiber, that faith, queerness, justice and survival are not mutually exclusive.