I recently installed a metal security door and camera on my front porch, attempting to soothe the crushing fear and anxiety I feel as a queer person even here in the Bay Area. It helps a little, but not as much as I’d like.
It’s important to acknowledge my fear — our fears — even as queer communities around the world mark June as Pride Month. The first Pride was a 1969 demonstration against police oppression at a popular queer club, the Stonewall Inn, in New York City. Since then, events celebrating queer liberation, pride and civil rights have proliferated.
I first attended the San Francisco Pride Parade as a teen in 2014, feeling awed and inspired by the bold, loud demonstration of marchers and attendees. Since then, I’ve found a deeper, calmer pride in my own queer marriage. To me, the joy and compassion among members of the queer community exemplify the Jewish value of chesed (lovingkindness). Yet even writing this, I must keep in mind the privacy of multiple queer family members for fear of exposing them to potential violence.
Hate crimes against the queer community are on the rise, the FBI reported in 2024. This existential fear of physical or even deadly violence is a constant weight on my shoulders, making it hard to express my pride on city streets even now during Pride Month.
Pride events are known for their vibrant, party-like atmosphere. But this year feels different. The fight against systemic oppression of queer people has never been more urgent for my generation. Recent government policies — such as bans on gender-affirming care and trans athletes — are moving us backward, reversing rights won in recent decades and threatening the safety and dignity of queer people nationwide.
We might think ourselves immune here in the Bay Area bubble, but that’s far from the truth. Even here in progressive California, we see the effects of transphobic executive orders: One only needs to look at a cowardly hospital in Los Angeles, which preemptively capitulated to demands from the current administration by cutting off gender-affirming care for minors. The same is happening at hospitals nationwide, even in other progressive bastions such as New York City, where the Stonewall revolution took place.
But what do queer liberation and the protection of queer community have to do with Judaism?
The cruel restriction of life-saving medical care for trans people is an affront to the Jewish concept of kavod (respect). Gender-affirming care outcomes include lower rates of depression and suicidality, making it a life-saving gold standard of medical care. A study conducted by The Trevor Project, a nonprofit supporting queer and transgender youth, found that suicide attempts by trans youth went up by 72% after their respective states passed anti-trans legislation.
Halachah, or Jewish law, requires us to do everything we can to save a life. How can we claim to respect the dignity of all people if we stay silent as young trans people die by suicide as a result of these archaic laws?
I know more than one trans person who is quietly stockpiling gender-affirming medication and researching how to flee the country if laws become more restrictive or widespread violence breaks out. I myself have a contingency plan of leaving the country to escape violence and oppression. This is another layer of existential fear and trauma. As the granddaughter of Holocaust survivors, it feels all too familiar.
Queer people are an integral part of our kehillah (community). Queer Jewish organizations abound, including in the Bay Area. The most prominent include Congregation Sha’ar Zahav, San Francisco’s LGBTQ+ synagogue; A Wider Bridge, which advances LGBTQ rights and inclusion in Israel; and Keshet, which works for LGBTQ+ equality in Jewish life.
It is easy to see that the Bay Area Jewish community is full of LGBTQ+ Jews and their families. Embracing our kehillah means embracing our queer community members. This is not the time for allies to stay quiet or oblivious. Your queer neighbors experience very real fear and trauma, and we need to know that you see us and our struggle.
You can do so by making it a point to mention the attack on queer and trans people when kvetching about the federal government. You can tell your queer friends and relatives that you have their back. You can join Pride celebrations as an ally. Now is the time for allies to vocally and vociferously support the queer community.
The need for queer pride will not end on June 30. The attacks on queer people’s rights and safety certainly won’t cease at the end of the month. To my LGBTQ+ siblings, I hope you take pride in your queerness and Jewishness, knowing that you are treasured members of our kehillah. To those who identify as allies, I invite you to think deeply about the Jewish values of kavod and chesed to guide your beliefs and actions.