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A groundbreaking ex-Hasidic memoir is now an opera
(New York Jewish Week) — As a Hasidic mom raising a family in Houston, Leah Lax had seven children ages 9 and under — including an infant, and a toddler with health issues, born just 11 months apart. When she found herself unexpectedly pregnant again, she realized she needed to have an abortion.
That scene — and the ensuing conflict with her husband, who viewed abortion as murder — is an emotional climax in “Uncovered: A Chamber Opera in One Act,” which is based on Lax’s acclaimed memoir, “Uncovered: How I Left Hasidic Life and Finally Came Home.” When the book was published in 2015, the New York Jewish Week called it “the first ex-Hasidic gay memoir.”
Produced by City Lyric Opera, it opens Wednesday at Manhattan’s HERE Arts Center, and runs through Saturday night.
Raised in a secular Jewish family, Lax connected with the Chabad Hasidic movement at age 16 and married a grad student when she was 19. Today, Lax, 66, still lives in Houston, but with her wife, with whom she has been partnered for 17 years. Her children — some of whom have remained religious and some who have not — are spread around the country. Lax has 13 grandchildren “and counting,” she says with audible delight.
Lax wrote the libretto for “Uncovered,” as she has for other operas; the music was composed by Lori Laitman. Lax’s next book, “Not From Here,” is based on a libretto she wrote for Houston Grand Opera for which she spent a year interviewing dozens of refugees and immigrants in the Texas city. It is slated for publication in summer 2023 by Pegasus Press. Interviewing those people led Lax to realize that she felt like an immigrant to her own life, she said.
Lax and I have known each other since I reviewed the book “Uncovered” shortly after publication.
This interview was lightly edited for length and clarity.
New York Jewish Week: What did your eighth pregnancy represent?
Leah Lax: It was the wakeup call of my life. Before that I was inured to everything except following what I was expected to do. Before that my body didn’t belong to me. It belonged to God, and what is God? Halacha [Jewish law] is the voice of God.
Then I realized that this pregnancy could kill me. My body was telling me something that nobody else was hearing, and I realized that I am the authority of my body. I decided to get an abortion. When I told my husband it sparked a huge crisis. He said “If you do, I will divorce you.” To soothe him, I said let’s ask a rav [a rabbi]. I knew I would do it anyway, but if a rav said yes I wouldn’t be out on the street or lose my children [in a divorce]. The rav spoke to my doctor, who said he thought I was at risk. The rav came back and said, “You have to do this thing and do not speak of it to anyone.” Today Christian values have taken over the abortion issue and it really is stomping on our freedom of religion. [Most Jewish sources do not consider that life begins at conception, and Jewish tradition allows room to prioritize the life of the mother when there is a danger to her physical or emotional health.]
I had the abortion, but it came between my husband and me. He grieved and would not speak of it. I was alone with my secret. But I was awake. I changed. That’s when I started writing. It set off a process that led me out the door.
You stayed in Houston, where you raised your family. What was it like to come out as gay and non-religious there?
I was having an affair with a woman. The whole community figured it out and erupted in gossip. I was followed. There’s a confrontation scene in the opera about it. I crossed town to be with my lover and didn’t come out formally until I moved out of the house and left the community. The community shunned me to the point where I began grocery shopping on Saturdays to avoid people. I had been the first- and third-grade teacher at their Chabad day school, and I lost those relationships. Now I’ve reconciled with many of them.
What impact did the publication of “Uncovered” have?
It caused tension with some of my religious kids. They were OK with our differences as long as it was private. Putting it in print, that radical freedom of speech was a departure for them. I really seek to heal that — we have, to some extent. Being an artist is an act of radical free speech. Artists are dangerous people. If I had it to do over again, I would talk it through with my children in advance. I didn’t know to prepare them for it, and I don’t know if it would have helped.
Writing it, I had to delve into memories and keep renewing that story. I became a person living both my past and present. It moved me forward. It led into the next project, “Not From Here: The Song of America,” this awareness of the past and how it forms us.
What do you want viewers to take away from “Uncovered” the opera?
I want my work to break down religious walls. I want people to find through this work that these issues that are looked as abstract by movements are personal and individual, whether it’s abortion, sexuality or religious choice. It is within us, or between us and God.
“Uncovered” runs at the HERE Arts Center, 145 Sixth Ave. Wednesday-Friday, Nov. 16-18, 8:30 p.m.; Saturday, Nov. 19, 4:00 p.m.; Saturday, Nov. 19, 8:30 p.m. $35. Get ticket information here.
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The post A groundbreaking ex-Hasidic memoir is now an opera appeared first on Jewish Telegraphic Agency.
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To Prevent Antisemitism in Schools Like Berkeley, Enforce the Rules Already on the Books
Illustrative: Demonstrators holding a “Stand Up for Internationals” rally on the campus of the University of California, Berkeley, in Berkeley, California, US, April 17, 2025. Photo: Carlos Barria via Reuters Connect.
At California’s Berkeley High School (BHS), teachers are interrupting their normally-scheduled classroom lessons to talk about the Iran war.
Given the Berkeley school district’s dismal record on antisemitism, will BHS once again become a venue for Israel-bashing, or even conspiracy theories that Israel manipulated the United States into attacking Iran? If signs of such activity emerge, what can be done to stop it?
Part of the solution — at least at the K-12 level — is simple: state and local governments must ensure that school districts enforce pre-existing constitutional constraints, state educational codes, and school district rules that prohibit indoctrination in the classroom.
Of course, that is not always so easy. One teachers’ group held a teach-in to address the purported causes of the October 7 attack, during which they shared curricular materials such as a guide to “settler colonialism” that defines Hamas as “a resistance movement” and tells students the United States only calls Hamas a terrorist organization because of its “measures against the occupation.”
Materials like these then make their way into BHS classrooms. One history teacher, who reportedly used antisemitic stereotypes in class, showed an anti-Israel video and required her students to respond to the prompt: “To what extent should Israel be considered an Apartheid State?”
When Jewish students complained, the Berkeley Unified School District (BUSD) simply transferred them out of her class. Also at BHS, according to the Brandeis Center complaint, an art teacher reportedly showed the class “violent, pro-Hamas videos.” The teacher also allegedly promoted student walkouts and demonstrations, and projected antisemitic images such as a fist punching through a Star of David. Jewish students were again transferred to a new class, only to find their new teacher wore Free Palestine stickers on her clothing.
What’s especially disturbing about these incidents is that the BUSD already has a policy in place to prevent this kind of ideological offensive material in the classroom. According to BUSD’s “Policy 6144: Controversial Issues,” when a teacher chooses to address such a subject, they should “ensure that all sides of a controversial issue are impartially presented,” and, “The teacher may not use his/her position to forward his/her own historical, religious, political, economic or social bias.”
According to a Supreme Court decision in Garcetti v. Ceballos (2006), such rules are consistent with freedom of speech because, when public employees are carrying out their official duties, their speech does not have the same First Amendment protection as private citizens. State governments have implemented regulations based on this principle.
Texas Educational Code § 28.0022 states that when teachers discuss a controversial topic of public policy, they should “explore that topic objectively and in a manner free from political bias.” Moreover, the code stipulates that teachers cannot assign tasks to students that involve political advocacy.
Similarly, the Florida State Board of Education issued Florida Administrative Code, Rule 6A-10.081, which stipulates that teachers shall not “unreasonably deny a student access to diverse points of view” or “intentionally distort or misrepresent facts concerning an educational matter.”
Yet without enforcement, such policies have little value.
BUSD parents have lodged more than 100 complaints of violations targeting Jewish students. Now, both the US Department of Education and the House of Representatives’ Education and Workforce Committee are investigating antisemitism in the BUSD. Parents have also brought a civil rights lawsuit against the district.
Clearly, school districts across the country should be enforcing policies against propaganda and bigotry in the classroom. But changing the ways of a resistant school district like BUSD is easier said than done. It will entail investigating and then educating the community about existing laws, rules, and codes pertaining to teachers’ speech and conduct. And it will involve persuading parents and students to work with civil rights groups and the local, state, and Federal governments to hold public teachers and administrators accountable.
Our country relies on its schools to endow students with the skills necessary for critical thinking and independent thought. If teachers themselves cannot rise above their prejudices and partisan sentiments, then American schools are not likely to turn out students resistant to conspiracy theories and propaganda.
Naomi Friedman is an Education Fellow at the Foundation for Defense of Democracies.
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Who Owns the Story? Israel Needs Images and Messages That Match the Palestinian Narrative
Protestors in Melbourne unfurl a watermelon banner in solidarity with Palestinian ‘resistance.’ (Photo: Screenshot)
In today’s hyperconnected world, legitimacy is no longer determined solely by history books or diplomatic recognition. It is shaped, distilled, and often distorted in the fast-moving currents of digital culture. Narratives are no longer argued — but they are absorbed, shared, and symbolized. And increasingly, they are decided not by depth, but by clarity and repetition.
For many who support Israel, this presents a growing challenge. The issue is not a lack of historical grounding or factual legitimacy. It is that these truths are not being communicated with the same force, simplicity, and creativity as competing narratives. In a landscape driven by visuals and emotion, complexity alone does not win attention.
At the heart of the matter lies an enduring reality: the Jewish connection to the land of Israel is ancient, continuous, and foundational. It predates modern political frameworks and is rooted in centuries of cultural, religious, and historical presence. This is not a claim constructed in recent decades; it is a defining element of Jewish identity itself.
Yet historical continuity does not automatically translate into contemporary resonance. In the digital arena, meaning is often assigned through symbols that travel faster than context. One of the more curious examples of this phenomenon is the rise of the watermelon as a political emblem.
Today, the image is widely recognized as associated with pro-Palestinian expression. But its origins are neither exclusive nor inherently political. The fruit itself traces back thousands of years to regions of Africa, long before it became entangled in modern symbolism. Its eventual adoption as a visual shorthand was shaped by circumstance, not destiny.
Rather than dismissing or avoiding widely circulated symbols, there is an opportunity to engage with them differently — and to embed them with alternative narratives. The goal is not to negate others, but to assert presence within the same visual language.
Currently, one of the obstacles facing pro-Israel advocacy is not a lack of material, but a lack of cohesion. Messaging often emerges reactively, responding to trends rather than shaping them. Meanwhile, opposing narratives benefit from clarity, emotional appeal, and visual uniformity.
That imbalance can be addressed by approaching communication not only as a matter of accuracy, but of strategy.
Facts remain essential — but in a digital environment, they must be paired with compelling storytelling and recognizable imagery. A well-crafted symbol can reach audiences that a detailed explanation never will.
Reframing something as simple as a watermelon is not about the object itself. It is about demonstrating that meaning is not fixed, and that narratives are not surrendered unless they are abandoned. Because ultimately, the question is not just who holds the stronger argument. It is who communicates it in a way that resonates.
To shape understanding, one must also shape the story.
Sabine Sterk is the CEO of Time To Stand Up For Israel.
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I’m a UMich Student: All Countries Are Welcome — Except Israel
Law enforcement clash with pro-Hamas demonstrators at the University of Michigan on Aug. 28, 2024. Photo: Brendan Gutenschwager/X
Tea time is my favorite part of each week. As the tea chair for the historic Martha Cook Building, an all-women’s dorm at the University of Michigan in operation since 1915, I have the joy of planning and hosting our weekly Friday teas.
Out of all our building traditions, International Tea is one of the most popular. Martha Cook residents (affectionately nicknamed “Cookies”) sign up to represent a country, and host a table offering information and a cultural snack. Friends are invited, foods from across the world are tasted, and on-campus cultural groups perform.
As I did last year, I signed up to represent Israel. I’m a Jewish student who is heavily involved in the pro-Israel community on campus, so naturally, Israel is the country I chose to showcase. The Monday before International Tea, the flags from each country went up. I smiled as I passed the Israeli flag on my way out of the building.
When I came back from the day’s classes, the Israeli flag was gone. I notified the Martha Cook House Board.
Fast forward to that Friday: the day of International Tea. After our weekly House Board meeting concluded, a representative from MHousing called me into another room.
“I just wanted to let you know before you set up for tea that someone has defaced your board.”
That morning, I was already worried that my Israel board (a tri-fold that each participant makes, celebrating the country’s culture) had been set up too early, since I had a feeling that someone might do something like that.
“What did they write?” I asked, “Free Palestine? Genocide? Apartheid?”
“No, they wrote, ‘Notable resident: Epstein.’”
That was not what I expected. Jeffrey Epstein has nothing to do with Israel. But that’s the logic now: lump together anything even remotely perceived as related to Judaism and pin the guilt on the Jewish State. On today’s campus, every grievance is interconnected — except, apparently, the one about Jews being targeted.
Police reports had already been filed for both the flag theft and the vandalism. This was just the icing on the cake for a week that had included both the official passing of a BDS resolution in our student government and the election of a new student body president who ran with the slogan, “Free laundry, free Palestine.” I would not be surprised if these anti-Israel “successes” emboldened the actions of the Martha Cook flag thief and vandal.
When I chose to represent Israel, I chose to represent a culture. I made no comment on the government nor any conflict. The reaction to the Israeli flag simply being displayed and the vandalism on my board are indicative of what campus has been like.
Since I first stepped on campus in August of 2023, I have found myself in an environment that emphasizes feelings over facts and political correctness over discussion. Even before the October 7th attacks, the campus culture was one in which it was taboo to push back on anything that did not fall into the popular narratives. The aftermath of October 7th pushed this to the next level.
Before Israel even responded to Hamas’ attack, protesters were calling Israel genocidal and advocating for the destruction of the country “from the river to the sea.” Thousands of students with no prior knowledge of Middle Eastern history or connection to the conflict began hopping on the anti-Israel bandwagon and marching around as “social justice” warriors.
The 2023-24 school year was the most divided, hostile environment I have experienced. When my friends or I tried to have conversations with people who were tagging along with the anti-Israel groups, we were either turned away, ignored, or had anti-Zionist buzzwords yelled at us. No one engaged with what we were actually saying. They just repeated slogans.
As campus calmed down, the performative activists largely moved on to trendier issues. But the small, dedicated group of anti-Israel agitators remains an active and insidious force.
There will always be those who are against us. What matters is that we, the Jewish community and our allies, stand up for the truth and for what is right. We must keep ourselves educated on the conflict. We must continue to host pro-Israel programming. We must have conversations when we can, respectfully engaging with those who disagree with us. We must do all of this while attending classes, keeping up with our studies, and cheering on our amazing Michigan sports teams (Go Blue!).
In a time when the future looks uncertain, I remain hopeful. Despite all of the hate directed at the Jewish community, I look around and see young, strong Jewish leaders stepping up and making a difference. We strive to be a light among the nations, and we are not going anywhere.
Addison Stone is a junior at the University of Michigan studying War & Conflict Studies and Theatre. She serves on the boards of Students Supporting Israel, Wolverine for Israel, and Michigan Israel Public Affairs Committee.
