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This Purim, a space for queer Jews to celebrate their identities — and dance the night away
(New York Jewish Week) — Stuart Meyers grew up in the heavily Jewish Philadelphia suburb of Voorhees Township, New Jersey. Yet, even though he was Jewish, being queer meant that he often felt like an outsider in Jewish spaces.
Fortunately, as an adult, Meyers — a dancer, artist and nightlife events producer — realized that, instead of abandoning one identity in lieu of another, he could create a vibrant space for queer Jews to celebrate both aspects of their identities.
“I didn’t have an experience [growing up] of being able to bridge my queer and Jewish identities — I just was made to feel like they couldn’t coexist,” Meyers, 32, told the New York Jewish Week. “I started to have this desire and longing to understand what it meant to be Jewish and bring these two identities together.”
In 2021, the Bushwick, Brooklyn resident developed “Flaminggg,” a queer Jewish nightlife experience that aims to bring Jews of all gender expressions and sexual orientations together to loudly and proudly celebrate their Jewish and queer identities. (The name, Meyers said, stuck around after he threw his first Hanukkah party. “It was easy to affirm: We are a fiery, bright burning bunch whose light, despite it all, is eternal.”)
Flaminggg parties, of which there have been four so far, include DJ sets that incorporate pop music, house music and Jewish music, as well as drag performances, dancing, conversation and Jewish rituals. Next week, Flaminggg will host “Flamingggtaschen,” its second-ever Purim party on March 4, at 3 Dollar Bill, a queer club in East Williamsburg. These days, the winter holiday, when cross-dressing and role-playing are commonly a part of even traditional festivities, is often associated with queer pride and a celebration of coming out,
“It’s a sensitive thing,” Meyers said. “People who are queer but secular often say, ‘I do not want to be in a Jewish space.’” Some queer Jews had experiences growing up where they didn’t feel like they belonged, while others were unsure of what to expect, he said. Still others have participated in — and not enjoyed — queer Jewish events that are “not sexy” and felt antiquated, he said.
“I think being queer and Jewish is sexy, magnificent and magical and so related and I want to share that,” Meyers said. “That is the driving belief in what I’m trying to create.”
A drag performer at Flaminggg’s Hanukkah party in December 2022. (Afrik Armando)
Meyers believes that Flaminggg is the first intentionally Jewish nightlife experience for queer adult Jews that is unattached to a synagogue or larger Jewish organization. “It felt like no one was doing this kind of programming, that was artistically and thoughtfully making queer Jewish space in a way that was not just a ‘bright fluorescent lights, community hall,’ kind of Judaism, which I feel like a lot of people want to steer clear from because it just doesn’t feel meaningful,” Meyers said, adding: “Those bright overheads don’t flatter a queen’s skin!”
Of course, there are other organizations and companies that create events for LGBTQ Jews, such as Hebro and Jewish Queer Youth. While Meyers has worked with both in the past, they serve different demographics — cisgender gay men and younger adults mostly with Orthodox backgrounds, for instance. New York City synagogues and Jewish spaces like Congregation Beit Simchat Torah and Lab/Shul are also queer-driven, but, again, secular Jews may still be turned off by some of the synagogue and Jewish ritual aspects. (Meyers is also producing and hosting Lab/Shul’s Purim party extravaganza at House of Yes this year, which will feature drag performances, a Purim spiel and a dance party.)
Flaminggg, by contrast, aims to draw a diverse crowd — participants represent all sexualities and genders, and the parties are open to any level of religious observance (or not). Meyers hopes that his events will reach people who have previously not entered Jewish spaces and want to learn more about and celebrate Judaism and queerness in all its forms and nuances.
And, of course, Flaminggg differs from other queer, Jewish events in that it is a nightlife-oriented, night-long party. Quoting Jewish anarchist political activist Emma Goldman during a Zoom interview, Meyers joked: “If I can’t dance to it, it’s not my revolution.”
This year Purim’s party, which is set to run from from 9 p.m. to 4 a.m., will include a spiel (a comic retelling of the Purim story), a DJ set and other diverse queer Jewish performances. Meyers expects around 300 attendees.
“I’ve basically been waiting for this Purim party ever since the Hanukkah party ended,” Yochai Greenfeld, a drag performer who performed at Flaminggg’s 2022 Hanukkah party, told the New York Jewish Week.
That event, he added, was “probably one of the best parties of my life.”
“There are a ton of Jewish spaces to party in, but those tend to be somewhat uninviting for queer people to express themselves within those spaces,” said Greenfield, whose drag persona is named “Abbi Gezunt” (Yiddish for “so long as you’re healthy”). “The queer party scene is also mega-oversaturated, and there are tons of different spaces to explore. However, it can sometimes feel a little uncomfortable to express your Jewishness in those spaces.”
Greenfeld added that being around people with similar backgrounds allowed for empowering conversations on the sides of the dance floor, something he said he’d never experienced at other parties.
In addition to nightlife, Meyers has plans to grow Flaminggg into a more robust programming venture. Funded solely through donations and ticket sales, Meyers hopes to keep it that way so as to remain independent from any political or religious agendas. Currently in the process of establishing Flaminggg as its own LLC, Meyers envisions branching out into Shabbat dinners and queer Jewish study groups.
Ultimately, Meyers hopes that through Flaminggg’s events, attendees will feel more ownership over their Jewish identities. “All the Jewish programming I do is for building a deeper and deeper possibility of people coming into a space and going: ‘I’ve never felt so affirmed in being both queer and Jewish,’” he said. “Creating a platform where we can celebrate all of that is really special.”
Flamingggtaschen: A Queer Purim Party is on Saturday, March 4 at 3 Dollar Bill (270 Meserole St.) Get tickets here.
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The post This Purim, a space for queer Jews to celebrate their identities — and dance the night away appeared first on Jewish Telegraphic Agency.
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BBC Issues Correction After Claiming ‘There Have Been Other Holocausts’ in Response to Complaint
The BBC logo is seen at the entrance at Broadcasting House, the BBC headquarters in central London. Photo by Vuk Valcic / SOPA Images/Sipa USA via Reuters Connect
The British Broadcasting Corporation (BBC) has been accused of “trying to downplay or deny the horror of the Holocaust” after the broadcaster claimed “there have been other holocausts [sic]” when responding to a complaint by a reader about an online article.
The BBC posted on its website an article about King Charles III and Queen Camilla meeting with survivors of Nazi persecution to mark International Holocaust Remembrance Day on Jan. 27. According to Jewish News, the article originally stated that Bergen-Belsen concentration camp survivor Mala Tribich “became the first holocaust [sic] survivor to address the cabinet,” and she asked ministers: “How, 81 years after the holocaust [sic], can these people once again be targeted in this way?”
A reader wrote a complaint about the article using a lowercase “h” in the word “Holocaust” and received a response via email in which the BBC rejected the request to make the change but did not explain why. The reader was also told in the email, “Historically there have been other examples of holocausts [sic] elsewhere,” according to Jewish News. The email was reportedly written by an experienced BBC broadcast journalist.
The BBC has since edited the article to feature an uppercase “H” in the word “Holocaust” and added a note to the online article. “Several references to ‘Holocaust,’ which had been initially spelled in this article with a lower case ‘h,’ have been changed to take an upper case ‘H,’ in accordance with the BBC News style guide,” the BBC wrote. A BBC spokesperson further told Jewish News the email to the reader had been “sent in error.”
“All references to the Holocaust in this article should have been capitalized and we have now updated it accordingly and added a note of correction. We will be writing again to the original correspondent,” the spokesperson noted.
The Campaign Against Antisemitism (CAA) was outraged by the BBC’s error, and said the incident is another example “of an institutionalized dismissal or even hatred of Jews that permeates the BBC’s increasingly agenda-driven reporting.”
“Why is the BBC effectively joining far-right, far-left, and Islamist propagandists and conspiracists in trying to downplay or deny the horror of the Holocaust?” CAA posted on X. “The BBC is peddling softcore Holocaust denial by trivializing the name of this horrific crime.”
“It is difficult to know where the monumental ignorance of the BBC news and complaints divisions ends and their willful revision of history begins,” the organization added. “The Nazi slaughter of the Jews was so extensive that the word genocide had to be invented to describe it. While that word has since been applied to other attempts to wipe out whole peoples, the older word ‘holocaust’ was newly adapted to this event, with which it is uniquely associated.”
The BBC just recently issued an apology after it failed to mention Jews during some of its coverage of International Holocaust Remembrance Day.
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‘You Really Saved Me’: Pianist, Former Hamas Hostage Dedicates Performance to Fellow Survivor Eli Sharabi
Former hostage Alon Ohel reacts as he is welcomed home, after he was discharged from the hospital following his release from captivity in Gaza, where he was held after being kidnapped during the deadly Oct. 7, 2023, attack by Hamas, in Lavon, Israel, Oct. 24, 2025. Photo: REUTERS/Shir Torem
A musician and former Hamas hostage returned to the stage on Monday night in Israel for a performance and dedicated a song to fellow survivor Eli Sharabi, who was his companion in captivity.
Israeli-Serbian pianist Alon Ohel survived 738 days in captivity in the Gaza Strip after being kidnapped when he tried to flee the Nova Music Festival in southern Israel on Oct. 7, 2023. He was released more than two years later, on Oct. 13, 2025, along with the last remaining 20 living hostages. Ohel was held for some time in Hamas’s tunnels alongside Sharabi, who was abducted from Kibbutz Be’eri on Oct. 7, 2023, and released last February.
Several Israeli artists performed on Monday evening as part of a concert for Ohel at Hangar 11 in Tel Aviv.
At one point during the event, Ohel went on stage and did a solo performance of “Yesh Li Sikui” (“I Have a Chance”) by singer-songwriter Eviatar Banai. Ohel dedicated the song to Sharabi, who was standing in the audience.
“In a way, you really saved me with your approach to life,” Ohel said to Sharabi from on stage.
The pianist then shared memories of sitting with Sharabi in the terror tunnels. “We had backgammon or some card game. We played and laughed a bit, and joked around, and I remember you mentioned my mother’s name, Idit, and in that moment I fell apart,” he said. “I couldn’t handle it. The longing broke me in an instant. I went aside and cried. I just cried and broke down. A longing that never ends.”
“After you let me fall apart, I remember you came over to me,” Ohel added, still addressing Sharabi. “You told me: ‘Alon, you have to pull yourself together. You have to disconnect. This can’t work like this. You broke down, now that is it, you pick yourself up. You’re a big kid and we have one goal: to return to our families no matter what. It’s okay to break down, but we must never lose hope.’”
Ohel then recalled how after a year and a half of being together in the terror tunnels, during which time the two men were chained to each other, Sharabi was taken away and Ohel was held in captivity alone.
Sharabi’s words helped him get through those lonely days, Ohel admitted. He told Sharabi on Monday night: “I continued with the mantras you taught me, the ones you kept drilling into my head: ‘Be mentally strong and optimistic,’ and I added being calm in soul. This is my opportunity to say thank you.”
Monday night’s concert featured many artists, including Idan Amedi, Shlomi Shaban, Alon Eder, Gal Toren, Guy Levy, and Guy Mazig. All proceeds went toward a rehabilitation fund for Ohel.
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Why Bad Bunny’s halftime show delighted New York Jews of a certain age
Since last month, a TikTok has been floating around, showing arthritic Latino grandmas and grandpas hearing Bad Bunny for the first time, courtesy their bemused grandchildren. On the reel, he samples “Un Verano en Nueva York,” a 50-year-old salsa song about New York City — or “Nueva Yol,” as Bad Bunny calls his update in his echt Puerto Rican accent. He sang “Nueva Yol” at the Super Bowl halftime show. The original dates from the 1970s, when the old folks were young and lithe and out on the town. On TikTok, when they listen to the new version, they perk up, and then they dance, as the kids look on, bemused and delighted.
I imagine that something similar happened to countless aging Jewish salsa music freaks like myself when they saw the halftime show. I’m 75 now, and I got up and danced, remembering those years during Jimmy Carter’s presidency when I donned high heels and tight skirts to dance away my Saturdays nights at venues like Casino 14 — catorce, it was pronounced — on 14th Street right by Union Square. I’d had a Jewish boyfriend whose mom, a Bell telephone operator, had danced mambo in the 1950s and taught her son the moves. He taught me the cha-cha and rhumba; other friends my age, many of them Jews, loved the music too and knew the steps and clubbed along with me. All this seemed no more remarkable to us than knowing how to say the prayer over the bread on Friday nights.
The Jewish love affair with Latin music began back in the 1950s and, since then, Jews have played it as musicians, produced it as record company owners, and DJed it in clubs and on the radio. Scholars have tried to explain the affinity, and why it has been such a comfortable fit for both ethnic groups. Some speculate that the music of both cultures tends to minor scales. Others point out that, as Jewish neighborhoods such as East Harlem were transitioning in the 1950s to Puerto Rican enclaves, the two groups lived side by side. (Working-class Jews even shared factory spaces with Puerto Rican laborers, especially in the garment industry.)
And there was the Borscht Belt. Starting in the 1950s, the big hotels typically maintained two house bands: one for mainstream pop, and the other for all Latin — the tummlers taught mambo lessons around the swimming pool. By the 1930s, Puerto Rico had been thoroughly colonized by the U.S. and was thoroughly poverty stricken. A vast exit began to the mainland: Puerto Ricans, after all, were American citizens. Many moved to the Bronx. By the 1960s, many of the kids had grown up to be musicians. Some had big bands and a big-band sound. They played regular gigs at places like Kutscher’s in the Catskills. You can still hear Tito Puente in 1959 playing “Grossinger’s Cha Cha Cha.”
Some of the musicians were Jews — for example, Larry Harlow, a classically trained pianist whose grandfather was a cantor and father a Latin music bandleader in the Catskills. Harlow’s actual family name was Kahn; his nickname among musicians and audiences was “El Judio Maravilloso,” the Marvelous Jew. His cousin Lewis Kahn was a salsa violinist and trombonist who’d studied at Julliard; he was “El Segundo Judio Maravilloso.” Once, I gave Lewis a lift back to his hotel post-concert, after I saw him shambling down the street alone. Painfully shy and bespectacled, he seemed more like a member of the Frankfurt School than someone in a band with matching suits and screaming brass.
My foreign language in high school had been Spanish. My conversational skills were good but still stilted. I didn’t get better — didn’t pick up the rhythms and slang and everyday spoken beauty of the language until the 1970s. I began listening then, over and over and over, to my growing collection of LPs from the salsa label Fania, copying the words and learning how they mashed together. Based in New York City, Fania even had a fan magazine. New York also had the annual Puerto Rican parade, and I vividly recall running into impromptu conga circles on street corners, where young people sang not just in Spanish but also in Lucumi, the deeply spiritual language of the Afro-Caribbean Yoruba and Santeria religions. They’d picked up the words from the same records I listened to. Their devotion to the musical aspects of their heritage reminded me of my fascination with cantorial music, which was also available on vintage LPs and even on low-watt radio in Brooklyn.
Twenty-five years ago I went to Columbia one summer to study Yiddish. In class I learned that Molly Picon had sung in Yiddish in the 1940s on the Forward-owned radio station WEVD. Her show was followed by one in Spanish with mambo bands like La Sonora Matancera. How many Jews kept listening after the Picon program signed off? Were Sholem Aleichem and Uriel Weinreich the salseros of their own culture? I got bat mitzvahed at age 71 at a shul in Brooklyn. I had kosher food at the after-party. And we danced to a mambo band, led by Benjamin Lapidus, a fellow synagogue member.
Bad Bunny’s “Nueva Yol” couldn’t be more New York. It talks about going to Bear Mountain in the summer. About the Yankees and the Mets. The 4th of July. About Willie Colon, the beloved salsa trumpeter from the Bronx who ran (unsuccessfully) for Congress in 1994 and for Public Advocate in 2001.
Bad Bunny’s halftime performance of “Nueva Yol” also celebrated a Brooklyn matriarch named Maria Antonia Cay, aka Toñita. She runs an intimate social club for Puerto Ricans in Williamsburg where she cooks traditional food, serves it, and tends bar at age 85. She made a cameo appearance at halftime, as Bad Bunny sang lyrics about conflict and anxiety, featuring his signature tic, the phrase “Uuy, uuy!” Go forward in the mouth just a bit and you’re at Yiddish “Oy oy!” At one point he jumped into a joyful mosh pit of dancers. They hoisted him up and paraded him around. It could have been the reception, in any borough, of any Jewish wedding.
There’s a lot of talk these days about Diaspora Jews versus Israel Jews. It’s a topic that’s been fraught for years and inspires endless discussion. There’s not so much talk about Diaspora Puerto Ricans: the people who settled and struggled here decades ago and whose lives became cultural cross-over when Leonard Bernstein, Jerome Robbins and Leonard Bernstein — all Jews — created West Side Story. Today, the New York boroughs, with about a million Jews, constitute the biggest Jewish city in the world after Tel Aviv. And New York City has more Puerto Ricans than San Juan. Bad Bunny’s halftime show reminded us of our shared diaspora. It did so as our bodies grooved, even if they were geriatric bodies grooving slower than before.
The post Why Bad Bunny’s halftime show delighted New York Jews of a certain age appeared first on The Forward.