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Embracing their place on ‘the fringes,’ queer artists reimagine Jewish ritual garments for all bodies
(JTA) — Binya Kóatz remembers the first time she saw a woman wearing tzitzit. While attending Friday night services at a Jewish Renewal synagogue in Berkeley, she noticed the long ritual fringes worn by some observant Jews — historically men — dangling below a friend’s short shorts.
“That was the first time I really realized how feminine just having tassels dangling off you can look and be,” recalled Kóatz, an artist and activist based in the Bay Area. “That is both deeply reverent and irreverent all at once, and there’s a deep holiness of what’s happening here.”
Since that moment about seven years ago, Kóatz has been inspired to wear tzitzit every day. But she has been less inspired by the offerings available in online and brick-and-mortar Judaica shops, where the fringes are typically attached to shapeless white tunics meant to be worn under men’s clothing.
So in 2022, when she was asked to test new prototypes for the Tzitzit Project, an art initiative to create tzitzit and their associated garment for a variety of bodies, genders and religious denominations, Kóatz jumped at the chance. The project’s first products went on sale last month.
“This is a beautiful example of queers making stuff for ourselves,” Kóatz said. “I think it’s amazing that queers are making halachically sound garments that are also ones that we want to wear and that align with our culture and style and vibrancy.”
Jewish law, or halacha, requires that people who wear four-cornered garments — say, a tunic worn by an ancient shepherd — must attach fringes to each corner. The commandment is biblical: “Speak to the Israelite people and instruct them to make for themselves fringes on the corners of their garments throughout the ages” (Numbers 15:37-41) When garments that lack corners came into fashion, many Jews responded by using tzitzit only when wearing a tallit, or prayer shawl, which has four corners.
But more observant Jews adopted the practice of wearing an additional four-cornered garment for the sole purpose of fulfilling the commandment to tie fringes to one’s clothes. Called a tallit katan, or small prayer shawl, the garment is designed to be worn under one’s clothes and can be purchased at Judaica stores or online for less than $15. The fringes represent the 613 commandments of the Torah, and it is customary to hold them and kiss them at certain points while reciting the Shema prayer.
“They just remind me of my obligations, my mitzvot, and my inherent holiness,” Kóatz said. “That’s the point, you see your tzitzit and you remember everything that it means — all the obligations and beauty of being a Jew in this world.”
The California-based artists behind the Tzitzit Project had a hunch that the ritual garment could appeal to a more diverse set of observant Jews than the Orthodox men to whom the mass-produced options are marketed. Julie Weitz and Jill Spector had previously collaborated on the costumes for Weitz’s 2019 “My Golem” performance art project that uses the mythical Jewish creature to explore contemporary issues. In one installment of the project focused on nature, “Prayer for Burnt Forests,” Weitz’s character ties a tallit katan around a fallen tree and wraps the tzitzit around its branches.
“I was so moved by how that garment transformed my performance,” Weitz said, adding that she wanted to find more ways to incorporate the garment into her life.
The Tzitzit Project joins other initiatives meant to explore and expand the use of tzitzit. A 2020 podcast called Fringes featured interviews with a dozen trans and gender non-conforming Jews about their experiences with Jewish ritual garments. (Kóatz was a guest.) Meanwhile, an online store, Netzitzot, has since 2014 sold tzitzit designed for women’s bodies, made from modified H&M undershirts.
The Tzitzit Project goes further and sells complete garments that take into account the feedback of testers including Kóatz — in three colors and two lengths, full and cropped, as well as other customization options related to a wearer’s style and religious practices. (The garments cost $100, but a sliding scale for people with financial constraints can bring the price as far down as $36.)
Spector and Weitz found that the trial users were especially excited by the idea that the tzitzit could be available in bright colors, and loved how soft the fabric felt on their bodies, compared to how itchy and ill-fitting they found traditional ones to be. They also liked that each garment could be worn under other clothing or as a more daring top on its own.
To Weitz, those attributes are essential to her goal of “queering” tzitzit.
“Queering something also has to do with an embrace of how you wear things and how you move your body in space and being proud of that and not carrying any shame around that,” she said. “And I think that that stylization is really distinct. All those gender-conventional tzitzit for men — they’re not about style, they’re not about reimagining how you can move your body.”
Artist Julie Weitz ties the knots of the tzitzit, fringes attached to the corners of a prayer shawl or the everyday garment known as a “tallit katan.” (Courtesy of Tzitzit Project)
For Chelsea Mandell, a rabbinical student at the Academy of Jewish Religion in Los Angeles who is nonbinary, the Tzitzit Project is creating Jewish ritual objects of great power.
“It deepens the meaning and it just feels more radically spiritual to me, when it’s handmade by somebody I’ve met, aimed for somebody like me,” said Mandell, who was a product tester.
Whether the garments meet the requirements of Jewish law is a separate issue. Traditional interpretations of the law hold that the string must have been made specifically for tzitzit, for example — but it’s not clear on the project’s website whether the string it uses was sourced that way. (The project’s Instagram page indicates that the wool is spun by a Jewish fiber artist who is also the brother of the alt-rocker Beck.)
“It is not obvious from their website which options are halachically valid and which options are not,” said Avigayil Halpern, a rabbinical student who began wearing tzitzit and tefillin at her Modern Orthodox high school in 2013 when she was 16 and now is seen as a leader in the movement to widen their use.
“And I think it’s important that queer people in particular have as much access to knowledge about Torah and mitzvot as they’re embracing mitzvot.”
Weitz explained that there are multiple options for the strings — Tencel, cotton or hand-spun wool — depending on what customers prefer, for their comfort and for their observance preferences.
“It comes down to interpretation,” she said. “For some, tzitzit tied with string not made for the purpose of tying, but with the prayer said, is kosher enough. For others, the wool spun for the purpose of tying is important.”
Despite her concerns about its handling of Jewish law, Halpern said she saw the appeal of the Tzitzit Project, with which she has not been involved.
“For me and for a lot of other queer people, wearing something that is typically associated with Jewish masculinity — it has a gender element,” explained Halpern, a fourth-year student at Hadar, the egalitarian yeshiva in New York.
“If you take it out of the Jewish framework, there is something very femme and glamorous and kind of fun in the ways that dressing up and wearing things that are twirly is just really joyful for a lot of people,” she said.
Rachel Schwartz first became drawn to tzitzit while studying at the Conservative Yeshiva in Jerusalem in 2018. There, young men who were engaging more intensively with Jewish law and tradition than they had in the past began to adopt the garments, and Schwartz found herself wondering why she had embraced egalitarian religious practices in all ways but this one.
“One night, I took one of my tank tops and I cut it up halfway to make the square that it needed. I found some cool bandanas at a store and I sewed on corners,” Schwartz recalled. “And I bought the tzitzit at one of those shops on Ben Yehuda and I just did it and it was awesome.”
Rachel Schwartz stands in front of a piece of graffiti that plays on the commandment to wear tzitzit, written in the Hebrew feminine. (Courtesy of Rachel Schwartz)
Schwartz’s experience encapsulates both the promise and the potential peril of donning tzitzit for people from groups that historically have not worn the fringes. Other women at the Conservative Yeshiva were so interested in her tzitzit that she ran a workshop where she taught them how to make the undergarment. But she drew so many critical comments from men on the streets of Jerusalem that she ultimately gave up wearing tzitzit publicly.
“I couldn’t just keep on walking around like that anymore. I was tired of the comments,” Schwartz said. “I couldn’t handle it anymore.”
Rachel Davidson, a Reconstructionist rabbi working as a chaplain in health care in Ohio, started consistently wearing a tallit katan in her mid-20s. Like Kóatz, she ordered her first one from Netzitzot.
“I would love to see a world where tallitot katanot that are shaped for non cis-male bodies are freely available and are affordable,” Davidson said. “I just think it’s such a beautiful mitzvah. I would love it if more people engaged with it.”
Kóatz believes that’s not only possible but natural. As a trans woman, she said she is drawn to tzitzit in part because of the way they bring Jewish tradition into contact with contemporary ideas about gender.
“Queers are always called ‘fringe,’” she said. “And here you have a garment which is literally like ‘kiss the fringes.’ The fringes are holy.”
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The post Embracing their place on ‘the fringes,’ queer artists reimagine Jewish ritual garments for all bodies appeared first on Jewish Telegraphic Agency.
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Meet the only Jewish president of a Catholic university
Synagogue president and Catholic university president aren’t typically jobs one holds concurrently.
But in 2023, Greg Weiner became president of both Assumption University, a Catholic college in Worcester, Mass., and Congregation Beth Israel, a Conservative synagogue in the area.
Weiner’s inauguration in March of that year made him the first and only Jewish president of a Catholic university — one with the motto “Until Christ be formed in you.”
To him, the combination just made sense.
“I never had any hesitation at all about whether being a Jewish president would work — quite the opposite,” Weiner told the Forward. “The divide in society between people who do and don’t treat religion seriously is much wider than between particular religions.”
Shortly after Weiner’s inauguration, college presidents found themselves in the national spotlight as pro-Palestinian protesters built tent encampments on college campuses across the country in the aftermath of Oct. 7
During that time, Weiner became a figurehead for an unconventional idea: that Jewish students who felt unwelcome at secular universities ought to consider attending Catholic institutions like Assumption instead.
Now, Weiner continues to make the case that Catholic schools have much to offer Jewish students.
“The challenge for Jewish families, Jewish parents, Jewish students, is we have to ask ourselves: Do we value education, or do we simply value the prestige that’s associated with certain universities?” Weiner said. “Because, in a lot of cases, those seem to be inversely correlated.”
How Weiner became president
To state the obvious: Appointing a non-Catholic to head a Catholic university was not a risk-free choice.
How would students, faculty and trustees react? Would the university, founded in 1904 by the Catholic Augustinian order known as the Assumptionists, be accused of turning away from its Catholic history, character and mission?
Historically, Catholic universities were exclusively led by priests from the Catholic order that founded the school. Universities like Notre Dame have continued that tradition; every president since its founding in 1842 has been a priest of the Congregation of Holy Cross.
But as Catholic universities have increasingly sought to attract students of all faiths — and as the number of priests available to lead universities has declined — more laypeople have taken the helm. For instance, Loyola University in Chicago named the first laywoman instead of a priest as president in 2016. The Jesuit Fordham University did the same in 2022, breaking with its 200-year tradition.
“I wouldn’t entirely downplay some tensions here, as much as the motto of our university is ‘Until Christ be formed in you,’” said the Rev. Dennis Gallagher, an Assumptionist priest who serves as Vice President for Mission at Assumption University. “Clearly, he’s not going to give personal credence to that particular expression.”
But Gallagher said he was won over by how Weiner articulated the value of a Catholic liberal education, which emphasizes inquiry and debate — values that also happen to be very Jewish.
An Assumption education asks humanity’s’ “enduring questions,” and attracts the kind of students who “haven’t determined that they know the answers to those things before they arrive,” Gallagher said.
Weiner, who draws parallels between Talmudic debate and Assumption’s inquiry-driven approach to education, was well-positioned to promote those ideals, Gallagher said.
Weiner was also not an outsider at Assumption. After a career in Democratic politics that included working as press secretary for then-Nebraska Sen. Bob Kerrey and getting his PhD in government at Georgetown University, Weiner joined the faculty at Assumption in 2011 as a political science professor. He quickly rose the ranks, becoming provost and vice president for academic affairs in 2019. After former Assumption President Francesco Cesareo announced his retirement in 2022, Weiner became interim leader.
Gallagher said he didn’t think trustees were seriously considering Weiner for the job of president at the time. But when Weiner excelled in the interim role, the choice became clear.
“I remember saying, ‘I think what we’re looking for is right here with us,’” Gallagher said. “Somebody that can both understand and communicate what a Catholic — albeit not being Catholic himself — what a Catholic liberal education is about.”
In the end, Weiner’s appointment drew far more celebration than controversy, with the university actively embracing his Jewish identity. A rabbi bestowed a special blessing upon Weiner at his inauguration.
A Jewish haven?
Weiner, who grew up as a member of the lone Jewish family in the small town of Luling, Texas, is comfortable with being the only Jew in the room.
When a childhood friend expressed concern that Weiner was going to hell, he took it as “a very ham-handed way of expressing genuine caring,” he said. “I was born without the gene that tells you to get offended quickly.”
That same instinct carried into his career. At first, Weiner said, he didn’t publicly lean into his Judaism as part of the presidency. But in the aftermath of the attacks of Oct. 7, he felt “a particular responsibility to speak out.”
In December 2023, Weiner made a splash with a Wall Street Journal op-ed suggesting Jewish students feeling alienated from Ivy League campuses ought to consider Catholic schools like Assumption.
At the time, other Catholic schools were also explicitly courting Jewish students amid turmoil over Israel and antisemitism on college campuses across the country.
Still, it was an unconventional pitch: Assumption has no Hillel or Chabad on campus, and students are required to take Catholic theology courses where they learn about Christian morality, sacraments and other church doctrine.
But whatever Assumption lacked in Jewish religious life, Weiner said it has made up for in campus culture. Assumption had no student encampments protesting Israel after Oct. 7, in part, Weiner said, because Assumption students are more interested in arguing over ideas in a philosophy class than organizing a protest.
Weiner, who has written four books on political theory and previously worked as a political aide for several Democratic politicians, said students on campus hold a range of views about Israel. But Assumption is not a place filled with student activists.
“Too many campuses have encouraged moral certainty, intellectual certainty, when Socrates says, ‘Philosophy begins with a confession of ignorance,’” Weiner said. “Education requires a certain amount of humility.”
Eli Beberman told the Forward he initially chose Assumption in 2018 because it was close to home and had a strong secondary education program. He expected being Jewish at a Catholic school might require some adjustment. He never imagined the university’s president would become Jewish his senior year.
“Seeing upper level leadership at Assumption also be Jewish was a really cool experience for me,” Beberman said.
Assumption was a place where interfaith friendships thrived, Beberman said. Though there was no Hillel on campus, Beberman was able to pray in an interfaith space with a Torah. He also celebrated Jewish holidays with non-Jewish friends, hosting Shabbat dinners and a Hanukkah party in the dorms, where his parents brought over their “famous brisket.”
“I was able to practice my religion how I wanted to, and I felt very comfortable on campus being a non-Catholic student,” Beberman said.
Jewish faculty members, too, said Weiner’s presidency changed how they saw the university.
Samantha Goldman, a Jewish associate professor of special education at Assumption, said she didn’t seek out a job at a Catholic institution. But once she got there, she was surprised at how natural the environment felt.
“Having a Jewish president of a Catholic institution really communicates this sense of welcoming and inclusivity that might not otherwise be apparent,” she said.
Others were drawn specifically to the culture Weiner fostered. In 2024, Mary Jane Rein left her job as executive director of the Strassler Center for Holocaust and Genocide Studies at Clark University. She said Clark had failed to properly support her after students protested a talk she helped organize featuring an Israeli reservist. That inspired her to come to Assumption, where she launched the Center for Civic Friendship, which helps students engage in civil discourse across ideological divides.
“To my surprise as both a scholar and a Jew,” Rein wrote in the Wall Street Journal, “I feel a warmer welcome and more commonality of purpose at a Catholic institution than at Clark, a secular one.”
That same year, Weiner was reappointed for a five-year term through May 2030 in an announcement trustees said reflected “deep confidence in his leadership.”
To Weiner, the success of his presidency is evidence that Judaism and Catholicism are not as far apart as they may seem.
“Obviously, [there are] some foundational theological differences,” Weiner said. “But with respect to the educational commitments, I think they’re quite compatible.”
The post Meet the only Jewish president of a Catholic university appeared first on The Forward.
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The secret Jewish history of the ‘Rocky Horror Picture Show’
“Rocky Horror,” which opened in London cinemas on this day in 1975 is the cultural phenomenon that simply refuses to die. Rather, since its first incarnation as a 1973 London stage musical, “The Rocky Horror Picture Show” has been continuously reborn on the silver screen, in subsequent Broadway stage productions, and, in 2016, as a direct-to-TV film, starring Laverne Cox of “Orange Is the New Black” fame as the transgender Dr. Frank-N-Furter, the mad-scientist role originated by Tim Curry.
In all its incarnations, however, “Rocky Horror” has always been more than just a performance. Its appeal has been widely driven as a participatory event. Film critic Roger Ebert summarized it best writing about the original 1975 film: “‘The Rocky Horror Picture Show’ is not so much a movie as more of a long-running social phenomenon,” because “the fans put on a better show than anything on the screen.” What Ebert refers to is the interactive tradition that has grown up around “Rocky Horror,” whereby fans attend midnight showings primed for a party as much as a screening: reciting the lines out loud along with the characters and interspersing them with “callouts” — responses that have been accepted into the Rocky Horror canon much as the Talmud is commentary on the Mishnah that has in and of itself become part of the sacred text. In the case of “Rocky Horror,” this also includes activities, such as throwing rice or confetti in the air when the married couple in the film leaves the church; squirting water pistols during a rainstorm; and tossing rolls of toilet paper when one character says “Great Scott!”
In one of the most overtly Jewish moments in and outside of the film, a speech by Dr. Frank-N-Furter hailing the creation of the Golem-like creature of the title, Rocky Horror, is met by chaotic noisemaking on the part of the partygoers onscreen and off. In the original film, some of the crowd generates noise with ratchets – a percussion instrument that looks suspiciously like a gragger, as if Dr. Frank had said “Haman.” There are other Purim-like touches in the film, such that temple congregations have made “Rocky Horror” into part of their annual ritual, such as a “Rockin’ Hora Purimshpiel” in which several of the musical numbers are rewritten as Purim songs.
Other Judaized versions of “Rocky Horror” that have appeared over the years include “Hebrew Horror,” which was staged in Los Angeles in 2007, and the “Rocky Hora Chanukah Song” by the Jewish punk-rock parody group, the Shlomones (sort of a redundancy, since several members of the Ramones were in fact Jewish, as was their outlook in numerous ways, including their song, “Bonzo Goes to Bitburg.”
The original London stage version was produced by British-Jewish theatrical impresario Michael White, who was born to Eastern European Jewish-immigrant parents in Glasgow, Scotland. White’s credits had already included the boundary-shattering “Oh! Calcutta!” — the first all-nude revue in commercial theater — and he went on to co-produce the “Rocky Horror” film as well as “Monty Python and the Holy Grail.”
The original musical and film were decades before their time in celebrating the sexual fluidity of the LGBT world – indeed, there wasn’t such a term as LGBT, much less a socio-political acceptance of it, for years to come. The new TV film version is in no small part an effort to seize this cultural moment when LGBT, and particularly transgender issues, are now part of mainstream political and cultural discussion, especially what with the casting of openly trans actress Laverne Cox.
The original did, however, have a political consciousness beyond its seemingly outrageous effort to provoke. Dr. Frank-n-Furter’s lab coat in the movie was inspired by a Nazi concentration camp inmate uniform and was adorned by the pink triangle that the Nazis used to label what we now call LGBT inmates. And in the film at least, there were implications that Frank’s rival, Dr. Scott was a Nazi.
The 2016 version was again produced by music industry legend Lou Adler, who was responsible for turning the stage musical into the original film starring Tim Curry, Susan Sarandon, Barry Bostwick and Meat Loaf. In that version, Eddie was played by American Idol star Adam Lambert, the role played by Meat Loaf in the original Broadway cast and film. Lambert, who starred as Joshua in “The Ten Commandments: The Musical,” has achieved fame as a solo artist and as the replacement for the late frontman Freddie Mercury in the rock band Queen. Lambert’s Jewish mother, Leila, was a dental hygienist.
Seth Rogovoy is a contributing editor to the Forward.
The post The secret Jewish history of the ‘Rocky Horror Picture Show’ appeared first on The Forward.
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Sister of pro-Israel stalwart Lindsey Graham secures GOP Senate nomination
(JTA) — South Carolina Sen. Darline Graham defeated U.S. House Rep. Ralph Norman in a special primary runoff on Tuesday, putting her in a dominant position to win the Senate seat left vacant with the death in July of her older brother, the pro-Israel stalwart Lindsey Graham.
The Associated Press called the race two hours after polls closed at 9:01pm. By the time 99% of votes were tallied, Darline Graham had secured 52.3% of the votes to Norman’s 47.7%.
“Tonight is a great victory, but it’s not the finish line,” Graham told her supporters on Tuesday night. “In fact, it is the starting line for an even bigger fight, which lies ahead.”
If Darline Graham goes on to win November’s general election against Democrat Annie Andrews, she will have big shoes to fill. Her brother served 23 years in the Senate and eight in the U.S. House. He traveled to Israel about a dozen times between Hamas’s Oct. 7, 2023 attack on the Jewish state and his death at age 71.
Heading into the primaries, analysts expressed no doubt that Darline Graham would be pro-Israel. But matching Lindsey Graham’s level of foreign policy activity, they warned, would be a formidable task. Meanwhile, her campaign to date has largely avoided discussion of international affairs. Instead, she has focused on domestic concerns like reducing spending, securing borders and promoting Trump-backed policies.
During a debate aired on C-SPAN last week, Graham struggled to respond to a foreign policy question about Taiwan and the South China Sea, ultimately admitting that she’s “not that informed on national security.”
“I’m not a polished politician up here,” she said. “National security is not my thing, not my area of expertise.”
Later addressing issues of affordability, Graham linked the domestic economic situation to the war in Iran and said she trusts President Donald Trump “to get the Strait of Hormuz open.” She also voiced her preference for financial sanctions over putting troops on the ground.
Asked about the country’s relationship with Israel, Graham described the Jewish state as “one of our strongest allies.” Recognizing her brother’s close relationship with Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu, she added that during a recent meeting with the Israeli premier, she vowed to “continue supporting Israel in any way” she can.
“We have to stand with Israel,” Graham said.
At their previous face-off, Graham had secured 33% of the vote, while Norman came in second place, at 25%, against eight fellow Republicans. But South Carolina requires primary winners to earn a majority of votes in order to avoid a two-candidate runoff. In the November general election, Graham will contend with Democrat Annie Andrews, a pediatrician who is unlikely to prevail in the solidly Republican state.
Tuesday’s runoff marked the third time in two months that South Carolina Republicans came to the polls to select a Senate candidate. Lindsey Graham, won the first primary in June but died suddenly the next month from an aortic dissection.
A few days later, South Carolina Gov. Henry McMaster, a Republican, appointed Darline Graham to finish her brother’s term. Though she only had minimal policy experience, including a leadership role at the South Carolina Commission for the Blind, she earned President Donald Trump’s endorsement and declared her candidacy in the full race.
Trump celebrated Graham’s nomination in a Tuesday night Truth Social post, writing that “Darline Graham rides Trump endorsement to win GOP nomination for brother’s South Carolina seat.”
Graham thanked Trump profusely during her Tuesday night acceptance speech, recognizing the president as one of her brother’s “closest friends” and crediting him for helping her secure a victory.
Norman, meanwhile, thanked his supporters on Tuesday night for their “prayer crusade of a campaign,” stressing that he “did not prepare a concession speech.” He accused “outside PACs” of spending $8 million opposing him and blamed the Democrats for this situation, adding that “they got what they wanted.”
He recognized Trump’s role in the race as a supporter of Graham, noting that he “never understood why he got involved” but that it is the president’s prerogative to do so. Nonetheless, Norman pledged that there “won’t be any tears” and that he planned to back Graham.
“I’m not supporting a Democrat, so I will support her, Darline, as best I can,” he added. “We’ll live to fight another day.”
This article originally appeared on JTA.org.
The post Sister of pro-Israel stalwart Lindsey Graham secures GOP Senate nomination appeared first on The Forward.

