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Queer Jews fought to join the Celebrate Israel Parade. This year, I marched in drag.
(JTA) — “Look mom, he’s a beautiful butterfly,” a child shouted, pointing at me, as I marched up Fifth Avenue in drag on June 4 at the Celebrate Israel Parade.
I could only imagine how meaningful it would have been for me as a kid to see drag included as part of this annual Jewish communal celebration on Fifth Avenue. I didn’t know that boys were allowed to be beautiful. Worse, I thought that there was something shameful about my own longing to embrace my femininity. Certainly, growing up, there were many who seemed only too happy to reinforce that shame. Now, strutting proudly in the parade in a fabulous pink sundress and 9-inch heels is my way of creating a Jewish world where one’s whole self belongs.
Drag helps me find joy in not fitting neatly into boxes or binaries. As a queer Jew who grew up in an Orthodox family, non-binary identity is not just a helpful framing for my gender, it also best captures my approach to religion and my relationship with Israel. Not quite a man and not quite Orthodox, I am equally not quite a woman and kind of Orthodox. While I may not label myself a Zionist, I most certainly celebrate Israel and consider the nation central to my Judaism.
For me, these internal conflicts create the tension that energizes my art. The ability to hold seemingly opposing identities at once provides an authenticity that is both thrilling and freeing. Perhaps this is why I am so drawn to drag. What better art form to express the full spectrum of identity with all its contradictions, complications, and kaleidoscopic colors? I find drag the most exciting and self-actualizing way to fully show up in a parade that celebrates the complexity of Jewish heritage and homeland.
My drag also pays homage to the unapologetic fighting spirit that allowed queer Jews into the parade in the first place. Today, the Jewish Community Relations Council-NY (the parade’s producers) fully embraces the LGBTQ marching cluster and makes us feel like valued members of the Jewish community. But queer organizations were not always welcome at this event. When New York’s gay synagogue attempted to March in the early 1990s, its invitation was rescinded when Orthodox day schools (which still appear to make up the majority of marching schools) threatened to pull out from a parade with an LGTBQ contingent.
As a closeted teen in yeshiva, I remember feeling crushed when I read about the parade’s gay ban. The internalized message was clear: I’m not wanted and there is no place for me in this Jewish community. I recall feeling angry that it seemed like queer Jewish organizations just gave up and gave in to homophobia without a fight. This fury became a drive that helped create JQY (Jewish Queer Youth), the organization I co-founded whose mission is to support LGBTQ youth from Orthodox homes.
It was not until years later, in 2012, when a 16-year-old JQY member named Jon asked if we could march in the Celebrate Israel parade, that I knew it was time to reopen the fight for queer inclusion. That year JQY organized a cluster of queer Jewish organizations and applied to march as an official LGBTQ contingent. At first there was little resistance and our application was accepted. But two weeks before the parade, I was contacted by the parade’s director, informing me that the banner for our marching group must have “no reference to a LGBT or Gay and Lesbian community.” Apparently, once again Orthodox schools were threatening to boycott the parade if queers were to be allowed to march under an LGBT banner.
This time, however, JQY would not back down. I made it clear to the parade director that his request to erase our community identity is unacceptable and that we intended to show up on parade Sunday ready to march with a banner that read “Gay, Lesbian, Bi, Trans Jewish Community.” I told the director that he was welcome to call the police and deal with the optics of arresting queer Jews attempting to celebrate Israel.
Soon after, I began getting phone calls from leaders of the largest queer Jewish organizations. To my surprise, instead of being encouraging, they pressured me to stand down and compromise. Their concern was that my position made queer Jews seem “divisive.” I nearly gave in to these calls for appeasement until I spoke with Larry Kramer, the gay activist, playwright and personal hero of mine. Larry’s words still ring true today. “They were wrong then and they are wrong now,” he said. “The pressure to not be divisive is just a convenient and cowardly device for professionals to hang their internalized homophobia [on].”
The JQY team devised a plan. Prior to the parade’s pushback, we had already received an invitation to a pre-parade wine-and-cheese reception hosted by Fox TV, which was televising the parade that year. I would attend the event with Jon, the JQY member who inspired this parade advocacy, and we would speak to every journalist in the room, letting them know how excited and thankful we were that, for the first time ever, there would be an LGBTQ marching cluster.
When we approached the parade director who was flanked by Fox TV execs, we shook his hand and loudly congratulated him on the incredible milestone for queer inclusion. Cornered and in the spotlight, his response could not have been more perfect. “Yes, we are so proud to have an LGBTQ cluster this year,” he said. We had won.
(Noam Gilboord, the chief operating officer of JCRC-NY, confirmed this account. He said he had not been aware of the pushback against JQY at the time and noted that a highlight of his parade experience this year was handing an Israeli flag to a friend’s trans daughter, who was marching with her community.)
That Sunday our LGBTQ Community cluster had more than 100 marching participants made up of queer Jews of all ages and denominations, as well as friends, family, and allies. We received an overwhelmingly supportive reaction from the crowd, made up of mostly Orthodox Jews. We felt like we were healing old wounds and breaking new ground. Most importantly, we demonstrated that Jewish unity means including the LGBTQ Jewish community by name.
The organizers of the parade were so impressed with our contingent that they awarded us the Most Enthusiastic Participation Award. With subsequent yearly participation, our LGBTQ cluster has become a parade staple and highlight for onlookers. It is one of JQY’s proudest accomplishments.
JQY leads the first-ever LGBTQ contingent in the Celebrate Israel parade in 2012. (Robert Saferstein)
I believe that it is precisely JQY’s focus on uplifting complex identities that made our case to join the parade so strong. For most of our teens, celebrating Israel is part of what it means to both be Jewish and part of the Jewish community (the nation of Israel). Participation in the parade for them is about belonging, not support for any political structure or agenda. It makes sense that Jewish queer youth want to experience communal belonging in an LGBTQ-affirming way. Yet there are still those on the extreme political right and left who refuse to see this nuance and put our participants at risk.
In 2017 our LGBTQ contingent was targeted, infiltrated and sabotaged by members of Jewish Voice for Peace, an anti-Israel activist group. The protesters physically pushed, surrounded and blocked terrified queer Jewish minors who were bravely marching in front of their Orthodox families. Little did our teens know that it was bigotry from the left that would come for them that day.
This year we were particularly wary of marching among a predominantly Orthodox crowd — not because the Orthodox community has gotten more religious or pious, but because of reports that the Orthodox community has become more influenced by a political right that increasingly targets the LGBTQ community. One of the most influential public figures on the right is Ben Shapiro, an Orthodox Jew who, besides being fixated on canceling companies that work with trans people, recently published an article blaming LGBTQ acceptance for the “failure of modern Orthodox Judaism.”
Our contingent this year was mostly met with smiles, cheers and applause. However, it was difficult to ignore the handful of people on nearly every block who covered their children’s faces, displayed angry thumbs down signs and even shouted homophobic or transphobic slurs as we passed. Over the last few years I have noticed an uptick in these kinds of negative responses. It would be negligent not to connect this change to the recent nation-wide scapegoating of trans youth, drag artists, and LGBTQ acceptance.
This week, for the first time ever, the Human Rights Campaign declared an LGBTQ state of emergency in the United States, after lawmakers in 45 states proposed anti-trans bills in 2023. Of those, 24 have proposed “Don’t Say Gay” laws that criminalize discussion of LGBTQ issues in public schools, and lawmakers in 14 states have proposed anti-drag laws. Politicians and pundits with huge platforms are openly describing queer advocates as “groomers,” conveying that there is a pedophilic sexual agenda to the call for LGBTQ human rights and dignity.
This is the environment that LGBTQ Jewish youth live in today and experienced while marching in front of the Jewish community at this year’s parade. This is why I chose to march in drag. Marching is an exercise in building resilience and self-esteem in the face of adversity. My message is to not be afraid, to never back down and to be as magnificent as possible. These principles are the foundations of drag.
Drag is a queer art form that empowers us to express ourselves with every color imaginable. Drag elicits joy and entertainment by subverting expectations and turning gender expression into theatrical performance. It is an artistic genre that can be innocent or scandalous. The form ranges from family-friendly fun like “Mrs. Doubtfire” and Drag Queen Story Hours, to hit TV shows like “RuPaul’s Drag Race” and the more adult fare found in late night bars.
At the Celebrate Israel parade, drag is as natural an aesthetic for queer marchers as Bukharan music and garb are to the Russian-speaking Jewish community cluster. For many LGBTQ Jews, drag is as much a part of our culture and heritage as the celebration of Israel. This year, I was the first participant to march in drag. Next year, I hope many more will follow. Because let’s face it, nothing lights up a parade quite like a fabulous drag queen.
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The post Queer Jews fought to join the Celebrate Israel Parade. This year, I marched in drag. appeared first on Jewish Telegraphic Agency.
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‘Growing Pogrom-Like Atmosphere’: German Antisemitism Commissioner Issues Warning After Synagogue Arson Attack
Anti-Israel protesters march in Germany, March 26, 2025. Photo: Sebastian Willnow/dpa via Reuters Connect
The commissioner to combat antisemitism in the German state of Hesse has sounded the alarm after an arson attack on a local synagogue in the town of Giessen, warning that it reflects a “growing pogrom-like atmosphere” threatening Jewish life across Germany as Jews and Israelis continue to face an increasingly hostile climate.
In an interview with the German newspaper Tagesspiegel, Uwe Becker — who has served in his role since 2019 — condemned the latest attack, saying it occurred “in a poisoned antisemitic climate that is steadily worsening.”
The horrific act occurred in a “growing pogrom-like atmosphere that, as a society in Germany and Europe, we are currently not doing enough to counter,” the German official said.
On Tuesday, a 32-year-old man was arrested after allegedly setting fire to a trash can outside a local synagogue in Giessen, west-central Germany, in an attack that damaged a roller shutter and entrance gate, though no one was harmed.
According to local reports, a Giessen district judge has ordered the suspect to be placed in a psychiatric hospital, citing signs that he may be suffering from a mental illness.
However, the suspect remains in police custody as local authorities investigate the circumstances and motive of the attack, including whether it was politically motivated.
This latest attack came just a week after Andreas Büttner, the commissioner for antisemitism in Brandenburg, northeastern Germany, was targeted for the second time in less than a week after receiving a death threat.
According to the German newspaper Potsdamer Neueste Nachrichten (PNN), the Brandenburg state parliament received a letter earlier this month threatening Büttner’s life, with the words “We will kill you” and an inverted red triangle, the symbol of support for the Islamist terrorist group Hamas.
Authorities are now probing the incident as part of an ongoing investigation into threats against the German official, after his private property in Templin — about 43 miles north of Berlin — was also targeted in an arson attack and a red Hamas triangle was spray-painted on his house.
A former police officer and member of the Left Party, Büttner took office as commissioner for antisemitism in 2024 and has faced repeated attacks since.
“The symbol sends a clear message. The red Hamas triangle is widely recognized as a sign of jihadist violence and antisemitic incitement,” Büttner said in a statement after the incident.
“Anyone who uses such a thing wants to intimidate and glorify terror. This is not a protest, it is a threat,” he continued.
Hamas uses inverted red triangles in its propaganda videos to indicate Israeli targets about to be attacked. The symbol, a common staple at pro-Hamas rallies, has come to represent the Palestinian terrorist group and glorify its use of violence.
In August 2024, swastikas and other antisemitic symbols and threats were also spray-painted on Büttner’s personal car.
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How Alvin Ailey’s ‘Revelations’ evokes Yom Kippur for me
My last semester of college, I had an Alvin Ailey phase.
My time in Philadelphia was rapidly coming to a close and I felt an urge to make it to as many of the performing arts venues in the city as I could (not an easy feat). With a close family friend, I attended my first Alvin Ailey performance at the Forrest Theatre. Soon after, I went to a talk at the African American Museum in Philadelphia about Ailey and the piece The River. That weekend, I also watched the 2021 documentary Ailey. Then I found myself doing a sociolinguistical analysis of Ailey’s most famous work, Revelations, for a class.
To call my interest in Ailey a phase is actually a misnomer since, two years later, I am still an Ailey fan — and now the owner of an actual Alvin Ailey-branded hand fan. Last June, I attended a performance during their run at the Brooklyn Academy of Music and fell in love with Grace, choreographed by Ronald K. Brown. I bought a ticket to see it again, along with Revelations and two shorter works, during their winter season at New York City Center.
While the end of Grace — in which a dozen dancers take a nearly 30-minute-long journey to a promised land — made me tear up, it wasn’t until Revelations that I actually began to cry. It happened during the duet “Fix Me, Jesus,” in which a female dancer searches for spiritual guidance and a male figure depicts divine support.
I was aware of the irony. As a lifelong Jew, I have never wanted Jesus to “fix” me. But the piece moved me to tears nonetheless. Within the gospel music, New Testament themes and African American cultural imagery of Revelations — composed of multiple smaller pieces — is a universal story of desire for redemption and turning to faith in times of great suffering.
The choir that accompanies the dance sings “fix me for my long white robe,” a reference to Revelation 6:11, where those that have lived their life without sin are told they will be given white robes for their ascension to Heaven. I was reminded of the kittel, a plain white robe some in the Ashkenazi tradition wear on Yom Kippur. Some rabbis have interpreted the robe to symbolize the blank slate we are creating for ourselves in the new year. Dressing plainly can also be another way of resisting earthly pleasures on the Day of Atonement. Since some people are also buried in their kittel, another interpretation is that wearing it helps one consider their death and what legacy they want to leave behind, thinking of how they may “fix” themselves to be ready for when they will be brought before G-d.
These echoes of Yom Kippur make another appearance in Ailey’s Revelations in the solo “I Wanna Be Ready.” The single dancer dressed in white alternates between contracting and expanding their body, kneeling and prostrating on the ground, as if they are repenting for something. The choir chants that they want to be ready to put on their long white robes and the lead singer explains he has avoided the temptation to sin so his soul will be ready for death.
This deviates slightly from how I think of preparing for the Day of Judgment. For me, Yom Kippur has always been about acknowledging that we will sin, that we are human, flawed, prone to jealousy and gossip and all those other things we list as we beat our chests during the confessional. In the Reconstructionist Press version of the Prayerbook for the Days of Awe, Rabbi Rami M. Shapiro writes that “we freely admit our failings” in order to “create our atonements.” In the confessional, we are instructed not to tell G-d that “we are righteous, and we have not sinned,” for “indeed we have sinned.”
I have always experienced Yom Kippur as an intense emotional journey to find within myself the ability to do better, be better, perhaps with some divine guidance. This is what I recognized in “Fix Me, Jesus,” this burning desire to exceed our own expectations.
But the yearning of Revelations is not just about individual spiritual reckoning. Throughout the work, you can feel Black Americans pushing toward freedom as they emerge from the degradation of slavery and Jim Crow.
I connect with this existential cultural aspiration to escape systemic degradation both as a Black American and as a Jewish American, descended from enslaved people on one side and pogrom survivors on the other. Although Revelations originated in a specific cultural context — born from Ailey’s experiences growing up in the Black church in 1930s Texas — its broader message about redemption feels unifying across cultural divides. I have imagined seeing Revelations with my paternal grandmother, an active and dedicated member of the Black Presbyterian church. Even if we were to appreciate the dance’s spirituality for different reasons — her for the work’s reflection of her faith in Jesus, me for its raw portrayal of an intense desire to improve — it’s something that would move both of us.
Probably my tears were triggered by the intensity of the piece and the beauty of its dancers and not by some spiritual awakening. Still, despite — or really, because of — the emotional unrest Alvin Ailey put me through, they will probably be seeing me again soon.
The post How Alvin Ailey’s ‘Revelations’ evokes Yom Kippur for me appeared first on The Forward.
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Police Chief in UK Retires After Facing Scrutiny for Banning Israeli Maccabi Tel Aviv Fans From Soccer Match
WMP Chief Constable Craig Guildford speaking before the Home Affairs Committee on Jan. 6, 2026. Photo: Screenshot
West Midlands Police (WMP) Chief Constable Craig Guildford retired on Friday effective immediately after increasing public scrutiny and revelations over his use of “exaggerated or simply untrue” intelligence to justify a ban prohibiting Maccabi Tel Aviv soccer fans from attending a match late last year.
Simon Foster, the police and crime commissioner of WMP, announced Guildford’s retirement in a formal statement delivered outside Birmingham’s Lloyd House, which is the headquarters of the West Midlands police force. Guildford will collect his full pension after three decades of service. Foster thanked Guildford for his service and said he welcomes the chief constable’s decision to retire. He added that Guildford’s stepping down is in the “best interest” of the police force and the local community.
Guildford’s retirement follows the decision of the Birmingham City Council Safety Advisory Group, based on the recommendation of West Midlands Police, to ban traveling Maccabi Tel Aviv soccer fans from attending the Europa League soccer match between Aston Villa and the Israeli team on Nov. 6, 2025, at Villa Park in Birmingham due to “public safety concerns.”
The announcement also comes just two days after British Home Secretary Shabana Mahmood told the British Parliament that she has lost confidence in Guildford. The minister said she came to the conclusion after receiving a “damning” and “devastating” report by Sir Andy Cooke, his Majesty’s chief inspector of constabulary, on Wednesday that revealed several failings by the WMP force in relation to its recommendation to ban Maccabi soccer fans, including “misleading” public statements and “misinformation” promoted by the police.
Foster acknowledged on Thursday that the police forced faced “understandable intense and significant oversight and scrutiny.”
“The findings of the chief inspector were damning. They set out a catalogue of failings that have harmed trust in West Midlands Police,” Mahmood said in a statement following Thursday’s announcement. “By stepping down, Craig Guildford has done the right thing today … Today marks a crucial first step to rebuilding trust and confidence in the force amongst all the communities they serve.”