It is common for people to sum up the narrative of Jewish holidays with the following: they tried to kill us, we survived, let’s eat.
The truth is that more than any other people, the Jewish community understands what it means to be the victims of hatred and targets of violence and terror.
Today, as the world reels from the horrific murders in Orlando, we have an obligation to learn from our experience, to show compassion and solidarity to help heal the wounded hearts of our friends and family in the LGBTQ community. In Washington DC, as Shavuot ended, a congregation of Orthodox Jews travelled to an African American gay bar to lend support and comfort – exemplifying the best of what our community has to offer. Sadly, other elements of our community have erased the victimization of the LGBTQ community in a well-intentioned attempt to help connect the Jewish community and society as a whole in our shared humanity.
A recent op-ed on The CJN attempted to make sense of the awful tragedy at the Pulse Nightclub in Orlando with quotes like: “When Omar Mateem murdered those young people on Saturday night, he attacked forty-nine human beings, not forty-nine members of the LGBTQ community.” Similarly, a BBC news program featured straight reporters explaining to their gay colleague that it was not the LGBTQ community which was targeted, but all free societies. More recently, Israeli prime minister Benjamin Netanyahu’s statement tied the attack into radical jihadist ideology which lumps all non-believers together for attack.
As Jews, we know what it feels like to be the specific and unique target of a terrorist attack. We know that when kosher stores and community centres are targeted by jihadists and neo-Nazis, it’s more than simply an attack on western values – it is a specific and painful attack on our community that rattles us to our core. It makes us question our own security, no matter how far from the attack we may live. And we know from our own experience how painful it is to see those attacks whitewashed – as they were in Paris – ignoring the specific threats and hatred that made our community the target of violence.
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The attacks in Orlando were a specific and direct hate crime intended to hurt one segment of society above others – and it did. We must remember that LGBTQ people still experience rejection and fear throughout their lives, sometimes emotional and sometimes physical. Beyond the deaths and injuries, this attack has reinforced those feelings, reminding LGBTQ people that they remain a target of intense hatred. Ignoring that impact only makes the ongoing battle the LGBTQ community faces for visibility and acceptance even more difficult. Rather than pivoting immediately to universalize tragedy, the Jewish thing to do is to ask how we can support the specific affected community first.
Just as Jews in Toronto reeled after the Hyper Cacher attacks in Paris, Toronto’s LGBTQ community is deeply shaken. As a gay man, I know that this could have as easily been me and my friends at a nightclub in downtown Toronto on Saturday night. And make no mistake, as a Jew, I am doubly aware of the presence of extreme elements who would love to see a gay nightclub attacked in Canada, since I grew up watching these same elements target the international Jewish community.
Today, our LGBTQ friends, family and neighbours are in acute pain, struggling to regain a sense of security, even as new plots are uncovered. If ever there was a group that could understand the LGBTQ community’s fear, it is the Jewish community. Now more than ever we should be reaching out and providing support and affirmation rather than trying to breeze over the awful hatred and specific homophobia that triggered it. While it comes from a place of love and compassion, such universalization causes more hurt than help, making LGBTQ people feel erased and forgotten.
As Jews, more than most, we must understand the difference and be supportive allies – reaching out to friends and relatives who are still grieving Saturday’s callous murders. Many in the Jewish community have been truly wonderful allies to the LGBTQ community in the days since the attack. I can tell you that the words of support from friends and strangers mean more than you can know. To those of you who have been so wonderful: thank you. Your chesed will not be forgotten. With the annual Pride Parade in Toronto only weeks away, I invite you to join us in a celebration of life and love.
They tried to kill us. We survived. Let’s eat.
Tomer Chervinsky formerly worked with CJPAC, and is currently active in volunteer capacities with CIJA and Ve’ahavta. He is also an active member and volunteer in Toronto’s LGBTQ community.
