Abstract
Queer Judaism offers an in-depth examination of the Orthodox Jewish LGBT 1 movement ‘Kadag’, a movement that achieved many groundbreaking changes in Orthodox Judaism in Israel, leading to queer friendly synagogues, conversations with Jewish authorities and an overall improved quality of life for Orthodox queer people, who were up until recently largely invisible. Kadag is also characterized by tensions, which are meticulously unpacked by Avishai. For one, the movement predominantly consists of (more privileged) Ashkenazi cisgender lesbians and gay men (‘hommos’) which leads to marginalization of transgender and non-binary people. Furthermore, the majority of her participants aspire assimilation, seeking to form nuclear families and having an Orthodox Jewish wedding ceremony. Avishai acknowledges that such assimilation strategies may not be very radically queer and that many of Kadag’s demands are rather ‘conservative’ (p. 229), something criticized by scholars in queer studies. However, the groundbreaking efforts should be considered within its context. For a long time, being ‘an Orthodox lesbian or hommo was considered an oxymoron’ (p. 27) and deemed non-existent within Orthodox Jewish communities. Over the past decades, Orthodox LGBT people have mobilized and changed Orthodoxy from within. One of the most intriguing arguments is the suggestion that ‘assimilationist politics can produce potentially revolutionary, radical, transgressive outcomes’ (p. 232). Simply by being visible and finding access to certain Orthodox rituals and practices, the people of Kadag force Orthodoxy to reconsider gender and sexual norms, leading to a queering of Orthodoxy itself. Nevertheless, the complexity of the movement also unveils homonationalist elements and the potential exclusion of non-monogamous, bisexual or queer sexualities, as well as transgender and non-binary individuals. This tension forms the main thread of Avishai’s analysis.
The first chapter maps the origins of LGBT activism since the 1990s and the developments leading up to the foundation of Kadag. Chapters 2 and 3 focus on the interlocutors’ life stories. Many interlocutors experience a period of self-discovery and conflict, which is the focus of Chapter 2. While these stories confirm what Avishai calls the ‘conflict frame’, the third chapter moves beyond the supposed incommensurability of queerness and religious observance. Once the interlocutors decide to remain within Orthodoxy, they start to consider how Orthodox guidelines may fit their situation. No longer an oxymoron, they actively try to redefine what it means to be Orthodox and gay, implying a reconsideration of Orthodox gender and sexual norms (p. 106). This gives rise to what Avishai terms a ‘politics of authenticity’. At the heart of the matter is the question: Who determines what authentic Orthodoxy looks like?
Avishai argues that tradition and theology can be mobilized within these queer worldmaking processes. Many interlocutors develop a theology of a loving God who celebrates LGBT identities. Many also formulate a ‘born this way’ discourse (or: ‘God made me this way’, p. 125), which Avishai recognizes to be somewhat inconsistent with theories that consider sexuality a social construct.
Chapters 4, 5 and 6 delve into the interlocutors’ participation within activist networks. By claiming that they too are ‘authentically Orthodox’, the interlocutors are politicized (often inadvertently, p. 193) and intervene in Orthodoxy. Chapter 4 explores the interactions of LGBT people with rabbis, leading to theological and halachic reconsiderations. The fifth chapter centres on ‘storytelling’ as a strategy adopted by Kadag, offering vignettes about different educational platforms that seek change within Orthodox communities. The sixth chapter moves to a more conventional space of LGBT activism: Public events and demonstrations, including pride marches. Here Avishai unpacks the politics of normalcy and assimilation, although her critique does not lead to a simple dismissal of the movement. This chapter also offers the most critique on Kadag’s Zionist and nationalist tendencies, reflecting on the broader political context of Israel.
Queer Judaism is built on a multi-method ethnographic approach consisting of interviews with lesbians and gay men, conversations with rabbis, online ethnography, archival research and participant observation in Orthodox LGBT events. This variety of methods is complemented by a rich theoretical framework that combines queer, Jewish and feminist studies and theories. Avishai’s background in gender studies is evident in her profound reflections on positionality and her deep commitment to her research participants. Notwithstanding its theoretical and methodological vastness, Queer Judaism remains coherent and clear, centred around Avishai’s concept of the ‘politics of authenticity’. Written in an accessible style, this book is relevant for all scholars of sexuality and queer studies, for queer theologians and scholars of religion and gender, and for scholars of Judaism and Jewish authorities.
Through sharp and critical analyses of LGBT activism, combined with a thorough engagement with her participants’ valuable work, Avishai invites readers to reflect on dominant assumptions within the study of sexuality, including the focus on ‘conflict’ and presumed incommensurability of sexuality and religion. Queer Judaism convincingly presents alternative narratives and possibilities, without adopting an apologetic approach towards, for instance, Kadag’s homonormative, Zionist and nationalist tendencies. In sum, the book is an inspiration for those interested in sexuality, gender, Judaism or ‘conservative’ religions because it avoids a debate of sides one can be for or against (queer versus orthodox; liberal versus conservative; feminist versus oppressed; secular versus religion). Instead, Queer Judaism shows how people actively remake Jewish Orthodoxy and livable queer lives, in all its ambivalences and complexities.
ORCID iD
Lieke Schrijvers https://orcid.org/0000-0001-7379-9181