But I felt like I was missing something. The modest dress code at my all-girls religious school required long skirts. What would it be like to wear jeans? Dating a real boy? Despite my exposure to pop culture, I was sheltered. I had a huge crush on the singer Ricky Nelson, who I didn’t know was dead. I had no idea about gender. I talked about a red-cheeked Australian boy who I imagined moving in next door, eventually appearing at my window to get me away from it all.
You may not infer any of this from meeting me now. I am queer, non-binary, politically far left, eager for the pleasures of life and decidedly irreverent. I live with my cats and my non-Jewish partner. I eat treyf and go on a Saturday road trip whenever I want. “I’m ex-Orthodox,” I often say cheerfully.
And while technically accurate, the term “ex-Orthodox” sounds scandalous. This implies total rejection. Escapism may be necessary for people leaving much stricter circles of Orthodoxy, but it wasn’t for me. On a fundamental level, I knew that I did not have to fear family rejection, even if I had chosen to separate myself from strict Jewish observance. Because I didn’t need to cut ties, the “ex” in “ex-orthodox” is just an additive layer, just below my present. An integration, not a disavowal.
Even though I am no longer practicing, my religious education remains essential for me. I love ancient Jewish texts and Orthodox deep cuts, those hyperspecific anecdotes coded for those who share my background. I am still close to my Orthodox family. As my sister once said, “You eat treyf, but you are close to God.” »
She was right.
Fragmentation is central not only to the experience of a changing relationship with faith, but also to the queer experience. For some of us, queer life is divided into two: a before and a since. Likewise, for some of us who grew up in faith, when the opportunity presents itself to test the limits of our inherited doctrine, we seize it, knowing that we may never return to the life we have lived in the past. We wonder if God, in the form of lightning, will strike. Most often, I suppose, we simply cross a threshold into a vast unknown.