Nehirim | A Yeled’s Journey to Gay Summer Camp

Growing up in the Conservative movement in Baltimore in the 90′s, it wasn’t that being gay was a huge sin, it was so taboo, that it was simply not discussed. Homosexual was a dirty word and such things were simply not spoken about. Every single yeled was destined to marry ayeldah - end of story. Will & Grace apparently premiered when I was in the 8th grade, but I had no idea. In our very Conservative (religiously and politically) household, such shows were about as Kosher as pork and cheesebergers. I even heard my Dad joke once that if he ever saw Will and Grace, he’d shoot them on the spot. I know — heavy stuff, right?! Welcome to my childhood!

All I knew was that Judaism and being a twinky gay boy didn’t mix. I really couldn’t wrap my head around how I could be gay and Jewish. And it didn’t take me very long after my Bar Mitzvah to stop wrapping myself in tefillin and start strapping on the jazz shoes. I felt much more comfortable dancing in musicals and sewing together our costumes than I did in davvining the Musaf service and tying tsitsit.

I eventually discovered the Reform movement in my early 20′s, the movement where I felt that I could finally have a home. Gays were welcomed, fabulous organs were played, and no one would give me a cross look if I didn’t wear a kipah because it messed up my over-gelled hair. But even so, if one didn’t live in San Francisco or New York, where one can be part of a booming and huge distinctly queer Synagogue, one ends up being one of the few out token gays. As welcoming as the Temples were, it still got lonely after a while. I didn’t want to be one of the few. Who could I relate to? And I didn’t really want to go to one of the small alternative LGBT Jewish congregations that many small cities have that meet in a storage room of some sympathetic Unitarian church and are run by a band of adorably kooky Jewish misfits. I wanted a large community.

I’ve managed to fall into a small career being a Cantorial Soloist with a rainbow Tallis, which is just lovely. I love connecting with the congregants and sending all our prayers up to Adonai through this voice that Adonai gifted to me. But again, where is the community of people like me? Where are my gays?

I’ll tell you where that is — it’s at Nehirim! For me, Nehirim was the bridge, the gesher, that brought together being Jewish and being a member of the queer community. It was a weird and wonderful feeling to find all theseJewish men who also felt something was missing from their lives. Like me, they sought to capture in their adulthood the happy memories of their Jewish childhood — memories we thought we’d never be able to recreate as gay men. I can’t properly convey to you how powerful it is to see a room of gay Jewish men dancing by the end of L’cha Dodi during Friday night Shabbat services and then passionately chanting the Aleinu at Saturday morning Shabbat services. There was my community.

By: David Fair

As well, it was so beautiful and precious getting to know these men and hear their stories. We gay Jewish men have such a story to tell! I met at least a dozen men who had children from their heterosexual marriages. Some men had lost partners to AIDS. Many of the participants were couples who come every summer. My favorites were these two guys in their 20′s who arrived Friday afternoon in full Orthodox clothing, started holding hands during Saturday morning Shabbat services, and were in drag by Havdalah.

On top of all of that, Nehirim is enlightening and fun. Not only are there workshops in Jewish text studies, Jewish poetry, Jewish music, Judaism and Sexuality, political discussions about the Middle East, and much more; there was just as many fun workshops like Jewish go-go dancing, Grooming for the Jewish Gay Male, massage, and Rainbow Tsitsit tying. I had the honor of teaching yoga and Israeli dancing.

I had come a long way from not being allowed to watch Will & Grace. I met other Jewish gay men with whom I plan on keeping in touch with for years to come. In fact, I can’t wait to return to Nehirim next year! I was able to take back home with me this new sense of identity and pride. When I think back to Nehirim this past summer, it feels like a dream — a dream that makes me smile.

I am so happy to know that many Jewish religious schools in 2014 are supportive, affirming, and welcoming to teens in the queer community. Let me tell you, that community extends all the way up to upstate New York at the Nehirim Men’s Retreat. And for those of you that were born too early to be get to attend that the supportive gay community that we all should have had in Temple, come to Nehirim. You’ll find it.