Ask Avigayil: Round 1
Hello, lovely readers! I got EIGHT QUESTIONS in this round – I am honestly a little surprised, having a real moment of “me?? Why do you want MY advice??” For now, I have started with two (and a half) questions, and I plan to come back to a few more in the near future. If you want to submit a question for a potential future advice column, you can do so here:
This might be more rabbinic than what you're expecting, sorry :) What's your recommendation on an egal girl existing in non-egal spaces she has to be in? Thinking from both practical (i.e. what are the halachic implications if I think there's a minyan but other people in the room don't? whose halachic interpretation gets priority and why?) and emotional (what can i do or tell myself to make this a sustainable practice that yields the lowest amount of resentment possible?).
What should be the relationship between Halahic egal people and Orthodox spaces when those are the only halachic communities/minyanim available?
I am going to answer the first question, and suggest that the second questioner read my response and extrapolate from there! (Short answer to the second questioner: listen to the women in that community and see what they need. Sometimes it is for you to make sure they are not the tenth person in a room with nine men who don’t see a minyan. Sometimes it means sitting with them in refusal to attend. There are no hard and fast rules.)
Dear Egal Gal,
One of the many teshuvot that need to be written and that I would love to write one day is the answer to your question on the halakhic front. I have been in this situation SO MANY TIMES. It sucks. The short halakhic answer is that as of yet, I don’t know, but I know Hashem is sad when this happens. Also, I don’t say “el melech ne’eman” before Shema if I think there is a minyan in the room. That is me reporting what I do personally based on…vibes, and not psak. On this subject, though, I highly recommend this episode of Responsa Radio, about how different kinds of ritual context are different in who gets to decide if there is a minyan.
The emotional answer is, I think, you are basically already doing everything right, and all you need is permission. There is just no fixed answer; there is only what works for you at any given time and in any given community and stage in your life. There have been months of my life where I went to Orthodox minyan three times a day and I found it nourishing and good for my relationships with myself, my community, and Hashem. And there are times when I have absolutely refused to set foot in any space that would not treat me equally, and that insistence was nourishing and good for my relationships with myself, my community, and Hashem.
Your job is to listen to yourself. What makes this sustainable is flexibility. Sometimes, Orthodox shul can feel great. Sometimes, it feels horrible. Neither moment negates the other. Your love of Hashem and Am Yisrael and your desire for community and your deeply felt confidence in your own worth will look different at different times. Sometimes that means being the only woman in the women’s section bright and early. Sometimes that means a quick davening at home and then a novel on the couch. It can depend on the shul, the people you go with, what you think the content of the drasha will be. It can depend on if you experienced a bunch of sexism at work this week or if you are feeling full of feminist confidence.
Listen to yourself. See how you feel. You are the one who makes the rules on this for you.
Advice for someone who has realized they are queer, and previously just thought they were an enthusiastic and serious ally? My realization has come through my partner coming out as trans. And by supporting them, I haven’t had as much time to process my own coming out!! (Pronouns are gendered non-binary to preserve maximal anonymity)
Dear Queer-lized,
Firstly, my apologies for that pun. Secondly, MAZEL TOV!! This brings me so much joy. (To all readers who are NOT the question-asker, they told me who they are and they and their partner are both just the best most wonderful people and I adore this.)
There are a few things I would recommend! The first is to lean into queer joy for yourself. That can look a lot of different ways, and a big part of the work is trial and error. Try reading more queer romance novels and see if that feels fun! Google “queer haircuts” and see if any of them hit that “YES” button inside of you. Hair grows if you don’t like it, and there are always hats in the interim! In the same genre: have you ever had pink hair? Why not! Queerness is big and serious and high-stakes, and also it is incredibly fun. You have a whole new avenue for learning things about yourself and trying things! Also, while we’re on the subject, I would be delinquent if I didn’t recommend considering a new piercing – or a fake clip on one just for the vibes with zero needles.
Also in the genre of queer joy, queer friendships are just as important a part of queerness as queer romantic relationships. I STRONGLY suspect you already have many queer friends in your life; lean into your shared queerness! Ask them for recommendations for queer books, TV, and movies. Laugh with them about queer milestones in your life, and ask for advice about the hard parts.
From a more serious angle, I will tell you something you likely know in your brain but that it can be hard to feel in your neshama: being in deep relationship with queer people and being a serious ally are wonderful, and they are not the same as realizing you’re queer. You don’t actually have an emotional head start because you were an ally! Treat your feelings with seriousness – it is actually a big deal to realize you are queer, even though you already knew queerness is great. Take time. Take walks. Listen to MUNA (or whatever genre of gay you like).
TL:DR: Try things, have fun, and give yourself time, space, and gentleness.
Also, send your partner my mazel tov and love!!