אהובה החבובה

you hit the nail on the head. i don’t know if this person is one of the “it’s just a religion, not an ethnicity” people, but they definitely gave the impression that they felt that their independent study of judaism and jewish topics combined with their desire to convert entitled them to a conversion.

i glossed over it for this post but yes. it makes no sense grammatically. “to life uprising” huh?? i assume its an attempt to translate “long live the intifada” but im sure no one in the room when they created this actually spoke any hebrew

because it isn’t true, and knowingly conceding to a lie is a shame i couldn’t live with.

I’m not abandoning that label because people who hate women want to lie about what it means.

I’m Jewish and queer and if you don’t like either of those things, that’s too damn bad.

It's important to note that Israel is, despite her many flaws, the most queer friendly country in the Middle East. And has been since at least the 1970's.

(Jewish) pride month day 15 (im sorry): Simeon Solomon

Simeon Solomon (1840-1905) was a Jewish-British painter & prose poet associated with the pre-Raphaelites. Jewish culture and queer love are major themes in his work. Many of his paintings depict scenes from the Torah or of Jewish life. His older brother, Abraham, and sister, Rebecca, were both also artists and he began learning to paint from Abraham. Their mother was also an artist. Solomon studied at the Royal Academy, where his art was exhibited. Solomon was arrested and jailed on multiple occasions for engaging in sexual relationships with men. This would unfortunately have a large impact on his career and contributed to his alcoholism.

Simeon Solomon Research Archive - Home

Category:Paintings by Simeon Solomon - Wikimedia Commons

Painting above: Sappho and Erinna in a Garden at Mytilene, watercolor, 1864

Isaac and Rebekah, watercolor, 1863

Shadrach, Meschach and Abednego, watercolor, 1963

Ruth and Boaz, 1862

Offering the First Fruits of the Harvest, watercolor, 1864

Carrying the Scrolls of Law, 1867

Love Dreaming by the Sea, watercolor, 1871

A Hebrew Girl, 1874

Allegorical Self Portrait, 1873

Man in a Turban holding Lulav and Etrog, 1886

A Youth Relating Tales to Ladies, 1870

A prelude by Bach, 1868

King Solomon, 1872-4

King Solomon sitting in Judgement, watercolor, 1881

David, no date

The Lemon Seller

Pastoral Lovers, 1869

Before World War II, the town of Chmielnik, Poland's population was about 80% Jewish — and after the Holocaust, only four Jews remained. Very few relics of the town's Jewish population were known to have survived the war, including a synagogue, which now functions as a museum commemorating the town's Jewish history. Now, another sacred site has been uncovered in a surprising location: the basement of an abandoned strip club. For decades, a mikveh, or Jewish ritual bath, sat hidden beneath the building in surprisingly good condition.⁠ ⁠ Learn more about this stunning "time capsule" from pre-war times at the link in our profile.⁠

(source: https://www.wrhs.org/learn-discover/history-at-home/then-now-blog/2023/02/22/the-greatest-american-hero-the-story-of-jerry-siegel-and-joe-shuster)

And the first comic book convention was held at a Jewish fraternity.

(source: "Is Superman Circumcised?" by Roy Schwartz published 2021)

And Siegel and Shuster gave much of their Superman profits for tzedakah.

(source: https://www.jta.org/2018/10/03/united-states/tragic-tale-supermans-jewish-creators-told-graphic-novel-form)

I grew up in Sydney. Like so many Australian children, I remember singing songs about our beautiful country in kindergarten. Some of my most cherished early memories are long summer afternoons with family and friends on the Bondi shore.

I grew up in Sydney. Like so many Australian children, I remember singing songs about our beautiful country in kindergarten. Some of my most cherished early memories are long summer afternoons with family and friends on the Bondi shore.

Bondi was not just a destination. It was childhood. It was family. It was freedom. It was Australia.

Almost every day, I catch myself hoping it has all been a terrible mistake. That I will wake and discover none of it was real. That my father will walk through the door and everything will go back to how it was.

But it won't.

My father, Reuven Morrison, came to Australia from the former USSR, where Jewish life was suppressed and hidden. Australia was something entirely different: a land where you could live openly and proudly as a Jew.

He loved this country. He loved Australian mateship. He loved the way people looked out for one another. He loved the belief that wherever you came from, you could build a life here and belong.

To have his life taken while he celebrated his heritage at Bondi is a wound our family will carry forever. But the Bondi massacre did not take one life. It took 15.

Fifteen Australians who woke expecting an ordinary day. Fifteen people with families waiting for them to come home. Fifteen people with plans, dreams, responsibilities and futures.

When we speak about Bondi, I hope we never reduce it to headlines, statistics or political talking points. For the families of the victims, Bondi was not a news story. It was the moment life split into before and after.

One of the reasons the "One Mitzvah for Bondi" campaign has moved me is that it recognises something we too easily forget: our loved ones should be remembered not only for how they died, but for how they lived.

When Australians perform an act of kindness in their memory, they do more than honour the people we lost. They ensure that hatred does not have the final word.

The word mitzvah is often translated as "good deed." It means more than that. Mitzvah means connection.

When we do something good for another person, we create a bond between ourselves and someone else. We step outside our own needs and become part of something bigger.

Perhaps that is the lesson our society needs most. We live in an age that tells us to look inward, to chase what feels good, to seek the quick reward.

Yet the deepest meaning we ever find comes from the opposite direction. It comes from caring for others, from building families, communities and a society where people feel seen, valued and safe.

My father understood that. All his life he looked for ways to help others, whether family, friends or complete strangers. He wanted to leave every situation better than he found it.

In his final moments, that instinct did not leave him. When terror arrived at Bondi, he did not think of himself. He tried to save the people around him. That is who he was.

It is also who so many Australians are. There are many lessons to take from Bondi. One stands above the rest. We need each other.

Australia has always been made up of people from different cultures, faiths and perspectives. That diversity is not a weakness. It is one of our greatest strengths. We do not have to agree on everything. We do have to remember that we share this country.

I believed Bondi would be a turning point. That, after seeing the consequences of unchecked hatred, we would say together: enough.

The answer is not more division. The answer is choosing each other. Conversation over condemnation. Curiosity over assumption. Humanity over ideology.

That is the work I now share with the Combat Antisemitism Movement, alongside Australians of every background. Our focus is fighting anti-Semitism, but the larger aim is a society where every person can live as who they are, without fear.

I believed Bondi would be a turning point. That, after seeing the consequences of unchecked hatred, we would say together: enough. Yet half a year on, polarisation is only growing.

The greatest tribute we can offer the victims of Bondi is not only to remember them. It is to build the country they deserved to grow old in. A country where difference is not punished. Where communities stand beside one another. Where hatred is confronted before it becomes violence.

Despite everything, I still believe in that Australia. The Australia of neighbours helping neighbours. The Australia of mateship. The Australia that refuses to let hatred define who we are.

We must keep choosing it.