Its hard to connect to the Torah as a trans Jew. Im trying anyway. – Forward

This essay originally appeared on Alma, 70 Faces Medias feminist Jewish culture site.

Had you asked me 20 years ago, 10 years ago, even last year (truthfully, last month) if Id ever quote the Torah in a piece I was writing, I probably would have (respectfully and nervously) laughed in your face.

The Torah makes me anxious because I know that it holds the potential to oppress me as a genderqueer trans Jew. And I know it informs so many Jews of their strongly held beliefs, and those beliefs directly oppress me and others.

They use the Torah to justify hate and bigotry. It emboldens some to actively and directly harm people. As Jewish as questioning and challenging everything is, I was never taught to actually do it. So when these particular Jews would weaponize different Torah verses and decide that their interpretation was the Word of God, that was it for me. Fin. I never questioned it. I just took it at face value.

Add the fact that Id never really seen myself reflected in any of the stories Id heard, and I never even saw the purpose of trying to connect to the Torah.

Still, I struggled. As I work at Keshet, a national nonprofit that works for the full equality for LGBTQ Jews and our families in Jewish life, I am constantly faced with the question of how relevant the Torah can be when I run workshops and teach about inclusion as a Jewish value. I point to our poster of Seven Jewish Values for an Inclusive Community and recite my spiel. I have to admit that when I first started teaching this four years ago, I dont know that I truly believed what I was teaching; I hadnt quite internalized it yet.

I was in the beginning of my healing journey with Judaism. Id felt so deeply rejected so much of my life that I didnt even know it was possible to connect again to Judaism in an authentic way as a queer and trans person.

One of the values from our poster that continuously stuck out to me and replayed over and over in my head was btzelem Elohim, the notion that we are made in the image of God or the divine, pulled directly from Genesis.

As the poster explains, if we see each person as created in the image of God, we can see the humanity and dignity in all people. True inclusion is built upon this foundation.

This made sense to me. Yet I still had a difficult time applying it to myself.

The questions kept coming: Do I even believe in God? If I was made in the image of God, then why do I need to change my body to relieve my dysphoria and see, be, and feel myself? Why do I even feel dysphoria? Was I a mistake? Am I broken? If God is real, why do humans suffer? And why do humans suffer at the hands of other Jews?

Over the last few years, Ive been training myself to think outside the binary in more ways than just gender. Ive been rewiring my brain to think in terms of both-and instead of either-or kind of way. The latter stops a conversation, while the former invites expansion and possibility.

If this is true, what else can be true? Is this the only truth? There must be more to the story. Can two things be true at once? Its a lot to hold, and its not always easy.

Ive never been interested in text studies. I didnt want to dig into Torah. It felt like Id be giving too much power and attention to this thing that I kept thinking was my oppressor.

Then one day I decided I needed and wanted to push myself.

I wanted to face the thing that scared me, as Id done with so many other aspects of my life.

So with my colleague Rabbi Micah Buck-Yael, a trans person who became a rabbi in part to challenge the patriarchy and help carve space for queer Jews, I started chatting Torah. And I pushed back on every single word they said. I asked they a million questions. Even questions like: What is the Talmud, really? What is midrash, really?

Then we started talking about the moment we are in now: on the precipice of rereading, reimagining and reinterpreting Torah and doing it through a queer lens. There are many queer and trans folks who have been queering the Torah for years, individually and through programs like Svara, while actively working to make queer Jews more visible.

Then it dawned on me: Id been approaching Torah all wrong. Its not an either-or, its a both-and. Its not either this verse is the law of the land or nothing; instead I get to decide what Torah means to me. I get to choose which meanings resonate with me. And if none do, I get to create my own.

If the sages and rabbis get to, why cant I?

Maybe the concept of btzelem Elohim needs an update for those of us who arent sure we believe in God. Because whether or not we believe doesnt change the fact that transness is holiness. I am divine. I find my strength from within and dont need any outside sources, God included, to be my own constant, my own divinity. I was made the way I am because its who I am meant to be. Every move or mistake Ive made, every lesson Ive learned, has made me who I am, and I wouldnt trade any of my experiences to be born any other way.

When Im in Jewish spaces where Im feeling on the fringes, or have moments when Im questioning if I really belong or if anyone really, truly sees me, I can dig within and remember that I exist, therefore I am visible even if only to myself. Ultimately, thats what matters most. I am btzelem Elohim, divine and holy. And the Torah gave me that.

The views and opinions expressed in this article are the authors own and do not necessarily reflect those of the Forward.

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Its hard to connect to the Torah as a trans Jew. Im trying anyway. - Forward