Harold M. Schulweis discusses homosexuality from his perspective as a rabbi. Many homosexual individuals have come to speak with him, having left their closeted lives out of desperation. They discovered early on their attraction to the same sex. However, society portrays homosexuals in a negative light - as unnatural, perverse, and sinful. Those who have come to Schulweis know they are hated and rejected in society. They live in silent shame and fear of revealing their sexuality. Schulweis recognizes the immense burden homosexuals carry to live in fear and not be able to love openly.
Being single again for the first time in a hot minute, I decided to do some research on the world out there that awaits us lonely wanderers — what the dating experts say on relationships. In doing so, I uncovered some interesting, alarming and a couple sadly unsurprising statistics. Some of them confirmed awful fears (and made the feminist in me cringe) and others made me want to hi-five a million angels.
Being single again for the first time in a hot minute, I decided to do some research on the world out there that awaits us lonely wanderers — what the dating experts say on relationships. In doing so, I uncovered some interesting, alarming and a couple sadly unsurprising statistics. Some of them confirmed awful fears (and made the feminist in me cringe) and others made me want to hi-five a million angels.
1. A second look at homosexuality
Magazine article by Harold M. Schulweis; Tikkun, Vol. 12, May-June 1997
A second look at homosexuality.
by Harold M. Schulweis
Many years ago the issue of homosexuality was for me a matter of theoretical interest.
Intellectually I knew there were homosexuals, but personally I knew none. Whoever
they were, they were well-closeted, out of sight, out of mind. These last years they
have lost their anonymity. Real blood and flesh persons, they come into my study.
Now visible and audible, they have come to speak to me. Out of desperation they have
left their closeted lives to reveal themselves.
They have come carrying a fateful knowledge, one that most of them discovered early
in their lives: They are attracted to persons of their own gender. As they grew up, the
whispers they overheard became loud stories: Homosexuals are unnatural, perverse,
pathological, sinful. They dress differently, molest children, and are wildly permissive,
hedonistic, and outrageous. Gay men have seen themselves portrayed on the stage and
on television as lisping, swishy, effeminate wimps whom others call feigele-boychik.
Supposedly they live in wretched places and hang out in dark bars and dark bath
houses. Lesbian women have heard themselves called "butch-dykes," and are
portrayed as angry, unattractive, emasculating man-haters.
Those who come to see me know they are hated, rejected, mocked, scorned, reviled.
They are frightened. The hatred they know is not confined to particular places, or to
particular groups of people from different ethnicities, faiths, or races. On graduation
night at Calabasas High School in Woodland Hills, California, a white middle-class
teenager named Robert Rosenkrantz shot his schoolmate Steve Redman ten times with
an Uzi semi-automatic rifle. What turns a teenager like Robert into a murderer? It was
fear, desperate loneliness, and a rage sparked by Robert's schoolmate and his brother
Joey, who spied on Robert in an attempt to prove he was gay. When they caught him
in a homosexual encounter, they told his parents. Robert disclosed at his trial that he
had hidden his homosexuality from his family in fear of their rejection. Sixteen year-
old fellow student Wendy Bell said, "If people found out you were gay at this school,
you would be verbally tortured."
What greater humiliation than to discover that in the eyes of your society you are
really not human? And what makes a human being more human than his or her ability
to love and be loved? But homosexuals are not seen as lovable and are not allowed to
love. They live in silent shame, fearful of the revelation that will shake the foundation
of their being. Theirs is a monstrous burden to carry. Even the most innocent question
can be fraught with emotional terror. To hear well-meaning aunts and uncles say, "Do
you have a boyfriend?" or to hear someone plan to set up a date, starts a panic in their
hearts: Do others know? How long can I bite my tongue?
They have come to see me because I am a rabbi and they are Jews. Every Yore Kippur
they hear the same selection read from the Torah that sanctities homophobia. It is
chanted in the afternoon of Yom Kippur when some are reporting headaches and
discomforts that come with fasting the entire day. But this day, one young man who