After talking it over a lot with family and friends over the course of last week, I decided against hanging a replacement rainbow flag in my window. One of the main reasons for hanging the first one was to test the neighborhood in which I live, and the results of that experiment are definitely in. So one of my main reasons for hanging a new one would be as an act of defiance, a pacifistic sort of revenge. And I don't really believe in the nobility of that sort of sentiment after I've calmed down sufficiently.

The other ostensible reason for hanging a flag would be to send a message to people. The problem with that idea is that since the medium is so detached from my person, the content of the message is too far out of my control and more likely to negate the ideas and feelings I'd want to convey than affirm them. So I'll go back to continuing the methods I've been practicing. Saying more by speaking less and letting my actions and demeanor speak for themselves. Forcing people to think and feel about a three dimensional human being rather than two dimensional stereotypes or one dimensional symbols.

Well, Thanksgiving dinner turned out as grandly as anyone could have hoped. The apartment was filled with all the Pearsons and Siegels lucky enough to be in Israel at the moment, not to mention a dozen or two of Seth and Rachel's closest friends. The food was an excellent array of all the Thanksgiving essentials, and we all got appropriately stuffed.

I spent a quiet Shabbos at home to recharge my batteries. I also decided it was wintery enough to start making chulent, and tried making one with a real kishke. It was nice and spicy and made a good companion for reading the book of Jewish fairy tales I was lent the other week. The leftovers should keep me going for another few days at least.

Stay warm!

For the second year running, the Israeli contingent of the Pearson clan is converging upon Jerusalem to celebrate Seth's birthday and all the other things for which we are thankful. Not the least reason to give thanks is for the way our ranks have swelled with Jonathan and plenty of Siegels. I'm done with work and the turkey's in the oven, so I've got some time to write now.

Becca and I drove with Ashira to Jerusalem yesterday afternoon, and had dinner with Seth and Rachel and Rachel's mom, Carol. We ate at "La Boca", a restaurant with Tex-Mex Latin cuisine. Ashira was cranky from what we guessed was diaper rash, but she was fascinated by the fish tank in the restaurant. Seth and Rachel knew the restaurant's manager and had a nice time schmoozing with her for a bit.

I stayed the night at my friend Moshe's apartment near Emek Refaim street. Moshe works as program organizer for the World Congress of GLBT Jews, and I dated him for a bit this past spring when he was living in Tel Aviv. Unfortunately, I didn't get to visit with him, since he's away for the day in Tel Aviv, but I got to meet his roommates. One of them, Alex, I think is straight, but the other one, Noach, is a female-to-male transsexual that I first met when he gave a little workshop during this past summer's Pride Week on gender variations in the Mishna. They were both great company. Noach is studying at Pardes, and he happened to know another gay friend of mine who is also studying there.

Today, I went to the mall at the central bus station for breakfast with Avishai, the big teddy bear I was dating during the war. We had the best brunch either of us had had in years, and afterward I bought a handbag and a winter cap with flappy ears. The early afternoon was spent preparing the turkeys (we've got two giants cooking!) with Rebecca and Carol, and when it was ready, I taxied one of them to Seth's old apartment, where the main festivities will be taking place. I'll let you know how it all turns out.

This week I performed an experiment, and tonight I got my first observable results. Early this week, I hung the rainbow flag that I had bought at the pride rally in one of my windows. I thought half-jokingly to myself, "OK, now let's see how long it takes before the mob with torches and pitchforks descends upon the scene." And this evening, just as I was setting up to make havdalah after Shabbos, I heard a snapping sound from the window. As I opened up the window and poked my head outside, I saw a man aged somewhere between very late teens to late twenties scampering along the very narrow ledge that runs along the outer walls of my second-story apartment. I screamed at him in Hebrew, "What are you doing!?" Then I dashed to my front door to chase after him. Having to unlock the door slowed me down enough that he had a big headstart. I yelled, "Thief! Thief!" in Hebrew as he got away. I'm certain that I could have given much more effort into pursuit, but I think my gut held me back to avoid the violence that would have been almost inevitable had I actually caught up to him.

Interestingly enough, my lack of surprise at this turn of events doesn't really seem to reduce the sense of violation.

Of course, we've only gotten started now. When I go to Jerusalem next week to celebrate Seth's birthday and Thanksgiving, I'm going to buy some more flags. This time, I'm going to hang one in my other, much less accessible window, which also happens to be the window that is visible to a far greater portion of the town below. The others will be waiting as backups.

So at the last minute, the parade was changed into a rally, due to a compromise made between the organizers of the event and the parties who opposed it in the name of religion. I'm a little ambivalent about this change of format. On the one hand, I can understand the disappointment of those who felt that the event lost some of its significance by being confined to the Givat Ram campus stadium instead of proclaiming a message of tolerance in the public spaces. But on the other hand, I understand how pride parades have a solid history of expressing a carnival atmosphere beyond the bounds of propriety and at the expense of any valid social message. In any case, I'm happy with how the rally actually turned out.

However, I had some trouble getting to the rally at all. For the first time in my life, I've gotten harrassed for not looking gay enough. The rally was surrounded on all sides by a huge cordon of police guards stationed in small groups about every 50 meters. As I walked the not inconsiderable distance from where the bus let me off to the Hebrew University campus, I got stopped and questioned by almost every group of police that I passed. The closer I got, the more intense the scrutiny became, with longer looks at my identity card, more frisking, and more radioing into base to confirm my details. My kippah, beard, and tzitzis seemed to make it impossible for the guards to believe that I could be going to the rally because I'm actually gay and not because I'm sneaking in weapons with which to slaughter everyone inside. It reached the point where one of the officers took me aside to the nearby office of the JDC to perform a more thorough search in a "makom tzinuah" (discreet place). At this point, I'm steeling myself for a cavity search. Lucky for me (given that I didn't really find the officer so attractive), the receptionist at the lobby of the JDC office forbade the officer from taking me any further than the lobby, stating that the police were allowed to come in only to use the bathrooms. So my would-be inspector settled for a standard frisk and a full examination of everything I had in my pockets. The police apparently had finally become as tired of stopping me every three minutes as I was tired of being stopped, so my inspector became my escort to the entrance of the stadium, where I arrived without further hindrance. I guess I have this strict security to thank for the fact that the whole day passed without any violence or other disturbance.

The rally itself was really nice. The entrace was crowded with people waving placards and handing out flyers, representing all kinds of liberal political and social action groups. The music and speakers on the main stage roused the spirit, and the crowds behind the bleachers and around the various booths were warm and friendly. I noticed some nice t-shirts that read, "The path to God isn't always straight," and I am now coveting one for myself. I bumped into a couple friends while wandering around. The booths offered representatives and materials from many local and global GLBT organizations, commissaries from which to buy beer and food, and vendors selling all sorts of lovely gay books and rainbow-themed swag. I bought several books, a new knitted change purse, and a nice big flag to hang outside one of my windows at home.

As I paid for my purchases, a photographer noticed the sticker on my wallet which boldly reads, "God Made Me Gay." She snapped some shots of me, and I agreed to pose for a few more. She then questioned me briefly about how I dealt with being both religious and gay. She was really pleasant, and now I get to wonder idly if and where those photographs are being displayed now.

All and all, the rally was everything I hoped it would be, and nothing I hoped it wouldn't. I had quite a good time. Here's to next year's gay pride parade! לשנה הבאה בירושלים