This Pride Month, Building Queer Jewish Life in Hungary

Tamas grew up LGBTQ+ and Jewish in 1990s Hungary — a time when many Hungarian Jews were rediscovering their heritage and traditions. Through his experiences at Szarvas, the JDC-Lauder international Jewish summer camp in rural Hungary, and the JDC-supported JCC Budapest-Bálint Ház, Tamas embraced the fullness of his identity –– and today, he is a proud Jewish leader and LGBTQ+ community member. 

This Pride Month, Tamas reflects on his diverse identities, and how Jewishness and queerness intersect with and enrich each other. 

I’ve always felt quite different from my peers. I’m Jewish and I’m LGBTQ+ — and this is often a very lonely experience. 

But it’s not just doom and gloom, either. 

By the time I understood what being gay meant to me, I knew a lot more about how and when to stand up for myself — and how to feel unashamed for being different. I was lucky to have a supportive environment, surrounded by family and friends, as well as the knowledge of brave activists who had come before me. 

I grew up with a strong Jewish identity, shaped by the stories and traditions of my very loving family. I belong to the generation of Hungarian Jews who had the privilege to enjoy the enormous Jewish revival right after the democratic transition in the early 1990s: I attended Szarvas, the JDC-Lauder international Jewish summer camp in rural Hungary, went to Jewish events for kids and students, traveled and lived in Israel, and experienced a new sense of belonging that was hardly an option in the previous decades. 

My life could’ve taken a darker turn, as it did for those who didn’t have a strong community. But my Jewish experiences allowed me to be the confident, proud person I am today. 

Today, I hope I can be that inspiration for young, queer Jews on a similar path — LGBTQ+ youth searching for a space that embraces the rich complexity of their identities. 

I bring that mission to my role as lay leader for different Jewish nonprofits, as well as the 15 years of thoroughly enjoyable work I’ve done in Jewish-community development and young-adult programming/engagement in Hungary and across Europe. Each and every day, I’m helping to build a Jewish world that celebrates diversity. 

And what does this world look like? 

A diverse Jewish community understands what a loss it would be to lose its LGBTQ+ members, and builds itself according to the unique needs, hopes, and aspirations of all of its people. This community affirms this commitment in the way it approaches prayer, events, printed materials, language, representation, setting — the entire communal experience. And most importantly, it does this openly, so that nobody feels belittled, humiliated, or unsafe. 

That’s the Jewish Hungary I crave –– and there’s no better time than now, Pride Month, to express this vision of inclusivity.

For me, Pride is an effort to bring different sexual and gender identities into the mainstream and stand up for basic human rights and values — the right to love and to be loved, to be seen and heard, to live our truth without shame. One of the unique characteristics of human rights is that they are universal: They apply to everyone, everywhere and anytime. LGBTQ+ people are not just to be “tolerated.” No. We are humans to be recognized and known. Human rights are our birthright. And until everyone understands this, Pride should be celebrated again and again.

Human rights are our birthright. And until everyone understands this, Pride should be celebrated again and again.

I already see this world coming into existence. Among Jewish millennials, I hardly ever observe prejudice, and Jewish Gen Z and younger folks treat homophobia and transphobia like any other form of hatred — with embarrassment and disgust. I know that if someone at Szarvas made a homophobic comment, it wouldn’t be tolerated by the campers, madrichim (counselors), or anyone else. It’s a new era, and with social media and free flow of information, young Jews can’t be kept ignorant of other people’s identities and experiences –– or their own. 

We still have a long way to go, and we need every Jew — no matter how you identify — to help create a world where all our members feel seen and included.  

Jewish values are what we make of them. One could always use our teachings to argue that LGBTQ+ people should be excluded, but I strongly believe that if we want to build an inclusive, diverse community, halacha (Talmudic law) or Jewish values aren’t our obstacles to doing so. It’s just the opposite: We must leverage centuries of Jewish thinking and collective experience to celebrate and welcome fellow Jews into our tent, regardless of their sexual or gender identity. 

Haters will hate, and it’s a deep shame that they (ab)use Judaism to do that. 

I’d like to think that my Jewishness is the exact opposite — it’s a practice that expands rather than reduces my knowledge of different people and experiences. My Jewishness and queerness reinforce each other, making it easier to embrace both: I’ve learned when to lay low, when to be out, when and how to “pass,” and what battles are worth fighting. 

Being Jewish has meant being essentially queer — I embrace self-acceptance, enjoy the perks of being an outsider, and belong to something so much greater than my individual self.

Tamas lives in Budapest, Hungary.

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