It was a heart-wrenching choice. But when Daniel Gammerman decided to never set foot back in an Orthodox synagogue, he thought of it as an act of love. Not toward the Jewish community he was born into, but to himself.
鈥淎 synagogue is a spiritual place, but it鈥檚 also a community place,鈥� said Gammerman, 47, from his home in Miami. 鈥淚f I have to basically check at the door half of my identity in order to come in, I don鈥檛 feel that鈥檚 welcoming enough for me.鈥�
Dozens of like him have struggled to find support and acceptance within their Orthodox communities. Most were raised with little knowledge of what being gay or queer meant. They just felt different, but found it hard to ask their rabbis: 鈥淭his is who I am, is there still room for me here?鈥�
鈥淭he way it mostly works is invisibility,鈥� Gammerman said. 鈥淭here鈥檚 no addressing the existence of LGBT people among us. And, whenever you hear something about it, .鈥�
He can鈥檛 put his finger on a specific date in which he realized he was gay. But he remembers clearly what happened to him when the news got out.
鈥淚 used to get enormous texts from different people trying to explain to me how this was wrong,鈥� Gammerman said. 鈥淚t was a bombardment of people trying to fix me.鈥�
Grandson to Eastern European Jews who fled during World War II, Gammerman was born in Brazil. He moved to the U.S. after finishing high school in the 1990s and continued his studies at a Jewish Orthodox . At age 21, he got married. He and his wife 鈥� who he still thinks of as a friend 鈥� raised four children together.
鈥淲e built a perfect family,鈥� he said. 鈥淚 checked all the boxes of what a nice Jewish Orthodox family is supposed to be.鈥�
Afraid to destroy his future and his children鈥檚 lives, he shut down his feelings for years, until he could do it no more.
He initially traveled to Brazil and met with a therapist who counseled gay men in heterosexual marriages. That helped, Gammerman said, but something was missing. What about his life within an Orthodox religious community that didn鈥檛 even acknowledge that LGBTQ+ people exist?
Embracing his true identity felt easier after meeting Steven Greenberg, an openly gay rabbi who founded Eshel, a U.S.-based organization focused on connecting LGBTQ+ Orthodox Jewish communities.
According to Miryam Kabakov, Eshel's co-founder and executive director, most of the people who reach out share similar concerns: I鈥檓 coming out and I鈥檝e been part of this community my whole life. Can I still belong? What will happen to me now? Can you find a rabbi who can help me?
鈥淲e guide them toward religious leaders who will tell them that there鈥檚 still a place for them,鈥� Kabakov said. 鈥淭hat they still have the religious obligations and expectations that they鈥檝e always had and that they should stay true to their heart and their tradition if that鈥檚 what they want.鈥�
Ely Winkler, a 37-year-old LGBTQ+ Orthodox Jew from Brooklyn, will soon be back at an Orthodox synagogue after years of distancing himself from his community.
鈥淎fter the war broke out between Israel and Gaza, I felt a deeper calling,鈥� he said. 鈥淚 didn鈥檛 feel strong enough to stand up for myself, for my beliefs, and I knew that I needed to strengthen my Judaism, to remember who I was.鈥�
Abrielle Fuerst, 32, moved from Texas to Philadelphia six years ago. Eshel helped her to connect with a local rabbi and an inclusive synagogue.
鈥淗ere it鈥檚 not: 鈥極h, come because you are Jewish and gay, we鈥檒l accept you.鈥� It's just: 鈥楬ello, you鈥檙e Jewish, thanks for being in this space and it鈥檚 nice to meet you.鈥欌��
One of Eshel鈥檚 projects, named the "Welcoming Shuls,鈥� enlists more than 200 rabbis who work across North America to make their synagogues hospitable for LGBTQ+ people. Many of them consent to being publicly identified; others ask to keep a low profile, foreseeing hostile reactions within their Orthodox communities.
鈥淎 lot of rabbis are very afraid to be public because they鈥檒l get ostracized,鈥� Kabakov said. 鈥淏ut we know they鈥檙e there.鈥�
The group also counsels Orthodox LGBTQ+ Jews who wish to keep a distance from their religion.
鈥淧eople who don鈥檛 want to be religious anymore are torn up about it,鈥� Kabakov said. 鈥淏ut we try to help them through the struggle and let them know that they can be gay and be religious. It might be hard to find a place, but we鈥檙e working on that.鈥�
Gammerman has tried to go back to Orthodox synagogues since he came out. Until now, none in Miami have made him feel truly accepted.
鈥淚鈥檝e tried many times, but it鈥檚 like wearing a costume,鈥� he said. 鈥淎t some point I was able to live with that. But the more you accept yourself, the more you love yourself, you just cannot do it.鈥�
His Orthodox community did not prevent him from attending religious services after he came out, but rejection was still there. People stopped greeting him, and he was no longer allowed to officiate services at his synagogue. Once, during a speech, the rabbi looked at him and said: 鈥淗omosexuality is destroying humanity and if this continues like this, there鈥檒l be no more children in the world.鈥�
鈥淚 lost friendships, relationships, participation and community,鈥� Gammerman said. 鈥淚t was all gone really, really fast.鈥�
Meeting Greenberg, who is married to another man and has a child, helped him realize he could still live a happy, fulfilling life. After their encounter, Gammerman decided to talk to his wife. The couple separated and found a way to break the news to their children.
鈥淪ince then, I have rebuilt my life,鈥� he said. 鈥淚 remarried. I have a husband. My children are part of my life and they understand.鈥�
In time, he realized that not only his family, but his approach toward his religion would also need to change. At first he tried to attend liberal , some of which fully embrace LGBTQ+ worshippers, but having been raised an Orthodox Jew, he still felt out of place.
鈥淏eing LGBT is a whole identity,鈥� Gammerman said. 鈥淎nd I want to be embraced in a place where there are no buts or ifs.鈥�
He鈥檇 rather not label his current religious observance, but Rosh Hashana and Yom Kippur still bear huge significance for him. So, every year, during the High Holy Days, he wakes up early, dresses nicely and opens his prayer book.
鈥淚 say the prayers from beginning to end,鈥� Gammerman said. 鈥淚 call to all the praises as if I was in a synagogue, but I do it by myself in my house.鈥�
He was once taught that Jewish prayer required at least 10 men to be conducted, but he has learned a few things since.
鈥淚f I was given a switch that I could press to change who I am, I would not do it,鈥� he said. 鈥淕od made me like this, so it鈥檚 not up for me to switch. I have to love myself for who I am.鈥�
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Associated Press religion coverage receives support through the AP鈥檚 with The Conversation US, with funding from Lilly Endowment Inc. The AP is solely responsible for this content.
Mar铆a Teresa Hern谩ndez, The Associated Press
