Passover is an opportunity to reflect on the oppression our people have overcome, the oppression we still face today, and how both of these oppressions connect us to people all across the world. Our story of enslavement (and escape from it) is power-giving, but not unique. Throughout this seder, remember that there are people around the world with similar stories of oppression and freedom-searching, and use this story to help us connect with each other in our struggles against our oppressors. 

This Passover specifically we want to focus on queer liberation, a movement which uplifts radical acceptance of all queer identities (including sexuality and gender identity) and connects its fight in solidarity with all others oppressed by capitalism and supremacist ideology. 

When we light the Seder candles, we are remembering two heritages. First, our Jewish heritage, which has given us a long line of candle-lighting ritual that intimately connects mealtimes with Jewish faith and community, even during times of oppression. It also gives us a signifier that we are shifting into holy space. We are also remembering our queer heritage, which has used candlelight vigils to remember those dying from government inaction during the AIDS crisis, crafting a space of memory and reverence for people so ignored by those in power. For our queer Jewish seder, we light these candles as memory that we are still fighting against the oppressions of our ancestors. Antisemitism and other religious persecution still exists in the world today, just as homophobia does, and the AIDS crisis is still plaguing countries that have been improverished by colonialism. We also remember that, along with oppression, our candles are commemorating community. A community brave and strong enough to resist oppression, and loving enough to wrap us in its light. 

Baruch atah adonai eloheynu melech ha'olam ashr kidshanu b'mitzvotav v'tzivanu l'hadlik ner shel (Shabbat v'shel) yom tov. 

Blessed is the spirir of freedom in whose honor we kindle the lights of this holiday, Passover, the season of Freedom. 

Now hold hands with the people next to you at the table, and say this prayer to bless the differences present at the table.

May God give you the blessings of the light of our ancestors, and may the Holy One help you find the courage to bring all the colors of your own light out into the world.

Barukh atah Adonai eloheynu melekh ha’olam m’shaneh ha-b’ri-ot

Blessed is the One, our God, Sovereign of the Universe, who has made all creatures different.

Ki imkha m’kor ha-yim b’or-kha nir-eh or

With You is the fountain of life, in Your light we are bathed in light.

We want to take this time to bless our elders--Jewish, queer, or otherwise--who fought to make our realities possible. Please name any that you want to remember specifically.  (Time to name people) 

Blessed are the elders who parted the seas of ignorance and prejudice, sacrificed sanity and security on the rock of steadfastness, conquered demons of hatred and false idols of bigotry, follows their hearts to a promised land beyond a dim horizon. Blessed are the elders with namesakes or without, whose energy and courage created a legacy of hope making space for the cihldren of today and sweet justice for children yet unborn. Let us take up their torches. 

Together: 

Baruch atah adonai eloheinu melekh ha-olam asher kid'shanu b'mitzvotav v'tsivanu lirdof tzedek.

Blessed is the source who shows us paths to holiness and commands us to pursure justice. 

The first cup of wine commemorates flamboyance. As queer and Jewish people, we're often taught to feel ashamed of making too big a deal out of our treasured identities. Marla Brettschneider says, in her essay about Jewish and queer fabulousness, that "it is often in the extreme that we encounter ecstasy, bits of the divine". While we drink this cup, we commit to being flamboyant in our Judaism and in our queerness tonight. There is nothing shameful in wanting to connect to the holy inside of us. 

Baruch atah Adonai Eloheinu melech ha'olam borei pri hagafen. 

Blessed is the Eternal, determiner of the universe, who creates the fruit of the vine.

Queerness has been identified as impure or dirty by so many. "Purification", then, might be used to mean erasing the so-called "flaws" that make us who we are. Instead of focusing on purification in this ritual, then, I invite us to think of the water as helping us focus on the aspects of ourselves that we want to nourish and pay attention to. Waves help bring things that have sunk to the ocean floor up to the surface--let this ritual handwashing bring the true and beautiful parts of you that stay hidden to the surface.

There should be a bowl of water, a cup, and a towel near your table. Pour water, using the cup, over your neighbor's hands, helping them to wash.  

During this time, feel free to share with each other what you want the water to help nourish and bring to the surface. 

We dip a spring vegetable into salt water. This captures the feelings of freedom and hopeful rebirth of liberation mixed with the tears and pain of our past and current oppressions. As queer Jews, we are intimately aware of how our communities are able to hold both joy and pain. As you dip the green vegetable into the salt water, think of all the ways your community holds you up, and the promise of future liberation you see in the ways you love and affirm each other. Be sure to ground that hope in the very real fight your ancestors, you, and your children have and will engage in. 

Baruch atah adonai eloheinu melech ha'olam borei pri ha'adamah. 

Blessed is the One, who sustains all life, and brings forth fruits from the earth. 

The broken matzah represents the hardships we still have to face as queer people while the whole matzah represents the blessings we receive. Pain and joy are often intertwined in the life of a queer person. The pain of top surgery is coupled with the joy of gender euphoria, the pain of public scorn is coupled with the joy of kind, supportive smiles from strangers. While we're living for the day when the pain can be taken away, it's important to acknowledge that queer life is not just painful and not just joyful, but a very human mix of both.

Your child will ask

why do we observe this festival?

And you will answer
it is because of what God did for us
when we were set free from the land of Egypt.

Your child will ask
were we set free from the land of Egypt
that we might hold tightly
to the pain of our enslavement
with a mighty hand?

And you will answer
we were set free from Egypt
that we might release our pain
by reaching with an outstretched arm
to all who struggle for freedom.

Your child will ask
were we set free from the land of Egypt
because we are God’s chosen people?
And you will answer
we were set free from the land of Egypt
so that we will finally come to learn
all who are oppressed
are God’s chosen.

Your child will ask
were we set free from the land of Egypt
that we might conquer and settle
a land inhabited by others?

And you will answer
we were set free from the land of Egypt
that we might open wide the doors
to proclaim:

Let all who are dispossessed return home.
Let all who wander find welcome at the table.
Let all who hunger for liberation
come and eat.

Why are we different from all other people?

We are different from all other people because our tribe is made up of those from every tribe, our people are found among all the peoples of the world. We have been born into every family, every nation, every faith, at every time and on every part of the planet. This is a clue left by the Creator of what all people share.

What is our sacred role?

Because we come from all other peoples, we are bridge-builders and connectors; we are ambassa- dors and weavers between worlds. Because we live our lives in many different ways, between gen- ders and sexes and varied ways of loving, we stand at the doorway of Possibility, and it is from this that we derive our sacred role as holy people dedicated to truth and integrity, even in the face of death.

How are we the same as all other people?

We bleed as all people bleed, and we love and laugh and cry and sing, as do all human beings. We want what everyone wants: peace and prosperity, freedom and equality. We want families and communities and we want to be part of the healing of this world. Before we are transgendered, bi- sexual, intersexed, lesbian, gay, we are human. Just as the Source of Life is beyond gender, the human soul too is genderless, is all genders. And this we share with everyone in the world.

Where do we come from and what is our story?

This is why we are gathered here tonight around this festive table, to tell parts of the story of our people. It is an ancient story, a long one. We can- not tell it all, cannot name all the names of the people who led us out of oppression and into freedom. But for each tale we tell, there are others that are forgotten. And for each name that we remember to name, other names call out from the past. May all who are hungry for this story come and listen. Tonight, we tell the tale of our liberation.

The wise cisgay person asks, what are the gender rituals that you want me to perform with you? Which pronouns, which gendered words do you want me to use, how do you want me to view you? We sit down with our friend and explain, teach this person the rules of our identities. 

The thoughtless cisgay person asks, why make it all about you? By thinking that trans liberation will take away from gay liberation, they fall into capitalism's trap of scarcity, forgetting that all liberation aids each other. Say to this cisgay person, "We want to acknowledge that our struggles are different, but that doesn't take away from our collective struggles for freedom. Join our fight as we have joined yours."

The simple cisgay person asks, what are you? We say "I'm someone journeying towards freedom". 

What about the cisgay person who doesn't know how to ask a question? To tell the story of trans liberation, we show them our own Exoduses. We take our shirts off to reveal healing top surgery scars. We insist our pronouns are she/her as we refuse to shave our mustaches. We beam as our friends introduce us using they/them pronouns. We let ourselves be joyful in our imperfectly queer and trans bodies. 

Telling Our Story

Maggid is the part of the seder where we retell the Exodus story. We speak of Joseph coming to Egypt. How there was a great famine in the land, and a prosperous Egypt took in the Israelites. How a new Pharoah arose who did not know Joseph, and he grew afraid of the Israelites, for they were numerous and strong. And he ordered the death of the baby boys, to prevent the Israelites from growing too powerful.

We tell about Moses, and how he was sent to float in the Nile in a basket. How he was found by the Pharoah's daughter, and raised as an Egyptian. How he ran away. How God spoke to him. And how he returned to free the Israelites - his people.

Maggid is where we tell the story of our liberation. And our liberation as Jews is tied into our liberation as queer and trans people.

Now is the part of the seder when we must speak about the collected library of literature on transgender studies, burned in the flames of the Holocaust. When our trans ancestors were accepted and loved, before a fascist state decided that they were not permitted to exist, let alone live. Now is the part of the seder when we must speak about the Black trans women who threw stones in the Stonewall Riots. Marsha P. Johnson and Sylvia Rivera - we must speak their names. Now is the part of the seder when we must speak about the AIDS epidemic - how the government stood by and watched as 500,000 gay men died. We do not know all of their names. Now we must speak of Matthew Shepherd, whose death changed the national dialog about gay youth, but who should not have needed to die to spark that conversation.

We have achieved remarkable milestones in our fight for civil rights and human rights, but our fight is not yet over. Queer people of color, trans people, and queer youth still lose their lives at terrifying high rates. Bisexual and asexual people have their identities denied. Military service and civil jobs are being wrested away from trans folks who just want to serve their communities.

Maggid is where we must speak about our story.

The justice in the Exodus story is simple: pain for pain. God brings down plague after plague, as though retribution is the only path to freedom. But we don't have a God that will come down from the heavens to exact revenge on the colonial, capitalist powers that opress queer people and all others; and even if we did, don't we want to come about revolution from a place of transformation? Instead of thinking of the plagues as things brought upon by God, I invite us instead to think of the plagues as something brought about by the horrific act of enslavement. Not as punishment from a higher being, but as consequences. There are many plague-like consequences in the straight, cis world for their homo- and trans-phobia. It might help us to remember how queer liberation will free everyone, not just us; so for these plagues, we will focus on the ways that even straight people's lives are harmed by homo- and trans-phobia, and also the ways their living conditions, too, can be positively transformed by queer liberation. 

As you read these aloud, dip your finger into your wine glass for each plague and let one drop fall onto your plate. 

Rivers turn to blood - There will be more blood available for transfusion, because homophobic laws against gay sexually active men will be revoked.

Frogs - It's theorized that frogs were included in the plague because frogs were a symbol of one of the Egyptian goddesses, proving that Egyptian gods were powerless against the god of the Israelites. Queer liberation requires an acknowledgement that hate is a false idol, giving false security, and that the only true God is the one that's created by people coming together in solidarity and collaboration. When we as a society start praising things like solidarity over hate, we'll have so much more power to live equitably and joyfully. 

Lice - Lice are incredibly small and difficult to find, but pretty obviously felt in big ways. Queer liberation necessitates that we weed out prejudices that we may not even recognize, but once we do, we'll be able to live fuller lives that connect us to more people.

Wild beasts - All of nature is meant to be diverse and beautiful, which includes a wide range of genders and sexualities across all species. By ignoring the incredibleness of diversity within and without of humanity, homophobic people are denying themselves the ability to view the intoxicating complexities of the world. After queer liberation, these complexities will be more readily accepted. 

Pestilence - Homo- and trans-phobia are infectious, especially to young kids who just regurgitate the harm their parents spew. After queer liberation, radical acceptance will be made more infectious than hatred, and children will be raised with loving attitudes. 

Boils - One facet of the fight for queer liberation is the institution of comprehensive sex ed. This will help all children in school learn how to be safer about sex and avoid getting and passing STDs. 

Hail - Gd gave warning about the plague of hail, so the Egyptians who believed Gd took their animals and the people they had enslaved inside to protect them. However, their crops were still destroyed. This shows how small reforms don't protect people; cis people who accept small reforms such as equal access to marriage with no further work will still face the consequences of hateful attitudes and societal constructs. It will only be after oppression is truly ended, not just temporarily fixed, that these harms mentioned here will disappear. 

Locusts - Locusts are formed when grasshoppers are pushed into small areas during a drought and are flooded with serotonin, which makes them take on a whole new, more aggressive form and ravage crops. Some straight and cis people feel as though they're being attacked by queer people for their identity, and are being judged unfairly for simply identifying the way they feel like identifying. Just like grasshoppers, queer people are being pushed into small boxes by society, and are reacting to that in whatever ways they can. Once the drought ends--once queer oppression ends--the harm done by locusts and the hate from queer people targeted at straight cis people will eventually be healed, and both nature and society will be able to live in an equal harmony again. 

Endless Night - Homo- and trans-phobia imposes rigid norms on people who refuse to question their beliefs, which denies them beautiful feelings of self-exploration and self-expression. After queer liberation, everyone will be encouraged to accept their own gender & sexuality complexities, meaning they'll no longer try to blind themselves from aspects of themselves that may not fit norms. 

Slaying of the First Born - People are often cut off from family and friends because of their hateful views. After queer liberation, everyone will be able to feel pride and joy in their loved ones discovering and experimenting with their identities, and can keep strong relationships with each other through that. 

The plagues and our subsequent redemption from Egypt are but one example of the care God has shown for us in our history. Had God but done any one of these kindnesses, it would have been enough – dayeinu.

אִלּוּ הוֹצִיאָֽנוּ מִמִּצְרַֽיִם, דַּיֵּנוּ

Ilu hotzi- hotzianu, Hotzianu mi-mitzrayim Hotzianu mi-mitzrayim, Dayeinu

If God had only taken us out of Egypt, that would have been enough!

אִלּוּ נָתַן לָֽנוּ אֶת־הַתּוֹרָה, דַּיֵּנוּ

Ilu natan natan lanu, natan lanu et ha-Torah, Natan lanu et ha-Torah , Dayeinu

If God had only given us the Torah, that would have been enough.

 The complete lyrics to Dayeinu tell the entire story of the Exodus from Egypt as a series of miracles God performed for us. (See the Additional Readings if you want to read or sing them all.)

Dayeinu also reminds us that each of our lives is the cumulative result of many blessings, small and large. 

Let the second cup of wine symbolize storytelling and the physical reenactment of stories. Passover is a time when we not only retell, but also reenact, the story of Exodus; the lead-up to it as well as the final escape. Queer people value these traditions as well. We often, when gathered together, will tell stories of the first times we had gay or trans thoughts, the first queer relationship we entered into, or funny coming-out stories. We retell stories that are originally straight or cis to include our sexualities and our bodies (like the trans Adam & Eve art pictured here). We also reenact moments of liberation; pride marches are considered by __ to be "a ritual reenactment of Stonewall" (87). When drinking this cup of wine, think about the ways we can carry out queer joy and queer liberation through the act of storytelling. 

Baruch atah adonai eloheinu melech ha'olam borei pri hagafen.

Blessed is the Eternal, determiner of the universe, who creates the fruit of the vine.

While eating this bread of affliction, we remind ourselves what we're fighting for. Just like the bland food on our plate, a world without true queer liberation (and liberation of all kinds) is a bland, boring one. We are fighting for a world that's exciting and colorful, a world where people of all kinds are able to take pride in themselves. 

Baruch atach adonai eloheinu melech ha'olam ha'motzi lechem min ha'aretz. 

Blessed is our God, determiner of the universe, who brings forth bread from the earth. 

Baruch atah adonai eloheinu melech ha'olam asher kidshanu b'mitzvotav v'tzivanu al achilat matzah.

Blessed is our God, determiner of the universe, who has made us holy through commandments and has commanded us to eat unlevened bread.

The bitterness of the maror grounds us in the fact that our queer liberation must be mindful of ALL queer people's liberations. Until poor queer people, queer people of color, incarcerated queer people, colonized queer people, disabled queer people, etc., can be taste the sweetness of liberation, our own freedom will always be bitter like this herb. 

Baruch atah adonai elheinu melech ha'olam asher kidshanu b'mitzvotav v'tzivanu al achilat maror.

Blessed is our God, determiner of the universe, who has made us holy through commandments and has commanded us to eat unlevened bread.

Even while we remind ourselves that we cannot feel true liberation until all queer people are liberated, we can still allow ourselves to feel the moments of sweetness we experience now. While eating this sandwich of haroset and bitter herbs, share what queer (& Jewish) things bring you joy, or make you feel close to liberation. 

When we broke this matzah, we considered the ways queer joy is often laced with bits of pain. In repairing it, we acknowledge that the harm done by pain cannot be undone--and yet, we can help repair that harm. We can help our transmasculine friend through their top surgery recovery by making them more comfortable on the couch and distracting them with a bad Netflix movie. We can lessen the pain of a frown from a stranger by holding our friends close and making them laugh. And we can help each other heal from the bigger, deeper traumas that queer people often hold. Consider the ways your loved ones--or strangers--have helped you through the pains of queerness (try saying "thank you" as a group as a way of honoring this)

Nodeh l'eyn hachayim Hazanah et hakol. Al ha'aretz hatovah v'har'chavah nishmor'na, v'hi t'kay'meynu, unvakeysh mazon l'hasbi'a bo kol yosh'vey teyveyl. 

Let us ackowledge the source of life, source of all nourishment. May we protect the bountiful earth that it may continue to sustain us, and let us seek sustenance for all who dwell in the world. 

Let the third cup of wine symbolize solidarity. We've been talking about queer liberation throughout this whole seder, so it's important to set aside some time before we finish to remember that queer liberation cannot happen outside of the broader liberation fights, as we touched on while eating the Maror. Hetero- and cis-normativity are inextricably tied to racism, classism, ableism, and many more perceptions of what makes a man & woman. Black women and poor women are denied womanhood just as trans women are, even if it's in different ways. Undocumented people are sought out to be fired from jobs in similar ways that queer people were during the Red Scare. Muslims are singled out in airports just as gender-non-conforming people are. Before we drink, take some time to discuss ways that we can root our fight for queer liberation in the broader liberation movement. 

Baruch atah adonai eloheinu melech ha'olam borei pri hagafen.

Blessed is the Eternal, determiner of theuniverse, who creates the fruit of the vine. 

Let the fourth cup of wine symbolize orienting ourselves towards life. The Exodus story is one of choosing life over death; of leaving a place of enslavement, a place whose religion focuses mainly on the afterlife, towards a place of freedom and a religion that is very worldly. As queer people, we also a story of choosing life over death by refusing to kill the true parts of us and choosing to live as we are.  Both an escape from enslavement and an escape from opressive norms shows a vlue of "life as opposed to death: expression over repression, love over fear, the flowering of human potential over the trampling of it in the name of something else". 

As we leave the Seder table tonight, remember that both our Jewish and our queer ancestors have fought very hard for us to be able to live more joyfully than they have, and think about how you can honor the life they've given you.  

Baruch atach adonai eloheinu melech ha'olam borei pri hagafen.

Blessed is the Eternal, determiner of the universe, who creates the fruit of the vine. 

This year, we are still fighting. This year there are still members of our community who are closeted, or denied justice. There are incarcerated trans folks placed in the wrong prisons. There are non-binary people being misgendered at home and at work and at school. This year the government wants to deny us the right to work, to wed, to exist. Queer youth are committing suicide from brutal bullying at school. This year, we are still fighting. 

Next year, may our struggles come to fruition. May we gain equal protection under the law, and may all people accept our right to live and to exist. Next year, may we have the capacity to fight for the rights of other marginalized groups. 

This year, we are still fighting. Next year, may we all be free.

Chag sameach.

Somewhere over the rainbow, way up high

There's a land that I heard of, once in a lullaby. 

Somewhere over the rainbow skies are blue, 

And dreams that you dare to dream really do come true. 

Someday I'll wish upon a star and wake up where the clouds are far behind me. 

Where troubles melt like lemon drops, away above the chimney tops, that's where you'll find me. 

Somewhere over the rainbow bluebirds fly. 

Birds fly over the rainbow, why then oh why can't I?

If happy little bluebirds fly, beyond the rainbow, why, oh why, can't I?