[TRANSCRIPT] Leah Forster: Loving and Defending the Community that Rejects Her
I listened to the recent Orthodox Conundrum podcast titled ‘Leah Forster: Loving and Defending the Community that Rejects Her.’ I thought it was so well done that a transcript was necessary, so I decided to type one. Leah’s thoughts on community, family, love, God and being a member of the LGBTQ+ community are important and moving. This transcript is not word-perfect, and any and all errors are mine. The podcast host is Rabbi Scott Kahn and the guest is Leah Forster, and in my transcript I will simply refer to them as Scott & Leah.
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Scott: The phenomenon of the individual who grew up in an extreme Hasidic community, then rejects it entirely while physically escaping from it has become part of everyday discourse regarding Orthodoxy thanks to books and Netflix series such as ‘Unorthodox.’ It’s almost become a stereotype that most who leave do so while holding on to bitterness and extreme animosity. And frankly, when I prepared my interview with Leah Forster I was expecting much of the same thing. Leah grew up in a Hasidic community in Boro Park and after she broke some of the norms of the community, she lost her job, she lost her family and she was instructed by he mother not even to attend her eventual funeral. That was their final communication. But what I found both moving and unexpected was Leah’s continued love for her Hasidic community and her family, her defending the people who hurt her and her genuine faith. She simply did not fit the stereotype at all. Leah’s famous for her comedy and she became much more well known when two restaurants at which she was supposed to perform withdrew their invitation after the kashrus organizations which supervised them threatened to take away their kashrus certification. The reason they didn’t want her to perform was because of her sexuality and the resulting uproar landed her on the cover of The Daily News. I asked Leah if anything about her life was off limits and she said no, so we talked about the community she came from, when she realized she was attracted to women, what was the last straw that drove her family to reject her, how crucial it is to discuss mental health issues, whether she actually left Orthodoxy and much much more. But the purpose of this interview transcends Leah’s story. It can teach us about the trouble with labels. It identifies the danger of caring primarily about what people think rather than what’s best for our children. It points out that life is far from black and white and that we can choose to love and defend even the people that hurt us most. These are lessons that apply to all of us. And we need to take them to heart to ensure that we and our various communities live up to the values that matter most rather than the values that we want other people to believe that we possess. Leah Forster, thank you very much for joining me today on the Orthodox Conundrum podcast.
Leah: It is my pleasure to be here and as I’ve told you before off camera but I’ll say it again it really is an honor considering there’s the word Orthodox in your podcast and then there’s me, so, here we are.
Scott: Well I guess we’ll have a chance to talk about that and today, in that vein I really want to focus on your own personal story, Leah, and move on from there. So let’s start off by talking about which kind of community you grew up in and go from there.
Leah: Okay. I grew up in the ultra-Orthodox Hasidic sect of Boro Park. My parents were originally from Williamsburg. I was actually born in Williamsburg, and not the Williamsburg that people know, the cool Williamsburg, well, that’s cool, too, but I was born in the ultra-Orthodox Williamsburg. My house was mainly Yiddish speaking, on Shabbos for sure. My father wore a shtreimel, my oldest brother wears a shtreimel, my brothers went to Chassidish and heimish yeshivas. As we got older, we became in Yiddish we call it more ofgeklert, we call it more open-minded, however for the most part we were still very right-wing, conservative, Chassidish/ Heimish. And obviously as I grew older I didn’t feel that was a proper lifestyle for me personally. And so yes, I made some changes. I still identify very much with my Judaism, very close connection with God, you know, obviously, according to community standards maybe I’m not where I need to be, on their level, but at this point I really don’t care. It’s really between me and God so…that’s it.
Scott: Okay, I want to ask you what you mean. When you say your family became more open-minded, for a family from Williamsburg and Boro Park, what does more open-minded mean in that context?
Leah: That’s a great question. So I would say the fact that we had a video machine in the house which was a pretty big deal. My mother did take me to some Broadway shows so that was a pretty big deal. And I definitely was a little bit more exposed as I got older to a little bit more of a taste of the secular world and that definitely opened up my eyes because once I saw what was out there, and let’s say someone like me, yeah, I’m talented and I’m funny and I like to sing- and there’s a limited possibility or threshold in the community and the fact of the matter is that according to halakha I cannot sing in front of men and in many of my heimish circles I wasn’t allowed to perform in front of men, and then I also wasn’t able to make the jokes that I enjoy making because a lot of the topics were very risque, as well as my accents, so it put kind of- I felt very trapped with all this curiosity and talent and I really wanted an opportunity to see what else was out there. And once I did get that experience I realized that that ultra-ultra-rigid lifestyle is just not for me. Personally. I am much healthier when I can make my own choices.
Scott: And at what point, Leah, did you start feeling that it wasn’t for you? How old were you when you started questioning the values and norms of the community where you were brought up?
Leah: Well, you want an exclusive? Here’s an exclusive. The truth is is that this is how I felt from a young age. I remember even being in therapy as a young kid and my mother would tell the therapist that ‘she left the house and she pulled down her socks.’ You know, like I wanted to wear shorter socks. That was a dumb example but it started from when I was a little kid and the first time I got my hands on non-Jewish music, which again, was very forbidden in my community, and then of course, the more I became in touch with who I am as a person, and the expectations that the community put on me. You know, when you’re eighteen it’s time to get married, ben shmoneh esrei l’chuppah, so starting in high school already everything that we do is to find the right shidduch and to find the right prospect. And frankly, now that I look back, where was my brain? I wanted to make the right choices. I want to be married and I also want love but I want to choose that. I don’t want to be told that this is something that I must do. It’s something I would want to do. So second, third, fourth, fifth grade I was already very curious. Naturally, the older I got the more uncomfortable I became in the very tight-knit community I grew up in. I was a high school teacher for many many years in the community where I grew up, and when I say high school, I don’t know if you want to bleep it out, but I did teach in the most prestigious Brooklyn religious high schools, Bais Yaakov d’Reb Meir, Lev Bais Yaakov and Mesoras Bais Yaakov. I was head of their productions. I ran their chagigas and Shabbatons. I was very involved, not just as an English teacher. So that was part of the problem- I was digging myself deeper into this hole and I became Leah Forster. I was signed to a music label, to Mostly Music music label, which is a ____. I put out a lot of comedy albums, a lot of music DVDs. I sold out shows all over the world, the most ultra-religious communities in the audiences, only women of course. I always laugh that I performed in Union City for a group of Chassidish ladies, like 3000 ladies, but when I looked out into the audience, literally I saw was a bunch of cabbage patch, like cabbage heads, it was Hello Hello, Tichel Tuesday, but a whole crowd. So I think at a lot of different points I disassociated. At some point I started living a completely double life where I was physically entrenched in the frum community and I was the comedian and the entertainer and the teacher and my daughter was in one of the top schools and over time I completely separated the other part of myself which was figuring out who I am, pursuing an education, pursuing a different avenue for my career than I had all these years. Also stepping foot into karaoke places and comedy clubs and trying my hand at potentially a broader larger audience with no limitations and so those two became two separate things because in our community it’s not possible for those two- by us it’s very black and white. A frum heimish lady doesn’t go to a bar after work for a drink. It’s unacceptable. Now luckily, today, things are very different. The Orthodox world is incredibly different now than the world I grew up in. There’s much more room and that’s the beautiful part. That’s why I love Judaism now. I love Orthodoxy. Because I found a community that is comfortable with me just as I am. So you know, luckily, I don’t need to separate my two worlds anymore, which is a beautiful thing.
Scott: That is beautiful, and there’s a lot there for me to ask. So let me start a little bit back when you talk about being in Bais Yaakov and living that double existence where on the one hand you’re doing everything according to what you’re supposed to do, but on the other hand you’re doing things privately that they would never approve of. Did you believe in what you were teaching and you just thought that was just a yetzer hara, something you shouldn’t be doing on the side when you were going to a karaoke bar? Or was it that going to the karaoke bar was the real you and you were putting on a show in school?
Leah: No. I’ll be honest. You are asking- okay, I”ve done so many podcasts, and you are asking the best questions. And this is great for everyone out there that’s listening and wondering, like, what about me and my choices and my limitations. The answer to that question is: I never really thought. That’s the answer. I did exactly what I was told to do from when I was a little kid. I had to be a good girl, I had to wear skirts that were four inches below my knee, I need to keep these stringent rules, when I get married I need to cover my hair and cut my hair underneath, these were the things- and then of course have babies- so there’s no thought process. You are raised from a very young age to believe this is your purpose in life and that’s what you need to do. As I got older, I started to see that there were other Jewish communities and other frum communities that don’t have these ridiculous stringent rules that weren’t working for me. By the way, for those of you listening, I’m not calling them ridiculous. If it works for you, and that’s your choice, that’s beautiful. For me, it didn’t make any sense. For me, to send my daughter to a school that made me sign a paper that she can’t have Internet access- to me that made no sense. Considering it’s- we’re living in 20- whatever where we need Internet access. And instead, I preferred to be in an environment where my child will learn Internet safety and my child will learn boundaries and be able to make their own decisions. And actually, I”m glad, because my child has taught me so much about being present and putting my phone away because they had access to whatever they needed to and were able to make smart choices and educated choices. So I”m all for everyone doing what works for them, but it’s gotta work for them. You know what I mean? And I never thought about it. I was so robotic. Right now when I keep Shabbos, it’s because I want to disconnect, I want to keep Shabbos, and I want to connect. You know what I mean?
Scott: Yeah, and I want to ask about that, because as you’re speaking, you’re sort of changing the questions that I had planned a little bit. Let me ask you straight out- would you say that you are an Orthodox Jew? And the reason that I ask that was that I assumed that you left Orthodoxy, but the way you’re describing yourself now, it’s a lot less clear than a black and white question like that. Or am I not understanding it correctly?
Leah: It’s a really great question, and my answer to that is, and I hope everyone processes this- I don’t understand, and I know labels are very important, but I don’t understand why I need to consider myself something, or label myself something. I feel this way when it comes to religion. I feel this way when it comes to politics. I feel this way when it comes to sexuality. I think they all bring different elements into a person’s life but that is not the person. The person is a makeup of many things. For someone to even say, “I’m gay. I’m 100% only attracted to this or that” or “I’m straight. I’m 100% only attracted to this or that”- I feel like we are already setting ourselves up for failure. We need to just be. Be who we are- love who we want- and not hurt anybody. And that’s how I Feel with politics. I don’t think any Republican out there or many that I know fully agrees with Republican views, and I don’t think any Democrat out there fully agrees with the Democrat views. I think that it’s gone very extreme right and left and we have to align all the way right or left with one value. It’s not possible. It’s simply not possible. And the pandemic showed me that. Because I am queer and I am considered I should be part of a certain political affiliation, when my politics don’t align with those that I’m supposed to be align with- I’m like- “Oh Leah, you’re betraying us or you’re a traitor for thinking this or that.” Because I have my own brain. I left a rigid structure that has taught me I need to only think in the way they told me to think- and I’ll never go back to that! And that’s my connection with Judaism. I am a very proud Jew. And what’s Orthodoxy? What does it mean, I consider myself part of Orthodoxy? I take Shabbos week by week. It’s a journey for me like kol yom y’hiyu b’einecha k’chadashim. And I would say that most weeks I feel very connected. And sometimes I struggle. And I feel that way with a lot of areas in my life. And I don’t sit there and ask myself, “Am I sinning- am I not?” I say, “Am I being my authentic self? Am I showing up as my highest self?” Sometimes I don’t show up as my highest self. And that’s between me and God. He knows my journey. He knows my struggles. I hope that answers your question.
Scott: What you’re saying- I’m sure there are plenty of things that you and I would not be on the same page with, but in terms of the problem with labels, which includes the term Orthodox, which is so standard. I was just talking to my wife and somebody else about this today- these boxes become extremely counterproductive. And I definitely relate to the idea of trying to resist them as much as we can. You mentioned just now about coming out as queer and I want to ask you a little bit about that. Is that okay?
Leah: Of course. But you should know, I never came out as queer. For the record.
Scott: Oh.
Leah: I had no intention of ever coming out. I guess some people need to come out. They do. It’s important. For me personally, I never felt the need to announce whatever because I loved my husband. And I love people. So I didn’t see the need to come out. Unfortunately, I had a whole fiasco with Garden of Eden, which I’m sure you know about, and they sort of kicked me out of their restaurant for my- because of my sexuality- and it was doubly as hurtful. Because #1 I never put my private business out there. I never spoke about my sexuality. I never even made a joke about my sexuality. And I kept my entire love life very very private which no one should have to experience because when you’re happy, you want to be able to share that with people. And I was only able to share it with the people closest to me. And it was fine. It was a sacrifice that was worth it because I loved my family and I really cared about my community. I was also a teacher for many years and I had thousands of students and I didn’t want to disappoint my school and my students. So I never felt the need to put my business out there. But one morning I woke up and it was slapped on the cover of The Daily News with the words ‘Lesbian Comic.’ Forget that it was traumatizing- but it was very rigid. Who said? Who said I’m a lesbian? That’s not accurate. So all of that was troubling but ultimately, everything happens for a reason and I do believe that this was something from the universe and this was way beyond me and it was meant to happen in this way so that I guess it could propel me to make the proper changes that I needed to make.
Scott: Okay. Yeah, thank you for your honesty. Let’s go back a little bit in leading up to some more questions about that. When you were growing up in your Chassidish community, did you have any sort of education about sexuality?
Leah: Zero. Absolutely not. My fa- I feel bad because I don’t want people to listen to this and say wow, he was so ignorant- but you have to understand this isn’t regular Orthodoxy. This isn’t - Chassidish upbringing and a heimish upbringing has a very specific set of nuances. And for some reason certain things are acceptable like taking money from the government and forging papers and sitting in a yente circle in the bungalow colony and ripping apart every single person, that’s speaking lashon harah, but when it comes to things of a sexual nature, and I guess it’s a global thing, not just a heimish thing, people are very particular. Very very particular. And for some reason when it comes to sexuality that’s so perverse to the point that the average Chassidish person will say, “Oh, a man could marry a man. What’s next? A man will be able to marry a dog?” They can’t fathom it. Which again, I respect. I do know that in more Orthodox communities they don’t teach you that a man can’t love a man. They actually just teach you that there are certain acts that are forbidden. But it’s pretty clear that such a concept exists because the fact that the act is forbidden tells you that such a thing does exist. And unfortunately the way that I was raised was that none of it was framed this way. Because I could have lived- you know, my mother passed away and we hadn’t spoken for many years, and it was a very difficult time in my life, but I could have lived with my mother telling me, “I’m hurt and I’m disappointed. I don’t approve of your lifestyle. I struggle with your choices.” I would live with that. And I would hold it. And I would say, “You’re right. I am disappointing you.” And there would be space for that. But unfortunately my lifestyle was so “perverse” and so far from what she was able to comprehend she simply wasn’t capable. And it’s not on her. It’s a larger community issue which has changed tremendously. There’s an amazing organization called Project Makom. And I will tell you right now, I’m part of Project Makom, I’m definitely the most goyish person in Project Makom, and I say that in quotations, because the aim of Makom is to help you find a place if you’re choosing to stay within the structure of Judaism and Orthodoxy. And it’s for people who come from extreme, extreme backgrounds- some of them have experienced tremendous trauma which is very relatable for me- but what I like so much about it is there isn’t too much focus on the past. It’s very future-oriented. How to integrate into normal society. They teach manners. They teach middos. All the things that are true Yiddishkeit. And that’s why I like that organization so much despite the fact that I personally don’t need the support. But it’s nice to know that such a thing exists and this is the direction the world is heading in. When I was growing up, a kid like me would have been kicked out. Look, I was fired from my job. Thirteen years I was in the school. Just from one day to the next they called me up, you know, when things got exposed, and understandably, I no longer fit the criteria of what a Bais Yaakov teacher should be. I understand that. But we’re moving towards a world that is much more accepting, much more openminded. It’s a really beautiful thing to watch. I mean, there’s a long way to go- don’t get me wrong.
Scott: Let me ask you about that, then, Leah. When you say we’re moving in that direction and it’s not the same now, are you referring specifically to that community. as well, the community in which you grew up?
Leah: Yes.
Scott: Or to Orthodoxy in general? There also it’s getting better?
Leah: Well, that for sure. But also in that community. Like when I grew up nobody taught us about our bodies. Nobody taught us about privacy or consent. We learned it from a book. You know, my mother handed me ‘The Wonder of Becoming You.’ It was a purple book, and I read about it. I joke about it in my comedies- I saw the word “o-v-a-r-i-e-s” and I thought it was aveiros. I had no idea what it was. And I would say ah-varies, ah-varies and aveiros. And I once read a Yom Kippur Machzor and it said “Throw your aveiros in the ocean.” And I was like, how the hell am I supposed to throw my ah-varies (ovaries) in the ocean? So it was actually really funny. But yes. I think there’s major strides, even with sexual predators and the amazing organizations now, organizations like Amudim that wasn’t around 25 years ago. Zaakah, that talk about, raise awareness about the abusers within our community. So yes, there’s a long way to go, but this is not the same world I grew up in. Heimish people today - there’s so much more acceptance, so much more open-minded. I love it. And my favorite thing is to hang around Chassidish people, even if they’re formerly Chassidish and no longer religious. Cause I love the music, the heimishkeit, I love the Yiddish. I’m actually dating someone and they said to me, “Wow, you know, you sound like an old lady when you speak Yiddish, like a seventy year old.” I’m like “Ich Veis. Val hub es azoi leib. Tze geshmack!”
Scott: You know, Leah, I have to say and this is really going in a little bit of a different direction- I’m just really impressed by your lack of bitterness. I was expecting you to be ready to just say they were so mean to me, they were so bad to me, and whatever their motivations were, I can’t accept it but you still have a love for this community which is really amazing.
Leah: I’ll tell you why. I have a love for this community because I have realized- and this was hard, hard work- I’m putting this out there for everyone- if I told you how much money, blood, sweat, tears and my life revolves around therapy, to this very day. I’m going to be real. The trauma is real. I’m going to say something that my father should live and be well till 120. But I remember being in high school and my mother told me that my hair was too long. For weeks she was asking me to cut it. Mind you, my hair was chin length. And I had four more chins underneath so I did not want chin-length hair because I wanted to cover all my other chins. And my mother turned to me and said, “If you don’t cut your hair today after school, the doors will be locked and you won’t be able to come home.” Now, I was eighteen. I was not a baby. I was actually teaching and I was in seminary. And if I tell you when I left school that day, I was a teacher- I was responsible for middle school kids- shivering that if I do not stop and get a haircut the doors will be locked. I was terrified. Because this kind of religious trauma where it’s like “if you don’t follow the rules, you are not welcome here” goes so, so, so deep and it lasts a lifetime. I do find myself often struggling with feeling loved enough. And valuable enough. And I’ve had to do a lot of work, a lot of EMDR, a lot of therapy. I’m a recovering addict- I have codependency. I know you’re thinking, “What? That’s not a drug.” But if I tell you that it’s so much more of a drug than any drug. Because I’ve spent a lifetime disassociating and finding worth where I should have found worth in myself. But when you’re told your whole life because you’re fat that nobody is gonna want to marry you because that’s our community, marriage-minded. And at sixteen years old I developed of course unhealthy eating habits because I was terrified that I would be too fat and no man would find me attractive and that my own mother would be embarrassed to take me places. And for those of you listening who may be saying, “Well, that’s on your mother. She was not a healthy person.” Granted. That is also true. And dysfunction is global. It’s not just limited to the frum community. But automatically you’re struggling with an uphill battle when you’re in an ultra-Chassidish environment that already from day one tells you that unless you meet A,B,C,D criteria you are not welcome in this community. There isn’t a place for you. And this isn’t - in Project Makom how many members talk about how when they didn’t want to wear shtreimels, or they wanted to take off their white socks- we’re talking about men who went to minyan three times a day. All they wanted to do was take off their white socks or cut their beard. Done. Kids out of school, parents cutting them off, don’t come here for Shabbos, you’re not welcome. The beautiful part about me personally and my journey is that I opened myself up to receive love from good Jews, including my own father who I have a beautiful relationship with- after my mother passed away, we reconnected. He accepts me and loves me just as I am and because of that, when I go there, I put on a full sheitel, and a full skirt, not because he cares. Because he knows what I look like and he loves me just as I am. But because he loves me- and because he loves me, he moves mountains in his community amongst my siblings who are not happy that we have a relationship- he wants a relationship with me and he doesn’t care. And because of that, it is equally as important to me to give him something that matters to him. When I walk in and I wear a sheitel, and I’m dressed tznius, for that amount of time that we’re together, and we’re singing and we’re talking, he looks at me and his idea of me exists for him. And I can give that to him. It’s a special gift I can give to him. And I’m grateful for that.
Scott: That’s really something. It still brings me back to that same question, though. If I can put it bluntly- why do you love the Chassidish community after the creation of that dysfunction that ruined your relationship with your mother and made things so difficult for you? I think it’s wonderful but I’m also puzzled by it.
Leah: Because it’s isolated. It’s not global. There’s so many Chassidish heimish people who are lit! My father married this woman who was from the center of Williamsburg and she was a kocher and a hocher and a doer- and she didn’t grow up like that. She grew up ultra-Orthodox, super-Chassidish, and [Chana insert: maybe here she means her mother’s mother?] she loves all her kids the same, whether they’re like this or like that, and all her siblings are different- so for me I had come to realize that it’s not everyone. But when we’re angry, and when we’re hurt by something, we tend to make it a very black and white thing. It’s trauma. It’s our trauma response. You can realize that' it’s just individuals. By the way, politically? Same thing. People are like, “Leftists and liberals, they’re so angry, and they’re always yelling.” Have you ever had a conversation with many of them? Or is it just the loud few that you’re hearing, kicking and screaming? And the same thing with Republicans. How many Republicans do we know that are open-minded and accepting and loving? “No, they’re not- they’re all evil and-” No, they’re not. It’s individuals. And if we would live in a world where we would be able to take a step back and not see things from within our own trauma, then we would see things much clearer. Yes, I had tremendous religious trauma. My daughter went from having aunts, uncles, cousins and grandparents from one day to the next- to having nothing. The other week I went to their- by the way, I say my daughter. My daughter is actually non-binary. They identify as non-binary not for biological reasons so much but much more for social. They believe that everyone should just be. I’m in corporate- I can tell you right now I get paid much less than the men in my position do. So I can tell you right now, until we live in a world where the men and women get paid equally- they believe that. I respect that. And the beautiful thing about my child is, they don’t care if they’re misgendered, or if they’re- it’s just who they are. And if you do it, it’s an innocent mistake. There are very few that are out there that are davka. I would say that. There are some that are davka, and to those I say, they would be like that no matter what, whether it comes to politics or religion- they’re just those kinds of people. But for the most part I get very tolerant, loving people. Also, my love now comes from me. I don’t need you to tell me that I’m not frum or frum. I don’t care. I get so many messages on my Instagram and TikTok and I have a big following - positive stuff. Once in a while, yes, I get a comment, “You should burn in Gehinnom.” Or I love when people write, “Leah, come back.” Come back to where? Never left. I actually live in the most populated frum community. And I love it. I walk outside- I have ten kosher groceries, a butcher, a fish store, six kosher pizza shops, a shul on every corner- hell, yes. It’s what I love.
Scott: I want to ask you about something you just referred to and we’ve kind of been talking around it a little bit- a very painful subject about being estranged from your family. You said one day your child had aunts, uncles and then nothing. What exactly happened? Was it just that headline or was it something more than that?
Leah: Okay, so my mother sent me a text and said, “Totty and I have decided that after I die you are not welcome to come to my levayah. We wish you the best of luck.” That was the last text she ever sent me. And I-
Scott: Was your mother ill at the time?
Leah: My mother was not ill. My mother was never ill, even when she died. It was a very sudden death, from one day to the next. I was very pained and I reached out to some of my siblings and my father and my father has lived his entire life with this motto that whatever his wife says, he supports. And I can’t hold that against him. He stood by his wife. I can’t hold that against him. And also his children. Once his wife passed, he was able to gather the courage to stand up for himself and also his children. I know they’re not too happy and he just does his own thing. At times, it’s painful. At my mother’s shloshim, I was supposed to go, and my father told me where it was. And then that morning he called to disinvite me and say that my siblings and some of my mother’s siblings did not want me there. And you know what? At the time, I was done. I was so angry. I said I would never- I can’t believe I opened myself up to having a relationship with him, and this is the yoyo and seesaw that I’m going to go on? But when I took a step back and I took myself out of the equation, I realized that my poor father desperately wants me but he also loves his family. And I’m never gonna make him choose. If I really love him- they want to make him choose- that’s on them, not on me. So he’ll go to t heir simchos and he’ll call me before the simcha and tell me “I feel terrible that you can’t be there. It’s awful that I’m going to an einekel’s wedding and my daughter isn’t there.” And I say, “Yes, it’s painful for me, that is a truth that exists, but the other truth that exists is that you raised these children and grandchildren and you are entitled to reap the benefits. And you can go have nachas and not worry that I’m sitting here resentful.” I’m sad because of the situation- it’s painful. But he’s doing the best he can. I can’t make unrealistic demands of this community or him as a person.
Scott: Leah, what was the thing, the event that caused your parents, or your mother, to send you that text or that letter- you can’t come to my levayah? What was the thing that did it?
Leah: Okay. So we never had the best relationship, my mother and I. Like I said, I was always a curious kid, I was always too loud, I was too modern. I remember one time when I called and she heard me on the phone with someone and I said, “Hey, what’s up?” And she said, “What’s up? What’s up? What are you, prost? What are you talking like a goy, what’s up?” My mother was part of a very rigid cult. And for those of you who are listening thinking my mother was a bad person- mmm mmm [to indicate no]. This woman cooked, gave, did chesed for the entire community and world. She was an incredible legend. There was nothing she wouldn’t do for anyone, even me. Back in the day, when I told her I was sick, I wouldn’t- I would just say “Ma, I’m not feeling well.” Twenty minutes later there was a ring on my doorbell. Her driver would drop off fresh soup, kugel, challah- like, she would take my daughter shopping when she was younger and buy her an entire wardrobe. My mother was an incredibly generous, good person. Her struggle was with community. What people think was everything to her. And that’s for me the biggest issue in these kinds of community- not just Chassidish community- even litvish communities and yeshivish communities. So much of the problems that have arisen come from our concern of what others think. And I get it. We’re part of a big community and that’s important. That’s why we worry about prospects- how many parents really don’t look out for what’s best for their child when it comes to their prospects, their' marriage prospects. It’s about- who’s the mother? Who’s the father? What kind of community? Where did the boy go to yeshiva? Where did the girl go to seminary? All this stuff that you think is relevant. But hey, how’s their emotional health? What’s the family like behind closed doors? Are they functional? Is there love? Is there respect? And that’s the kind of thing that should be looked for. With time I see that evolving and changing as well. But it does sadden me that every quality of a girl is reduced to a resume. On a shidduch. So that’s what we get now, a one-pager and a picture, and that’s what we make our assumptions [on]? Yuck.
Scott: So Leah- let me ask that question again- because what you’re saying is crucial. What was the thing that caused them to cut off the relationship?
Leah: So the thing was, I was with someone at the time, who - and this is a whole other issue- had incredible PTSD. Really really bad trauma. For many years in our relationship. Really bad nightmares. Like, awful. And a ton of anxiety and panic. And at a a certain point as a partner of somebody struggling like that, I was like, “What is going on?” And they confided in me that they had in fact been taken advantage of in their camp, in a girls’ camp, by a girl head counselor. A woman head counselor. And this was also a kiruv mentality where they would bring the girls home for Shabbosim during the year. This girl was 21. She was 14. She brought her to her home for Shabbosim and obviously at night I don’t have to tell you the rest. And this girl was raised in a Baal Teshuva environment and very deprived in terms of Judaism and also in terms of wealth and to be around all these heimish, frum, booming people was very tempting and exciting to her. And so she thought this was part of the deal. Part of the deal was you know, you allow her to touch you or whatever. And it went beyond sexual abuse- it was incredibly emotionally manipulative. To the point where this girl would sit on somebody else’s lap, and this counselor would come over to her and say, “I’m going to report you for sitting on her lap.” Meanwhile, behind closed doors, she was taking total advantage of her. It caused her tremendous trauma and anxiety. She actually tried to take her to Din Torah and all she wanted was an apology. And the girl really gaslit her on the phone. She hadn’t spoken to her in years, since that high- and she said “No one is gonna believe you.” Luckily for me I recorded it, I recorded that conversation. And um, we had a- and also she saved every single letter the girl ever wrote her. Every single document. And all the faxes that she would write her to camp. Girl was only there one half. The other half, she would say, “Make sure to give yourself a kiss in my spot, in my favorite spot, my precious little girl- typical grooming whatever.” So when this- I said, you know something? I have a voice, I have a platform. I want to use it for good. And so we put all the documents together. We tried to take her to Din Torah and the rest I don’t want to talk about because that’s between her and what’s going on- but I did raise awareness and I did put a video out there. When I put the video out there, to my mother that was the biggest dagger. Because not only was it me and this girl, but it was also me exposing something in the community, and she happened to have known this person as well- I think that was personal for her, too. She knew their family. So maybe she thought it was a personal attack against her, too? I don’t know. I can’t speak for her. She’s not alive. But I do know that in that time that was just- she couldn’t. She couldn’t anymore. Now wherever she was going she was getting regards that look what her daughter- look what her daughter did. Her daughter exposed something. And that was- her last text to me was, “Don’t come to my levayah. Good luck with your life and good luck with _____” and this person’s name. So clearly that was a part of the ___ as well.
Scott: Wow. That just sounds like such a painful thing to have to go through, to have that be your last communication with your mother. And I’m also somewhat dumbfounded. Not that anything, I speak as a parent- I have seven children- not that anything is a reason to withhold love from children. But the idea of - and again I’m not trying to make your mother look bad- I know you’ve said she was a wonderful-
Leah: I want to be very clear because I need to be very clear. Again, not only was my mother not bad. She was actually good. This was beyond her. Unfortunately, she’s not growing up in the world we’re growing up in today, where we have access to good mental health and there’s a lot of talk about self-growth and connection with our higher self. She didn’t grow up in that world. She grew up in a world where we follow the structure, this is how it is, you do what our mother told you to do and that’s the end of that. And again, that’s not everyone- this is her specifically- and that’s what it boiled down to. If I have to say it, I would say my mother was really challenged, mentally challenged, when it came to stepping outside of what do people think.
Scott: Almost the biggest problem might have been exposing the community as anything specific in your life- it was the fact that you pointed fingers at somebody who was doing something wrong- to me that was just doubly shocking.
Leah: Yeah, but I pointed fingers for someone that I was romantically involved with, and all of it was too shameful for her. It was incredibly shameful. Maybe she felt like she failed as a mother, or she failed me as a mother. Or you know something? I saw pictures of her growing up. She had short hair- she wore a button down and a tie. Maybe there was a part of her that really wanted more of what I had because she would take me to Broadway shows, she would watch videos and watch them with me, so maybe there was a part of her that felt like- there were times that my mother did say to me, “You don’t know my struggles. You don’t know what I’m going through.” So everything’s possible. The good news is that I do visit her kever- I wouldn’t say often, but I write letters and also I reconnected with my family, so that really was very cathartic for me and I’m able to see her in a whole different way. By my nightstand I have a book of all these beautiful stories her neighbors wrote about her. Of things that she had done. And I read it from time to time because I want to remember her as good. She’s not a bad person. She just didn’t connect well with her children. Not just me, by the way. I was maybe the biggest target. But all my siblings struggled with her very much.
Scott: It just sounds, Leah, almost everything that you’ve spoken to me about over the past 40 minutes has that same theme of the world is not black and white. People are not all good or all bad. Communities are a mix. People are a mix. Life is a mix. And I just find that very refreshing and actually very impressive coming from someone who’s been hurt so much. Would it be okay if I asked you about your experience growing up- I know you said you didn’t come out, but growing up as you defined it, as queer in that community?
Leah: You’re ready?
Scott: If you’re willing to talk about it, I’d like to hear about it.
Leah: I had a 6th grade teacher; her name was Ms. Eisner. I was obsessed. Hardcore obsessed. I would fall asleep at night and think about her. In high school I had another teacher, Ms. Grama. Obsessed. Definitely had- there was female energy that I was, you know, vibing with. And there was a girl up my block, and a girl in camp that I fell in love with. I never did anything because I was terrified that God will smite me. But I always was drawn to women, I was. That doesn’t mean that I think men are disgusting or anything like that. I just always knew- and I don’t believe that there ws an incident that created that for me. From a young age if I would pass by Shoprite and I would see a magazine, I was always enamored by the women. I find women beautiful. I”m sorry if this is too much- I know you’re an Orthodox podcast, so I’m fascinated by them. I think women are just- wow. And unfortunately what happened was after my husband, shortly after I left my husband I met my partner of six years, and she was a woman. And she loved me so hard and she welcome me into her life and her family is frum and they loved me like their own. And I suddenly had family that accepted me unconditionally. And I suddenly had a person who accepted me unconditionally and it was this dream life. To be honest, we were completely not compatible for one another. We were both so, so, so broken. I was coming out of not only a traumatic childhood and a community that disowned me - I was fired from my job- all in a very short time- and then I met her shortly thereafter- and I was coming out of a really tough marriage. Again, my husband was decent, but it was a very- I’m not going to go into detail- it was traumatic. And I was not ready to be a full time mother- I was a mother- I was a poverty stricken - I was - my family disowned me, I was a teacher, okay, I was making a teacher’s salary. I met her, I thought I fell in love and I thought I’m gonna have this perfect life, and as the years went by I realized not only was she dealing with her trauma, and then, nebach, she had a horrible situation- she was an EMT and her grandmother was actually crushed by a car. And she was part of this. I remember when she called me and was just shrieking on the phone- it was awful- and her grandmother raised her. And then when I- it was just awful- and then. a few days later she started having these nocturnal panic attacks, and became very claustrophobic and couldn’t go in a bridge and couldn’t go in a tunnel and I feel really terrible talking about her, because again, what an incredible neshama of a person, and she moved on, and she’s really happy now, but again, at the time I thought I found my person. And that is part of the religious trauma. I want to recognize my codependency told me that my value lies in being something to someone. So I went from being nothing to no one to being everything to someone. And that gave me such purpose that even though we were not compatible and even though I had no idea who I was as a human being I connected with her because finally there’s a woman that loves me. You know, now I’m recognizing that there’s so, if we could go back to the way the Torah used to be- we were earth people. You know? We were earth people. What is hisbodedus, what is meditating, what is being one with the earth and nature, what does it mean b’shvili nivra ha’olam? This earth is mine in abundance. And I just need to figure out what’s for me. Thank you for coming to my TED talk.
Scott: I want to ask you- you talk about seeing magazine covers in Shoprite with women on them and being fascinated and being obsessed with them. When did it occur to you you had what we would call a same-sex attraction, that this was something that was taboo, that wouldn’t be accepted in your community. When did it occur to you that this was something you might want to hide, maybe I’d say.
Leah: So when I was maybe in fifth grade there was a girl up my block, I’m not gonna say her name, but she was fun. And she came over to my house to play and I don’t have to tell you what happens when girls play. We were making nice. Okay? And we were, you know, both Shabbos mommies. And my father came into the room. And he saw me. And by the way, we weren’t doing anything bad. We were just playing, curious. We didn’t know. And my father said, “Feh. Foi. Kim a’ here.” And he sat me down and he said “Layala,” (he called me Layala,), “one day you’re going to marry a man and why are men better than women?” And I was like oh, please do tell, father dear. And he said “Men are better than women because the Ribbono shel Olam created men first.” And in my head, as an English teacher, I’m like, yeah, don’t you make a rough draft before you make a final draft? So I knew right away that that was clearly taboo and as I got older, and like I said I feel bad talking about my dad, but he’s so funny. I said something once about somebody gay and he says, “Oh, they probably molest each other.” Because he didn’t have a concept of what that meant - again, just because he doesn’t want to. He doesn’t need to. So yes, from a very young age I was always fascinated by women. You know what’s actually really sad, because looking back, when I went to kallah classes, and for those of you listening who don’t know what that is, it’s when a teacher teaches you when you get engaged about the birds and the bees because your average Bais Yaakov girl or heimish girl knows nothing about sex and knows nothing about the opposite gender in a sexual nature. When I was home for Shabbos, my brother did not have friends over. If he had friends over, my mother sent me away for Shabbos, because I wasn’t allowed to be around boys. Well, I had very limited contact with the opposite gender and as you know in our community, the Chassidish community, the men are not rude, but even men in the grocery store, they won’t give the woman the change. They place it down. They won’t open a door if a woman is passing by. They’ll open a door maybe for a man. But women and men are very, very separate and the more Chassidish, the more stringent, the more strict that concept becomes. So in very, very strict communities you are even told to walk on opposite sides of the streets. So that they don’t even look at each other. Women are not allowed to wear perfume in a car service or an Uber lest they turn on a man with their smell. I’m not making this up. This is all stuff that I was taught. I don’t want to be one of those people that comes out with a show and people are like, “That’s a lie.” It’s not a lie.
Scott: Leah, I live in Ramat Beit Shemesh in Israel. I can confirm that what you’re talking about is true.
Leah: Thank you. So this isn’t a lie. This is my truth. And I don’t like when Orthodox apologists come up and say, “That’s not Orthodoxy.” You’re right. It isn’t. That was my Orthodoxy. That was the way I grew up. So I’m very clear that this is my specific story, my cousins, my community. This isn’t you. You could have been raised way better than me. True. Granted. And then why are you knocking everyone? I’m not. I’m telling this is how I was raised. Step one is raising awareness on how to do better. And luckily I’m around to see the better. So win-win. Well, no. Win-lose. Cause trauma.
Scott: You’re here to tell the tale. When you married your husband, you already knew you had a same-sex attraction to women. So what was that like for you? Was that itself traumatic or did you repress it?
Leah: I actually- I shared it with my husband because there were no secrets and he was a really good guy and we were best friends. And even as the years went on and it was very clear that that was the identity that I geared towards he would say he doesn’t care. And the messed up part was I met someone- in a Zumba class. Feh! Can you believe it? First it starts with goyish music, next thing you know, you’re lesbian! [She’s joking and Scott cracks up.] This girl came over to me and started talking to me. Long story short we had an emotional affair for many years. She went to my bungalow colony. For those of you who are listening and are like, what’s a bungalow colony? It’s basically a party for men. They send their women upstate for ten weeks - well, it’s a party for women, too, wink wink- you know, desperate women, lonely, hello? [She’s joking again.] So we had an emotional affair for five years. And also that made me extra disassociated cause to me it seemed so normal. She had kids and she was living this regular life in the community and I was also so we were like, oh, we have the “best of both worlds.” We have each other and we also have all the benefits and the pros of this community. Which, let’s be honest, if you are a member of this community, you are signed up for the benefits. and the benefits include family, Chanukah, Purim, Shabbosim, chesed galore, I can go on and on, even financially. When you are a part of the community you have much more financial opportunities as opposed to someone who graduates and has to send out twenty resumes. There’s so many pluses to being a member of the community. So to give that up was torture. For me to know that once I was going to be exposed, my life as I knew it was going to disappear. I would no longer have my job, I would no longer be able to keep my child in the school they were in, I would no longer have the warmth and comfort of my family and I would no longer have the warmth and comfort of some of my friends. And that’s exactly what happened. It was loss after loss after loss. But ultimately what I realized was that those who mind, don’t matter, and those who matter, don’t really mind. So it worked out okay. But int he community, there are other women out there like me. I went to a support group for many years. There are closeted women in the support group that have sheitels and children and communities and have made the decision to stay. One of my- someone I know really well has made a commitment to stay with her husband and be the best mother and best wife she can be and does not act on that part of her life. But it’s painful and torture. See, for me, it was less painful. Because I didn’t have so much at the end tying me to the community. My family was dysfunctional regardless of religion. Anyway. My husband and I didn’t have a marriage anyway. My daughter didn’t belong in the school she was in anyway. So for me, to make those changes - I automatically became a more emotionally healthy person. But for a lot of people, it’s not safe. They have everything in the community. They can’t just walk away from that.
Scott: Okay, Leah, we’re almost out of time and I could keep going, but I actually have three questions I want to ask you. So here’s the first one. Today, Leah Forster, where do you find a sense of community?
Leah: Great question. I think there are different parts that I take from different communities. And it’s actually a very rude awakening that I had. Especially for someone like me, who made changes, at first I did what everyone else did and I went to the other extreme. And I connected with a bunch of people who also made changes and then I realized they’re not community either. Because the minute your values don’t align with them, whether it’s politically or religiously, you’re out, too! I would make a bracha in front of my former friends and they would say, “Please don’t make a bracha. It’s very triggering.” Nuh. Nuh nuh nuh. I did not leave a fundamentalist community to join another fundamentalist community. Where you disinvite someone from your daughter’s birthday party because that person voted differently from you. Ich. So my community comes from bits and pieces. And I don’t delude myself into thinking that I’m part of any- totally part of any particular community. I am. I have communities- I have my queer community, I have my Jewish community, I have my work community, the comedy community- I have. But I’m also well aware that there’s a limit. I am me. That’s it.
Scott: Here’s my second question. You clearly are a person who has faith. So Leah, what does God mean to you? What is your relationship with God like?
Leah: I don’t know if it’s God, per se. It’s this world. It’s this great big world and of course, Hashem’s included. The way that I see it is I’m one person. And I see it especially when I’m in nature, I do a lot of meditative retreats, a lot of silent retreats, I disconnect especially Shabbos- I was upstate and I was looking out at the water and the sun- and I see- I feel so loved. The Hashem I know adores me. He has given me such crazy abundance. I have such talent, intelligence, and looks, and I have my health. I’m so- even when I go running or I work out- I think, look what He gave me. This incredible body, look what I’m capable of. So that’s my God. That’s my God. My God knows Leah went through a lot in her life. And you know when I noticed it most. It was one pivotal week. It was the week that my mother died, and a few days after my mother died, I was driving home with my partner at the time and she was having a panic attack on a bridge, and opened the door and rolled herself onto the bridge in a panic. And this was, I was still in shock from my mother’s death. And it was like that plus not knowing what I’m going to find on the other end of the door because her body just disappeared out of the car literally- and I just - whatever, it was extremely traumatic, obviously. And so a few weeks later, my child went through a horrible, horrible battle and I was in the hospital with them for days as well. I had experienced loss, loss, loss, shock in a matter of weeks. And that was a turning point for me. That was the point where I realized like, I’m so much better than this. I’m so much bigger than this. And I really had to reevaluate my own relationship with myself. And so if you ask me where’s God, I would say He’s right here, and I’m pointing to my heart. That’s what He means to me. It’s just love. A lot of love. And a lot of self-love. And when I am at my highest self I feel Him very strong, hugging me, holding me. I feel kisses from Him all the time. The fact that I was fired from my job and I got a home care job like a month later, and now I run the whole company- that’s God right there literally preparing the refuah before the makkah. So I’m ridiculously grateful and I don’t take it for granted. And when people say “Oh, hashtag grateful” - it’s a real thing! It’s a real thing. If you see it, you’ll find it, I think.
Scott: Thank you for your honesty. My last question- this podcast looks for solutions. We try to identify problems, but there’s a goal. The goal is to make the Orthodox community as good as it could possibly be so if you could now tell anyone listening in the Orthodox community, in your own experience, what sometimes goes wrong, and what can it do better while remaining true to itself, to its Torah values, what would you say?
Leah: Whoo- that’s the loaded question, ain’t it?
Scott: It is indeed.
Leah: What I would say- I really - it’s gonna say so cheesy. I would really say emotional health comes first. That needs to come first. It needs to come before Gemara, it needs to come before Torah, it needs to come before shidduchim. It needs to come first. What does it mean, derech eretz kadmah l’Torah? What does respect mean? Love yourself. Respect yourself. Hold yourself in high regard. That’s why whenever I lose my temper I say, whoa, whoa, whoa, that wasn’t my highest self. That wasn’t me. Whenever I’m angry, whenever I go into the woe is me, look what I went through in my life, I’m like, that’s not my highest self. My hope for the Orthodox community is keep doing what you’re doing. Keep pushing mental health topics. Keep pushing the idea of self love. Of developing healthy relationships, setting good boundaries, not buying into the narrative of the narcissistic relationship we have where we’re the codependent and God tells us that unless we keep A, B and C, oooh, you’re gonna be punished and you’re going to hell. No. No. Emotionally healthy is, “You are a person in this earth and you’re here to do your best. God loves you and after 120 you’re going to stand in front of Him and He’s going to hug you and envelop you and there’s going to be a place for you. Kol Yisrael yeish lahem chelek b’Olam Haba. That’s my world. So I’m hoping that more people enter my world. There’s room for you all!”
Scott: Leah, I have to tell you. I expected this to be interesting. I didn’t expect it to be so moving. Leah Forster, once again, thank you really very much for joining me on this podcast.
thank you so much for typing and sharing this
Just wondering...where is the logic? People come from a group, they want to be identified as being part of that group, they claim to think that group is wonderful and they are proud to be part of it. Then comes a litany of all the reasons they "had to leave", or were "rejected", when the truth is they abandoned the very things that made the group they belong to, well...the group they belong to! I guess in this very narcissistic affirming age we live in, with its old foundation in a type of pathological "individualism", whenever one decides to be "different", then whatever group-Jew, Christian, female, male, book club (pick any group you want, really) -the group this outlier demands continued inclusion in, has to become NOT that group anymore. "Yes, the group that I am a part of suddenly won't accept me because I do things completely differently than what the group believes in. They should change for me, 'accept me as I am', because I deserve all the benefits of the group even though I decided I don't support or adhere to their values". Again, where is the logic in that? We talk about "inclusivity", but demand that those who include us be ready to change when we change. Who is really rejecting who? If you belong to the green hat group, and you decide that you "have always felt like wearing a red hat", then why do you even want to keep belonging to the green hat group? Didn't you just reject what the group stands for, what their values are and what they made clear they were all about? So you want to be "different", and "just who you were meant to be". Fine, but it is appallingly evident that changing an entire group to suit oneself is awfully selfish. One decides to be different, ok, so then why can't others decide to remain the same? Why is it so ok to force everyone to imitate, agree with, or support someone's individual choices? And if the group, whose values one rejects, simply carries on without you, how is it right to treat them as if they have done something wrong? No logic here, just lots of selfishness.