The fantastic adventures of Koach Baruch

So I am having one of those days. You know the one --- where it seems like no matter how positive you feel about this movement for liberation, another story is told where someone like you was dehumanized yet again. On days like these, I revisit this article I read shortly after Michael Brown was murdered. It spoke to me in so many ways.  "So maybe what all of these terrified racists need is someone that, no matter how hard they try, cannot be dehumanized. Someone beyond human. Someone Christlike. Someone that can save them from themselves, and wash their souls of fear and hate and judgement. Someone that can bring them into the light of humanity and love and logic. Maybe what we need is a 5'8, light-skinned, Harvard-bound, star tennis player/violinist/poet that volunteers at the local pet shelter, bakes amazing blueberry muffins, speaks with a Mid-Atlantic accent, has a white name, who has never taken a photo with anything other than a thumbs up and a smile, and just recentl...

This year I didn't post a picture with my mom on Facebook for Mother's Day, and mom noticed.  When I called to say Happy Mother's Day, she let me know she was looking for that picture of us, like she has seen for many years before.  And seeing everyone else's pictures made it more obvious. Well, I have a confession.  It has been a really hard year for me with my parents.  While I have spent my entire life trying to get to this point where I can live authentically, it has been 2 years since my parents formally and emotionally heard from me that my name was KB -- that although I was assigned female at birth, that didn't define me and I had been living as a man. I was still their child, but I was their son. That didn't go well. It still isn't going well. I am still called by my birth name or other things I won't mention. She/her pronouns are still used. I have tried to understand from the time they told me two years ago that they already knew but di...

The true focus of revolutionary change is never merely the oppressive situations that we seek to escape, but that piece of the oppressor which is planted deep within each of us, and which knows only the oppressors’ tactics, the oppressors’ relationships. -- Audre Lorde I am only an expert in myself. I have lived with pain since I was a child. Lots of pain. Pain from living at the intersection of utter disregard for humanity I have been re traumatized over and over again without much relief and expected to live a full and vibrant life without this trauma being addressed It is impossible for me to live this way. I have acknowledged my pain both privately and publicly. I will continue to do this. Other people in my life, both known to me casually and my friends, are also in pain. Sometimes, I have been the cause of that pain. I can acknowledge their pain. I can listen to them, hold space for them to name their pain without the need to name mine as a response. ...

This shabbos I was honored to give a drash for social responsibility shabbat. If you want to hear it, follow this  link . You can enjoy the entire service or start at the drash around the 70 minute mark. August 16, 2014, just a few days after the murder of Michael Brown, I was asked to write down what I was feeling --- hard task for this extroverted over thinker. I went through a litany of feelings, starting with anger, frustration and disgust, but I ended on a hopeful note: “We ARE the beloved community that Dr. King talked about, but we have forgotten. Over the last few days, we have had a chance to remember. Remember that we really are all family. In the days, weeks, months and years ahead, we have a lot of work to do to ensure healing from this disease of racism. But this is an internal work. Those of us familiar with the passage in Leviticus know about it. Ve‐ahavta le‐re’akha kamokha. You are to love your neighbor as yourself. Gotta start with ourselves. Gotta re...

The other day when I was looking for a journal to write some notes in.  I picked up an old one and this poem was the first thing written in it. I also found the entries from my trip to Israel in Jan 2000.  I'll review those and maybe post some of them, however this is my offering for Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., of blessed memory. No Dreams Allowed Once upon a memory a revolution occurred Black brothers and sisters finally decided they were disturbed Tired of miseducation and integration Pointless desegregation and exploitation Tired of being taught to love white neighbors, yet encouraged to hate Black self Tired of being the ones to settle for welfare instead of wealth They looked to the flag of red, black and green And with Black fists in the air, a Black nation had just been achieved The chains of enslavement were broken at last Economic and social deficit was a thing of the past They realized that G-d was within -- and religion was a tool To divide and conquer...

We live in a dangerous time. It continues to be unsafe to walk in this world and hold any of the identities I have. We can try on the fact that while I drove to Mizzou a few weeks ago, I drove under the speed limit as my friend and I half jokingly said, "we don't want to become road kill on the way." What a sick thought to hold. But it was in my brain and it is because I and many others like me have been absolutely terrorized by the state violence that continues every few hours here in america. As a Jew, I can catch hell from all sides. You got the folks who just hate Jews on GP. Then you have those who can seem well meaning in their attempts to disagree with what is happening in Israel but are indeed anti-Semitic. Then you have the Jews who consider themselves to be white who act like Jews of Color don't and have never existed and shouldn't have a voice. I think they tick me off the most. As a Trans person, I have yet to remotely find a safe place outsid...

Why I #SayHerName Just about every week, I have stood during kaddish to say her name.  She is a Trans women of color and she has been murdered. Our tradition of mourning provides space and time to remember and reflect on the entire world that a person we have lost represents.  We stop. We take notice. We sit low to the ground or on the floor. We tear our clothes.  We mourn. We come to shul to say their names and remember them for an entire year. We tell their stories and share our favorite memories. We mourn. But who will mourn for our dear sisters?  How will we even know they died? For many, their deaths go unreported.  When there are news reports, they are often misgendered and their birth names are used. I say her name because I am a Jew. As of August 23, 2015, there have been over 20 Trans women murdered in the US, the majority of whom were trans women of color.  We are in a state of emergency. We are losing our beautiful sisters to sen...