The Gay Man, the Ultra-Orthodox Man, and Me- A Memoir

This is not a post about tomorrow's Gay Pride Parade per se (if it even happens, what with all the post-Gaza security alerts) or the reactions and threats of the Ultra-Orthodox community. (My own opinion on the whole fiasco is lodged somewhere between David, Harry and Amechad)

I've decided instead, after some deliberation, to post this true story, for all those might think that the boundaries defining the various subcultures involved in the aforementioned fiasco are clear. Read on.

2002. It was a balmy autumn evening and I was returning to Jerusalem from Tel Aviv. For reasons uninteresting, I did not have my car, and was therefore using the Sherut (Taxi Van Service) which runs from the not-particularly pleasant Tel Aviv Central Bus Station to downtown Jerusalem. I was one of the first on the taxi van, which does not depart until it fills up. A few folks got on at leisure- there was a proper cross-section of Israeli society, I noticed to myself: Some foreign workers, a long-haired musician, a skinny guy blasting out loud Arabic music from his cd player (no MP3s back then!) a nun, and me. I remember thinking at the time, all we need now is an ultra-orthodox person, and we'll have everyone.

Lo and behold, a huge man dressed in Hassidic garb alighted at that very instant. He looked around for where to sit, and I was very surprised that he chose the seat next to mine. Being familiar with the ultra-orthodox way of life, I'm more than aware that many see sitting next to a woman on a mode of transport as tantamount to gross immodesty (cf the de rigeur "Segregated Buses" where men are at the front and women at the back, currently whizzing around Jerusalem and Israel.) And there were plenty of spare seats. I gave him the benefit of the doubt in my head- he was on the large side, and I was sitting on the roomy back seat, in the corner. Maybe he wanted to spread out a little?

In retrospect, that did not appear to be his intention, as he sat too close for comfort next to me, actually almost pressed against me, leaving the rest of the back seat wholly un-sat upon. "Excuse me" I said, surprised. "I've not got any room." "Oh, sorry" he said, and budged a whole millimeter. And then he turned to me and asked "Excuse me. Do you have the time?" I remember being confused that this ultra-orthodox gentleman would initiate a conversation with a woman clearly not dressed in a modest manner (Trousers! Shock horror) when there were so many other people on board, including one younger man wearing a skullcap, or the driver of the van, who would make far more "Shayach" (appropriate) conversation partners. I gave him the time, and then he asked me if I was from America. That got a conditioned rise out of me - no new immigrant likes to think they have a strong accent in Hebrew- and I retorted "Jerusalem". "Me too!" he said. "What do you do there? You study?" he asked. "I work for a charity" I mumbled, feeling a little uncomfortable and not wishing to get into a conversation. And so I turned towards the window and shifted slightly in the hope he'd get the hint. Not so lucky. He actually moved up even closer to me. To the point I was forced to start up with him again. "Could you please move a little?" I said again. "For you, anything!" he said, beaming. And shifted another nanometer.

In hindsight, the warning bells were all there- Perhaps I could have gotten up and moved seats (actually I couldn't, this guy's humongous frame would have prevented me doing so) or have ignored him when he asked me the time. Such incidents, however they turn out, are always full of what-ifs and self-blame when one deconstructs them afterwards. In this case, I think I didn't find him objectively threatening, and was comforted by the perceived safety of public transport. And also (and maybe this is the curse of coming from a religiously orthodox family) I truly didn't expect him to try anything dodgy- having been infused with a hard-to-disown belief that the ultra-orthodox are supposed to carry the torch for high moral standards.

He shifted closer to me- I was now practically squeezed halfway up the window. Uncomfortable, I took out my cellphone and dialled a friend's number. I was saying hello when the stupid machine promptly died on me: Great timing. I carried on staring out the window, away from my neighbour. I saw the musician guy having a cigarette outside, staring back at me quizzically (as one might do seeing someone halfway up the window) I pulled a face and half-gesticulated, although I didn't want to catch the attentions of the man sitting next to me that I was doing so- who meantime, moved even closer and whispered into my ear. "I'm a rich businessman. I'm very rich. Can I make a donation to your charity? Let me make a donation..." and then, he put his hand somewhere on my body where he had no right to. And didn't move it.

It took me a good few seconds (although at the time it felt much longer than that) before I vocally protested. I don't recall exactly what I said, but made it quite clear that he was to get his hands off me right away. And then there was something of a commotion, which I don't remember very clearly. I recall some of the other passengers turning around, coming to the back of the van. And suddenly the ultra-orthodox man with the wandering hands was gone, out of the van. And everyone surrounded me, asking questions. Are you ok? What happened? What did he do to you? Didn't you know him? I assumed you knew him, he sat right next to you and he was talking to you...

I think I started crying, overwhelmed and feeling a little queasy. The next thing I knew, the skinny guy with the CD player had suddenly pushed his way to the front of the gaggle. "I'll protect you!" he declared in English, and sat down next to me. Then, in an undertone which I think was meant to inspire confidence, he added with a grin "Don't worry, You have nothing to worry about from me... because... I'm gay!!" And then he proceeded to hand me tissues, a bar of chocolate, and his CD player to listen to - "it will relax you" - and I was introduced to the joys of Egyptian trance: Who knew, but a Palestinian gay man now had decided to come to my rescue.

As I mentioned, this was all a blur and not a little traumatic, as anyone who has been through similar will know. I do remember however, that over the journey I was privy to the whole story of this guy's life- he talked and talked and I just listened. Between constant questions making sure I was ok following the unpleasant encounter I'd just endured, and feeding me with all the food and drink in his possession, he told me all about his family, how his village had reacted to his homosexuality (not so good) and about his life since he'd moved over to Israel, about his involvement in the Israeli Gay Rights movement. He showed me some pictures of the recent Jerusalem Pride march, told me about his Israeli and Jewish gay friends. Said he had plenty of ultra-orthodox gay friends too, many of whom were still in the closet to their families and communities. He even made some salient comments about sexual frustrations within that community- and then was sweetly aghast that he might have inadvertently upset me by making me think back to half an hour previously. He didn't need to worry- by the end of the journey, I felt much less wobbly: I don't know how he did it, but this kindly Palestinian boy, who was so keen to make me feel better, succeeded in his mission.

Once we arrived back in Jerusalem and disembarked, pretty much all the fellow passengers checked to see if I was OK. This was heartwarming in itself- always nice to have faith reaffirmed in the kindness of strangers, even more so when another has behaved so disgustingly towards you. I felt far more positive than one might expect after such an incident, due in no small part to the efforts of the self-proclaimed "Arab Fruit", who I never saw again.

So - there's no moral to this story, and no generalisations to be found, unlike within the current media and many, many blogs, wherein I've read so much crap, for want of a better word, in terms of what people assume that Pride signifies, or what people assume that the Ultra-Orthodox response signifies. The speed in which people position themselves against other groups is truly astounding, and even more depressing.

Yet incidents like that of 4 years ago on a dirty taxi van are enough to give me reason to hope that not everything is as it seems... Maybe that is the moral of this story. And if any readers are planning to involve themselves tomorrow, whatever their motivations, I hope everyone stays safe.