On a Thursday night we met in Rechavia, the neighborhood just south of downtown, and walked west into an area I’d never been in before. There were no cars on the streets and no lights on in the houses, but Sami explained that his friend’s father owned a falafel place that stayed open all night, and we ended up at a small storefront with the door open and a television playing loudly inside. Before we walked in Sami pointed at the kosher certification that was taped to the inside of the front window.
“It’s okay, right?” he asked.
“Yeah, thank you.” I opened the door for him, feeling strangely embarrassed.
The man behind the counter wore a dirty apron and gave Sami a tired smile when we ordered. They chatted in Arabic while I chose drinks from a refrigerator, and when Sami tried to pay with a limp 100-shekel note, the man shook his head and pushed Sami’s hand away.
We ate slowly, and Sami told me about the wedding he’d gone to the night before. His whole family, his grandparents and all his cousins had all been invited, and it was the first time in years that everyone had left the house at once. “We didn’t even know where the keys were,” he said, grinning, “We spent an hour looking for them because no one has used them in so long.”
I laughed and thought of my house in Chicago and the way it sat empty for hours every day after we all rushed out to school or work. In the morning my mother often ran through the living and dining room, lifting piles of papers and checking on pushed-in chairs for her keychain while coffee from her commuter cup sloshed onto her sleeve.
When we finished eating, Sami lit a cigarette and moved to sit next to me, so we could both watch the soccer match on TV. He slouched in his chair and slung his arm around my shoulders, his movements easy and casual. Moving closer to him I tried to focus on the back-and-forth on the screen, but my mind was empty. I watched him, observing the path his cigarette made from his lips to the ashtray, where it shed a caterpillar of grey dust. He looked over at me at one point, his face serious as his arm tensed behind me, pulling me a little closer.
Celebrating 10 Years & Marking the End of An Amazing Project
Celebrating 10 Years & Marking the End of An Amazing Project
Jewrotica is awesome. It expands the mind and for people who were raised with narrow views on sexuality. Whether you are Jewish or not, or in different sects of Judaism like Orthodox, Conservative or Reform, no matter what your background or where you’re from, Jewrotica gets you to see Judaism and how it relates to sexuality in new ways. I really appreciate Ayo being here and helping us learn different ways to connect with our sexuality.
I’m into Jewrotica. I went in for my second circumcision.
What an incredible night Jewrotica was!!!! There was this fantastic moment, in a sea of Jews of all sexualities, ages, backgrounds and denominations, that I realized we were all in this together! I hope that there are many more events coming to Austin soon!
Jewrotica is a great way to ask interesting questions about the interplay between sensuality and Jewish wisdom. Check it out.
I attended and participated in last month’s Jewrotica event. The engaging performers and Ayo, our inviting host, inspired the audience to feel like one big community. What a great way to inspire our community to embrace sex as a beautiful thing that can be fun, exciting, sacred, sensual, ridiculous, scary and everything in between!
I love the inclusiveness – there is something for everyone, in and out of the Jewish community.
My opinion on Jewrotica is: It’s sexy. It’s awesome. It’s Judaism to the next level. It’s what we should all be getting into!
Learning about sex and what’s right and wrong when it comes to sex from a Biblical standpoint was an eye opening experience. I completely enjoyed it and think something like this could be a very cool thing to bring to even high school aged Jewish youth groups.
Bedside Reading with Jewrotica was funny, sexy, and hot all at once. The readings were honest about all kinds of sexuality, but the highlight of the evening was definitely the confessions, written by audience participants. Nobody knew who wrote them, and most were tell-alls that would make your bubbe blush. Unless your bubbe was very, very cool. Then maybe she’d make YOU blush!
Jewrotica is inspiring Jews and erotica with holiness and coolness, and is the pride of progressive Judaism. Jewrotica – awesome!
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