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ReflectionAustraliaLifestyle

I’m queer, I’m converting to Judaism, and I stand with my people

A coming out story from someone who knows what it is to be part of a vilified community.
Deni Todorovic
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Deni Todorovic

Deni Todorovic at a Queer Rosh Hashanah event in 2025 (credit: Michal Simson)

Published: 25 February 2026

Last updated: 27 February 2026

My name is Deni. I use they/them pronouns, I’m almost 38 and I’ve “come out” more times than most. At 19 I came out to family as gay and at 32, I came out to the world as non-binary. I’m currently halfway through the process of converting to Judaism and in God’s timing, will eventually come out – as Jewish.

However, today I come out publicly as a Zionist – perhaps my most terrifying coming out experience thus far.

Let me explain. I was born Serbian-Orthodox and later raised Jehovah’s Witness. Believing in God was not an option in my family, it was a way of life. I read the Bible daily, attended services three times a week, and prayed to God four times a day – for a decade. There was just one minor issue. I was gay.

The version of God sold to me, was one that despised my identity. For 10 years I prayed for my gay to go-away, pleading with God to rid me of this “sin”. I suppressed it until I couldn’t. After coming out to my family, I knew that I could no longer practice my faith. There were no loopholes for homosexuality in our Christianity, so I stopped praying altogether and carried Christian guilt.

Shame aside, coming out was both terrifying and thrilling. The initial chaos made way for relief, my parent’s grief made way for allyship and the gates to the all-consuming gay world opened. However, I always felt like something was missing. I felt untethered. Prayer was once my lifeline, God once my best friend – and suddenly I lost both. 

So, I threw every ounce of myself into my new identity and its culture. One rich with history, rainbows and pulsating dance floors, soundtracked to Kylie Minogue. Life, however, has a way of coming at you hard and fast. It’s no coincidence that people often fall to their knees in moments of darkness – praying for divine intervention. Four years after coming out, I began to pray again. Whilst I wasn’t sure God would listen, I spoke anyway.

Deni at the 2026 Midsumma Pride March (image: supplied)
Deni at the 2026 Midsumma Pride March (image: supplied)

I lived this way for a decade. A proud gay man, who secretly believed in God, seldom sharing that fact with my friends. After all, almost every queer person I know is allergic to God – why would they believe in something they’ve been told hates them? Still, I yearned for spiritual conversations.

Cue, Judaism. 

Many years ago, I heard an Oprah quote that’s never left me. “Life whispers to you all the time. If you ignore the whisper, sooner or later you’ll get a roar.”

Judaism began “whispering” in my orbit at a very young age, I just didn’t recognise it. From the fact that the story of Moses had always been my favourite in the Bible, or that I much preferred the Old Testament to the New. Or that I was so drawn to Jewish pop culture. I couldn’t understand why the Jewish experience felt so familiar in my soul, often chalking it up to the fact that I was the great-grandson of a (non-Jewish) Holocaust survivor and that Jews and ‘Wogs’ shared many of the same values.

Those whispers became louder after coming out and leaving Geelong. Wherever I moved, both overseas and interstate, the universe somehow always drew Jews and me together – especially Jewish women, a moth to their Shabbos flame. Ten years ago, whilst living in Sydney, I was invited to my first Shabbat dinner. That evening, the whisper got a little louder. I felt like I belonged here but wasn’t entirely sure what ‘here’ was. One question changed everything. 

“Can you be Jewish and also gay?” I asked my host. “Of course you can,” she replied. 

The seed was planted.

Like most journeys to conversion, mine has not been linear. Judaism is not a monolith and there is no one way to be Jewish. That took some figuring out until 16 months ago, when God put two Jews right in front of me, one of which was gay. I had never met an openly gay, Jewish person before. I told them that I was new to Melbourne, had explored the idea of conversion for years and asked if they knew of a progressive space that would accept me. They immediately told me where to go. “God’s still listening,” I remember thinking.

Soon after, I attended my first Kabbalat Shabbat service at a Reform synagogue. I had never felt so nervous. I didn’t understand a lick of Hebrew but I felt, overwhelmingly, that Hashem was there. For the first time in my life, I found a place where my faith in God is not at war with my queerness. I never thought such a place existed. I had finally come home. Two months of services later, I began converting. 

The conversion process has been one of the greatest honours of my life, but in a post October 7th world, it’s also tremendously isolating. When I came out as non-binary on social media, it was met with applause. One video turned into ninety thousand followers, an accidental career in social media activism and a book deal. In my four years of working in that space, I learned that living authentically creates true impact. The Jewish community seldom have such privilege.

Speak to any queer Jew, living anywhere in the diaspora, and you’ll hear the same stories. The community that once embraced them has left them out in the cold.

Throughout this process, I have witnessed firsthand levels of unfathomable antisemitism. Post October 7, I couldn’t believe how silent the queer community was. I couldn’t understand how quickly they jumped behind movements they knew nothing about. Joining in chants calling for the death of Jews. Cancelling Jews and anyone remotely sympathetic to them or Israel – the ancestral homeland of the Jewish people – at lightning speed. 

I had never heard the word Zionist before October 7, and suddenly the queer world used it in tandem with “genocide” without fact or nuance. Zionism, much like Judaism, is not one dimensional. My definition of Zionism is rooted in the belief of self-determination and statehood for the Jewish people in their ancestral homeland, Israel. 

I believe that Israel not only has a right to exist, but absolutely needs to exist, for many reasons. To say nothing of the fact that it is also the only place in the Middle East that one can be openly queer – without fearing for their life. 

However, when distilled further, Zionism and being critical of a government and its policies can sit alongside each other. As can my belief that Palestinians deserve safety, peace and liberation – from Hamas. Most Zionists I know feel this way. It’s heartbreaking to see many corners of social media turn what is a feeling of pride and liberty into an extremist, blanket slur with which to cancel and dox Jewish voices.

Speak to any queer Jew, living anywhere in the diaspora, and you’ll hear the same stories. The community that once embraced them has left them out in the cold. I hoped that the tragedy of the Bondi Massacre would open their hearts. Sadly, it hasn’t.

Deni in the Mardi Gras parade, prior to their conversion (image: supplied)
Deni in the Mardi Gras parade, prior to their conversion (image: supplied)

Mardi Gras is just around the corner. As a former Sydney resident, I have marched alongside my community in five Mardi Gras, one World Pride and one protest in the fight for same-sex marriage. This year, I won’t be making the pilgrimage to “Gay Christmas”.

Not because I don’t want to, but because I feel neither welcome nor safe to. And I’m not even Jewish yet. In a post October 7 and Bondi massacre world, I’m not the only one. Just this month, Sydney Jewish LGBTQ+ group Dayenu pulled out of Mardi Gras for the first time in 25 years, citing safety concerns. 

Following strong community support and discussions with both Mardi Gras and the NSW Police, Dayenu have confirmed it will now participate in this Saturday’s march. However, the very reason that they felt the need to pull out, begs questioning why queer Jews are consistently made to feel unsafe and unwelcome, by their very own people.

This isn’t a community I recognise and these things are not a coincidence. They are a direct result of what “Globalising the Intifada” truly looks like. I ache for every gay Jew, who feels they have to conceal their Jewish identity or choose between the two – in a community rooted in equality.

After a 12-month hiatus from social media, I couldn’t stay silent about what happened in Bondi. I shared my feelings and my fears and in one day, I lost close to four thousand Instagram followers. I have no doubt that after publishing this article, I’ll lose more. It seems that my evolving faith, the kippah I wear daily and identifying proudly as a Zionist are crossing the line – in a community that for two decades taught me to draw outside every line. 

To end on hope: three weeks ago, I walked in Melbourne’s Midsumma Pride March. I hadn’t attended Pride in three years, but when my rabbi told me that our shul marches in the parade every year, I froze in my seat. If someone told teenage Deni that they would one day be accepted into a culture, a peoplehood and a faith, that not only accepts their sexuality but celebrates it alongside them – it could have spared them much heartbreak and many a dark hour. 

I have made some phenomenal pride memories in my life, but marching with my shul and Jews of all identities was a moment I will never forget. The definition of nachas and the opening of gates I never knew existed.

So yes, I’m queer. I believe in God. I’m converting to Judaism and I stand with my people. The Jewish people, queer and otherwise. I’m a Zionist, proudly – one with nuance, critical thinking and the ability to look beyond the binaries of this conflict. These things need not be mutually exclusive. 

Baruch Hashem.

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Comments4

  • Avatar of Suzy

    Suzy13 March at 04:12 am

    Dan- with respect, I ask you genuinely have you actually been to Israel? 20% of the population are Arab Muslims. I saw more people of colour there then I ever have in Melbourne.
    Please do not have the arrogance to “zionismsplain” what zionism is and isnt to Jews and Zionists. Deni would have more of an idea than the average person considering that they have been attending classes.

  • Avatar of Leah

    Leah26 February at 10:56 pm

    Dan – this idea of whether being Jewish is a religion or an ethnicity pretends that these concepts are real things in the world. In fact, they are modern categories and both of them post-date the concept of Jews as a people. There are other ways of thinking and being in the world – peoplehood is its own concept and WE get to define who we are as a group. Conversion and descent are both pathways to being Jewish, going back thousands of years. The argument for Israel (whether you agree with it or not) does not hinge on some kind of narrowly racial ‘ethnic’ categorisation.

  • Avatar of Dan

    Dan25 February at 11:03 pm

    2/2 The writer states their belief “that Palestinians deserve safety, peace and liberation – from Hamas”, demonstrating their deliberately narrow view of the conflict. Palestinians in the West Bank do not need “liberation from Hamas” who have next to no presence in the WB. Instead Palestinians suffer an existential threat of daily attacks from the writer’s fellow Zionists in the IDF and far-right Israeli settlers. The majority of Jews in Israel and globally support ethnically cleansing of these Palestinians from the WB as they believe “Judea and Samaria” are theirs by biblical right. Indeed in a recent poll 48% of Israeli Jews even supported ethnically cleansing Israeli Arabs.

    The writer may claim that they don’t support this but by supporting “Zionism” you support the existence of a state that enforces this grossly unequal system.

    This is because in Israel every major political faction opposes freedom for Palestinians who have suffered under decades of military occupation. Even the so-called Israeli left-wing party Democrats (currently polling at 5%) now oppose a 2 state solution “at this time” and instead support military occupation for the foreseeable future. There is no legitimate popular movement within Zionism calling for equal rights or liberation for Palestinians.

  • Avatar of Dan

    Dan25 February at 10:43 pm

    There’s something ironic about a new convert to Judaism claiming that Israel is “the ancestral home of the Jewish people”.

    Judaism is a religion not an ethnicity and as such has no “ancestral home” in the way a national group does. If Judaism were a nationality this writer would not have been able to convert to it as they have done. The land may be the spiritual home of Judaism because that is where the religion originates, but this in the same way that it is the also spiritual home of Christianity which also originated there. No one would ever claim the land is the “ancestral home of all Christians” however.

    Now this writer has converted to Judaism they have an automatic “right of return” to a land where none of their ancestors ever even lived. Not only that, but under the Jewish supremacist laws of “Israel”, the writer could automatically relocate to a “Jewish only” settlement in East Jerusalem or the West Bank built on the lands stolen from people whose family have resided there for generations.

    The writer describes themself as a “Zionist” and thus a supporter of the state that upholds this unequal, racist system. 1/2

  • About the author

    Deni Todorovic

    Deni Todorovic

    Deni Todorovic is a Melbourne-based writer and published author. Their debut book ‘Love This For You - How to Rewrite the rules and Live Authentically’ was released in 2022. They’ve been featured in various publications, including Vogue Australia, Marie Claire and The Age.