We are currently in the midst of Passover, the Jewish holiday honoring, celebrating, and reflecting upon the Israelites’ escape from Egypt. The Israelites were enslaved under Pharoah, and only after G-d hardens Pharoah’s heart to the point of his and his army’s death do the Israelites make their way to freedom via the parting of the Red Sea.

To harden one’s heart is to take the soft underbelly of our most vulnerable selves and say to it, “you are not worthy of being loved, of being wrong, of being human.” It masks itself as anger, as power, veiling its ruthlessness as if it was just.

Last week, the U.S. Supreme Court ruled that under the First Amendment, the state of Colorado cannot ban so-called conversion therapy, a psudeo-scientific and widely discredited practice of attempting to change someone’s gender identity (how one feels about one’s gender internally) or sexual orientation (one’s romantic/sexual attraction to others). In our current day, LGBTQ+ people are still vilified, made to be perceived as Pharaohs, labeled as groomers and predators, as evil by a small but vocal minority of politicians and extremists, people who are threatened by our existence and joy. Conversion “therapy” attempts to convince an LGBTQ+ person, usually a youth, that their gender identity/sexual orientation is wrong. We know there is nothing wrong with being LGBTQ+; like all of us, members of the LGBTQ+ community are made in the image of the divine.

I could go into the lane of arguing that those proponents of conversion therapy, and even perhaps the U.S. Supreme Court, are the actual Pharaohs. But I wonder: what if they are more like the Israelites? They are trying to make the world a more just place in their eyes; they are just as afraid as the LGBTQ+ people they try to scare. The difference between us (and, I should recognize, there are LGBTQ+ folks in communities against queerness and transness) is that we, like the Israelites, continue holding onto hope. Proponents of conversion therapy hold onto fear: fear that their loved ones’ souls are doomed for being who they are and loving who they do. They allow their hearts to be hardened, under the name of G-d, or tradition. To be clear, proponents of conversion therapy should be held accountable. This outdated practice only causes harm. But hope is an abundant resource. We can all partake in it, together.

This ruling is unjust. It is not up to another to dictate what one’s human rights are. But I wonder: in the times of the Israelites in Egypt, were there Israelites who empathized with the Egyptians, in some small way? What could that have felt like, to look at their oppressors with an eye for human connection? It can be difficult to do this, trust me, I know. Especially when we look into the eyes of those who benefit from oppression without actually making or reinforcing the rules. Privilege is a powerful thing. Many proponents of conversion therapy, and going further, working to erode all LGBTQ+ rights, fear that they will lose rights themselves from it. But like hope, rights should be an abundant resource! No one loses anything from someone being queer or trans, except possibly the idea of who someone was. But who each of us are is for the individual to decide.

We can decide to look upon our oppressors with an eye for human connection, today. This makes possible the ability to look (and be looked) upon with humanity. LGBTQ+ people, like all people, are deserving of safety, care, and connection. When we gaze upon our oppressors by simultaneously using compassion and holding them accountable for their harmful acts, thoughts, and behaviors, we have the potential to unlock the secret of unlearning the hardenings of the heart. Perhaps, this is one way we can all truly be free.