Pride in the Line of Fire: What Crisis Taught Me About Jewish Leadership

At 11:30 p.m. on June 12, I went to bed thinking our 2025 Pride Mission to Israel was complete. Nearly 100 LGBTQ+ Jews had just concluded an unforgettable week—the first Federation-organized delegation of its kind in nearly a decade. By 3:00 a.m., the sirens changed everything. What began as a joyous celebration turned into an emergency evacuation under the shadow of war with Iran.

It was an experience that taught me a great deal about Jewish leadership, which today requires resilience, clarity and the ability to draw from every part of who we are.

Jewish Federations had organized the Pride mission to deepen the bonds between North American and Israeli LGBTQ+ communities, but also to help heal a wound that has been festering in our community since the October 7^thattacks nearly 2 years ago.

In that time, I’ve personally witnessed how hostile parts of the LGBTQ+ community have become toward queer Zionist Jews.

That’s one reason close to 100 participants agreed to leave the comfort of home on just two months’ notice in order to celebrate Pride in a war-battered country. LGBTQ+ Jews in North America have yearned for a space where they could express every part of their identity—queer, Jewish, Zionist—without compromise. This mission wasn’t just meaningful—it was necessary.

As a Black, Jewish, transgender Army veteran, I related to this goal deeply and personally.

For five days, the mission plan worked flawlessly. Three buses with tailored itineraries moved like clockwork. We weren’t late to a single event—not even our 6:30 a.m. departure to meet President Isaac Herzog and First Lady Michal Herzog, who had just become the first President and First lady to attend a pride parade.

We heard from Israeli LGBTQ+ organizations and advocates working to improve access to health care, fight for equal benefits and rights, and offer protections. to the vulnerable members of our community.

But when the missiles started falling and we began spending hours on end hunkering down in the Sheraton hotel bomb shelter, I experienced what my Israeli colleagues regularly face for the first time. Within hours, leaders from organizations like the Aguda and the Jewish Agency were reaching out, offering help to our participants. That’s when the mission’s deeper purpose came into focus: we weren’t just connecting communities—we were creating lifelines.

While we had built friendships on 5 days of mission, many of the real connections were forged between missile strikes, in moments of shared fear and solidarity.

With the war on, Israel had closed its airspace, and all flights out were cancelled indefinitely. In the bomb shelter, we understood that “mission complete” had become “emergency extraction,” trying to keep everyone that had participated on the mission safe until we found them a way home.

As a trans man, I understood the stakes. As a veteran, I had a duty to stay until the final group crossed safely into Jordan. My military instincts kicked in: account for everyone, evaluate risks, coordinate evacuation.

This wasn’t my first time leading under pressure. I’ve coordinated evacuations in New Orleans during Hurricane Katrina and served in combat zones in Iraq. I’ve learned that in crisis, you don’t rise to the occasion—you fall back on your training. But nothing prepared me for the complexity of evacuating 78 LGBTQ+ Jewish civilians from a war zone and through countries where gender nonconformity can be life-threatening.

For our transgender participants, their passports matching their appearance wasn’t a bureaucratic issue—it was a matter of survival, and posed a challenge for several of our preferred exit routes. Thanks to the generosity of partners like Birthright, we secured boat passage to Cyprus for those who needed an alternative route.

The kind of adaptability the Federations team exhibited is what Jewish leadership demands today. As a member of President Herzog’s Voice of the People Council—alongside 150 leaders from around the world—I see that same spirit in others who bring lived experience to the table. We may differ in background or approach, but we share a belief in the Jewish future and a commitment to protecting it.

This mission confirmed what I’ve long believed: strong leadership comes from those who’ve lived the complexities of their communities. Who understand that security isn’t a side issue—it’s foundational. Who know when to follow the playbook and when to write a new one.

The Pride Mission succeeded in ways we never planned. We celebrated identity. We built trust. And when it counted, we proved that multidimensional leadership—grounded in experience, empathy and action—can rise to meet even the most impossible moments.

The missiles may have cut the mission short. But they didn’t stop what we came to build. They only proved how essential it is.

A California native, Nate Looney is Jewish Federations of North America’s Director of Community Safety and Belonging on the Jewish Equity, Diversity, and Inclusion (“JEDI”) Team. He is an American Jewish University alum, social entrepreneur, diversity strategist, US Army Veteran, and Urban Farmer. Nate is a member of the Voice of the People global Jewish council, a Jeremiah Fellow, and an alum of several Jewish leadership programs, including Bend the Arc Selah and A Wider Bridge. He is also a Wexner Field Fellow and serves as a board member at several Jewish non-profit organizations.