Syd Bakal is a Jewish singer-songwriter, songleader, and musician from Barrington, Illinois. They are a current junior at Yale University studying Ethics, Politics, and Economics. In a day and age of DIY Judaism and Jewish innovation, Syd’s music is modern revelation: a Jewish practice that draws from tradition and is refreshed with new melodies and media. New Voices sat down with Syd to talk about composition, spirituality, and queer identity.
New Voices: Tell us a little about who you are and what you create.
I’m Syd, I use they/them/theirs pronouns. I’m a current college student and singer-songwriter. I write Jewish and secular music. I identify as non-binary and queer, and I was raised as a Reform Jew, although my relationship to different sects of Judaism has changed and morphed over time. In addition to songwriting, I’m also working on writing a musical and trying my hand at playwriting.
A lot of the creating that I do, I do because I want to tell stories and share experiences that I feel aren’t being represented elsewhere. There aren’t a lot of narratives right now about transness and particularly non-binary identity out there that I have found completely resonant. There’s such a diversity of experiences, and I’ve been working on this in hopes of answering some of my own questions about gender, while helping other people to think about and find things that are meaningful and resonant with them.
New Voices: What are your newest albums about?
I feel really grateful I just received a grant from the Bronfman Alumni Venture Fund to work on an album of Jewish music. Right now, I think the album is going to be called Tiftach, which means “open”, because I think that I see Jewish music as a potential opening for people hoping to reconnect or dive deeper into Judaism. One thing that’s really excited me about writing Jewish music is that I get to sit down with prayers that I’ve known my entire life and try to understand them on my own terms with my own interpretation.
Using the Hebrew that I know, I look at other interpretations that others and ask, “What does this mean? What has this historically meant? How do I relate to this prayer and these words, which are often very gendered?” I see God as either a multi-gender or agender figure, and I reconjugate and reinterpret some of the Jewish text with that notion.
For example, for a lot of my life, my mother gave me the gendered children’s blessing on Friday nights. I wondered if there was another way to do it. Then Keshet came out with a new, gender neutral version of that prayer. I’ve just begun to write a melody for that, so maybe it will be on the album. I’m trying to take a look at prayers, connect to them, and find ways that I think might help others connect too, especially those who’ve struggled to find a place in Judaism.
New Voices: How did you discover that writing Jewish Music was a meaningful part of expressing your spirituality?
The first song that I ever wrote was in seventh grade at my Jewish summer camp. The song was called “Home”. It didn’t have any Hebrew, but I think the idea of being caught in a place of discovery and challenge while looking for community was a very Jewish thing for me. I always grew up singing with my synagogue choir and songleading. I’ve stayed very connected to my home synagogue Beth Tikvah in Hoffman Estates, Illinois. I think that that informed a lot of my relationship to music in the first place.
I also got to see other figures in my life writing Jewish music, whether that was other people in my congregation or going to Jewish summer camps. Getting to see people that I really looked up to creating Jewish music gave me permission to write it myself. One of the Jewish prayer melodies I wrote that I keep returning to is “Hashkiveinu”, which I love because it’s a prayer that I always heard as a lullaby. Getting to write it is a little bit like a lullaby to myself. The way I experienced Judaism is so much about community and singing melodies with other people. So particularly at this time, when I’m not able to sing in person with other people, writing Jewish music is one of the few ways that I get to feel spiritually connected.
New Voices: Given that we are in a strange time, how do you feel that quarantine has impacted your creative practice?
The hours at which I write are different. Often in high school when I was writing, anytime I had a couple hours to myself, I would just pick up an instrument and things would come pretty naturally or I’d be like, “I need to get home and write something”. If I was dealing with something really hard in school or a difficult conversation, I would to turn to my instruments and turn to my writing to process it. And I think right now everything feels very repetitive. I feel like it’s Groundhog Day. It helps that I have a couple groups of friends who are also creators. We meet on a weekly basis. And that encourages me to have something to share.
New Voices: Do you feel that there’s a significant difference between writing secular music as opposed to things that are more explicitly Jewish?
I think that Jewish Music has more structure, which sometimes makes it easier for me to write, either because I know some of the words that I want to use or because they’re from a prayer or a common phrase. But sometimes there’s pressure; I’m like, “Is this so far off from what has traditionally been done that people will not find this resonant? Are the liberties that I’ve taken too large?” The secular music that I write often feels very, very personal. And I think the Jewish music does feel personal, but not to the same extent. Often it can feel like reading from a journal entry. Sometimes I’m a lot more scared to share my secular stuff, because it’s like opening up a wound in a way that feels really raw.
I wrote a song called “I dreamed of a daughter” that was about some of some conversations I’d had with my parents when I first came out about as non-binary. They both felt this extreme loss of the daughter that they thought that they had and the ceremonies and traditions that are associated with having a daughter. And it was really, really hard for me. I get that they’ve had these dreams for me but that’s not how my life is going to look. Yet also, many of these traditions and ceremonies are tied to things that will still happen. I still think I want children, I still think I want to be married. Maybe I’m not gonna wear a white dress and have gendered ceremonies for my kids. But the things that I think my parents hold dear at the core are still there. I think the first time that I shared that music with my parents, I wasn’t sure how they would react, but I was actually really pleasantly surprised. It was me trying to understand their perspectives.
New Voices: It seems like so often transgender narratives imply that transition means the death of the person you were before. It sounds like your song does the opposite.
Right. Part of the song is saying that you haven’t lost her, you’ve gotten me wholly. This dream that you had was such a limited version of me. I’ve blossomed; I’m the same person that you always thought that I was, but now I’m the truest fullest version of me. That girl that you thought you lost was just this snapshot of the multitudes of who I am.
New Voices: As a queer Jewish songwriter, how do you feel that your identities influence or inform your connection to Jewish spirituality?
I’ve been pleasantly surprised that some of the most robust queer communities that I’ve been a part of and some of my biggest queer role models have been Jewish. There have been very few times when I have felt that my queerness does not belong in Judaism. I often feel like they’re very intertwined for me. Judaism has a lot of questioning and nuance and reinterpretation that I see as so key to the way that I understand sexuality and gender.
New Voices: Jews love to talk (and not talk) about our relationships to G-d. Do you feel a connection between your music and your relationship to the divine? If so, how does G-d come into play for your songwriting?
Music is very connected to feelings of holiness for me. The times that I felt the most spiritually connected have often been singing with other people in community. The harmonies and melodies create a sense of belonging to something greater that feels very divine and very holy to me.
I see a connection to the divine in creating music and sharing music with other people. I’ve been struggling with my relationship to the divine right now because of COVID and feeling like there is so much pain and suffering in the world. But I recently had a fantastic conversation with a rabbi I love very dearly. She said that, in spite of everything, we’re seeing people connect to each other and build new relationships and revisit and learn and relearn things about racism, about classism, about so many things in this time — and that is that is a real, true sign of the Divine, if I understand the divine as connections and linkings between people.
New Voices: Jewish prayer practice is a wide and diverse topic; what’s your prayer practice like? What does the intersection between music and prayer feel like for you?
The practice that I regularly take part in when it’s not COVID is Friday night services at our college Jewish center. I just love being in sync with other people. We go around with everybody talking about a highlight from their week. It’s really lovely to have dinner and make kiddish and light candles. Different people will offer D’vrei Torah. That feels so wonderful to me. Right now I’m struggling because I find it harder to feel connected on a screen.
Yesterday I sat down with my Tanakh and was reading Song of Songs. I found it really beautiful to just look at this Jewish text. Probably going forward, my practice is going to look something like continuing to work on my Jewish music, singing to myself, maybe finding opportunities to meet someone in a park; them bringing a tambourine and me bringing a drum and us playing together, holding the same rhythms and movements. That feels very spiritual to me.
I’m thinking about starting to pray with tefillin. But I also struggle with this a little bit because I feel so connected to my roots of reformed Judaism and I don’t think that becoming more traditionally observant means that you’re more or less Jewish. For me, it’s been like trying out lots of different experiences and interpretations of Jewish practice. It’s just what makes me feel the most holy and connected. Right now I’m in an exploratory phase, trying to figure out how to feel spiritual and connected without getting to sing in the same room as other people.
New Voices: Any advice to other young Jews looking to create a prayer or spiritual practice for themselves?
If you don’t know where to start, it can be really helpful to sit down with another friend who is either exploring with you or somebody who you is on a path that you’re interested in. Ask them more about their practice. Do something in community with them if that’s an option. In terms of writing music, some of the places that I like to start are with prayers that either hold a lot of resonance for me or prayers that I have a lot of difficulty with. Reading through them and struggling with them and reading other interpretations of them and talking and studying it with other people is a way to find meaning. What if you sing along with a melody or use an instrument or use a drum or a beat? Feel what that feels like to you. What is that? What are those words? What does this mean to you? It’ll come. Then you might get to share with other people and that’s really magical. That’s holy. ⋄
Syd is a Jewish singer-songwriter, songleader, and musician from Barrington, Illinois. They are a current junior at Yale University studying Ethics, Politics, and Economics. In their free time they like to sing with their a cappella group, lead Friday night services, act in undergraduate theatre productions, and support LGBTQ first-years as a Peer Liaison. You can follow and listen follow Syd Bakal on their Youtube channel here.
