Adara Peskin Shalem has had an eventful life. A resident of the Kochav Ya’acov settlement near Jerusalem, this mother of four made aliyah from Cleveland, Ohio, and eventually took up foraging.
What started out as a way to save money and eat healthily turned out to be a profitable business, and Shalem managed to fight for a life for herself and her family.
Foraging is all about living off the land and isn’t as easy as it sounds. Knowing what kinds of plants are edible, how they need to be prepared, and what you can use them to make – all of this takes experience and training, and Shalem has taught thousands of people over the past 13 years how to do exactly that.
In addition to helping teach others about foraging, she is also teaching others about tolerance, raising awareness about the LGBTQ+ community.
In honor of Pride Month, In Jerusalem sat down with Shalem to discuss her life, work, foraging, and her struggles for queer awareness.
How did you get into foraging?
I started foraging and writing about it on my blog, pennilessparenting.com, about 13 years ago because I was broke and found that foraging was a good way to get healthy food for free. People who saw my posts asked me to teach them about it.
I resisted at first because I had never taught before, but it ended up being such a hit that I made it a regular business and have taught thousands of people over the years and popularized the idea of foraging in the area. I expanded it to include a cooking section, where we cook a full kosher meal in nature with what we foraged.
What are the biggest misconceptions people have about foraging?
The biggest thing people don’t know about foraging is that you aren’t ‘eating sticks and grass’ but that there is such a variety of wild edible plants everywhere under your nose, and you can make gourmet, delicious food with it. Also, people who do know a bit more about foraging assume you can’t forage in the summer in Israel, but you can forage year-round in Israel with enough knowledge.
Tell me about your involvement in the LGBTQ+ community
I’ve been out as asexual for a few years. I came out by writing an article for an online, now-defunct magazine, Unorthoboxed. I’ve tried to teach people about it because there is not enough awareness about it anywhere, especially in the religious community, and it affects religious life, especially when it comes to marriage and relationships.
Since there is such intolerance toward the LGBTQ+ community from the Orthodox community, especially where I live, I wanted to open people’s eyes to the fact that someone can be gay and do zero aveirot [sins] because gay asexual people exist. I also wanted to give people the means to be dan lekaf zechut [“judge others favorably” or “give someone the benefit of the doubt”].
I mainly do activism through my vast social network on Facebook, but I have also spoken at something called Erev Kehilla, where people from the Orthodox community come to hear LGBTQ+ people speak.
Additionally, I heard about the organization Shoval and its initiative called Pesch Sheini, where they bring LGBTQ+ people and a rabbi or a queer religious family member to talk with a community in someone’s house to open a conversation about the inclusion of LGBTQ+ people in the broader religious community.
It sounded beautiful, and I wanted to bring that to Kochav Ya’acov to maybe open some closed minds here. We arranged an evening with the values of the community in mind, with two rabbis coming to speak, including the head of the Gush Etzion Religious Council, specifically to talk about how to approach LGBTQ+ people from the perspective of being God-fearing Jews.
I not only got the expected backlash – with people arguing with me and calling me names – but I was also silenced in the WhatsApp groups, my posts were deleted, and I was told I could not post such things without the permission of the settlement’s rabbi, who did not respond to me when I reached out to speak to him.
The rabbi’s wife contacted me privately and told me off for promoting ‘anti-holiness’ on erev Shavuot. When I explained to her why I don’t think that way and how the Torah’s commandment to treat others with love and kindness applies to the LGBTQ+ community, she told me she doesn’t have time to read my megillah and that she’s not interested in a word I have to say.
And now, the secretary of the settlement administration contacted me telling me that the heads of the council want to meet with me tonight [Tuesday night at the time of writing] but wouldn’t tell me what about. When I asked if they were trying to kick me out of the community, I was told that they legally can’t. But it’s clearly an intimidation tactic.
[The Kochav Ya’akov secretariat did not respond to In Jerusalem’s efforts to reach them by press time.]
What does Pride Month mean for you?
Pride Month is important to me because it’s about dignity, visibility, and compassion. As someone committed to both Halacha and human decency, I believe we’re called to see the full humanity of every person, including LGBTQ+ people, who are often pushed to the margins in religious spaces.
This month is a reminder that no one should have to choose between being themselves and being part of a community. It’s about creating room for honesty, respect, and belonging – values I hold deeply, both as a mother and as a member of the religious world.
