Could a Buttmitzvah boogie with Owen Jones solve the culture wars?

The London-based simchah-meets-sweatbox was dreamt up by Josh Cole and has been doing the rounds since 2016. Saturday's event was only the second simchah since the horrors of October 7, which made its joyful defiance all the more powerful.

And so it was... curious that the Guardian journalist Owen Jones chose to join the party.

Never one to pass up a potential disagreement (some might say this is a character flaw; I prefer to think of it as “journalistic curiosity”), I was among the several revellers who wandered over to chat with him. Fuelled by arak and the energy of one thousand hora-dancing Jews, I asked him – what else? – about Israel.

Now, full disclosure: my memory of our exchange is about as reliable as a Purim spiel. But from what I recall, he was… nuanced? Certainly more than his online persona, which tends to deal in increasingly inflammatory YouTube video and tweets that regularly trigger pile-ons against Jewish journalists. I’m well aware I could be next.

Which makes one wonder: perhaps social media isn’t where we show the best of ourselves? Maybe – and this is radical – the answer to our ever-intensifying culture wars lies not in subtweets, but in actual human contact. In dancing. In awkward, tipsy conversations on sticky dancefloors.

He strolled in with a Jewish friend, had a dance, bought a round, and seemed – dare I say it – happy to be there.

Some of my WhatsApp groups exploded with indignation that a man who has spent 18 months tweeting relentlessly against Israel should show up in our space. The chutzpah! But to me, that’s the beauty of Buttmitzvah: it’s not a political event. It’s a celebration of Jewish joy, humour, and great costumes. A rare, vital, sparkly space where Jewishness isn’t dissected, defended, or diminished; it’s just lived.

Picture the scene: somewhere between a drag cabaret, a Tel Aviv Pride party, and your cousin’s bat mitzvah. From Sapphic Shabbat’s shidduch table to a 2,000-person hora circle, from bumping into old friends to the BBC’s Emma Barnett judging the costume contest (aka The Oy Factor), it was, simply put, a blast. Barnett crowned a half-naked piglet the night’s winner – treif has never looked so good.

The legendary klezmer band Shir took the stage, launching the room into a frenzy of Israeli dancing far more intense than any family simchah. Around me, men and women dressed as kiddush wine and pickles, in t-shirts that said “Nice Jewish Boy” and printed with the new 310 bus route, as well as full Purim and Pesach regalia – Haman, the ten plagues – boogied with abandon.

We sang Shalom Aleichem, led by Shir, before drag duo Menachem and Rochel Fissure took the mic. They launched into a rousing rendition of “Just Jew It,” complete with an “educational” explanation of the anatomical distinctions between a hamantaschen and a uterus.

Admittedly, Jewish pride can feel like a political act these days. But it shouldn’t. We should be able to dance and it’s a mark of strength that we can dance with Owen.

Hen Mazzig told me there’s nothing quite like Buttmitzvah in the US, perhaps because Jewish pride doesn’t have to be quite so hard-won there.

Hen also pointed out that he would likely not be welcome at a Queers for Palestine party. He’s probably right. But how remarkable that Owen can step into a Jewish space, dance to Israeli music, and down shots with us. Imagine if more of that spirit made it online.

Later, mid-dance to Hava Nagila (or was it Chappell Roan?), I asked Owen if he’d ever partied in Tel Aviv. He hadn’t. I hope he does. Arak shots on me.