Saturday I had the privilege of participating in a book signing and party at The Sacred Well in Oakland with other ladies that are contributors in the Shades of Faith; Minority Voices in Paganism anthology. Since the book came out last year I have had the honor of participating in two events that featured some of the authors in the book, one at Pantheacon and one this weekend.

I found that I was amazed at how I ended up in a room full of women that I admire and respect as minority women who are magical, gifted and intelligent.  I realize how honored I have been to share space in the publishing world, magical world and in the physical world with such incredible human beings.  I have been blessed.

The event was great, conversation was awesome and being in the presence of others that I connect with spiritually and culturally is beyond words.  I don’t know how to put words to the incredible feeling of wholeness that comes with being able to share space without concern of how I am slightly different and just be as I am.  It is a feeling that I did not grant much importance to initially, until I had the experience of comparison.  And let me be clear, it is not the absence of other races or cultures that I am referring to but it is the inclusion of having more of my own.  It is a balance that I am not use to experiencing in the Pagan community and it felt nice to have African Americans along side some Caucasion people, Hawaiian women and others.  It was confirmation that honoring one another is not exclusive to one path or culture and can be inclusive to all.

Again, I have been honored.

As the Pagan community continues to grow and thrive, it will continue to be a adjustment to include the many different faces that come to join around the circle.  What we have traditionally thought about Pagan circles are evolving and changing based on the people who are finding their way to the path of the Goddess and God.  I think this continuous transformation of Paganism has brought about much insights to the way that we can be exclusive in our practices and how this can lend to a feeling that all are not valued at the table.  It is nice to see that we are changing and growing to consciously acknowledge the many shades of the faces that the Goddess has brought to her path.

Again, I have been honored.

By Luna Pantera

 

 

Greetings. I have been working on this essay/blog for several months.I wanted to wait until the anger subsided, and if I waited for that I would never get this piece written! Once again I received not only inspiration, but also strength from Crystal Blanton, who I’ve only recently gotten to know from working with her on her anthology “Shades of Faith: Minority Voices in Paganism” where I contributed a poem.

 

I was originally going to entitle this piece, “Why I Believe It’s Time for My White Brothers and Sister to start working with Their Ancestors,” and I realized it wasn’t just White people who needed that juju!

 

I first got the message that we needed to work with Ancestors as community magik after 911. I was a member of a community whose Elders put a call out on the morning of 911 for those of us who felt lost, alone, and disempowered to come together to do some magic.We met and tranced down to talk and help guide some of the dead across. This proved to be a very powerful and very draining process.The message I got after “coming back” was it was time to start working magic in union with the Allies who had been waiting for our “awakening” to work with us. This included the Fey, the Ancestors and the Deities we all worked with.

 

I had already started doing Ancestors work on my own. Of course each tradition has their own way of working with the Ancestors, and in my family if you are open they just tap you on the shoulder and say, “What took you so long?” literally! I had been going through a very heated custody battle with my ex husband. I felt beaten down, and alone. I was lying in bed one night unable to sleep, and just sat up, grounded and just started talking to Spirit. I broke down and started crying saying I felt weak, helpless, alone and broken. I knew there was strength in my blood line and that the women in it didn’t give up, we always found a way to make it through the worst of times. I asked someone to come to me to remind me of the strength in the blood that ran through my veins. I asked that they come to me to remind me that I was their daughter! By this time the tears where flowing and the passion and the need was deep! All of a sudden I felt someone sit on my bed. I need to point out at the time I was totally alone in the house and the bedroom was pitch black. I took in my breath and didn’t move a muscle. I felt something grab my foot and give it a gentle put firm squeeze! I closed my eyes and willed my heart not to jump out of my chest! I thank the Spirit that came to me, and I politely ask the Spirit to give me a moment or two to take in this amazing and powerful manifestation! I felt the Spirit leave and realized once again….Magik is real!!! A few weeks later my mother gave me a ring that she had come across as she was cleaning up. It was a ring that had belong to my Great, Great, Grandmother Celina St. John. The ring was gold with the middle initial of C, and as “magik” would have it my birth name is Clothilda so the initial matched. The ring also has a leopard motif with claw marks, Pantera/Panther, which is my magikal name.The significance of this would come later.

 

Celina was a Vodun Priestess in Louisiana. Now I’m not sure if she would have referred to herself as such, but she was the one that people came to for herbs/healing bath salts etc. She was also the “protector” of the family, and heaven help those who caused harm to her “people.” Through working with Celina I learned about magik, deep magik. I learned how to call in Spirit, how to manifest and make things happen with just thought.

 

As my magik became stronger, and more importantly as I became more comfortable with it, my dreams became more intense. I started to feel a sense of urgency.

 

A few of us who had been at witch camp that year upon returning to the “real world” started have apocalyptic/prophetic dreams, and two months later 911 happen.

 

One of the messages that has become a common thread for those of us who do “deep magik” is that the era of “play” is done. Now we need to heal and come together for the “times ahead.”

 

Now coming together and working for the transformation of all that we know; it should be easy right? Not so much! We have never been more fragmented as we are today. And this is actually a good thing! I believe we have been “faking it” for sometime. All of us! I think it’s very interesting as I write this we have: Mars, Saturn, and Pluto all retrograde. We are also waiting for what George Zimmerman will be charged with. The magikal community has been divided on the issue of gender, and the country on the issue of race. The poor are becoming the majority and the rich have convinced some of us that it’s our fault we’re poor. Women, Poor, and of course People of Color are under attack.

 

Have you ever watched rats in a barrel? Yes, I’m sure you’ve heard the term, but have you ever watch how they behave? I have. You see when rats are in a barrel and being poked by a stick until they bleed, they eventually stop attacking the stick and start attacking each other.Guess what y’all we are those rats in the barrel!

 

The thing about it is I’m not sure if I agree with some of the sentiments I’ve seen on line and in the news. I don’t believe the intense exposure of the Trayvon Martin case has “stirred up racial tension.” Point of information…my lovelies this country has never known a time free of racial tension since the first person of European descendant sent foot on this land! There is this feeling among White people if all the People of Color are quiet and not complaining everything is cool. Actually it just doesn’t manifest itself where it can be seen all that clearly.

 

High Blood Pressure among Blacks is the highest of all racial groups:43% among Men and 47% among Women. The next closes group was Mexican Americans 27.8% among Men and 28.7% among Women. When you are constantly having to swallow your anger, frustration, shame, and all the while trying not to offend people it builds up inside of you and eventually eats away at your very soul and kills you.! Blacks once again have a high rate of death in regarding to heart disease with 24.4% and they are not the highest group to fall prey to this problem, that honor is saved for Whites which have a 25% statistic! These statistics are from the CDC (Center for Disease Control and Prevention). So, it looks like White folks suffer too! It’s hard “pretending” not to see the pain, anguish, suffering, and yes hatred from another group directed towards you and not take it personally, consciously or not.

 

So here we are. Two groups who have so much to lost if they don’t come together and who deep down in their DNA don’t truly trust each other. Now I’m not going to get into the history of that. There are books, websites; hell even friends can fill you in on “our joined history.” Let’s put it this way, we have a hell of a way to go, and not much time to do it! Hence, where the Ancestors come in. First off as mentioned earlier we got a lot going on energetically. Things are moving and coming up. We need to look deep inside ourselves, I’m talking “shadow work” here, and really be honest with ourselves, our true feelings, and where those thoughts, feelings and believes come from. What do we really believe to be true, and what do we not question because it would stir the cauldron of our essence, our core of what we have been conditioned to accept?

 

While reconnected with my family in Louisiana I found out some deep and disturbing things. The core of it lies in the work that I have taken on, and my own healing. Let’s just say there is a history of abuse that runs long and deep in my family tree. My Guides told me that it is up to me to work and heal the cancer on my tree. Remember that ring: Birth name combined with Magikal name? Spirit told me that the work I do on this plane, in this generation would reverberate back to heal the roots all they way to those who made it across the middle passage and became slaves in a strange land.

 

I can not recall all the times I have heard from White Pagans….”Oh, I would never work or give reverence to my Ancestors. They were”…fill in the blank. Newsflash! Your Ancestors were not all:cattle thieves, rapists, slave traders/owners/overseers, etc. You had Ancestors who sold the herbs, who were the Wisewomen/Alchemists/Healers. WE are Witches/Shamans/Healers, and WE are the ones WE/THEY’ve been waiting for! All of our Ancestors are still in chains…yes even your white ones! They are stuck in their hate, fear, loathing and a lot of that has been turn inward which means you carry it in your DNA. Yes, my sisters and brothers you are not immune nor am I. I find myself at that place of deep anger, hatred and wanting to lash out, and because of my magik and my connection to those who have gone before me I can find compassion and patience. And that patience only goes so far! The time is now…start healing yourselves and then work out to heal your bloodline. Once you start you will find you’re not alone. Those Wisewomen/Alchemists/Healers in your line will rise up to help you!

 

Would you take refuge under a tree with no roots in a windstorm? The “storm/winds of change” is coming and it’s are going to be massive!

 

We can do this…We will do this. The alternative is much more terrifying!!!

 

Blessings on all our healing of our family line and ourselves!

 

Reposted with permission from http://lunasmagik.blogspot.com/2012/04/why-i-believe-its-time-for-all-of-us-to.html

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I left my home in Georgia
Headed for the ‘Frisco bay
‘Cause I’ve had nothing to live for
And look like nothin’s gonna come my way

So I’m just gonna sit on the dock of the bay
Watching the tide roll away
Ooo, I’m sittin’ on the dock of the bay
Wastin’ time

Look like nothing’s gonna change
Everything still remains the same
I can’t do what ten people tell me to do
So I guess I’ll remain the same, yes

Sittin’ here resting my bones
And this loneliness won’t leave me alone
It’s two thousand miles I roamed
Just to make this dock my home
-Sitting on the Dock of the Bay by Otis Redding

I was born and raised in the Bay Area. Although I have family down south and in other areas of the United States, I do not have a first hand account of staying in another part of the country for longer than several weeks at one time. When I was a kid my mother would send me to Alabama to stay with the family for several weeks, it has been some time since I have done that.

Being from the Bay Area gives me a lot of allowances that I might not always recognize at face value and yet there are moments when I have to stop and consider my place in the world, not just here. These moments come when I am confronted by something that opens my eyes, for that moment, to the reality that I am still looked at differently because of others perceptions and not because of who I am as a person. Whether this means in the sense of being Black or being a Pagan, these moments support me into remembering the vast similarities and differences between others and myself.

I know that I walk around with a certain amount of privilege. My lighter shade of dark skin, my physical location and my career afford me those luxuries sometimes. And while I am not desensitized to the struggle of many people, I am lucky enough not to have to struggle through them all the time. I am very lucky.

I was having a conversation with my sister about the desensitization within a minority community. There is a certain amount of conditioning that happens in any culture, usually based on the many shapes and sizes of survival for that particular subset. On an unconscious level many minorities are conditioned to expect minor moments of disrespect and having to prove themselves to be accepted by the terms of others. There are hyper-vigilant levels of awareness and astute abilities developed to sense changes around us that often act in the place of our fight or flight mechanisms. We are conditioned to expect to be different and yet to survey the environment to notice when different is problematic. Challenging in and of itself, and can be lonely sometimes.

I often think that being Black has complimented my Pagan beliefs because I am trained in the art of differences and yet have the ability to act as if they are not present. I do not immediately walk into any situation with my ethnicity on my sleeve (its actually on my face) but if something comes up, my spidey senses flick on and I am surveying for concern. I am able to use this as a Pagan and as an African American woman.

Sometimes I wonder how much this spidey sense supports me as a Wiccan or if hyper arousal can be a hindrance to ones ability to root into a place and time, path or journey. What does it mean to be comfortable within a person’s place in the world and not have to survey the scene whenever something comes up that could point in the direction of being judged or rejected? I don’t know a lot of African Americans that have been afforded this privilege, instead there is a tape that runs on low in the background of the minds of many who are conditioned for the rejection of being pre-judged.

I often consider exploring this with others, the thought that the conditioning of sensitivity around some issues and the desensitization of others in the Black community or within the Pagan community could lend to an inability to be fully present, fully within self, or completely transparent in our connection with others, ourselves and with the Gods. It can act as a isolating agent that removes the concept that true acceptance can come from someone outside of the self, leaving a burden on the soul to carry the only understanding of what it is to be who you are.

There is a peeling of the layers that happen, like with an onion, that supports a continuous and genuine connection to deity in ways that are profound and meaningful. There is a unveiling of the inner workings that makes this possible, a willingness to be vulnerable to the power of divinity and when we are able to learn to be vulnerable with grace we can truly be with power.

Thoughts, behaviors and actions are essential to the process of evolving spiritually and can stop true connection from coming through walls that are built in fear. I don’t want to think that the culture that comes with my caramel skin or within the fears of being “out” as a Pagan will aid in pushing true connections away. Yet I know that we often say in the walls of counseling that when we push others out, we are also stopping the love from coming in. Our history does not always show us that it is a good idea to let others in and struggle is passed from generations of ancestors to enforce a sense of protection. But protection from who?

The balancing act between ethnicity, majority culture and Pagan can be challenging in ways that are beyond the written word and evolve into an ongoing stage of movement. I know that my sense of self is compiled by the intricate pieces of my story, my heritage, my experience, my faith and my dreams. I don’t want to disconnect from the ability to have a true connection to divine energy in all forms because of unconscious fear and I don’t want that for my children.

In my moment of reflection I think of the words to the song Otis Redding sang some time ago and how sitting on the dock of the bay symbolizes so much of the ongoing struggle of these times, this country, Black people, Paganism and a need for focused balance. The loneliness he talks about while sitting on the dock of the bay is a reminder of why we must continue to find ways out of the separation and into a place of understanding for one another. Understanding breeds opportunity to create space where we can be who we are, worship together and co-exist in meaningful ways. We can honor our struggles, our differences, our similarities and our divine connections without being afraid to peel the layers of our onion away. For these reasons and more, I am a advocate for such things as International Pagan Coming Out Day and other events that honor the many pieces of who we are.

And if it were my way, I could change the lyrics of the song from Otis to reflect a moment in time where there is no need for the hyper-awareness of being the caramel colored, Pagan girl in the Bay….

Looks like all things can change,
Only some things will remain the same,
I can do what my Gods Will me to do,
And so I too will change…..

I am angry.  I am enraged at the world and all the problems within it.  I am offended by the lack of justice and I am confused.  I am not confused on my position in all the madness that I hear, feel, see and experience but I am confused at how to be the Wiccan High Priestess that I am and to feel the intense emotion that I feel without a balance or way of understanding it.

How to balance the spiritual part of who I am with the feelings produced by living in the world I live in is a complex mix up of emotions, frustration and complete chaotic combination of conflicted concepts.  I cannot embrace the expectations of the world and ignore the shadow self; they go hand in hand with who I am as a person.

And this is what keeps me stuck in times such as these.  I don’t know how to dive into issues that are prevalent to the struggle of identifying as a Black woman in America without offending or completely pissing off the very people that read this blog or that support me in my path.  When I talked to my sister about this blockage she told me to write about the block itself.

I began to think about how to say I am pissed off, hurt, scared, embarrassed, confused, livid and insulted at the behavior of others and the insensitivity towards the brown and black people of this world.  How do I express my complete disgust about reading the stories, like that of Trayvon Martin, and explain what it feels like to be a Black woman in today’s society and fear those things for my children without offending others who do not understand privilege in America?

What is the point in having a blog that talks about the intersection between African American women and Pagan spirituality?  I know that point is to discuss all those things and more but I struggle in doing that when I am so hurt and angry that I am not able to separate the issues and express them clearly.

Race has become a topic of dissension for others the past two years, it has always been a topic of importance for us.  I don’t know if it is cases like this new one, presidential candidates making overtly prejudice statements or having a Black president that has brought the thoughts of others to the forefront but I feel I have heard more blatantly racists crap in the last year compared to any other year.  In the last month alone I have been called a “f**king Nigger” when a guy jumped out of his car in traffic, seen a picture of a street sign that was changed in Michigan to say “Trayvon’s a Nigger” and listened to someone talk about how Black people are the reason for the decline of our society.

And while I work to stay within spiritual space, be the High Priestess that I am and support knowledge to those who do not have it, sometimes it feels like I am doing the work of the Gods against a battle that will not be won in this lifetime.  Thankfully I believe in reincarnation and the ability for spirit to bring wisdom back to the earth.

I don’t know if there is a way to express the challenges that everyday Black and Brown spiritual warriors face in today’s times without talking of the intensity that is created internally, it goes hand in hand.  What I will say is this: the need for spiritual reflection becomes essential in these times because it leads to a means of clarity and wholeness that cannot be achieved from the outside world.  The connection between my Gods and myself is paramount to survival in a world that wages spiritual warfare on the soul of so many people.  Tonight I cast my coins into the sea to pay respect to Yemaya and invite her to send her cooling waters amongst us, washing us of so much hatred and judgment of our fellow spiritual family members.  And I challenge others to do the same.

Moving beyond the disgust I feel at the racism, classism, ageism, sexism and all the other “ism’s” out there is a battle I am not willing to walk away from because it is important that we are able to be reflections to each other of each other.   Some in society will always try to hold themselves above others in an attempt to define themselves, find importance and create a system that gives them a false sense of meaning by standing on the spirit of others.  In my belief system the Gods are standing back and pushing the warriors to stand tall as a reflection of wisdom in the face of adversity.  We have the words of the mother and father whispering into the megaphone in our minds and drowning out the talk of ignorance.

The point of this blog is to open a forum to speak truths that are not often spoken in our community, giving insight into the vast diversity and value of some of the others who hold a seat at the table of Paganism.  Hopefully I can continue to turn up the volume of the Gods and override the sounds of racism that can easily occupy my mind.  So the real question becomes what to do about all the emotions that take space during these times after being confronted with such racism against my own?

My first answer is to speak.

My second answer is to pray.

My third… to wait.

And while I wait for continued strength to speak of understanding, peace, love, strength and hope, I will ask for those things for myself in my own battle to understand and be understood.  And throughout this process I hope to let my fingers type the words of this spiritual struggle and share it with those willing to listen.

After the past several years of discussions around diversity and what it means to respect diversity, I feel this has become almost a cliche stamp that is spoken as if it is a universal concept and yet it is not.

We all know the last two years of conflict at Pantheacon regarding that of transgender inclusion within rituals. There are plenty other situations where the concept of diversity has been assessed to have different meanings. There seems to be a lack of understanding about the diverse nature of a word like that of diversity.  Questions or assumptions about what it means to respect diversity are kicked around all the time in our community; on a small and large scale.

What does diversity mean?  How can we respect something when we have not agreed on its meaning?

In the Merriam-Webster dictionary it defines diversity as:

1

: the condition of having or being composed of differing elements : variety; especially : the inclusion of different types of people (as people of different races or cultures) in a group or organization <programs intended to promote diversity in schools>

2

: an instance of being composed of differing elements or qualities : an instance of being diverse <a diversity of opinion>

Respect is defined as “a relation or reference to a particular thing or situation, an act of giving particular attention (consideration), expressions of high or special regard”.

In accessing the key elements of these definitions I see inclusion of differences and having a high regard for those differences as very clear points in the definitions provided.  I think this is important, and is extremely important in the Pagan community.

I consider myself lucky to have gone to several large scale Pagan conventions and festivals.  Pantheacon topped about 2,500 people this year from all around the country and this has been the case for many years.  Seeing that many people in one space that are different and yet the same is such an enlightening experience.  I love to engage in their differences while celebrating the similarities together, this is one of the highlights of large festivals and conventions.

At these events I get to go to a druid ritual, a Wiccan ceremony and a Voudon lecture all in the same space.  All are welcome, all are celebrated and all are valued.

This is where I think that the Pagan community gets confused on the concept of respecting diversity.  To respect diversity is to honor it.  Are we really honoring it if we are asking people to water it down and make it more palatable for others?  The answer to this question is not that simple but I can say that it is very much like what we call “white washing” in many Black communities.  Pagans always talk about wanting the right to practice and yet we don’t always give that to others within our own community.  Is this respect?  I don’t know but it doesn’t sound like it.

I see diversity as the many aspects of divinity.  All facets of a stone are distinct and different yet are all a part of the same core.  Depending on what angle you look at it from, you might see something lightly different and get a different insight from it the same gem.

My race, religion, ethics, beliefs, experiences, history, ancestors and aspirations are all facets to my own treasure.  One does not overrule the other, all are important and each has its place in my life.  If you are trying to truly understand me, you have to respect all those parts of who I am.  This is what I consider respecting diversity at the core.  No one should assume that any one aspect of me should be generalized or changed in order to be accepted.

Taking that concept and applying it to the Pagan community; isn’t it the same?  All traditions, people, concepts, deities, practices and connections with the divine should be respected.  No one should have expectations to generalize or water down parts of themselves in order to be accepted or honored.  This is not respecting diversity if we have conditions on the diversity we will accept.

It is frustrating to see so many different issues within our greater communities that are splinters coming from the very piece of wood we should worship and instead we use it to create divides.  When we can honor one another for our differences, not be defensive about them, see value in one another and offer understanding, will we be able to say that we are respecting diversity.

And if you are not comfortable in true diverse situations where there is a place at the table for everyone, consider not going into situations or communities where diversity is suppose to be celebrated.  To expect that others will be other than themselves, their training and their history is attempting to contain diversity into a small pill so that it is easier to swallow.  And the beauty of diversity is that you can learn from someone or something regardless of whether you agree or not.  As we say in treatment and counseling, “if you are too comfortable, you are not doing the work”.

I believe the same.  Diversity challenges us to question our thoughts, think about our beliefs and experience something new.  It is not meant to be to your taste all the time, and thus it will help you grow.

* NOTE: this blog post is not a reflection of or directed towards any one person, situation or at all personal.  It is not specifically about gender inclusiveness issues or any one category of any kind.

Discrimination is not a foreign concept.  It is one that many different types of people have experienced and often times have led to great violence and pain within the world.  It is not a concept that is likely to go away within human behavior and it is a quite complex concept that has become interwoven into the normal operation of society.  It is not ok and yet it is something we all experience and have done to others.

I am writing this in response to many things, not just the events at PantheaCon this year or last year.  I have watched discriminatory actions taken against others, have experienced them myself and have dished out my fair share onto others based on fears, ignorance, privilege and misinformation.  The events of PantheaCon have been a catalyst for me to talk about discrimination within the Pagan community though and not because I am taking a stance on the issues of transgendered inclusion in rituals.

Let me start with a little bit of history within my own family.  It is important and relevant to the position that I take in relation to how we judge one another and allow the masses to influence our ability to relate with the commonalities of the human struggle.

My family is from the South.  My mother migrated to California in her early adult years and so I am a native west coast woman.  My family walked around the land of the South in a time where Black people were not allowed to choose their own path and find acceptance within their greater community.  The lineage of my family showed how we forcibly mixed with the White race and had the hue of skin to show for it.  Due to the 

direct relationship with family members of the George C Wallace family, my Great Grandmother would be paraded on the back of white horses in the town parades.  She was too young to question why.  And while my family still lived the life of a Black family (discrimination and all) they had the status in our community that was given based on their much fairer shade of skin.

This type of concept has brought many different ideas about within the Black community and is often a contributor to the splitting dynamic between the lighter skinned and darker skinned.  It is that same concept of the house slaves and the field slaves; the way you were treated could depend on the closer a person was to looking Caucasian.  This divide and conquer tactic has been very damaging to Black people and continues to be a part of the culture of our race; the internalized hate we turn onto our own.  This has often been an experience I have had within my Black culture; proving that I am Black enough to hang with the others, even with my “high yellow” complexion.

Experiencing discrimination and alienation from your own can be more harmful than experiencing it from those you are already expecting it from.  This form of internalized racism or prejudice is a way to separate those who stand along side of us in our struggle and turning them into the focus.  Every community does it but when will we learn that this divides our power base and renders us less effective in the world?

I see this in the community I work in when kids fight over who is poorer or whose clothes are the dirtiest.  I see this in the Black community when we impose importance on the hue of the skin or the texture of “good” hair because it is less kinky.  In the Pagan community I see it when we attempt to polarize issues that are very complex and attempt to force our fellow spiritual family members into one mold or another.   We look to define ourselves by comparison of ideals that are often unfair to the others, to our community, to the issue or even to ourselves.

It is hard to watch people invalidate one another and use judgement to hurt those who stand along our sides.  We cannot stop discrimination by discriminating, and it does not make it better that the anger, fear, hurt and daggers are turned against ourselves.  It is more devastating in the end when we are looking for the community that we have worked so hard to create and realize that it is in the shambles of drama, hurt feelings and self created pain.

We judge one another in order to define who is Black enough, spiritual enough, Pagan enough or oppressed enough and we miss the mark on the true gift of our community.  The best gift that we can give is to love more, understand more, empathize more , show more, give more, listen more, connect more and even identify more with those who have experienced this here journey called life.

I don’t want to fight those whom I love.  I think it is imperative that we learn the lessons of growing as a community together and stop finding ways to create the divides that separate us from the power that is the Pagan community.  Regardless of where he or she was housed, a slave was still a slave whether cleaning in the home or the field.  Fighting against one another and projecting hate onto the other did not create a movement that ultimately changed the nation and released them.  It was progressive thought, a multitude of revolutionary actions and patience that ultimately supported a shift in culture and thought.

As it relates to Pantheacon directly, I hope we can look at the progress of change as an evolving concept that is not stagnant and predictable.  I want to see us look at the possibilities and believe that extending love and understanding will lead to love and understanding.  And quite the opposite is true as well; extending sharp words, rigid versions of right and wrong or drawing lines between those who are within our community will only lead to the same in return.

I do not know the answers alone but I believe the community can find them together in faith.  I do not want to fight those I worship with.  The real fight is outside of our doors, in a world where we do not have the equality that should be a birthright.  Let us stop dividing ourselves and fighting amongst those who we will later stand beside to brave the world with.

We are all Black enough, Pagan enough, Woman enough, Man enough and Spiritual enough to grow together in love.

She was a force, both of strength and love.  She taught me to be who I am and yet it took a while to realize that.  She was born on Samhain and so it is so natural to celebrate her on that day; both for her birthday and also because the veil is thin.  She comes to me then.

But in celebrating her life, I also recognize her death… and path to her rebirth.  Two years have passed since she took on the form of a phoenix in my kitchen.  So many things left unsaid and so many things not heard.  She left a great silence when she left and yet so many lessons I strain my ears to hear, they are there and I know she is making me work for them.

We never really prepare for the release of someone we love even though we know that death is a part of the greater cycle of life.  While the details of the how are not given to us, the what is bound to happen.  I don’t know that we can prepare fully, I don’t know that is possible because the human heart feels so strongly and loves so deeply.  I know that my mother was a part of the intricate fibers that make up my heart; no true separation is possible.

Between my mother’s Christian upbringing and my own Pagan beliefs, I still have not been able to reconcile all the pieces of the outcome.  I think that my spiritual views were tested, and so were my cultural ones.  Nothing made sense and I have come to realize that it is not always suppose to.

A wise counselor I worked with for seven years use to say “understanding is just the booby prize”; meaning that we want things to make sense but they won’t always.  That reflex is a human response to wanting control of those things in life that feel as if we are out of control.  Understanding won’t make the outcome different; we cannot change what has happened but can re-frame the way that we interpret and internalize them.

I have come to understand that my faith has been the glue that held the house together, even when I did not know it was possible.  In reconciling my past with my present, my loss with what I have gained and my hope with my pain, I am beginning to live beyond…..

I do not like to think that her death taught me lessons I needed to learn, but I know that they did.  And with that, I want to take the opportunity to encourage everyone to tell that person you love them, hug others, speak from your heart, let the small shit go and be present.  Too many things go unsaid and are left to wonder about after the window of opportunity has closed.  I can’t remember if I told her I loved her that morning when I left the house, but I say it everyday since.

The mundane worries of the world easily sidetrack us from fully appreciating every moment.  May we all take those moments and run with them….. Blessed Be to all, to those who have lost and to those who have gone.

Written for my mom’s program the night before the memorial:

 

 

My Mother – The Poem

My mother was a soldier, a warrioress in plain clothes
My mother was like a psychic, she knew things only a mother knows
My mother was a healer, medicine with one caress
My mother was a chef, her fried chicken was the best
My mother was a fighter, stubborn with her cause
My mother was a real woman, support without pause
My mother was a forgiver, leaving the dark to share the light
My mother was independent, providing for her own
My mother was brilliant, making the worst conditions feel like home
My mother was beyond words, memories forever sketched in stone
My mother smelled of love, comforting in all ways
My mother had many children, loving in all her days
My mother was like a phoenix, rising from any despair
My mother is now an angel, she had too much love to share
My mother was a lover, loved me till her last breath
My mother is immortal, still living beyond death
My mother is forever with me, in my heart she is mine to keep
I will always miss my mother, I will see her when I sleep.

Crystal Blanton, ©2010

Respect is a large thing in my life.  I find that it is a large concept in many people’s life, especially within my culture.  I was raised to understand that respecting the next person is not something that is a choice but an expectation.  My mother and my father were born and raised in the south (which is the norm at some point in the family tree of Black people) and so respect was engrained and could equate to what was a life or death situation.

Needless to say I was raised not to talk back, speak when spoken to and show the upmost respect to my elders.  While I have not always subscribed to this in my adulthood in a way that my mother would agree with, it is something that is a part of my personal make up as a Black woman and as a professional.  What I have come to really understand is that this does not always translate in the Pagan community.  There is no direct correlation in the Pagan community that means respect to one another the way that it did for me growing up.  I think about how we are going to sustain the Pagan community and struggle with how that might look when we are not always able to respect one another and the contribution that each of us make.

Instead of gripping on the problem, since any given person could share a handful of experiences that fall into this category, I instead want to think about what message I would want to say to support solutions to this problem in our community.  To do this, I will speak with the voice of my mother and other ancestors that have passed on this lesson to me as it is applicable here.

It is important to mention here (because I just have to) that this is not pointed at any one person or situation.  It is also not a claim of innocence on my part and we all make some of the same mistakes in our journeys of growth, I am no different.  And with that…

• Your actions will always speak louder than your words.
• Your ability to show respect and appreciation to another person is an example of how much you respect and appreciate yourself.
• You cannot love anyone else until you love yourself.
• Your ancestors are the shoulders in which you stand on in order to have the opportunities you have now.
• Respect is earned, not given.
• Treat others how you want to be treated.
• “Respect for ourselves guides our morals; respect for others guides our manners” – Lourence Sterne.
• and the last one is a quote from Eldridge Cleaver of the Black Panther Party for Self Defense….. “Respect commands itself and it can neither be given nor withheld when it is due”.

It is important that we show examples within our community by extending to one another what the Gods have extended to us.  While we speak of our direct lineage to the divine, let us treat one another accordingly.  If I am of the Goddess, so are you.  And while we are building a community together, let us sustain it together.

 

I find it amazing how many things have been lost from my families culture and our history.  I wish I could have understood how important it was to have written down all the things I saw and heard from my mother or other relatives so that I could have them to pass down to my own children.  It is always frustrating to know that there are so many things that have not been documented and therefore lost to me because documentation was not a staple within our history.
This realization has become even more profound for me since the passing of my mother, the keeper of all the information that connected me to my relatives and our history.  My mother knew all that I needed to know and I figured I would continue to learn it from her as time passed.  I did not think about the fact that one day she would also be gone and with her would be all the history, recipes and even stories that I wanted to know and learn.

While I remember some of the things I was taught in my childhood, there are so many things I did not think to ask about.  I was reminded of this when another fellow blogger wrote about black eye peas on New Years day for prosperity.  I have such memories of my mother making black eye peas and talking about things like soaking them.  Being from the south, she was full of traditions and was a believer of symbolism.

I imagine this is very common in our culture and find it quite frustrating and sad to have years of tradition being replaced by current pop culture.  There have been so many aspects already lost to us and the fact that we continue to neglect our ability to make note of our customs is something I feel we need to really take a look at.  This is especially important for families like mine where I am integrating my birth culture with my Pagan culture and teaching that to my children.  In passing  down tangible concepts to the kids, along with history and family culture, I have the chance to instill pride and a connection that leads to a better understanding of who they are.  I want this for my children and I want to see the traditions of my family and my spiritual family preserved.  It is my job to see that through.

In my path to record traditions old and new for the future generations of my family, I plan to work in 2012 on a project to develop a method of recording our experiences and cataloging traditions.  Recording my mother’s recipes for snickerdoodles can be a resource for ritual cakes and the history of our ancestors could be a vital part of the Samhain ritual.

This adventure could lead to a deeper understanding of my own family history and for this I am grateful.  It brings me closer to my own family make up and to the roots of my mother; reminding me of the connection that will always be present with my mother and with my ancestors.

This is not a political blog. This blog is meant to be a mesh of two worlds that are really one in the hearts and minds of African American Pagans. The dynamics of Blacks in America often have been political and we could argue that even the classifications of race itself is a political statement. How do you separate the issues of a race from the very politics that have been used to classify them within this nation from the day they were brought to the shores of this new world?

With that, I think that talking about my journey as a spiritual being and that of a Black woman will always border political discussions and the politics of such a society as this. And while we are moving throughout our walk in life, the observations of events that come across my path make it hard not to conceptualize the incredible amounts of conflict between the challenges of a minority race in the U.S. and the spiritual principals that I value as a person on a spiritual path.

One thing that I value as both a Black woman and a Pagan is the human struggle of those who are underprivileged, in need and deprived of the sense of village that a community and society should bring. The very children that should not become a part of a presidential discussion that uses generalizations and assaults the character of those who live in poverty. I was very disheartened and hurt by the statements of Newt Gingrich when speaking about poverty and impoverished children. Once again I saw perpetuations of stereotypes spread to the masses by a person of power; harming the community and labeling those who happen to have less financial stability as others. When did we become a society that is quick to judge and uses limited factors to insert judgments and perceptions on others? Unfortunately this has been the mode of operation in these parts for as long as history will take us.

And let’s face it, these discussions about how poor children should work as junior janitors after school to learn the ethics of working is aimed at those who are the poorest of the poor. I am sure that the image that is being referred to is not a little Caucasian girl living in a Caucasian town. We are talking about the inner city and urban areas of the United States that are inhabited by a majority of African American, Hispanic or other minority ethnicities. We are referring to the images of cities like Oakland, Harlem, Detroit, Baltimore and other poverty stricken areas.

So let me get this straight? We should take children who are living through circumstances of a lack of resources, drug ravaged areas, substance abusing parents, crime, homelessness, gangs and a disproportionate amount of persistent mental illness within their communities and make them work as junior janitors or librarians so that they can grasp the importance of becoming the working poor in America? We should put these “poor” kids to work so that they can value the concept of working to survive instead of after school programs, counseling, tutoring, life skills programs and even preparing them for college? In addition, where are the jobs coming from that we are going to give to these children? Are we taking jobs out of the hands of adults who could potentially provide for their families so that we can teach “poor” kids a lesson?

I think on this and wonder how come the rest of society is not as outraged at these concepts as I am. I think about the importance of living within a village where we support one another and look for ways to encourage each other to move towards a greater understanding of his or her power in the world. While there is nothing wrong with working as a janitor or librarian, we should not be limiting children to dream within any framework. Kids are suppose to be learning how to dream beyond their circumstances. Visions of high school graduation, college and even fulfilling their dreams should be focus. This could be the path to self sufficiency and collective power within our impoverished communities. We might as well suggest that they become rappers or basketball players so that we can all stay within the stereotypes of what whole groups of people are good for.

What would the Gods think of these statements? I personally think that the Gods would be outraged at the blatant disrespect for life that is usually hidden behind race, socioeconomic class or circumstances. The Gods represent an array of diversity that show incredible triumph through adversity, giving hope to the most unfortunate of life’s circumstances. The mythology of the Gods tell us stories of death, murder, rape, abuse and even poverty. Look what happened to those “poor” people; they became Gods and Goddesses worshiped around the world for their stories, strength and ability to rise above the very elements in life that have otherwise been debilitating.

And if referring to Obama as the foodstamp president was not enough, Let’s take a moment to listen to one of the comments that Gingrich said about these children. “Really poor children in really poor neighborhoods have no habits of working and have nobody around them who works,” he said. “They literally have no habit of showing up on Monday. They have no habit of staying all day. They have no habit of ‘I do this and you give me cash’ unless it’s illegal.”

With the spirit of learned judgments in society and the intense conditioning of learned helplessness, it is important to remember that people who are poor know a lot more than illegal activities. They show up on Monday. They show up on Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday and Sunday as well, in the harshest of conditions and facing the coldest glare of a unsympathetic society. They show up for love, acceptance, food, a hug and some hope. You cannot generalize any category of people and assume that the commercialized version of the poor is a true reflection of the experiences of a group of people.

My priestess work and my professional work go hand in hand within these communities, presenting a image of the Goddess in a pair of Old Navy jeans, a smile and a pentacle around her neck. The Goddess lives inside of me by being immersed with the fibers of my being and guiding my message of hope to those who want what they do not know how to get in life.

I challenge those who are reading this to look within themselves and assess your own messages of judgments and perceptions of others. Challenge those around you that are feeding into a stereotype of any group of people and using that as a means to evaluate worth, hope, value or others future contributions to society. I challenge you to push against subtle comments of alienation and prejudice that is a part of our society in systematic ways and has been for a long time. I challenge you to open your eyes and view the world through the lens of the Gods and Goddesses that you worship, looking upon the problems of the world as a barrier to the care and enlightenment of your children.

Use your knowledge to pray for those who have yet to find the answers to a more peaceful and enjoyable existence here due to the incredible complexities that can complicate what appears to be the simplest of requirements for a successful life. And lastly I would say to look at the compartmentalization that you might have when separating your spiritual self and your political self. For those who live in the bodies of darker skin, there is no separation and can feel impossible to look at life from the eyes of a Black person that is separate from the Pagan inside. Consider allowing your spiritual self a intricate part of evaluating the wrongness around us everyday and the impact that has on others. If you are not angered by the insensitivity of todays politics, you should ask yourself why.