I get called an elitist, a snob, a fascist and filth by the very people who feel I should support and attend their events.
It isn’t even worth writing about anymore. I feel as though I’ve been a broken record since 2011.
Part of me wants to keep writing, but I don’t know who I’m writing for or why anymore.
And I’m just angry at still running into this wall over and over.
A good part of me is angry that I think I may have some hope in having found a potential spiritual home, but I’ve waded through so much crap that I have no trust left to give. Ten years ago I would have been eager and thrived had I found this path, but now I am jaded, cynical, wary, and so damn tired.
Over the past few weeks I have been doing a lot of reading and thinking and I feel like my mind is whirring with a new perspective and I’m excited about the new religious concepts I am learning. And I wonder if I should share any of it with you, and what, and how much, and maybe I should just keep quiet because I don’t need another ridiculously hateful podcast about my vagina out there. Then I think I shouldn’t let fear of vicious assholes silence me. Then I think I don’t owe anyone anything.
I made the mistake of wandering into an old debate the other day. People not just being wrong on the internet, but hatefully and belligerently wrong. People dodging the issue that makes them uncomfortable by attacking the language used to express the issue. You got raped for wearing a short skirt. You got shot for wearing a hoodie. My beard makes your argument invalid. Never mind that the man is choking to death, can you believe he’s wearing crocs? Put enough distance between yourself and the issue and the tiniest, most insignificant detail can obscure it from your perspective.
These were not just some random assholes, but people with known names. Who are treated with respect. Who publish and promote and pontificate and are generally considered good eggs. Which in a way kind of makes my point that this issue of being othered and marginalized is actually a deep part of pagan culture, and that most people who call themselves “hard polytheists,” or devotional polytheists, or reconstructionists, or something similar have little to nothing in common with modern paganism.
When people who have established a narrative of being a persecuted minority begin trampling on and silencing others they don’t even recognize the ways they have become an oppressor. Like Christianity before it, modern paganism is so committed to being the underdog that pointing out that you’re being stepped on is seen as further proof of the martyrdom.
This blog is a tool, and a powerful one, yet that doesn’t necessarily mean it should be used. I think I came back because I missed something comfortable, and that maybe I could reclaim the excitement of the early days of Pantheon. Perhaps I thought it might inspire me. The truth is it isn’t comfortable, and I’m not entirely at ease with the company I’m keeping.
I’m tired. Five years of bearing witness to the same debate is exhausting. I have Wiccan and pagan friends I love dearly, who are like family to me, just as I have Christian and Muslim and atheist friends I cherish. But truthfully most of the religious hatred, bigotry, and intolerance I have experienced in my life has come from the pagan community, from micro-aggressions to blatant hatred.
I’m tired. I’m rambling. I don’t know what the future of this blog or my writing is at this point. I feel like I’m on the cusp of something really good for me and I don’t want to spoil it by sharing it. And if I’m not sharing my spiritual journey then I don’t know what I would write here.
But you don’t care about any of this. You clicked because you’re pissed I used the word Wiccanate.