The LGBT community as perceived by the Pagan community

Coming out of the broom closet – no easy task as most of you will know, and doubly hard when there are two closets from which to emerge into a harsh, intolerant and often unforgiving world. Thank goodness we don’t live in medieval Europe whereby I’d have been burnt at the stake, hosed down and then burnt again on both counts.  I want to discuss some of the issues that I have come across in my day to day life as both a Pagan and a member of the LGBT community, and the surprising things I have discovered about how these two communities perceive each other and interact with one another.

I was recently invited to an NUS LGBT conference in Manchester, UK (that is, the National Union of Students conference for those identifying as Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, Trans* or other non-conforming gender or sexual identities), and as one of my university’s representatives had dropped out at the last minute, I decided on a whim to fill her place. This conference was an eye-opener to say the least; never before had I seen such fervent political activism from such inspiring and dedicated young speakers, and up until this point had been largely ignorant as to the amount of voluntary work students do in the name of LGBT rights across the whole UK student network. The sessions at this conference I found the most useful were the Lesbian caucus and Faith caucus.

At lesbian caucus we were asked how we feel about using the word ‘lesbian’ when talking to other people, and how comfortable we are self-defining using that word. What sprang instantly to mind for me was the way I get the same reaction using the word ‘lesbian’ as I do the word ‘witch’, both words nobody likes to say but words I don’t want to be ashamed to use while describing how I self-define. My sexuality is nothing to be ashamed of, and I proudly reclaim the word ‘lesbian.’ In the same way I am proud of my religious beliefs and proudly reclaim the word ‘witch.’ On the spur of the moment I grabbed the microphone and told the assembled women that as a member of two oppressed minority groups, I find that my fight to reclaim both of the words to describe this identity have both helped each other to allow me express my sexuality and faith. When I saw the grins spread across these peoples’ faces, as there were indeed many Pagans in the room and those who similarly felt oppressed because of their religious beliefs, I added that sure, sometimes I say ‘Pagan’ instead of ‘witch’, or I tell people I’m ‘gay’ instead of ‘a lesbian.’ Sometimes it’s just easier to give the average Joe a mental image of a Druid in a stone circle instead of the stereotypical witch, or, well – the ‘happy’ image that the word ‘gay’ brings to mind rather than the negative connotations the word ‘lesbian’ more often than not can conjure in people’s minds. No more can it be a taboo to use these words! They are what I am!

That’s just a bit about me and my first day at Conference. I want to start with how in my experience the Pagan community is perceived by the LGBT community – “Ewww, religion!” tends to be the most common reaction for me. It’s in their faces even if it isn’t what comes out of their mouths. It’s surprising how much resistance I’ve come up against in declaring myself a religious lesbian from the LGBT community, without knowing what my faith is all about. There are many LGBT atheists I know, particularly at university who shrink in horror at the thought of us being voluntarily involved in anything to do with that icky word, ‘religion.’ ‘Wait, let me explain!’ often runs through my head as the old, ‘but Paganism isn’t like mainstream religion, dot dot dot…’ monologue begins to race to my mouth before the protester’s interest withers away entirely.

 The next day was Faith Caucus, where surprisingly, the Pagans assembled felt a good deal less oppressed than the Christians and those from other religions. At this caucus I saw Christians looking like they were on the verge of tears at the mere mention of the subject, memories of being kicked out of families, churches and communities and other horrors probably flashing through their minds. Of-course, the Pagan community being generally accepting and largely embracing of those who identify as LGBT, only at that point did I realise, relatively speaking, how lucky we have it. In the Faith caucus it was easy to see the pain and frustration in people’s eyes when they recounted the difficulties they’d faced in trying to openly express both their faith and sexuality. Of-course in many mainstream religions, gay and trans* people are led to believe that their deviance from sexual or gender norms is not compatible with their faith.

 Later on in the day was a Faith workshop, addressing the techniques used to tackle the barriers between faith societies and LGBT societies within universities. One of the other representatives from my university asked me if I thought the workshop was too centred on mainstream religions (well, I don’t expect my minority faith to get a shout-out in a one hour workshop), but I found it to be a useful exercise nonetheless. I asked him if our society had done anything to integrate with the Christian and Muslim societies, to which he wrinkled his nose like I’d just stuck a smelly sock under it. Negotiations unsuccessful/ not even attempted it would seem, and indeed I know gays and lesbians of faith here in Swansea who find the University’s Christian Union unwelcoming or even unapproachable, and have attempted to find places of worship elsewhere. Yet how many closeted LGBT people do you think there are within these societies who’d benefit hugely from a reach-out session with the LGBT+ society? So many people between the ages of 18-25 are just beginning to explore their sexuality and learn about who they are, and thus university undergraduate students can be one of the most vulnerable groups and most need this help. It’s something to think about if acting upon it doesn’t seem to be an option.                                    

I found the inter-faith tolerance within the amassed LGBT groups at the conference very inspiring. There was solidarity and strength in unity I’ve never felt at any other inter-faith event I’ve attended as a Pagan. I didn’t feel at all alienated for being a member of a minority religion most of them had never heard of - in fact I felt a sense of support as strong if not stronger than within Pagan circles. An Anglo-Catholic led prayers at the end with a small group of us and never before had I felt so comfortable taking part in Christian prayer with a majority group of Christians of various denominations. How’s that for intersectionality!

Conference got me thinking more generally about my own experiences within the Pagan communities I’ve interacted with and responses from the wider community to LGBT issues. Although generally accepting of LGBT and alternative gender identities/ sexualities/ lifestyles, some beliefs held aren’t as gay friendly as they might appear.

“All acts of love and pleasure are my rituals,” says the Goddess in Doreen Valiente’s Charge of the Goddess. Taken from one of the most popular Pagan texts, one can assume that love or sexual acts between anyone or any number of people (that is of-course without violating the ‘harm none’ tenet) is not only acceptable but even encouraged by the Goddess Herself. Our handfastings, or Pagan weddings also reflect this, the requirement being that it be ‘between two people for as long as their love lasts’, including same-sex partnerships (but excluding polyamorous relationships, also generally accepted within the Pagan community, but that’s another can of worms right there.) That’s all very well, but what about when we come to The Great Rite and representations thereof? Personally I have a dualistic view of deity, a god and a goddess being equally important and complementary to one another. I find the ‘Goddess only’ view sexist and one-sided, and that masculine and feminine energies need to be equally represented in the whole of the natural world. However, does the traditional interpretation of the Great rite and symbolism of human fertility in general not exclude gays and lesbians? I’d like to stick my chalice in her chalice thank you very much! Not an athame type, you see.                    

There are ways around the fertility problem; for me, fertility of the Earth, the success of the crops and sowing metaphorical seeds of ideas and projects are the way in which I celebrate fertility, but it still doesn’t feel quite right. There are male and female aspects of all of us, so in my view gay and lesbian sexualities and partnerships are still a bringing together of masculine and feminine energies. However I’ve recently left my local Pagan women’s group, feeling increasingly unlike the rest of the women there; they seem to spend most of the time talking about the female reproductive system which isn’t something I can relate to. As an avid Starhawk fan it pains me to say that no, my lunar cycles are not something I consider sacred or even value given that I’m not going to end up with a partner who could give me children even if I had even the remotest hankering to reproduce. Given the large numbers of people who identify as LGBT within the Pagan community, surely I can’t be the only one to feel like I don’t quite fit into a fertility religion?     

In many ancient shamanic cultures it was normal for the shaman to be transgender or not defining within a gender binary, and yet British Traditional Wicca requires a priest and a priestess to lead its rituals, usually demanding they be cisgendered (born the sex they identify as) to boot? It’s easy to say that Gerald Gardner’s open homophobia can be attributed to the fact that homophobia was the general sentiment of the day, but despite the tremendous amount of work he did in laying the foundation for modern neo-Pagan paths (without which most of us would not be practising what we do), it disappoints me that someone so forward-thinking in breaking through oppressive social structures could actively exclude another oppressed minority group from his ideology.

Fortunately nowadays most Pagan groups are wholly accepting of LGBT people, with groups even created specifically for us such as the predominantly gay Radical Faeries; but the Dianic tradition continues to disappoint and sadden me, particularly so after seeing trans* issues taken so seriously at the NUS conference. I agree that Zsuzsanna Budapest, founder of the Dianic tradition, has done wonderful work for women and women’s rights, and an all-female tradition is what many women who are victims of abuse and seek the goddess in their lives vitally need. However the requirement that they be ‘womyn-born-womyn’ is something that really makes my skin crawl. Are trans women not alienated, mocked, abused and discriminated against enough in our [patriarchal] society? I was born and raised female; I have a womb and a functioning menstrual cycle; I have the potential to give birth. I didn’t choose to be born this way and while I recognise my biological sex as female and generally conform to the female gender norms, I otherwise don’t put myself inside of a gender binary. So for me the thought of strongly identifying on one side of the gender binary but being rejected from a single-sex group based on what’s between your legs makes my blood boil. Of-course not all women identifying as Dianic or in a women-only group feel this way, but there is a disgusting amount of transphobia in the Pagan feminist movement and it needs to stop for the sake of our sisters turning to the old gods and goddesses for love and guidance and overall, acceptance, something we’ve all been looking for in the Pagan community.

Everything I’ve written here is my own subjective opinion and of-course in no way reflects the views of all Pagans or all members of the LGBT community; I’m open to comments and counter-arguments - the spirit of debate is what keeps life interesting, one of the most valuable things I learned at the NUS LGBT conference. To conclude:

I proudly reclaim the word ‘lesbian.’

I proudly reclaim the word ‘witch.’                                                                                               

This is part of my identity – this is how I was born, this is how I will always be! I encourage others to reclaim whatever words they see fit to describe themselves and use them with pride.
So mote it be.

Sophie Horrocks, Swansea

 

Notes

 

1.      The Charge of the Goddess, Doreen Valiente