You know, I have been wondering something the whole time I've been a Wiccan. Yes, this is another one of Liz's “look how her experience has changed her” stories, airing out my dirty laundry (metaphorically speaking) for the good of all.
If one looks on this website, there is no shortage of essays (especially in the teen section) detailing exactly how being openly Pagan has lead to a horrible experience of alienation and persecution for some people. I've read story after story of horribly fanatic Christians accosting Pagans and yelling obscenities and Bible verses at them. The way these anecdotes make it seem, there is a manic, foaming-at-the-mouth, Bible-brandishing Christian fundamentalist behind every corner, lying in wait.
Now, this essay is by no means meant to belittle those Pagans who have actually gone through genuine experiences like this. That is the last thing I would want to do. I know there are people who have been genuinely harassed, and my heart goes out to them.
The purpose of this essay is, however, to ask where the heck these manic Bible beaters are! I have been openly Pagan for nearly five years now, but I must get something off my chest, something shameful from my past: For a few years, I was a fluffy bunny who would wave a pentacle in everyone's face and go out of my way to bring up the fact that I was Wiccan. (“Lovely day,” someone would say. “Yes, it is,” I would respond, “especially since I'm a Witch and worship nature and the Goddess, but I don't worship Satan, and I'm not evil, and [insert self-righteous, superfluous self defense here].” Pathetic, I know.) I live in Georgia, in the depths of the Bible belt. My mother and step-father, who I live with, are Catholic, for Brigid's sake!
And yet, despite all this, I have never once been told that I will go to hell. I have never had anyone beg me to go to church with them and let Jesus into my heart. I have never been bullied due to my faith. No teacher has docked my grade because they didn't approve of my religion or even made a stink about my pentacle. None of my Christian friends even batted an eye when I told them I was Wiccan. Most of them actually thought it was kind of cool!
For a while, during my aforementioned attention-grabby, fluffy bunny phase, I even went out of my way to get a reaction from people, and all I got was a mild interest, if that. I used to comb the internet and scrutinize every televangelist program I knew about to find every reference to Wiccans being sinful, evil beings that I could. Each episode that I came across filled me with a righteous indignation, and I really liked that feeling. It made me feel like I was really a part of something. I would read stories of Pagan teens facing major intolerance at their schools and secretly want to be that person.
Finally one day, I was reading a few articles on Witchvox and realized that I was trying to validate my religion by the thoughts and feelings of others, that I was trying in a very silly way to be a martyr. I finally realized that this was not the way to be a true Wiccan because while I was searching so passionately for persecution, I was totally ignoring the true requirements, for lack of a better word, of the Wiccan faith. I tossed plastic away like it just disappeared in thin air, took long baths that used tons of hot water every couple of days, never even went outside to enjoy nature, and engaged in all sorts of other wasteful, non-Pagan behavior. I had a feeling that the Goddess and God might not be too happy with me.
How could I successfully carry the flag for downtrodden Wiccans if I didn't clean up my own backyard first? I couldn't believe what a hypocrite I had been. I came to the conclusion that I didn't want to be one of those silly teen girls who sport a pentacle and say they're a Witch just for the attention. I wanted my faith to actually mean something. It was most definitely time for some changes.
I begged and pleaded until my family instigated a recycling routine (which my mother still has trouble adhering to-I always have to rescue soda cans and bottles from the trash bag nearly every day), started to regularly take walks in the forest, cut down on my water usage, and really shifted my consciousness. Once I had accomplished all this, a funny thing happened. I no longer felt the pressing need to be persecuted for my beliefs! My fluffy bunny stage had effectively ended. I realized that I had become a “real Wiccan” in my mind, and I no longer had to resort to toddler-esque cries for attention, and I was secure in myself.
I believe that most if not all Wiccans went through a stage like this at one point in time, usually when they first discovered this faith, so I don't look down on and sneer at others I see still in fluff mode. I just remember how I was and hope that they get their own reality check pretty soon. I still get a little twinge of the ol' martyrdom urge once in a while if a particularly inflammatory article pops up on the Witchvox news feed, but it goes away as quickly as it crops up because I know that as long as I'm at peace, it doesn't matter if anyone of any faith tries to stand in my way.
And who knows? If I do get accosted by some Bible-toting nutjob sometime, I'll be fully prepared to hold my own, but that doesn't exactly look imminent, and I'm beginning to think that that's for the best.
