When I was younger, I was a born-again, Holiness Pentecostal Christian. I even became a licensed and ordained minister, and was far above my peers in knowing the Bible (I could quote entire sections verbatim). As a teenager, many looked up to me in how I was very ethical and demonstrated morals. Of course, though, I wasn’t perfect, even though the church taught that we should be “perfect in everything.” Perfection was the goal; our prize of striving towards excellence. One slip, and if we died, no matter how much we worked to be good Christians, we’d go to Hell.

Born-Again Christian Struggles
As a born-again Christian, I enthusiastically embraced this religion. It was different – new and shiny. The attendees were 98% African-American, and being Holiness Pentecostal, there was a lot of shouting, music, dancing in the spirit, and hard brimstone and hellfire preaching.

I believed in it, though. Wholeheartedly. The energy was palpable. I could sense it. In addition, solid prayers lasting an hour plus frequent fasting seemed to awaken things in me: prophecy, healing, and a way to channel energies for such things as laying on hands. But, in all of that, I encountered some problems: my sexuality, books which I was not allowed to read, and the chaos that impacted my family because of religious obligations.

Sexuality
Since I was 5 years old, I liked guys. I can’t remember a time when I didn’t. To girls at the time, I was curious. But my attraction to other boys (as a kid, not an adult) really caused me a lot of internal problems. Problems that I took out on other family members. I was a mimic, so I behaved as others did around me. But, I was afraid to be different, and I felt shame. It wasn’t because I was threatened by an adult. No one knew at the time. It was simply an instinct to hide this side of me.

When I hit puberty, we were attending the church. As a result, I didn’t have a normal adolescence. I was strictly held in certain boundaries: the men at the church wanted me to behave like them. Shake hands like them, “bro hug” like them, and dress like them. When I was younger I walked around in my mom’s heels and played with her makeup when no one was around. I really enjoyed feeling like I was performing for an audience. I loved women’s clothing. I thought they were more elegant and chic compared to what I saw men wore, which was boring and lacked color and flair.

I knew that I would encounter issues with the church. Again, as a mimic I followed along with the crowd. I carried myself in school and around others with a smug sense of superiority because I was going to Heaven and I was no longer a sinner. Yes, I could still sin, but I needed to immediately ask God for forgiveness so I wouldn’t be in Hell. I hid what I could, but unfortunately the suppression of my sexual identity manifested in other ways, such as shamefully still looking at guys and having nervous breakdowns behind closed doors. I hurt people. I hurt my family. I had a nasty temper needing to always be right about things.

Books
My dad had an extensive library filled with books on the paranormal and metaphysical. When I was in fifth grade, I began my interest in witchcraft. I read a book on the occult, along with Madame Helena Blavatsky’s writings. Madame Helena, for those not in the know, was the founder of a movement known as Theosophy. Theosophy made a powerful influence on the occult scene in England and the United States in the mid-19th century. It would influence such occult pioneers like Dion Fortune. There were even concepts from this spiritual movement which crept into Wicca, such as the word Summerland, the place where witches are believed to go to when they die.

He had a lot of information that I studied in-depth: chakras, pranic breathing techniques, healing, reincarnation, UFO’s, out-of-body experiences, spirit possession, and healing. His bookshelves were also filled with various books on Nature, archaeology, anthropology, and cryptozoology. I loved it.

But, when we converted to Christianity, my father refused to convert. He hated churches and the Bible. He would often take out different versions of the Bible and point out inconsistencies. He never wanted to go back to that limited viewpoint of the world. He wanted me and my siblings to learn how to “expand [our] horizons” and explore the wonders of the world.

As a result of this refusal to convert, our pastor quoted the Bible. Acts 19:19 stated:

Also, many of those who had practiced magic brought their books together and burned them in the sight of all. And they counted up the value of them, and it totaled fifty thousand pieces of silver. (Acts 19:19, NJKV).

Fifty thousand pieces of silver, if they were silver denarii, would equal today to about $5 million dollars. If they were silver talents, then the cost is enormous, at about $1.5 billion! All of that knowledge and wisdom lost to the ages. My passion, however, was reading and researching. I carried that over into my Christian days, but the pastor said that in order to free my father and household from demonic spirits (everyone not saved had a demon, in a view echoed in the film the Matrix, wherein everyone not unplugged was a potential agent and therefore threat), we had to burn the books.

By the house we had a metal barrel. Immediately, anything that was remotely metaphysical or encouraged it, was destroyed. I mean Disney videos, video games, books, and any films deemed inappropriate. While this purging was happening, my siblings and I quickly hid stuff. Yes, I was a hypocrite. I struggled to do the right thing, but I felt so much heartbreak, and I secretly protected a couple of books. One of them is a first edition hardback of the book “The Mists of Avalon.” My dad read that book nightly to me when I was 7 and 8 years old. What happened after the Great Purge? No change. My dad still refused to go.

The Occult
When I was older, I left the church. I wanted nothing more to do with it. My love of research influenced me to find another path. I wanted spirituality, but one which wasn’t damning about who I was as a person. I was messed up and, like my siblings, had PTSD about so much. Were we going to Hell for real? Were we wrong? And a zillion other questions.

But explore I did. I went for it and just did not care anymore. Based on my independent research, my dad was right about the Bible and its contradictions and shortcomings. It wasn’t being interpreted correctly; verses were picked that fell in line with the doctrine of the church. A lot of other things were ignored.

That’s when I returned to the inspiration of my youth: the occult. Not knowing where I was going or what I was doing, I read everything I could. I didn’t realize how much was involved in spiritual awakenings: deities, tools, altars, and seasonal celebrations. But often authors had disagreements about certain correspondences. However, unlike the Christian church I grew up in, no one called out anyone else. Differences of opinions were fine. Some stuff was not compromised, such as authors who were part of secret Mystery Traditions and felt that their way was the way according to their unified practices and philosophies. I had to learn the difference because of the PTSD involved when it came to opinions on certain matters.

Either way, my sexuality was also vindicated. There were plenty of figures in Neopaganism and Witchcraft who expressed their identity proudly. I wasn’t lost anymore. I could at last find some peace among people who would accept me for what I was.

The Benefits of Witchcraft
The more I studied, the more I was intrigued about a religion whose sole teachings happened to be about “harm none.” Or virtues found in Heathenry. Or the triad sayings in Druidry. I could make my own moralistic decisions and create my own path. I could ask questions and answers were readily given. Or if they didn’t know, they would tell me. No one pretended that they had all of the answers. Later, however, I learned painfully that some figures in the Craft felt that they were superior and filled groups with gossip about other groups and people. Don’t get me wrong, I didn’t exactly put people on a pedestal. But my Christian upbringing instilled in me a penchant to “respect your elders” and not contradict anyone if you felt differently about a subject. To many folks, that was fine. To a few, it wasn’t. I had to learn how to navigate the differences.

Be that as it may, I learned a lot about personal responsibility and not blaming anything on the devil. I learned about self-development. I learned that I could free myself from my Christian upbringing. Although, to be sure, it took many, many years for that to happen. I’d have nightmares about being back in the church and hearing those sermons about Hell. Emotionally and spiritually, I was still connected to that energy. It took a very long time for those cords to be cut finally.

Witchcraft introduced me again to who I felt I was. It didn’t mean I never ran into mistakes, because I did. A lot. It wasn’t perfect. And yes, there were politics in groups. Many groups imploded because of issues. I realized quickly that if people left Christianity angrily at a distrust of authorities, they would bring that attitude into Neopagan and Witchcraft circles. A bunch of angry people trying to be in charge is always a recipe for disaster. Gossip kills groups more than anything. But the key to work with that, I learned, was that wherever humans come together, there be politics. It was just about educating oneself on ethics, choices, and boundaries. And one can always vote with their feet, as the saying goes.

Witchcraft opened me up to the paranormal and metaphysical. I saw pictures of occultists’ houses with large libraries. Books were their church, their sacred places. Honoring Nature and themselves in whatever way they thought was best. Artists, anarchists, lawful citizens, historians, lawyers, teachers, immigrants: people from different backgrounds and races who felt a pull to the Other. There is still so much to learn in Witchcraft. The journey never ends. That, more than anything, thrills me the most.

Eirene kai Hugieia!
(Peace and Health!)
Oracle