Tags
agender, asexual, book of shadows, diversity, identity, inclusivity, interesex, people of the book, trans, Wica, Wicca
Let’s go back to the early 1990s. The previous couple of decades had seen the rise of feminist groups and the Women’s Refuge movement. A growing awareness of women’s issues and the need for safe space represented by refuges, gave rise to many woman-centred or single-sex women’s groups, to create psychological safe spaces for women to share pain from inequalities or harms suffered in a patriarchal society. These groups might hold very different attitudes and it would be unwise and unmerited to view them as universally anti-male, even where the purpose of the group was to help women who had suffered from abuse by fathers or male partners. They often shared the intimate pains of womanhood – growing up as a girl, having children, experiencing sexism or prejudice at work, or perhaps just the experience of relationships from the female perspective.
As technology advanced and enabled more people to take on their preferred gender of identity, transfolk began to ask to join such cisfemale groups. Each group wrestled with the situation anew; depending on the activities they undertook, what their members felt, and what sort of person wished to enter the group; each carrying their own burden of fears, hopes and expectations. But often, it was difficult for both sides.
And I found it difficult. Like many feminists, I wasn’t certain what someone brought up as a boy could gain from discussions about all the commonalities of growing up as a girl – when you shed socks for tights; when you began to wear makeup and what you chose; what you did with your hair; how you coped with playground activities; what happened about menarche or menstruation; sex. all the usual stuff. But you know, I’d spent some years running a Bible Study group with a friend. by accident, everyone in the group was female. And they taught me so much about things I’d never experienced – about being pregnant and giving birth and motherhood. About what it was like to have to depend on someone else to earn the money. About coping with kids and schools, and coping with the system (often the NHS) as a mum.
They shared without telling me I shouldn’t be there because I hadn’t experienced it. And that taught me a whole lot of things, from motherhood to being inclusive. I learned to pass. And if, as a cisfemale I could have that privilege, what right do I have to deny it to a transfemale?
I can’t believe that no family is untouched by issues of gender-based identity. Yes, there’s the more straightforward question of sexual preference in terms of gay/lesbian/bi, but that shades into a whole range of attitudes that were hardly raised in the UK in the 90s – asexuality, agenderism and polyamory being at the less controversial end of that hidden range. I had a lesbian cousin and a bisexual aunt. My husband had a genetic malfunction on the sex chromosome that made him infertile. Shortly after being married we had to struggle with a whole range of problems arising that from that, from the nightmare of finding the right dosage of medication to societal attitudes about maleness and femaleness. You know the sort of stuff – the male disgrace about “firing blanks” or the assumption that, as a female, I’d be devastated not to have children. But the more interesting thing for me was coming to grips with the reality of how widespread genetic variations were. That not every child was born with a fixed gender; and that not every physical expression of gender married up with the genes.
This primitive education was expanded greatly for me in the 90s when I took a degree course in gender politics. I began to read the voices of different choices. Of protests about the way society forces gender on everyone, from birth. Of the babies forced through surgery so the families can tell the world they have a boy or a girl, because so many people rejected the idea that a child might be both; or neither. It made parents and aunts and grandparents and uncles and cousins and the whole family uncomfortable. And we’re still struggling with that whole thing. Society still wants people to adopt a stereotypical gender identity. Those who don’t are still left in the cold by the increasing awareness of trans. Even now; even when we talk blithely about how inclusive Wicca should be, we may confine our battles to the first three letters of LGBTI, because that’s as far as our comfort zone extends.
And so we come to Wicca. If it was difficult for relatively ordinary females leading relatively ordinary lives to accept trans and intersex and the whole Pandora’s Box of sexualities and identities they’d never thought about, how much more difficult must it be for people engaged in a major battle with society about another form of personal identity? Wicca was formed at a time when the only acceptable sexuality was straight. When everything was designed for couples. When being gay was a criminal offence; while being asexual or agender was right off the horizon and intersex was viewed with horror.
Let’s not forget that the first generation Wiccans were trailblazers. That takes a certain mindset, where you have great certainty about what you’re doing. Frequently, that is allied with certainty across the board about any part of your identity. As any of us who aren’t ‘normal’ straight white males will have encountered – fighting on too many fronts at the same time courts exclusion, even in these more enlightened times. That we are often constrained to chose one war; one ‘front’; one dimension of ourselves to defend. And let the others stay in the closet.
And there’s another problem, too. If your fellow Wiccans are taking on the world about their rights to express themselves as witches, then they may not appreciate anything perceived as an issue that makes that fight harder. They may not wish to take on the battles of someone else’s sexuality and identity. They may view it as something that can be used as a weapon to denigrate the Wica. But the longer that goes on, the more likely it is to reinforce attitudes that Wicca is this rather than that. And must stay this, in order to be authentic. And then this, as with any religion or practice, becomes frozen in a moment in time.
If we accuse the Abrahamic faiths of being too attached to the book, then surely Wicca can also suffer the accusation of being too attached to the Book of Shadows, and all the ritual ‘business’ that forms the oathbound material. That Wiccan identity is fixed in time and cannot adapt to new ideas.
But surely it’s time to move past that? To show we are not people “of the book”, like the monotheists. To demonstrate that Wicca is not Procrustean by nature, and it is some of the Wica, rather than Wicca, who are afraid to accept personal identities that go beyond a binary polarity view. To be willing to adjust the words and the concepts we use to bring in greater horizons than those brave trailblazers could foresee.
Or else we, like the monotheists, may end up imprisoning our mysteries instead of exploring them.
