Behind Enemy Lines

You know what Easter weekend means to a pagan?

It's a neon-lit billboard that says "One of your kind will never be President." The letters are an attractive pastel pink, white and gold.

Seriously, at this point Christmas is secularized enough that I can almost close my eyes and pretend its just a holiday where I get gifts for those I love and receive some in return. It's self delusion, but I can almost, maybe, just a little pretend that Christmas isn't simply a self-righteous, uncaring exultation in unquestioned cultural dominance.

But Easter.... it's a theological endzone dance, a celebration of smug religious superiority. Almost every fuckin' part of the holiday is stolen- blatantly plagiarized- from one of my people's. But that doesn't matter, because the winners write history, right? Sociological might makes political right, huh?

"Hey, little pagan," the Easter Bunny says comfortingly, "at least my celebrants aren't killing yours.... recently. You go ahead and enjoy your second class citizen ship, little pagan.

You enjoy the fact that though pagans serve at almost twice the rate of non-pagans in the US Armed Forces (18% of adult pagan population, vs 11% of adult non-pagans, according to Witchesvoice.com) they almost never have in-unit chaplains of their own faith.

Enjoy the fact that if you're unfortunate to be an imprisoned pagan, earning the right to celebrate your faith- something every fuckin other convict in the joint takes for granted- is almost as hard as escaping through a tunnel, Shawshank Redemption style.

Enjoy the fact that for Christians (especially wealthy ones), it's a three (or four) day weekend, while your underpaid pagan ass is sweating to cook food for people who believe that since you haven't accepted the light of the fuckin' Lord JAYY-ZUS, you're doomed to an eternity of torture, mutilation and devil sodomy.

Enjoy the fact that Pope Hitler Youth I and his inner circle seems to be above the law.

Enjoy the fact that in a "right to work" state, like say... Texas.... you can be promoted on Wednesday, taken out to a congratulatory lunch by the boss, not pray before the meal, explain that you're a Wiccan and don't do that, and somehow be fired for 'not fitting in with the corporate culture' on Thursday. And if that last example sounds a bit specific, that's because it happened to me in 2005.

But hey, at least the Christian majority isn't killing us.... like they've done before, many, many, many times.

This year.

They're just planning to (the Hutaree), or being sentenced for killing a non-believer last summer (Scott Roeder). Or working to restrict the rights of gays, pagans, and anyone who has the audacity to face Mecca to pray (almost every elected Republican in D.C.). Progress right.

Okay- this is a pretty dark, gloomy post. I'm in a fairly dark place- work sucks, I'm broke all the damn time, and my computer died yesterday, plus I always get depressed around Christian holidays, because of the sheer enraged lonliness I feel.

So let me end with a bit of light. There is one kid who comes into my restaurant about 3 times a week with her grandparents- little 12-13 year old kid, looks exactly like the comic book version of Kitty Pryde. Anyway, she came in wearing a pentacle one time, so I always make it a point to say 'hi' to her. (I think the grandparents believe I'm some kinda crazy pedophile at this point.)

So why? Because a lot of the time, I feel like a soldier trapped behind enemy lines, like a far less competent Chuck Norris battling the Conservative Christian version of the V.C. So this little girl- hell, I don't even know her name- I consider her my sister. She's like a fellow soldier, shot down in hostile territory. I can't do anything else to help her, but damn it, I can say hi every time she comes in.

Anyway, the point of this rant?
Fuck, I don't know. Maybe the moral of the story is this: if you know a pagan, give 'em a hug today or tomorrow. Buy 'em lunch. Something nice.

If they're anything like me (and in a lot of ways, I hope they're not) they could probably use it.

Anyway, Blessed Be,

CHRIS