“Calling Doctor Bombay!” Witchcraft is the fastest growing form of spirituality in a world becoming increasingly disenchanted with organized religion and its creed of hatred and exclusion — especially toward LGBT people. Now if it could only shake its mantle of misconceptions...

BY MICHAEL LIBERATORE

For many of us, the word “witch” conjures up a plethora of inaccurate images: old crones riding broomsticks on Halloween, Satan-worshipers in dank basements sacrificing virgins, Samantha Stevens.

Though Bewitched’s Samantha, Endora, and Uncle Arthur are far from repugnant stereotypes, history has not handled the witch kindly. Witchcraft, or Wicca, is perhaps the most misunderstood of all spiritual practices, largely because of media sensationalism, and demonizing by organized religion.

Christianity turned its punishing gaze toward Wicca as it sought to gain momentum in the early years of the last millennium. Wicca is a Goddess-based religion, and the patriarchal Roman Catholic Church could not bear the idea of women holding power over men. Add to the mix the sex-positive outlook of Wiccans, and you have a holy disaster in the making.

As puritanical Christianity attempted to gain power over witches, there was, understandably, resistance on the part of the masses. Who'd want to give up naked frolicking in the woods for punishing services in spartan churches? Why would anyone cede the inner power to heal to a vengeful God who often chose to ignore the pleas of his faithful? Why would women allow themselves to become second-class citizens?

So, the church began its campaign of misinformation. Nature-loving Wiccans, who do not believe in the Devil, were cast as Satan worshippers. Blood-thirsty and evil, they wanted nothing more than to corrupt the innocent, doom the word to eternal hellfire and fornicate, spread plagues, and usurp the natural order of life.

Sound familiar, LGBT readers?

The “horned God,” known as Pan, Dionysus, Priapus, and many other names, always subordinate to the Great Mother in Wicca, became “Satan,” the enemy of God in Christian tradition. Pan was the great promoter of masculine rabble-rousing, unabashed fun, and sex. Often depicted with horns and a hard-on, Pan also was known to pursue a pretty Shepherd boy or two. In the hideous Malleus Maleficarum, the manual used to “detect” and torture witches—women, mainly, who chose to live without men, who were healers and herbalists—the horned God was described as pure evil, for “the power of the Devil lies in the privy parts of men”.

Those words could have been written this decade by Pat Robertson, Jerry Falwell, or the Pope.

In the new millennium, Wicca is the fastest-growing form of spirituality, with thousands of witches listed on www.witchvox.com, covens and festivals popping up from Omaha to Osaka, and lawyers, doctors, and artists bursting from the broom closet daily. No longer tabloid oddities appearing on Jerry Springer-type TV shows, practicing witches visit respectable talk shows and publish informative books trying to finally set the record straight.

As a gay man, I discovered Wicca in Salem, Massachusetts. A recovering Catholic, I felt a spiritual void in my life that yoga and meditation didn't seem to fill. I needed something more, and while on vacation in New England, I wandered into an occult bookstore, and found the tome Wicca, by Vivianne Crowley. The book literally jumped off the shelf into my hands (okay, not literally—I don't want to perpetuate any stereotypes. But, I was oddly drawn to it from across the room). I asked the pretty, very friendly young woman at the cash register if this book was a good read.

“If you're drawn to it,” she responded with a knowing smile, “it's the perfect place to start.”

And it was.

With its personally empowering messages, its history of oppression, its honoring of the sacred feminine, its sex-positive and nature-loving themes, Wicca was what I had been hungering for-the perfect spiritual message of acceptance for a gay man.

Anxious to become “the best little witch in the world,” I devoured book after book, by authors like Raven Grimassi, Starhawk, and Dorothy Morrison. I created an altar in my basement and began to celebrate full moons and Sabbats naked as a jay-bird, and honoring my personal Goddess and God. I investigated candle magick. I was in high gear.

Naturally, I wanted to share my spiritual discovery with my friends. Since finding Wicca, I felt more balanced, more at one with the universe, more accepted by the wondrous natural world that had created me.

“You're a what?” my best friend asked, incredulous.

“A Witch,” I replied, “but it's not what you think…”

“You worship the Devil?” he asked.

“Absolutely not,” I answered, feeling as defensive and “less than” as I'd felt when revealing my sexual identity to homophobic relations. “There is no Devil in Wicca. It's a nature-based practice that tells us the Divine is within each of us; we have the power to change our lives. We don't have to rely on some distant deity…”

“Sounds way too weird… I don't want to talk about it” was his reply, and we haven't discussed it since.

Way too weird. The earth created by an old man in a white, flowing beard in six days… woman formed from a man's rib… drinking wine transformed to blood each and every Sunday… that's not weird. But believing that each individual has the power to create a better life for himself, and treating all things in nature as our equals…that's weird.

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Bill is a Wicca practitioner for over two years, but is also well versed in Astrology and Tarot. Bill is an out gay man, and a proud witch. We met at a Wiccan study group, and was very enthusiastic about speaking up his spiritual path.

“Ever since I was a child, I had a strong interest in esoteric, occult, and spiritual subjects,” he begins. “I've studied astrology for over 30 years, was president of several Astrological associations in Boston—where I'm from—and have just about as much time under my belt with the Tarot, Hermeticism, the I Ching, Huna, Spiritual Psychology, and other similar topics.”

Bill and I agree that occult interests seem to start in childhood. Not an obsession with demons, but an awareness, at an early age, that the teachings of whatever religion in which we were “schooled” just didn't seem to fit. I remember being told in Catechism class that I asked “too many questions.” Add to the mix “feeling different” due to developing sexuality, and LGBT folks are primed and ready to tackle the spiritual world of Wicca.

“Unfortunately, because so much of our struggle for equality has been against organized religion, many LGBT people forgo religion, and to a certain extent spirituality,” Bill adds.

As Bill and I chat about coming out of the broom closet, and the difficulties that, even in 2008, it entails, I find my own experience was not an isolated incident.

“Basically, unless [people] know someone Wiccan, most are unfamiliar with our rituals and the rest of the craft. Few understand the fact that Wicca seamlessly blends spirituality with the natural cycle of life, and respect for the earth. For me, Wicca provides a fuller understanding of what life itself is all about, and how we can interact with the forces of nature that cause the world to be as it is. Understanding these forces is the first step in learning, ever so carefully, how to use them to make a difference in the world.”

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Seamus is a High Priest in both the Cabot and Gardnerian traditions of Wicca, and the self-proclaimed “West Hollywood Wiccan Welcome Wagon.” Seamus and I are chatting over tea, discussing Wicca, and how it fits so perfectly with the LGBT community.

“When I was 13, I was in my public library looking up different religions in preparation for my upcoming Roman Catholic confirmation,” he tells me. “When I came across Wicca, I was blown away. It was like someone looked inside my head and wrote down all the things I secretly thought, but never spoke about. I had an immediate sense of being connected to something, and all of a sudden, [there was] a name for it and for whom I was. That feeling has never gone away.”

Seamus is a cute, perky twenty-something with blond hair and an easy smile. Not at all how the media would portray a “witch.” He's more of the boy-next-door than the demon-down-the-block.

“Wicca speaks strongly to LGBT people because it's all about practicing in a space of liminality,” Seamus continues. “Casting a circle, which is central to Wiccan practice, places one outside of the realm of mankind. LGBT people live outside of the social conventions of their communities. We must be strong and confident in ourselves to flourish so far from the center of what everyone else calls normal. [We] make good witches.”

I've found this true as well. We have a sensitivity—a humility-about understanding the ways of the world, and the masculine and feminine polarity that exists in each of us.

“There is also a very long-standing and obvious tradition of LGBT people serving as priests, psychics, and shamans throughout time,” Seamus adds.

He agrees that coming out of the “broom closet” is difficult, even for members of the younger generation, a disheartening thought in today's “anything goes” youth culture.

“I know of one Wiccan High Priest school teacher who was openly gay and never had a problem at work until he came out as a witch,” Seamus explains. “All of a sudden, people were picketing his classes, saying they didn't want their children being taught by a witch. “[Some people believe] that witches worship Satan. Hearing that tells you that they have absolutely no idea what they're talking about. It's like saying that Buddhists worship Satan. It makes no sense.”

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It's a brisk Sunday afternoon, and I'm at the Biltmore Millennium Hotel in downtown Los Angeles. It's a fairly surreal scene: the opulent hotel is hosting both a Wiccan fair, and the Debutante Ball simultaneously. Teenaged girls in pristine white gowns wander among Goth folks in black capes. I'm entranced. “Panpipes,” a local occult shop, is sponsoring the fair, and it resembles a trade show for hip Pagans. Booths line the ballroom, offering everything from ritual tools to new-agey music. There are also fresh herbs for spells, jewelry, and a row of very busy psychics and seers. On stage, a band is setting up—dressed in black, of course. I learn that I've just missed Raven Grimassi's talk. Bummer.

What I love about the fair is that it attracts a diverse crowd—as diverse as the practices that encompass Wicca. There are motherly middle-aged types, tragically hip teens, married couples pushing baby strollers, and of course, the black-clad Goths. Most everyone is welcoming, personable, and knowledgeable. It's a great place for the neophyte to investigate the Goddess religion scene.

I purchase a beautiful pentacle, listen to the live music, chat up a few old friends, and head out of the ballroom-and into the parade of white-clad debs-as I head for my car. It's been an affirming day for a Wiccan. Nice to see my bretheren out and about, especially at a venue as mainstream as the Biltmore Hotel!

As the general population experiences dissatisfaction with organized religion and its discriminatory practices, I suspect more and more people will investigate the ancient, nature-based religions that preach respect and equity for all living things. Mainstream gatherings will become more commonplace, and LGBT people will discover, with a sense of relief, that they are welcomed, not demonized by the practioners.