Thursday, July 19, 2012

the gendered politics of sacrifice

I'm torn between my desire to write about this, as a theoretical exercise, and my aversion to any tendency towards policing individual choice. I will settle with a bit of disclaimer before I begin.

I have no interest in policing choices or identities. Literally none. Exploring the cultural contexts of those choices does not translate into criticism of individual choices or spiritual practice.


Few of us come to paganism, or any "alternative" spiritual or cultural identities, without some awareness of the archetypes that precede us. We may embrace them, flirt with them, or eschew them entirely, but we know them. In some ways our identities are bordered by these archetypes - providing inspiration, condemnation, or some mix of the two.


Regarding paganism, two at least spring to mind: the patchwork pants-wearing, long-haired hippie, and the all-black clothed wearer of a gigantic pentagram. Of course, you're claiming that you're neither of those, but I'd bet that there is either a mushroom shaped black light candle or a cheap spike wristband in your box of high school memorabilia, if not both. And, the "yeah, I'm Pagan, but I'm not, like, weird," is an archetype, too.

My point is not that we are all walking derivatives of terrible 90's movies, but that our identities are informed by cultural narratives. We don't develop these things in a void. My decision to cut my hair, or leave it long, or wear a peasant skirt to the office, or a corset to the movie theater - these happen against a backdrop of culturally constructed signifiers that both influence my decisions and the perceptions of those who witness them.

(Not that I am concerned with the witnesses, in this post. I am mostly discussing the psychological and psychic internal processes. Bear with me on this.)

My point is: if I get a tattoo of a pentagram on my forehead, I am doing it against a cultural backdrop of people who have associations with facial tattoos and with pentagrams. I am doing it in concert with my own culturally informed associations regarding both of those topics, as well.

I am, perhaps, claiming an identity as a bit of a freak. (I don't think that is a bad word, just FYI.) I am branding myself as a member of an alternative religion. I am tapping into an archetypal identity, and maybe, if I do it right, claiming some of the power that is associated with the group psychology of that identity.

Still with me?

If I were to I explain that tattoo as "just some ink, whatevs," I am likely being intellectually and spiritually dishonest. It is not just some ink. It is loaded with significance in this marginally shared conscious experience we call society, and because I am part of society, it also has significance for me.

Similarly, a head covering? Not just a piece of cloth. Really, really not. If it were, you wouldn't be doing it.

Don't freak, yet, kids. Remember - I am not about to make the argument that people shouldn't do it, or that people who do should expect negative responses. I promise!

A decision to wear a veil or other head covering as part of one's spiritual practice, though, is absolutely taking place within the context of, against the cultural backdrop of, religious women who veil.

That decision is informed by all of the things we think and know about religious women, period.

(If you're about to argue that men cover their heads, too, go Google Image "head covering." We'll wait.)

What's your first image, in your own mind, when you consider spiritual devotion? What's your archetype of devoutness? Of piety? What are the visual signifiers of religious dedication?

How many of them are gendered?

We might talk Catholic nuns (past or present), the Delphic Oracle, or the virgins tending Brigid's fire, but: our cultural story of piety? Of sacrifice in dedication to spiritual things? It's a story largely about women. Women in cloisters, women scrubbing temple floors, women visibly demonstrating their submission via head coverings.

It is not a story of leadership, but it is a story of spiritual identity, and that identity holds power as a cultural narrative.

I wasn't raised Catholic, but my extended family was, and I was around it enough to long, sometimes, for access to that identity. The pious woman. The one who is early for Mass, three times a week. Still wearing a chapel veil even though no one does that anymore. Alternately, to be reborn in the thirteenth century as a woman too sanctified to eat.

I think we revere that devout woman. Quiet, chaste, unflinching. She might disturb us, individually, but collectively? We find her admirable. I don't think I am the only one who has ever wished idly for access to what I have perceived as her power.

We don't have many markers, specific to the pagan community, of that kind of devotion. We don't have any standard visual indicators of wow, this person is fucking serious about their shit. Even if we came up with some, they might not be effective communications in the realm of the larger culture.

But head covering? The overculture's got that one. We may not know exactly what you mean by it, but we're pretty sure it's about service to your deity of choice. We're pretty sure you're tapping into that line of quiet, chaste, unflinching women, the ones who were fucking serious about their shit.

But what does that seriousness look like? What are the larger implications of gender divisions in spiritual service?

Women's religious devotion being framed as submission, as sacrifice - this is not a new concept in the world. A woman's primary path to religious or spiritual enlightenment being explicitly via submission and sacrifice - that isn't new, either.

Am I disputing your personal religious decisions, if you feel called to a path marked with submission or sacrifice? Fuck no. I am also not interested in getting in between you and your gods. Promise.


Am I curious, or maybe a little concerned, about the gendered dichotomy between service and leadership influencing pagan communities more than it already does? Yeah.

Am I further concerned about this kind of thing further contributing to gender essentialist weirdnesses within the community? Yup.

Am I skeptical, just a bit, of women who claim that, because they chose to start wearing a head  covering, they are not being influenced by patriarchal narratives about what women's devotion is supposed to look like? Pretty much.

Do I believe that there is power* in the archetypal identity of a veiled woman, and that wearing a head covering might advance someone's path and bring them into closer relationship with their deities? Hell yes.

Do I believe that it is possible to tap into an archetypal identity just a little bit, incorporating only your favorite bits? Not really. (See: naming your cats after gods.)

I don't really have a good conclusion to this, because I don't really have any conclusions. It's not an identity or a practice I am playing with. As a feminist, though (and a little bit on the radical side) I do feel that it's worth discussing the cultural contexts and consequences of our decisions, and the forces that shape our identities. As a practitioner, I am fascinated by the energy stored in the archetypes we draw upon. As someone who studies neo-patriarchal religious groups, I am particularly interested in this archetype.

As someone who meant to go to sleep hours ago, I am going to stop writing now.

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* I am using "power" here in a magickal sense, not in a social, economic, or political one. I am, for the purposes of this post, avoiding discussion of women who are forced into specific dress, including head coverings, because it's simply too much to tackle at once, although obviously that custom/phenomenon/oppression is attached to the archetype as well.






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