2
Chapter 1
Having read those words, dear reader, you’re likely to be having feelings about some of them. How you’re feeling depends on a lot of factors: who you are and what your background has been; how you define terms like witchcraft, sorcery, magic, or queer; and, perhaps most importantly, whether or not you identify with any of those terms. You may be amused, angry, curious, delighted, disgusted, or irritated. You may object to the connection between magic and queerness, or you may wonder what I mean by one or the other term. Whatever your reaction, I want to ask you to pause a moment. Sit with that reaction, holding judgment in abeyance, and ask yourself what lies behind it. If you’re responding positively, you may see yourself reflected in my statement, feeling the little surge of excitement that comes with validation. On the other hand, if your reaction is defensive, angry, or conflicted, you may suspect my motives. Perhaps you’re worried that I’m smuggling aberrant sexuality or identity politics into magic, Neopaganism, or polytheism. You might be afraid that what I offer is a threat to your tradition and practice or even, perhaps, to your own identity. In the words of an aphorism attributed to the mystic poet Victor Anderson, grandmaster of the Feri tradition of witchcraft: “Where there’s fear, there’s power.” There’s power in all words to shape both consciousness and reality, and the more potent the words, like queer and magic, the more they can scare us. For whatever it’s worth this early in the game, I offer you my promise— my word, if you will—that I’ve chosen the words I use with the intent, not to provoke anger or fear, but to invite dialogue and contemplation. Regardless of where or how you see yourself, dear reader, I cordially invite you to read on, and enter into a dialogue with these ideas and practices. I ask that you hear me out, learn what I mean