She Changes Everything She Touches:
Ethnographic Journeys
of Self Discovery (1)
by Tanice G. Foltz and Wendy Griffin
in Composing Ethnography: Alternative
Forms of Qualitative Writing
Edited by Carolyn Ellis and
Arthur P. Bochner
Walnut Creek, CA: AltaMira
Press, 1996. pps301-330.
This paper is a reflexive
account of our fieldwork experiences with a coven of Dianic Witches, a
feminist religious group that professes to be an agent of empowerment and
change. In this account we examine ourselves as legitimate subjects
of study, revealing how we were influenced through feminist ritual and
magic and how those changes affected who we have become. Although
many sociologists of religion have felt the pull of "conversion" and have
been moved by their fieldwork experiences (see Brown 1985, 1991; Forrest
1986; Jules-Rosette 1975), this paper is the first to address the transformative
process of doing fieldwork in the context of feminist ritual. We
inject our voices into the experimental movement in ethnography that seeks
to heal the artificial separation of subject and object, modulate the "authorial
voice," and acknowledge our subjective involvement in the creation of social
knowledge.
Our Reflexive Voices
The encounter with ethnographic
others is a therapeutic quest for meaning, a search for identity that can
be considered a form of healing in the broadest sense...it includes the
process of ethnographic writing as well (Danforth 1989, p. 300).
Postmodern
ethnographers reject the concept of "objective truth" and remind us that
writing ethnography is cultural construction, not cultural reporting.
Thus ethnographic writing is "always a construction of the self as well
as of the other" (Stacey 1991, p. 115). Since all knowledge is socially
constructed, the researcher, as the instrument of data collection and interpretation,
plays a central role in creating this knowledge. That is why Stanley
and Wise (1983) emphasize the importance of researcher "vulnerability,"
of beginning with our experiences as people in a particular situation.
This
vulnerability has the potential for unexpected consequences. While
it is clear that field researchers will affect the members of the setting
through their interaction over time, it is not immediately as obvious that
researchers themselves often are changed by the research process.
Some fieldworkers report self transformation through the research experience,
while, for others, this may be experienced as a "journey" of self discovery.(2)
Reinharz (1992, p. 194) claims: "Many feminist researchers report being
profoundly changed by what they learn about themselves. Changes may
involve completely reconceptualizing a phenomenon and completely revising
one's worldview." Thorne goes even farther and argues that:
What I have come to see...is
that there is a deep logic to this way of writing, that these personal
experiences were neither confessional, minor preliminaries, nor mere 'how
it was done' appendages to the main study, but were closely tied to and
even generative of the study and its substantive findings (in Krieger 1991,
p. 250).
Informed
by Reinharz's (1982) experiential analysis and Marcus and Cushman's (1982)
exploration of ethnographies as texts, interpretive sociologists have connected
with the growing movement of experimental ethnography. This "experimental
moment" (Marcus and Fischer 1986) values the narrative (Maines 1993; Richardson
1990, 1994), uses researcher experiences as primary data (Ellis 1991),
and studies lived experience through investigating subjectivity (Denzin
1991; Denzin and Lincoln 1994; Ellis and Flaherty 1992). Speaking
to the representation of "partial truths" (Clifford 1986), experimental
ethnographers are self-consciously including their subjective involvement
in the creation of texts (Ellis 1995; Linden 1993). Counting ourselves
as part of this movement, we start from our situated experience as women
and field researchers, and make our direct experience of the world and
the research process the foundation for our knowledge as social scientists.
While
writing this paper we found ourselves resisting the rhetoric of authority,
authenticity, objectivity, and a "disinterested" perspective, all characteristic
of traditional ethnographic writing (see Clifford, 1983). Similar
to Krieger (1991, p. 162), we decided that our resistance reflected our
struggle with "alienated habits of research," that encourage an artificial
separation of the researcher and the researched. As a result, we
have attempted to modulate our academic "authorial voices" so that our
ethnographic journeys of self-discovery can be "heard." In the following
pages we invite the reader along as we reveal our stories of self transformation
through immersion into the world of feminist Witchcraft and magic.
Our Identities Prior
to the Research
In order
to show the changes we underwent, we need to reveal a bit about who we
were before we began our study and how the research came about. Entree
was gained through a particularly bright student of Wendy's, who stood
up in class and announced she was a "Dianic priestess and feminist Witch."
She invited everyone to a ritual her coven was organizing. Initially, neither
us of was interested, but for slightly different reasons.
Wendy:
I had been a lecturer
in women's studies and sociology for three years and a long-time feminist
activist at the local and state level. The only contact I had with
feminist Witchcraft was
in the late 1970s at a NOW
conference, when a scruffy-looking woman entered a restaurant, sat down
on the floor next to the cash register and began to chant loudly. I had
no idea what was happening and frankly found it silly. In the early 1970s,
however, I'd been briefly involved with a group that experimented with
parapsychology so this made me somewhat curious about my student's group,
but not enough to go to the ritual alone.
Tanice:
Although I held feminist
values, I was not an activist. Wendy and I shared an office
at school and she invited me to the ritual with her. My immediate response
was "no thanks." It sounded too weird. Through previous research on an
alternative healing group, I had experienced various forms of ritual and
altered states of consciousness, and I had great respect for the mind-altering
techniques I had learned (see Foltz 1987, 1994). I did not want to "play
with fire" in a group about which I knew nothing. Finally, our curiosity
overcame our reservations and we decided to accept the invitation.
Spring Equinox Ritual:
Our Initial Reactions
Tanice:
In spite of my decision
to attend, I was more than a little frightened about what to expect and
I was extremely anxious while driving there. Not only was I fearful
of "Witches," but the idea of "radical, feminist separatists" scared me.
When we arrived, a huge red-headed woman greeted us and I was even frightened
of her size. Although it's embarrassing now, I categorized the nearly
30 women who participated as "lesbian" and experienced a homophobic reaction
that I couldn't shake. This reaction surprised me, especially since
I've had gay male friends. I was extremely uncomfortable and, when
the ritual began, I was absolutely terrified by a woman called Raging Dove
who yelled her intention to create separate communities for "women loving
women." In spite of this, I found the chanting and guided visualizations,
as well as the themes of the ritual--honoring the coming Springtime and
the connection between mother and daughter--all deeply moving. I
began to believe this could be a fascinating research setting.
Wendy:
Coming from a family of straight,
lesbian, and gay members, and having spent many years around feminist activists,
I was comfortable with women of a different sexual orientation. Aletheia,
my student who greeted us at the door, played hostess and introduced us
to everyone. I found the ritual strange and kind of fun, but not particularly
moving. During the "feast" after the ritual, I got involved in a passionate
discussion with Raging Dove about radical feminist separatism, with which
I was familiar as an intellectual exercise but not as a deeply-held personal
belief and lived experience. I found myself being lectured to about feminist
principles, a very unusual and uncomfortable experience for me. I struggled
to balance the roles of feminist, polite guest, and the role I then thought
appropriate for a professor in a student's home, with its attendant hierarchical
shadings. On reflection, I'm not sure I succeeded at any of these
roles. When Tanice wanted to leave, I was ready.
We
later discussed the prospect of doing research with the group. Tanice was
certain there was something important going on in the setting. I
wasn't that sure. I was afraid they were "kooks" and, to be honest, I didn't
want to do research on anything that I thought could discredit the women's
movement. In addition, I was on the job market and had to consider how
this research setting would look to the academic world. (3) I wish
I could say that my decision to do this research was due to increased consciousness,
but in the end it was because I needed a research topic, the Witches were
there and welcoming, and Aletheia was no longer my student. I contacted
the coven and we gained permission to do participant-observation. As part
of the "research bargain" we agreed to actively participate in the group's
activities to our level of comfort. Our presence at the Summer Solstice
ritual marked the beginning of our journeys of self-transformation.
Our team
research in the coven spanned from Spring Equinox 1988 through Summer Solstice
1989. We used a triangulation of qualitative methods, engaging in
participant-observation, taking fieldnotes, conducting interviews, and
gathering information on Witchcraft from books, newsletters, and magazines.
Although
we initially took "peripheral membership researcher roles" (Adler and Adler
1987, p. 36), which allowed us to maintain a certain distance between us
and them, the Witches socialized us whenever we met. While we always
arrived for ritual at the time requested, coven members arrived according
to "pagan standard time," meaning whenever they got there. During
these pre-ritual sessions, often spanning several hours, we learned a great
deal about ceremony and ritual and gained considerable understanding of
coven dynamics. We attended ritual planning sessions and eight major
rituals (Sabbats), most of which took place in the home of Priestesses
Aletheia and Spiderwoman, as well as weekend retreats in the mountains,
a wedding, and a funeral.
Upon
entering the setting our initial research question was, "What is going
on here, and how is it feminist or political?" Later on, however,
our focus turned to examining how Dianic Witchcraft, or feminist Wicca,
functions as a religion, and to explore coven dynamics and the use of ritual
(see Lozano and Foltz 1990).(4) Our interview questions centered
on life histories, involvement in Dianic Witchcraft and coven activities,
and the magical training each had undergone.
Some
time after publishing our original paper, we began to discuss how we had
changed since beginning the study. This led us to re-examine our old fieldnotes
for the purpose of turning the lens on ourselves. We treated our fieldnotes
as continuous histories (Marcus and Cushman 1982) and in those pages of
notes we found subtexts that addressed issues of identity and change.
For these
feminist Witches, the personal and spiritual are viewed as political.
A major goal of the "Craft" is to eliminate the patriarchal "mindframe"
and to replace it with feminist consciousness and actions that lead to
women's liberation from oppression (Spretnak 1982) and to eventually eliminate
all oppression. The Craft's emphasis is on personal experience and
growth, and awakening the "power within," or the immanent Goddess (Starhawk
1988). The "Goddess," which is symbolized as an autonomous female
divinity, is also a metaphor for the earth, the Great Mother, and the interconnections
between every living thing. Feminist Witches experience the Goddess
through ritual and meditative techniques, which they sometimes refer to
as "magic." Noted Witch and author Starhawk defines magic as "the
art of changing consciousness at will...the psychology/technology of immanence"
(1988, p. 13).
Tanice:
When we arrived for the Summer
Solstice ritual I felt more relaxed, more comfortable, and less intimidated
than the first time there. Aletheia was the only one home, and she
showed me how to "anoint" my candle by selecting and rubbing special oils
on it which were designed to bring something to me or to chase it away.
She further explained the process of "empowering yourself and your requests"
by carving Witches' runes--ancient alphabetical symbols--on my candles.
The
ritual that night focused on transforming gender identities into those
of our own making. At one point, Spiderwoman dropped a match into a small
cauldron on the altar, and it poofed into flame. We were instructed to
"sacrifice the unproductive," symbolized by paper poppets. As we
threw these into the fire, the Witches called out their sacrifices:
"wanting to be liked by everyone," "being a nice girl," "thinking I can
always help," and so on. Aletheia, dressed in an animal headdress and carrying
a bow, then invoked the Goddess Diana and aimed an imaginary arrow upward.
She spoke her magical intention, "to not be afraid of being wild," and
we followed her example: "to write," "to be an artist," "to teach revolution!"
The "magic" focused on creating strong self images and goals and was clearly
different from any I had ever heard of before. (5) Hearing
the women's vulnerabilities and affirmations helped to demystify Witchcraft,
and I became aware that, beyond the term "Witch" and beyond what I perceived
to be their lesbian identification, we as women had much in common.
I was impressed by their ritual focus on giving up taken-for-granted gender
identities, which are at the heart of women's oppression.
Tanice:
The Lammas ritual celebrates
the first fruits of the harvest. Spiderwoman began the ritual with a prayer-like
chant focusing on the need for rain (we were having a drought), and the
necessity of nourishing our personal projects, ourselves, and the earth.
While she relayed this message, she transformed before my eyes, and I later
attempted to record it:
Spiderwoman is so poetic
with her words and her style. Her face changes from normal life-space into
the ritual space; her mouth curves downward like an upside down happy face...It
looks very serious. She sways gently from side to side, slightly turning
with her shoulders. She makes an impact on her listeners, her words
are carefully chosen. Her words go deep, they hit deep places. I
recognize her words... they ring true.
During
the ritual we sang songs for healing and chanted the sound "Ma."
The group started the Ma chant in a very low pitch and eventually it spiraled
upward and around the circle, as each person continued the sound after
taking a breath. I was awestruck by the effect of the chant, punctuated
by one woman's hauntingly beautiful voice. I felt transported into
an altered state:
There was a great deal of chanting
tonight, the chanting most definitely put me in an altered state of conscious-ness.
The sound was all-encompassing...it seemed to clear out the cobwebs in
my head. ...The sounds that came from this group are phenomenal... Most
people do not experience this kind of release, power, strength, togetherness.
It had an incredible effect. I was drawn totally into it, totally
participating, not self-reflecting, as now.
Afterward,
a knife was passed around and each woman cut away a hair, symbolizing something
nonproductive to be pruned from our lives. We called out, "procrastination,"
"wasting time" and moved to more macro issues of "pollution," and "AIDS,"
while placing our hair in the burning cauldron. As we sprinkled water on
a bowl of earth on the altar, we made commitments to ourselves, the women's
community, and the planet. I listened to the others' pledges and
thought seriously about my commitment. When my turn came, I vowed
to begin recycling newspapers and aluminum cans.
Near
the end of the ritual, someone started "libations," toasts of gratitude
to the Goddess. Although many were personal, several concerned Wendy
and me. We were told they felt comfortable with "our new sisters
Tanice and Wendy"; one woman thanked us for asking questions that made
her think, another said she appreciated our presence. At one point,
Wendy said, "Sociology isn't the only reason I'm here," and held up the
chalice of wine. Someone prompted me and I took the chalice and thanked
the group for allowing us to be with them. Full of a warm tingly feeling,
I put my hand on my heart and said, "Sure this is a great research setting,
but it's what's being experienced in here that counts." Spiderwoman
smilingly replied, "We know." I felt very alive and connected to
the women in the group.
The
end result of this ritual was that we were both energized by our experience
and we began to feel a growing sense of spiritual community with these
women. This moment marked a significant step in our changing feelings
about them, and apparently in their feelings towards us. We felt
not only comfortable with but also a part of the group. They must have
realized that, as they took full advantage of the situation and redefined
our research membership roles at the next ritual event.
Full Moon in the Mountains
(8/26-28/88)
The coven annually sponsors
a mountain camp-out retreat. Advertised in feminist and occult bookstores,
it is open to all interested women. In a sense, this is the coven's
time to recruit potential coven members and converts to feminist Witchcraft.(6)
We looked forward to having the opportunity to "hang out" with the Witches
for several days and expected to be thoroughly socialized into their philosophy,
practices, and worldview through the scheduled workshops. We had counted
on taking copious fieldnotes of our observations and conducting several
indepth interviews. We did not expect, however, to be placed in roles
that would limit our goals as researchers, but this is exactly what happened.
The
Witches effectively redefined our researcher membership roles from peripheral
involvement to much more active ones by placing us in positions of responsibility,
such as cooking for the group, moving equipment, and helping organize workshops
and rituals. Although we were flattered by this expression of inclusion
and acceptance, these duties were draining and they took up all our time.
Attempting to keep up with their expectations, their tight schedule, and
the rigors of primitive camping wore us out by the second day. It did not
occur to us until much later that we had been manipulated into what felt
like a greater commitment to the group. At the time, though exhausting
and frustrating, it simply felt like we were helping out our friends.
At one point, some women from another coven asked who we were, and the
Witches introduced us as "being with" them, which somehow seemed protective,
even possessive and flattering to us. Perhaps we were being primed
to become unofficial apprentices without our being aware of it. What
is clear is that spending an extended period of time with the women, and
being encouraged to take on extensive responsibilities for the coven's
activities helped to forge our changing researcher roles.
Tanice:
During some down time we were
talking with Spiderwoman and Aletheia and I noticed a huge lavender brassiere
hanging from their tent post. Being the naive field researcher, I
asked if the bra had a meaning. Without missing a beat, Aletheia
told me it was the lesbian flag. Although I was incredulous, I was
learning about lesbian and Witch culture and took her explanation at face
value. I later used this information in a lecture on Dianic Witchcraft,
and, after class, a lesbian student told me that the women were pulling
my leg. I felt really ridiculous, and confronted the Witches at the
next ritual. They laughed uproariously and said they were just playing.
I decided to take this as a sign of growing affection, and afterward checked
things out with others before considering any explanation as "truth."
Tanice:
The Autumn Equinox marked a
turning point for me in the evolution of my feelings towards the coven.
My fiance was facing a crisis where we both worked. Because the situation
was supposed to be confidential, I couldn't talk about it with my work
friends. In effect I was silenced. So when Wendy and I arrived
at the next ritual and Aletheia hugged me hello, I found myself uncontrollably
bursting into tears. For some reason, I felt completely safe with her;
I knew I could cry freely here. She did not ask questions, but just
held me, breathing deeply, ritualistically, soothingly. This was
the same "huge" woman I had been so frightened of just six months before.
I asked for special
protection and the others wanted to know what was going on. Without
giving details, I broadly sketched the problem. They immediately
set to providing spells. One suggested pouring "sand or sugar over
a machine, to stop the wheels that are in motion from going farther."
Others chimed in with talk that seemed more prank-like than magic.
Spiderwoman suggested the "tree of life" meditation to create protection
and to "put mirrors on the outside" of it so whatever was sent to me would
"bounce back" to the sender. The mirror imagery resonated with a
meditative exercise I had learned from a Hawaiian Kahuna in earlier fieldwork.
In depicting my excruciating situation I found the group to provide
a "safe place" where I could express my silenced pain. As a result,
revealing my vulnerability was an important step in my changing researcher
role.
Wendy:
Shortly after this discussion,
we were told we had to "take care of business" before ritual. This
turned out to be a surprise celebration of my birthday. The Witches
gave me cards inscribed with flowing original verse, plus oils for anointing
myself and my candles. Other presents included a sterling silver
pentacle and sterling and garnet spider earrings. I had no idea that
the coven knew or cared about my birthday, and I was very touched by the
sentiments. My fieldnotes reveal my surprise:
They ask me if I know
the myth of Arachne and I say yes. I am EXTREMELY moved. It is clear
I have been accepted on a much deeper level than I expected. I wonder
what and who they see when they look at me. When they presented me with
the pentacle, one of the priestesses made the comment "out of the broom
closet and into the sky!"--suggesting they believed that I was becoming
"one of them."
Tanice:
Before ritual, Spiderwoman
invited us to a "dark moon" planning session for Hallowmas the following
month. This act signified our status as potential recruits, since
Hallowmas is October 31, the Witches' New Year, and is a very important
ritual traditionally closed to non-members. Just as Wendy and I were
reflecting on the invitation, we were asked by another coven member to
come into the other room and "cleanse and purify" everyone and the ritual
space--not an insignificant role. Wendy's fieldnotes acknowledge
our apprentice-like status:
Spiderwoman gives me
burning sage in a censer and tells me to cleanse people. Tanice is
given water. I know that means I am to wave the smoke at them from
head to toe, as I saw it done at the Full Moon Ritual. Training is largely
done by imitation, as explicit instructions don't seem to be given often.
I have the feeling that we are considered apprentices of some sort--they
tell us what to do and we do it... Tanice and I sprinkle and smoke (ceremoniously
cleanse) them.
At the
Witches' suggestion, we applied "flying ointment" to our pulsepoints, to
facilitate altered states and bonding during ritual. Wendy records:
"I find myself increasingly reluctant to record data the more I enjoy the
women...must use more self-discipline!"
Neither
of us attended to the specific activities during the equinox ritual as
much as to our obviously changing status. The evening marked a definite
shift in our acceptance of the Witches as well as in their revealed acceptance
of us. Our willingness to try the flying ointment was a sign of our
growing feelings of trust and comfort with them. We had taken on
more active researcher membership roles and knew we were becoming more
deeply involved with the group.
Dark of the Moon (10/9/88)
Tanice:
During the first planning session
we attended, we found ritual planning to be considerably less exciting
than ritual participation. The consensus-based decision making process
was tedious and boring, I was feeling sick to my stomach, and we both were
ready to leave long before the three-hour session ended. Just as
we thought we were going to be released from this task, the group decided
that it was still early and there was plenty of time for ritual.
So we all moved into the living room.
Spiderwoman
asked everyone to sit around a small round altar and focus on "women's
tears, shed and unshed" and the pain we have experienced because we are
women. This event marked one of the most excruciating processes I
had ever faced in a field research situation. Spiderwoman shed her
tears "for women who are raped," and she gently sprinkled saltwater from
a small bowl onto the altar. As the bowl went around, the stories
quietly and tearfully emerged, one by one: being beaten by a father,
abused by an alcoholic husband, raped at knifepoint in bed, gang-raped,
being threatened with a gun for being a lesbian. The stories poured out.
They were sickening and nearly unbearable to listen to. Except for the
sound of weeping heard around the circle, the room was silent.
Then
Spiderwoman attempted to redirect the pain into "righteous anger and rage"
with the words, "I am an angry woman because..." and each woman repeated
the statement, filling in the blanks; "...because children are abused...women
are raped...men pollute the earth..." The volume increased as we
attempted to replace our sadness with righteous anger until Spiderwoman
redirected us into a different visualization.
For
me, the outstanding part of this ritual was the raw exposure to the hurt
and pain each woman had experienced. Sitting in a circle of women
and hearing each one voice her pain and abuses radically transformed my
feminism and served as a consciousness-raising experience. I had
an immediate visceral understanding of the violence committed against women
world-wide in the name of patriarchy. I was incensed at these injustices
and at the same time I felt an incredible sense of spiritual community
and bonding with all women. I knew that women had to help each other
develop their own power, and I definitely felt empowered by this experience
and said so. Wendy's fieldnotes record this event:
At some point, when things
got a little lighter, Tanice said something about how we draw power from
each other as women, and I suddenly turned to her and said, 'Tanice, you're
a Witch!' Everyone laughed. Tanice seemed very shocked. Spiderwoman
said, 'Are you just figuring that out?' Not sure exactly why I said
that but was totally convinced of its validity.
Although
not comfortable with being called a "Witch," I left the meeting with a
heightened consciousness of the connection between patriarchal institutions
and the perpetration and tolerance of violence against women. This
was what feminists call a "click" experience. I embraced the group's
political analysis of sexism, and I grasped on a deeper level the meaning
of the feminist maxim "the personal is political." This experience
marked the culmination of milestones on my journey: I had shifted
away from my initial fear of the Witches, I was moved by my shared experience
and deep sense of bonding with them, and I was quickly developing a feminist
spiritual and political consciousness.
We
found that as researchers we were engaging in "role making." By participating
more fully in coven activities and acquiring the Witches' "first order
perspective," we began "to penetrate beyond a rational to an irrational,
emotional, and deep understanding" of the Witches' world (Adler and Adler,
1987:60).
Hallowmas is a particularly
significant religious holiday for feminist Witches and participation in
the closed ritual is as close to mandatory as the coven gets. It is used
to mark the "dark time of the year when the veil between the worlds is
thin," when the Witches remember and "call in" to ritual their "beloved
dead." It is also a time to honor the women who were burned and hanged
as Witches during the Renaissance, a period the Witches call "the Burning
Times." This is especially important to them because they believe that
approximately nine million women died in this "women's holocaust."(7)
Wendy:
I was a bit ambivalent about
the evening initially. My daughter had died eight years before, and the
idea of inviting the "beloved dead" to join us was disturbing. I
didn't know how I would handle it and voiced my concerns and the reasons
for them. At the same time, I felt very privileged to have been invited
and expected high drama and a real sense of what the Witches held sacred,
which, incidentally, failed to materialize. Overall, the ritual seemed
somewhat artificial and I felt the group tended to lose focus and lack
energy. Nevertheless, one incident during ritual was significant to me.
Early
in the ritual, one Witch spoke dramatically about the time of year and
its meaning. Draped in black veils, she waved her athame, traditionally
a black-handled ceremonial knife, as we formed a line in front of her.
My notes describe what occurred.
Aletheia steps forward
and Nete points her athame at her heart and challenges her right to enter
this space. When Nete demands to know who attempts to enter, Aletheia recites
all her Craft names. Nete tells her that it is better to fall upon the
point of her blade than to enter in falseness, and then asks her how she
enters. "In perfect love and perfect trust," is Aletheia's reply. She is
embraced and allowed to pass. Nete becomes the veil through which we all
must pass into the darkness and each of us is challenged in turn. At one
point, no one moves forward. It feels really awkward, so I step forward.
It feels strange to go before coven members and apprentices.
I'm unsure
what prompted me to do this, but suspect it had something to do with my
sense of the dramatic and a need to keep the action moving. My move
was greeted with warm approval by the coven members, as though I were an
apprentice who had literally met an important challenge.
In late November,
when Tanice was out of town, Aletheia's father died. Wendy was contacted
and told it was important to the bereaved woman that she be there (See
Lozano and Foltz 1990).
Wendy:
I found that I was expected
to play a part in the funeral put on by the coven, in part because I had
learned many of the songs and chants that would be used, unlike most of
the people who had come to pay their respects to the deceased. In addition,
I found my presence was a comfort to Aletheia and signified my changing
research role, as she introduced me to the family as the "coven auxiliary."
During the funeral, I finally came to understand "at a gut level" that
this was religious. Even though the Witches refer to their beliefs
as a religion and the U.S. government recognizes it as one, I had never
viewed the group or the experiences as religious.(8)
Yet at the funeral, I saw how this belief system functioned to create meaning
through the use of Goddess/Witch symbolism. In addition, there were
elements in the ceremony that I found extremely moving. My fieldnotes refer
to religious symbols that:
were so universal that
they spoke to me. I find this religion or ethical belief system increasingly
attractive. I like the evergreen, not that I believe in reincarnation.
But I do believe we are all connected... each one of us, every redwood,
every dolphin, every lizard sunning itself on every rock was born from
the explosion of a star, and we all dance together on stellar winds.
It was
one of the most meaningful last rites I have attended. It literally moved
me to tears and I had never even met the deceased! Although I knew
the "personal was political," the funeral rites revealed to me that the
spiritual could also be political. The Witches' beliefs were creating
a new identity and source of strength for women. Through expressing their
relationship with the sacred, they attempted to articulate the way to live
and die in and of this world.
The Witches celebrated
Yule and the Winter Solstice as one and the same. Part of the ritual consisted
of making pledges "to the earth." This was done while softly singing,
"The Earth is our Mother," as we hung home-made ornaments on a miniature
fir tree standing near the altar. Each decoration represented a pledge.
For example, the red top of a spray can symbolized the promise not to use
aerosol cans. The ornaments were hung on the tree with great seriousness,
and each pledge was met with the group's response and affirmation, "Blessed
be!"
Wendy:
I had thought carefully
about what I was willing to commit to do. Although four months earlier,
when Tanice took her vow to recycle, the issue hadn't seemed important
to me; it did now. I cut out a Neolithic-shaped female form or Goddess
from a newspaper article on pollution and, as I tied it on the tree, I
made my pledge to recycle newspapers. In the year that followed,
I found myself taking my commitment as a "sacred oath," which, of course,
it was intended to be. Initially, I was surprised at how seriously I took
it, but as I grew to know the Witches' understanding of the interrelationship
of all things, I became even more conscientious. Today, six years later,
I am recycling everything that my city is willing to accept.
Wendy:
Candlemas is the ritual when
coven oaths are renewed, apprentices are initiated, and Witches are made
priestesses. Several days before the Candlemas ritual, Tanice phoned to
say the Witches had informed her they wanted to do the ritual in three
parts. The first part would involve only the initiated priestesses while
the rest of us waited upstairs. Then the apprentices would be called down,
and finally Tanice and I would be invited downstairs to "do something"
and the ritual would be over. I was very disappointed that we were so limited
and decided not to attend at all. Later that day, I received a call from
Aletheia, who was very upset at my decision. Aletheia confirmed my suspicion
that the last part was being made up for us. I told her that I respected
the fact the Candlemas was closed to non-members and appreciated the coven's
attempt to include us, but that it felt somewhat "artificial," and I thought
it best not to attend. My notes from this telephone call record her response.
It's like you want to
be with us because that is your work, not because you like us.
GULP!
I did like her! And I respected and appreciated the coven's
desire to limit full participation to its members. But if I was going to
drive an hour just to get there, I wanted to do research, not do something
"inauthentic" made up for us!
Although
I knew the telephone call was data, somehow it didn't occur to me that
going there under those circumstances would also provide good data!
I also failed to realize that the Witches frequently made things up. That
is the nature of innovative ritual. As we spoke, it became clear
that Aletheia's view of my role had changed dramatically.
She mentioned several
times that the coven would be very upset when they hear we're not coming.
I asked her if they would be angry and she replied no, they will miss us.
She said, "Any time you come and ask to be apprenticed, the coven would
accept...but you haven't asked. That's why your participation at
Candlemas is so limited."
In an apparent contradiction, she
said I was like a coven sister. It was a long, exhausting conversation
and I hung up still annoyed.(9)
Wendy:
The Spring Equinox celebration
was unique for me. For the first time, one year after meeting the coven,
I gave myself permission to "let go" during ritual and attempt to feel
what the Witches were feeling. That in itself marked how my own perception
of the women, of feminist Witchcraft, and even of myself had changed from
the preceding year. When the flying ointment was passed around, I joined
everyone in putting some on my wrists and genitals. The "trance tea," a
blend of herbs supposed to facilitate altered states, was so bitter, I
limited myself to one swallow. At the beginning of the ritual, where we
usually "drew up energy" with chanting, Spiderwoman mentioned that there
was a lot of energy in the room. We began a Ma chant and my notes reveal
what I felt.
The energy was incredible!!!!!!
I tried the visualization techniques from Starhawk's book, the tree of
life as a path for energy through my body, and I began to feel this cone
of energy rising in the air above the group and swirling...Tremendous energy.
It was almost as though I could feel/see it whipping around the circle
in yellow lines. I haven't had this experience before. But I haven't tried
the techniques deliberately either.
It is
clear that by this time I shared the vocabulary and the images to articulate
my experience in the Witches' language. In addition, whether my experience
can be explained by "interpretive drift," (10) trance tea, or, as
the Witches would have it, Witches' "sight," I had clearly stepped into
a more active researcher role. The experience was exciting, even a little
bit disturbing, and it certainly didn't seem "silly" any longer.
Tanice:
Although the evening was not
nearly as exciting for me as Wendy, I had clearly become very comfortable
with the women--so comfortable that I accepted their invitation to stay
the night--something I never would have considered a year before. I wanted
to interview two women who were hard to contact, and as the coven members
typically spent the night after ritual, this opportunity seemed ideal.
I had a great interview with Raging Dove, and afterward I slept soundly--no
trepidation!--on a pull-out sofabed, with other women curled up in chairs
and on another sofa near me. I no longer saw them as kooks or as
wild women who might attack me, but as women who had complex lives and
families, who were seriously pursuing knowledge to become priestesses in
their chosen fields of study--philosophy, ritual, acupuncture, herbal remedies.
Over the course of the year I had gained the utmost respect for these women,
which clearly shaped my reporting as a researcher.
Beltane, like Hallowmas,
is another ritual usually closed to outsiders and opened to the two of
us. It is a celebration of the "maiden coming into flower," of Spring,
and self and sensuality. There had been considerable teasing about the
sexual nature of Beltane, especially by the witches who were lesbians,
and we had some concerns about participating. Spiderwoman dealt with
these with her usual insight and consideration, telephoning to say that
anything that would happen would "be done in perfect love and perfect trust.
No one's boundaries will be violated." Thus reassured, we decided
to attend.
The
ritual included considerable playfulness. At one point, after adorning
ourselves with flowers, we stripped and got into the jacuzzi, which they
referred to as "the bubbling cauldron of rebirth and regeneration."
Eight women got into a tub designed for four and began to play "spin the
goddess," with each of us taking a turn curled into a ball in the center
and the rest of us spinning her around and laughing/cackling loudly. When
the hot water began to relax us, Spiderwoman called us into the house for
a ritual massage. Beginning with the crone, the eldest, and ending with
the nymph, the youngest, each woman lay on a large towel while the others
all massaged her simultaneously. As this was being done, one women dipped
her fingers in honey and fed the blessed one, inviting her to, "taste the
sweetness of the Goddess." Later another dipped huge strawberries in powdered
sugar for her. All the while we massaged her with warm oils and sang songs
telling her that she was a beautiful woman, she was loved, she was wonderful.
One Witch with long black hair brushed it over the body of the woman being
"ministered" to. Every part of the body, except the obvious erogenous zones,
was thoroughly massaged.
Wendy:
My fieldnotes show my reactions.
I felt extremely alive
and beautiful...I REALLY LIKED ALL THIS...What I really want to stress
is how safe it felt. Sensuality is a very important part of life, at least
of my life, and certainly in Wicca. 'All acts of pleasure are my ritual,'
says the Goddess. This was an evening of sensual experience without ever
crossing into sexuality or violating any of my boundaries...the honey and
strawberries, the music, the hot tub, the massage with oil, the incense,
the songs and laughter, the "hair job"...it was a very safe and sensual
and wonderful place to be.
Our willingness
to participate that evening was an indication of how much we and our perceptions
had changed during the course of our research. Our level of trust
was so high at this point that we literally put ourselves into the Witches'
hands.
Tanice:
I had been somewhat anxious
about Beltane becasue of its sensual, bordering on sexual, emphasis.
However, as I joined in the activities, my fears disappeared. In
their place I felt a sense of wonderment that people could be so nurturing,
caring, and sensual, yet not sexual, with each other. It was indeed
a unique experience for me as a heterosexual woman. I felt captivated
and refreshed by my experience and Wendy and I talked about the ritual
all the way home.
As
we grew more comfortable with the Witches and their ritual practices, we
became more comfortable with their worldview. Even though we gained
an insider's understanding of feminist Wicca we did not become "complete
member researchers." This would have required us to become apprentices
and to join their coven. We did not choose to make that commitment
of time and energy. I knew I would be leaving California soon, and
Wendy was already thinking about her next research project. Nevertheless,
it eventually became clear that the coven saw us as one of them.
At our final ritual in June 1989, Spiderwoman confided that the coven was
very disappointed we had not asked to apprentice and were now leaving.
She said the women felt as if they were "losing two coven members in one
year."
After publishing our findings
(Lozano and Foltz 1990), each of us went on to do further research in the
field of feminist spirituality, Tanice with separatist Witches in the Midwest,
and Wendy with a large California Goddess Circle that includes men in ritual.
We discussed how our experience had affected us, and agreed we really should
write about it. But when it came to the actual writing, the self-revealing
aspects of our experiences seemed to make us, as junior faculty, far too
vulnerable. We were concerned that the unconventional subject matter
and the methods we used might negatively affect our tenure cases.
We were studying Witches, who are often mistakenly confused with Satanists,
and some of these Witches were lesbians. Our methodology didn't have the
safety of a large quantitative study; we sensually celebrated Beltane,
"shed tears" as we shared personal pain, and ritually and genuinely bonded
with our "subjects." Nevertheless, as we conversed over the five years
that intervened between then and now, it became clear that those research
experiences helped to shape the women and the academics we are today.
By silencing our own voices, we were missing an important source of data.
As researchers who found themselves on a journey, our research would be
incomplete without commenting on the changes we experienced in our "inner
landscapes."
Wendy:
On an academic level, understanding
the power of religion to shape social relations has led me to refocus my
research from gender and family to gender and religion, an area in which
I previously was not only disinterested but dismissive. In addition, the
power of religion as a social institution that shapes our realities is
a subject I now emphasize in my women's studies classes. Thus, this
field experience has affected both the content of what I teach and what
I now research.
For
almost two decades I played an active part in the political feminist community.
On reflection, I realize this largely consisted of coming together with
other women to work on a specific project or issue. Many of us experienced
burn-out during the Reagan years, giving out more energy than we were getting.
When I began this research, I was dutifully doing grassroots activism evenings
and weekends, and teaching feminism during the day. It was clear to me
that, except for the teaching, the joy was gone.
It
began coming back with my participation in the Witches' rituals. An atheist
since my early teens, I had never felt the need for a spiritual community.
But on various occasions in my life, I had experienced what the Witches'
call immanence or the Goddess, that particular state of consciousness Spretnak
(1991, p. 102) calls "grace" and describes as occurring when the membrane
between the inner and outer worlds dissolves and one experiences "luminous
moments of connectedness." The Witches gave me a framework through
which to understand and a language to articulate that part of me which
didn't seem to fit in and which I'd been reluctant to examine. I learned
that this was spiritual, that I was spiritual. So, although I still don't
believe in a divinity, I have experienced Her.
There
was a sense of "naturalness of fit" about some of my research experiences.
It brought back long summers in Wisconsin at my mother's camp for girls,
where we would put on plays among the silver birch trees and have Sunday
twilight meditations by the lake. I rediscovered the energy and creativity
generated by women in "women's space," and so have a much better understanding
and appreciation of separatist feminists and separate space.
My
encounter with feminist Witches and the larger Goddess Movement was like
coming home.(11) I have available to me a spiritual
community that is feminist and energizing, one that values the things I
value, including play and intuition. I admit that I am not always comfortable
with the intuition generated nor with the essentialism bordering on simplistic
biological reductionism that I continue to discover among Wiccans.
As a sociologist, I cannot accept the concept of "the divine feminine."
Nevertheless, the rethinking of the connections among mind, body, and spirit
fascinate me. I presently drum in a women's drum circle; it is my form
of meditation and "body-prayer" (Spretnak 1991).
This
research has forced me to rethink my own personal relationship to the planet.
The fact that DDT in our rivers can be linked directly to breast cancer
among women is an image that moves me powerfully. It is an easy step to
saying we are on the verge of committing matricide.
And
finally, I feel that this research journey has been a healing one, one
of movement toward integration of the selves into the Self. This is a difficult
task indeed in a world that encourages fragmentation of the female self.
Tanice:
This research endeavor
has involved a great deal of growth and movement for me both professionally
and personally. On a professional level, my encounter with feminist spirituality
has created a sense of continuity in my research agenda. My previous
fieldwork gave me the academic and perceptual tools to understand the connections
and resonance between the alternative healing group and feminist Wicca,
where high drama, a sense of play, and performative ritual permeated each
setting. The Witches, however, provided something that was unique,
a religious setting where the female principle is viewed as divine.
Doing
fieldwork in such a setting has created a shift or movement in my life.
I have moved from thinking that Witchcraft was something weird and scary,
to understanding it as an agent of women's empowerment and change.
Politically, I have moved towards a more radical feminism through my consciousness-raising
experiences with this group. As a result, I bring attention in all
my classes to issues of women's oppression and violence against women,
I teach women's studies courses whenever I can, and perceive myself to
be a feminist researcher. I have become more active in my university
and in my community around women's issues. My academic interests lie in
the interplay of religion and women's health, with a focus on women's spirituality,
healing the self and the wounds of patriarchy, and recovery from addictions.
On
many levels (emotionally, politically, socially, and professionally), I
have moved into an understanding that the personal is indeed political.
My environmental consciousness has been reawakened by this contact and
for six years now I too have been recycling "religiously." Finally,
I have moved from earlier biases, which included homophobia and heterosexist
beauty standards, to appreciating women regardless of sexual orientation
or body shape and size. At the root of this movement is the feeling
of sisterhood and spiritual connectedness that I acquired through rituals
with the Witches. I now understand that spiritual separatism provides
a safe place for women to discover their voices, which is an important
step in the process of women's healing. Feminist ritual continues
to provide a sense of deep communion and spirited playfulness in my life
today.
The experiences that facilitated
our individual journeys are similar to those observed by Christ (1982).
The legitimation of women's power and authority came through the sacred
history of goddesses and the view of Witches as healers (Eller 1993). Our
bodies were affirmed and respected, our sensuality celebrated in a safe
context. Female will was affirmed during ritual as we did "self work"
and made commitments to each other, the women's community, and the planet.
The celebration of women's bonding was an ongoing feature. For contributing
to our respective journeys, and for their generosity of spirit, we wish
to thank the Witches who guided our first steps on this path.
We
believe that the power of ritual had much to do with these changes in our
inner landscapes. Turner (1967) saw ritual as a passage where genuine
transformations of character and social relationships may occur. In the
rituals created by this small group of Witches, words and symbols provided
new meaning, empowerment, and the restoration of balance and harmony that
McGuire (1983, 1987) refers to as healing. Mythical stories were
told, guided visualizations were given, and chant and dance led us into
the sacred reality that was being constructed.
Ritual
consciousness is embodied, tactic knowledge (Grimes 1992). Through
these forms of "body-prayer," we believe we experienced the transformative
effects of ritual. We achieved the "flow state" Csikszentmihalyi
describes (1975) where "all sense of individual self vanishes." We
had moments when we felt "in a time out of time, connected to 'the way
things really are'" (Neitz and Spickard 1990, p. 24). The Witches
taught us to call this experience of flow and connection "immanence."
This theme
of connection is important. Participation in other kinds of rituals
(whether religious, tactic, or self-healing) have not had the same effect.
Both of us have gone to traditional church services, dances, and had some
counseling. We were not transformed. Jacobs (1990) says that
women who are alienated from parts of themselves and from patriarchal culture
experience a re-integration of self and community through women's rituals.
We ask, in a patriarchal culture where male and female are dichotomized
and women are discouraged from being whole, what woman could not be alienated
from some part of herself?
We believe
the unique power of feminist Witchcraft lies in 1) the transformative potential
of its innovative rituals, 2) the tactic experience of immanence through
body-prayer, 3) the promise of integration of the self, and mind, with
the female body, 4) integration of the self with a spiritual community,
and 5) its vision of a truly humane, peaceful and ecologically sane world.
We are not
suggesting that feminist Witchcraft is the only or even the best way to
reach these goals, only that it is a way. It is clear to us that,
as researchers participating in feminist rituals, we created the women
we became. As our inner landscapes changed, they colored the way
we view ourselves, our research, and the world.
NOTES
1) The title borrows
from a Goddess chant by Starhawk, Witch and noted author. It goes,
"She changes everthing She touches, and everything She touches changes.
2) Interestingly,
this is the same language used by women travelw riters, according to Mary
Moris (Ms.,May/June 1992:69). She Concluded that, unlike male travel
writers, for women, "There is a dialogue between what is happening within
and without."
3) I wasn't sure
if this small group of women was really worth studying or the subject matter
important enough to help my career. I now find it interesting that
it never occurred to me that research on other alternative religions, all
of which inlcude men, might not be worthy of study. Obviously, I
had internlaized some gender bias, a particularly ironic and embarassing
experience for someone teaching women's studies.
4) Wendy Griffin was
previously known as Wendy G. Lozano
5) Prior to this encounter,
my minimal knowledge about Witchcraft came from the media, a highly unreliable
and misleading source. For example, the 1994 Encarta CD-ROM encyclopedia
definition of Witchcraft reflects the views of the Inquisition. This
type of distortion is reinforced daily by television evangelists who rail
against Satanists and Witches as if they were the same.
6) Although the
coven and most Wiccans would deny that they proselutize, sponsoring an
"open" women's retreat filled with workshops on Witcrfat can be viewed
as proselytization.
7) Although the
women we studied did not know the origin of this number and accepted it
as fact, it was an estimate made by Matilda Joselyn Gage in the late nineteenth
century. Contemporary feminist historian Anne Llewellyn Barstow (1994)
estimates that closer to 100,000 people were executed, and 85% were women.
8) Being raised
a "Christmas and Easter Protestant," I never thought about the role of
religion in providing meaning or community. To me, the word religion
meant going to church and being bored listening to men preach about a divine
father who might forgive me for something if I prayed hard enough, which
I rarely tried to do, even as a child.
9) With today's
understanding, I realize how unappreciative I was. Ritual is an act
in which metaphors are used to capture meaning. The Witches had created
something that was intended to evoke an alternative reality, provide meaning
for us, and possibly redefine out relationship to them. Candlemas
is the time of oath-taking, after all. But I didn't understand that
at the time. I kno I felt I was being manipulated into attending.
Perhaps that helps explain my strong resistance.
10) Luhrmann (1989)
describes this as the slow shift in interpretation experiencied by a newcomer
to a particular activity as she learnes to perceive and ascribe meaning
to new patterns.
11) I late discovered
this was a phrase coined by Margot Adler (1986) to describe what women
felt when they got involved in feminist Wicca. Several women I have
talked with in the larger Goddess Movement resonate with this phrase as
well.
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