It was meant to be a quick errand at the local convenience store. I found myself managing a curious toddler while balancing a fountain drink, a bottle of water, my phone, keys, and wallet. With a friendly smile, I encouraged my little one to greet the cashier, a tactic that usually buys me some time during checkout. Typically, the cashier would coo at my child, and we’d share a light moment.
This time, however, was different.
The cashier’s gaze was fixed on my chest, and her expression shifted from neutral to disapproving. With a sharp frown, she reached out to move the bottle of water away and then tossed the fountain drink into what I assumed was a trash can at her feet. I could feel the stares of the customers behind me, their curiosity palpable, eager to understand what had just transpired.
“This is a Christian store. We don’t serve devil worshippers here,” she declared.
For a moment, I was bewildered. Then I realized that in my frenzied juggling of items and my wiggly child, my pentacle must have become visible. It felt like a cold wave washed over me, leaving me speechless. All I could do was stand there, stunned by her words.
“That child needs Jesus,” she added.
I didn’t respond. I turned and exited the store, holding my head high, my mind racing, and my heart pounding. As I attempted to buckle my daughter into her car seat, my hands trembled. Tears threatened to spill, but I refused to let them flow in front of those still watching me from inside the store.
In that moment, I was reminded of my own teenage years when I first faced discrimination for being true to myself. I recalled being told by a principal that my self-portrait was inappropriate for display. I remembered a family member once snatching my pentacle necklace away, echoing sentiments that still lingered in my mind. I felt alone and scared back then, forced to learn how to stand firm when no one else would.
But now, I wasn’t a scared teenager. I had grown, and I was not alone. While I had encountered ignorance and fear-based discrimination before, this was the first time it had happened in front of my child.
When I discovered I was pregnant, I worried about introducing my daughter to my faith in our rural Bible Belt community. The idea of raising her among people who might not understand—who might even be hostile—was daunting.
But then I realized, it’s not about being different; it’s about confronting ignorance. If people took the time to understand us, they would see we’re not that dissimilar. We are all striving to be better people, nurturing our children to do the same.
If I could speak to that cashier now, I’d explain that paganism is not synonymous with devil worship. My beliefs are grounded in balance, nature, and a divine presence encompassing both a god and goddess. I firmly believe everyone has the right to find their own path to the divine, as long as it doesn’t cause harm to the innocent, the sick, or the elderly. Pagans are not malevolent; we’re just regular folks, and you might even know a pagan who hasn’t yet revealed their beliefs.
I would also share that while I don’t think my daughter needs Jesus, I would wholeheartedly support her if she chooses to embrace Christianity in the future.
Being different isn’t the issue; the real challenge lies in overcoming the fear that prevents us from learning about those who believe or worship differently. Our backgrounds and beliefs shape us, but they do not define us entirely. People are complex, and judging someone based solely on one aspect of their life blinds you to the richness they offer.
Yes, I identify as pagan, but I am also a wife, mother, sister, friend, and a lifelong student. I come from a small Southern town, steeped in a farming tradition. I have an insatiable love for books, a penchant for crafting, and an affection for my cat that rivals many human relationships. I cherish cookie dough and find joy in life’s simple pleasures. At the end of the day, I’m probably not too different from you.
That’s the beauty of humanity. When you take the time to get to know someone, you often discover more common ground than you initially thought.
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Summary
In confronting discrimination as a pagan mother, the author reflects on her experiences with ignorance and fear, emphasizing the importance of understanding and acceptance. She shares her beliefs and the value of finding commonality among people, regardless of their faith or background.