Paganistan: Notes from the Secret Commonwealth
In Which One Midwest Man-in-Black Confers, Converses & Otherwise Hob-Nobs with his Fellow Hob-Men (& -Women) Concerning the Sundry Ways of the Famed but Ill-Starred Tribe of Witches.
When at Home, Do as the Homos Do
I'm standing on a street corner, waiting for the light to change.
There's not a car moving for blocks in either direction. Back home in the US, I'd just cross the street, light or no light.
But I'm not at home; I'm in Germany, standing with a bunch of local people, waiting for the light to change.
Complicating the matter is the fact that, though I'm not a local, I look like one. Anglo-German on one side, Anglo-Austrian on the other: whatever it means to look German, I do. Here, people on the street automatically address me in German.
I stand and wait with the others.
Growing up as a little gay witch kid in a place where it wasn't safe to be either, I learned about inner freedom early on. Beneath your cloak of invisibility, you can be whoever you want to be.
Still, it's a disconcerting moment. If the SS had come to the door and started asking about the neighbors, what would I have told them?
(Not that that would ever have happened, of course; the Nazis would have carted me off long before they got to the asking-about-the-neighbors stage.)
I stand on a street corner in Germany, thinking about freedom, history, and the power of social pressure.
The light changes. I cross the street with the others.
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Friday, 05 March 2021
This was B.C.: Before Cell.
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Nobody was walking along bent over a cell phone mindlessly texting without looking where they where going?