We Were Witches

“Forget Freytag’s Pyramid (of predictable male prose)—behold Gore’s upside down triangle (of fierce feminist narrative)! We Were Witches is its own genre, in its own canon.”

—Kate Schatz, author of Rad American Women A-Z

“Ariel Gore’s We Were Witches is one woman’s body refusing to become property, refusing to be overwritten by law or traditions, one woman’s body cutting open a hole in culture so that actual bodies might emerge. A triumphant body story. A singularly spectacular siren song.”

—Lidia Yuknavitch

Coming in September. Pre-order now from The Feminist Press or your favorite bookseller.

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While you’re waiting, here’s your own little Witch Scout spell book—mostly blank, with some instructions. . .

$7 each (includes shipping)

Or 5 for $25 (U.S. delivery only)

Sara Kirschenbaum: My Writer’s Altar

Stones are just right for the altar because needing to write is as hard as carrying ten pounds of stones on your bike.

If I was to make an altar to my writing, I would pull the half-rotted wooden box out of the compost pile. The one I carried around with me from Ohio to Boston to Oregon. The one that was my bedside table for so many years. The one I tried to grow carrots in two years ago, cause I just didn’t seem to be able to dig deep enough and loosen my dirt enough, and the carrots would be stunted on the untilled ground. So I filled up my wooden box bedside table with muck from my compost pile and mixed in seeds for different color carrots. I hadn’t realized that my compost had so many weed seeds in it and so all summer I was picking the fennel and morning glory starts out of it.  And the purple and orange and red carrots didn’t grow well and only the white ones came up and by the time I picked all the fennel out, it was the heat of the summer and I forgot to water it enough. I didn’t get one descent carrot out of the whole affair. And maybe, for that reason, it’s a suitable base for my prayers. I’d power wash the dirt off this wooden box, drag it in the house and set it up next to my computer in my office.

Next I would lay (or is that lie?) my white silk scarf over the top of it—the one Dalai Lama gave me and 10,000 other Portlanders when he spoke at the MODA center in 2013. The one I used on my little altar at my garden wedding four months ago to Peggy who doesn’t understand why I don’t write more poetry.

On top of the silk I would put my favorite Nova Scotia stone. A beauty of a rock—flat, oval, sea tumbled grays with a three white stripes around its length. It’s the rock I collected in 1979 on my bike camping trip around Nova Scotia with my gentle boyfriend, Ben. Soon after we crested the ridiculous hills of the Cabot Trail and saw the solitary moose that was our reward and came down the hill to a beach of fantastic rounded rocks of every color and pattern, and even though I already had 60 pounds of gear—food, a stove, tent, sleeping bag, clothes, journal, flashlight, sleeping pad, water—in my orange American Youth Hostel panniers, I could not resist adding another ten pounds of stones to carry half way back around the island, and I treasure them all still over 40 years and five houses later, adorning the shelf in my bathroom. Stones are just right for the altar because needing to write is as hard as carrying ten pounds of stones on your bike.

I’d put my first, smallest and most Day-Glo journal, on my altar:  “April 24 1969 help a blind lady in grocery store to get her groceries for her. One thing I gave her is the wrong size I felt nervous” “April 24 1969 I pick up about 80 pieces of newspaper about 10 papers felt like I was helping N.Y” “lost my bookbag. I got real worried because it was a mean persons book in it. I went up to the science room to work on my project (copper coating a key or making metal molicquels move.)”

I would put my tiny blue Swiss Army knife with a customized “KIRSCHENBAUM” engraved on one side on His Holiness’ silk in honor of Karen Karbo’s sentient declaration that “Writing is like having a knife fight with yourself in a telephone booth.”

My mom says, “My father was a failed writer. He didn’t promote himself. He wrote all the time but he was too nice. He was my mother more than he was my father.” I need something of his on my writing altar. I have his microscopically embroidered bib with a tiny swan made of 1,000 miniscule stitches. But he wasn’t a writer yet when he wore it for protection from rice cereal.  So I will place on my altar one of the few manuscripts of his that has survived the tests of time. It is titled, “SALVAGE ROM THE SEA.”  There are several small handwritten corrections, because it is just too much work to retype the whole thing. Eight pages remain, all burned on the upper right hand corner and along the right side, from the fire that burned down his house.

Onto the alter I would drop a handful of Trader Joe’s coffee candies to honor my 33 year old self, keeping awake to study for my MFA while I was raising two kids with an unfaithful sex addict massage therapist husband. One candy = ½ hour longer awake.

I need a candle on my altar.  I have a half-used-up one I made back in my beekeeping days, before colony collapse discouraged me. My kids poured our wax into a galvanized star-shaped column around a cotton wick held in place with putty.  Now twenty years later the candle’s center is burned halfway down and the sharp edges of the star stand tall. It still smells like the smoking burlap from my smoker, and the sweet brown smell of thousands of bees working tirelessly, masticating the clear wax with yellow pollen from our sunflowers, our marigolds, our dahlias.

Lastly I will leave my post-it-note list of words, correctly spelled, that I can’t for the life of me spell: separately—opening—beginning—separation—across—each other —a little— maintenance.

What you will not find on my writing altar: any admonitions in any form to write 250 words a day, to write from 6 am to 7 a.m., to write lousy first drafts, to write every day, to write what I know, to write what I don’t know, to show and not tell, to tell and not show, to show and tell, to “build pockets of stillness into my life,” to write an outline, to “above all, just write!”

 

Find books by Sara Kirschenbaum at blurb.com/user/store/Willowbrook or follow  scherrytree on Instagram.

Fall workshops open for registration!

SEPTEMBER INTENSIVE: WRITING ABOUT REPUBLICANS

NEW CLASS WITH JENNY FORRESTER

September 9th to 23rd - Online Course

It’s a fairly universal experience to disagree with family members sometimes. But what if those disagreements are more like a epic gulfs of bafflement and horror? What if your family members are conservatives? What if they’re Republicans? What then?

Write the conservative members of your family into immortality by bringing your pen and paper to the Thanksgiving table. We’ll write scenes that have the immediacy of fiction steeped in the emotional depths of lived experience.

If you’ve dreamed of leaving a story for posterity to tell your whole truth long after you’re gone or if you’ve dreamed of publishing this story for the world, this class is for you. Maybe you feel compelled to write and see what comes of it—consider the possibilities later. Maybe your childhood home remains within your mind as a bright place or a painful place or a beautiful, long gone now place, but the conservativism or religious authoritarianism remains in your metaphors. Write it all. Maybe even find some peace with it.

Literary Memoir offers the opportunity for growth and expression that other types of writing don’t. It’s not just that we’re writing our life’s memories, it’s that we’re writing our resistance through artistic expression. It’s that we’re writing ourselves resilient. So, in this class we’ll talk about what makes memoir literary.

Cost for this class is $185

A $45 deposit saves your spot

 

Jenny Forrester is a longtime teacher and the author of Narrow River, Wide Sky, out now from Hawthorne Books.

 

LIT STAR TRAINING 

The Original Literary Kitchen Online Creative Writing Workshop

Taught by Ariel Gore 

September 23 – November 22

A new session of Lit Star Training – the 8-week-plus writing course taught by Ariel Gore – starts September 23rd. Writers in Lit Star Training spend at least a few hours each week on their writing and online critiques. You can log in any time of the day or night. Writers in the group are new and seasoned, wanting to work on memoir or fiction. The class works as well for those writing to weekly assignments and for people who are beginning or working on longer projects.

The class is $295. A $95 deposit saves your spot.

You can pay the deposit right here:

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IOWA CITY, IOWA: FUCK SHAME

September 27, 6 – 9 pm

An Evening with Ariel Gore & Shell Feijo

Iowa City location TBA

(Ariel Gore will be reading at Prarie Lights Books in Iowa City the night before–come to town early . . . )

$40

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SANTA FE, NEW MEXICO

Ariel Gore’s School for Wayward Writers Presents

THE WITCHFEST WRITING RETREAT

October 5-9, 2017

Affordable Sliding Scale

Join Us For . . .

 

Narrative Resistance Writing Workshops with Ariel Gore: We’ll formally meet for two 2-hour workshops where we’ll generate new work, experiment with genre and structure, take writing we’ve already drafted or new writing through thought-provoking revision stations, and break ourselves out of any worn-out limits. Bring something you’ve been working on or just show up with your computer–or pen and paper.

Publishing Skillshare with Rad Dad publisher and Indie-press author Tomas Moniz: A conversation / skillsharing discussion on the pros and cons of DIY publishing versus indie press publishing, book tour experiences, and marketing. Come ready to share your thoughts as well.

Chef-prepared traditional New Mexican family dinner (Yes, there will be green chile apple pie.)

• Word & Image with Rebecca Fish Ewan Push the boundaries of form and genre with the founder of Plankton Press “where small is big enough” & author of the forthcoming graphic memoir By The Forces of Gravity.

ABQ Zine Fest — with optional space at the Wayward Writers exhibitor table — bring your zines and books!

Field trip to Meow Wolf’s House of Eternal Return.

We Were Witches book launch & Wayward Writers reading in Santa Fe and/or Albuquerque.

REGISTER NOW

SLIDING SCALE $45 – $175

Includes writing workshops, publishing skillshare, chef’s family dinner, and space at the Wayward Writer’s table at the ABQ Zine Fest. Pay whatever you like or whatever you can.

Just click “donate” and input the amount you’ll pay. Don’t be shy. All are welcome.

Ticket for Meow Wolf’s House of Eternal Return will be $10-$18 additional.

Accommodations & transportation not provided, but we’ll figure out carpools, etc., to everything.

Workshops & dinner will take place on Osage Avenue near Frenchy’s Park.

* Scheduling details subject to change. Full schedule will be posted in late July. Email arielfiona at gmail dot com with any questions.

Suggested excursions that may require advance booking:
Ten Thousand Waves (https://tenthousandwaves.com)
Talis Fortuna tattoo (talisfortuna.com)
Santa Fe School of Cooking (https://santafeschoolofcooking.com)
Ojo Caliente (one more hour north of Santa Fe—awesome excursion if you’re staying an extra day or two!)
Santa Fe, New Mexico is one hour northeast of Albuquerque and is served by the Albuquerque airport.

If you’re flying into Albuquerque, we recommend making a reservation on the Sandia Shuttle, renting a car, arranging with other participants to share a rental car, or catching the RailRunner train from Albuquerque to Santa Fe (train runs on a limited commuter schedule.)

We recommend planning to arrive in New Mexico by Thursday evening. Retreat activities begin on Friday and go through Monday morning.

Recommended lodging for those with a car—let’s take over this place. The housekeeper/handylady is a badass local artist: Suitable Digs

 

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BALTIMORE

Mismatched Socks: The Secrets to Writing and Publishing Whatever You Want

THE BALTIMORE WRITING & PUBLISHING WORKSHOP

With Ariel Gore & China Martens

October 20 – 22, 2017

Friday evening & Saturday afternoon:
Experimental Narrative Workshops led by Ariel Gore
We’ll meet two hours on Friday evening & three hours on Saturday to generate new work, experiment with merged genres and disruptive structure, take writing we’ve already drafted or new writing through thought-provoking revision stations, and break ourselves out of any worn-out limits. Bring something you’ve been working on or just show up with your computer–or pen and paper.
Sunday morning: Dream Publishing Workshop led by China Martens
On Sunday, we’ll meet for our final three hours to map out the steps to making your book/zine/chapbook/essay dream a published reality. We’ll explore the ins and outs of creating and publishing anthologies & other dream book projects. We’ll approach radical editing as an act of love, build our bios, demystify the book proposal & call for submissions processes, and make a plan to materialize the project you’ve been thinking of. 

China Martens is the author of The Future Generation (Atomic Books, 2007 and PM Press, 2017) and co-editor of the anthologies Don’t Leave Your Friends Behind (PM Press, 2012), and Revolutionary Mothering (PM Press, 2016).

Ariel Gore is the author of ten books including We Were Witches, a novel / surrealist memoir. Ariel will read from this new work at Atomic Books—just a block from where our workshop will be held on Falls Rd.–on Saturday night.

 

Space is super limited, so please sign up early. Tuition is $175.
A $55 deposit saves your spot:
 
Or pay the $175 now here:

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PERSONAL ESSAY INTENSIVE

ONLINE CLASS TAUGHT BY ARIEL GORE

November 25 – December 6

The personal essay is one of the most enduring and adaptable literary forms, allowing for experimentation and a dissolution of the traditional boundaries between memoir and journalism. Over the 12-day intensive we’ll write every day, survey the form, complete five new essays, explore the market, and polish at least one personal essay for publication.Workshop size is limited, so please sign up early. 
Full tuition is $185

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Ariel Gore is s LAMBDA Award-winning editor and the author of eight books of fiction and nonfiction. Her most recent title, The End of Eve, won a New Mexico-Arizona Book Award, a Rainbow Award, and was named one of the 10 best memoirs of the year by Library Journal. Her stories and essays have appeared in Psychology Today, Salon, Ms., Utne, The Sun, The San Francisco Chronicle, and elsewhere.

New Fall Class: Writing About Republicans with Jenny Forrester

SEPTEMBER INTENSIVE

September 9th to 23rd

Online Course Taught by Jenny Forrester

It’s a fairly universal experience to disagree with family members sometimes. But what if those disagreements are more like a epic gulfs of bafflement and horror? What if your family members are conservatives? What if they’re Republicans? What then?

Write the conservative members of your family into immortality by bringing your pen and paper to the Thanksgiving table. We’ll write scenes that have the immediacy of fiction steeped in the emotional depths of lived experience.

If you’ve dreamed of leaving a story for posterity to tell your whole truth long after you’re gone or if you’ve dreamed of publishing this story for the world, this class is for you. Maybe you feel compelled to write and see what comes of it—consider the possibilities later. Maybe your childhood home remains within your mind as a bright place or a painful place or a beautiful, long gone now place, but the conservativism or religious authoritarianism remains in your metaphors. Write it all. Maybe even find some peace with it.

Literary Memoir offers the opportunity for growth and expression that other types of writing don’t. It’s not just that we’re writing our life’s memories, it’s that we’re writing our resistance through artistic expression. It’s that we’re writing ourselves resilient. So, in this class we’ll talk about what makes memoir literary.

Cost for this class is $185

A $45 deposit saves your spot

 

Jenny Forrester is a longtime teacher and the author of Narrow River, Wide Sky, out now from Hawthorne Books.

 

WitchFest Writing Retreat in Santa Fe, New Mexico with Ariel Gore

Ariel Gore’s School for Wayward Writers Presents

The WitchFest Writing Retreat in Santa Fe, New Mexico

October 5-9, 2017

Affordable Sliding Scale

Join Us For . . .

 

Narrative Resistance Writing Workshops with Ariel Gore: We’ll formally meet for two 2-hour workshops where we’ll generate new work, experiment with genre and structure, take writing we’ve already drafted or new writing through thought-provoking revision stations, and break ourselves out of any worn-out limits. Bring something you’ve been working on or just show up with your computer–or pen and paper.

Publishing Skillshare with Rad Dad publisher and Indie-press author Tomas Moniz: A conversation / skillsharing discussion on the pros and cons of DIY publishing versus indie press publishing, book tour experiences, and marketing. Come ready to share your thoughts as well.

Chef-prepared traditional New Mexican family dinner (Yes, there will be green chile apple pie.)

Word & Image with Rebecca Fish Ewan Push the boundaries of form and genre with the founder of Plankton Press “where small is big enough” & author of the forthcoming graphic memoir By The Forces of Gravity.

ABQ Zine Fest — with optional space at the Wayward Writers exhibitor table — bring your zines and books!

Field trip to Meow Wolf’s House of Eternal Return.

We Were Witches book launch & Wayward Writers reading in Santa Fe and/or Albuquerque.

REGISTER NOW

SLIDING SCALE $45 – $175

Includes writing workshops, publishing skillshare, chef’s family dinner, and space at the Wayward Writer’s table at the ABQ Zine Fest. Pay whatever you like or whatever you can.

Just click “donate” and input the amount you’ll pay. Don’t be shy. All are welcome.

Ticket for Meow Wolf’s House of Eternal Return will be $10-$18 additional.

Accommodations & transportation not provided, but we’ll figure out carpools, etc., to everything.

Workshops & dinner will take place on Osage Avenue near Frenchy’s Park.

* Scheduling details subject to change. Full schedule will be posted in late July. Email arielfiona at gmail dot com with any questions.

Suggested excursions that may require advance booking:
Ten Thousand Waves (https://tenthousandwaves.com)
Talis Fortuna tattoo (talisfortuna.com)
Santa Fe School of Cooking (https://santafeschoolofcooking.com)
Ojo Caliente (one more hour north of Santa Fe—awesome excursion if you’re staying an extra day or two!)
Santa Fe, New Mexico is one hour northeast of Albuquerque and is served by the Albuquerque airport.

If you’re flying into Albuquerque, we recommend making a reservation on the Sandia Shuttle, renting a car, arranging with other participants to share a rental car, or catching the RailRunner train from Albuquerque to Santa Fe (train runs on a limited commuter schedule.)

We recommend planning to arrive in New Mexico by Thursday evening. Retreat activities begin on Friday and go through Monday morning.

Recommended lodging for those with a car—let’s take over this place. The housekeeper/handylady is a badass local artist: Suitable Digs

Registration Open for Spring Classes with Ariel Gore

LIT STAR TRAINING – Class may be full. Email arielfiona at gmail.

The Original Literary Kitchen Online Creative Writing Workshop

Taught by Ariel Gore 

April 1 – May 28

A new session of Lit Star Training – the 8-week writing course taught by Ariel Gore – starts April 1st, 2017. Writers in Lit Star Training spend at least a few hours each week on their writing and online critiques. You can log in any time of the day or night. Writers in the group are new and seasoned, wanting to work on memoir or fiction. The class works as well for those writing to weekly assignments and for people who are beginning or working on longer projects.

The class is $295. A $95 deposit saves your spot.

You can pay the deposit right here:

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PERSONAL ESSAY INTENSIVE - CLASS FULL
Online Class Taught by Ariel Gore
March 20 – 31
The personal essay is one of the most enduring and adaptable literary forms, allowing for experimentation and a dissolution of the traditional boundaries between memoir and journalism. Over the 12-day intensive we’ll write every day, survey the form, complete five new essays, explore the market, and polish at least one personal essay for publication.Workshop size is limited, so please sign up early.Full tuition is $185

Literary Kitchen Scholarship Fund

Sometimes we get requests for scholarships for Ariel Gore’s online and in-person writing workshops. Use this button if you’d like to donate to the scholarship fund! Feel free to make a note if you want your donation to support a writer in a particular circumstance or community, or go toward a specific class, and note if you’d like your donation to be anonymous.

About Ariel Gore and the Literary Kitchen Workshops

Ariel Gore is s LAMBDA Award-winning editor and the author of nine books of fiction and nonfiction. Her most recent title, The End of Eve, won a New Mexico-Arizona Book Award, a Rainbow Award, and was named one of the 10 best memoirs of the year by Library Journal. Her stories and essays have appeared in Psychology TodaySalonMs., UtneThe SunThe San Francisco Chronicle, and elsewhere. Her new novel, We Were Witches, is forthcoming from The Feminist Press (September, 2017).

 

Ariel Gore is a fabulous workshop facilitator; I’ve been taking classes from her since 2001. In each of the workshops, she brings together a diverse group of writers with varying degrees of competency; and, whether the writer is seasoned or a beginner, she understands exactly where each person is coming from and she meets them there. Not only did I find my unique voice, I learned how to be a thoughtful listener and how to provide insightful critique. I would recommend her workshops to anyone interested in memoir and the art of a good story.

—Lani Jo Leigh

 

Ariel’s workshops jump-started my psyche. I’m back into looking at the world as a writer instead of as a would-be writer. I have her to thank for that. Workshops are almost at your own pace. Always encouraging. She has a knack for assembling a great group of writers together every time.

—Margaret Elysia Garcia, author of Mary of the Chance Encounters

 

Ariel Gore’s writing workshop pushed me past the borders of my creativity and into an exciting unknown place of writing within myself. If you’ve ever put to pen to paper and wondered what you were really capable of Ariel’s workshop will take you there.

—Gabby Rivera, author of Juliet Takes a Breath

 

I thoroughly enjoy Ariel’s workshops. Writers from a variety of backgrounds gather together, bringing in work with all kinds of themes, and as each piece is workshopped, Ariel’s ear for the crucial aspects of great storytelling kicks right in. Her feedback is thoughtful, insightful, precise, and multilayered.

—Bonnie Ditlevsen

 

When I started writing with Ariel, I had zero idea how to write for audience. In work shopping with her, I have found my voice and with practice have found different ways to formulate story. I have learned how to incorporate dialogue and am so much more confident with my work. I recommend this workshop to all aspiring, practicing, and practiced writers.

—Krystee Sidwell

The God of Sluts

“I think about how Anabelle seemed to believe that sex was wrong for girls like us–and how just about everyone agreed, even the bible. But I am that kind of girl. And somehow, deep inside–in a place that has survived the shame that sets my life on fire every day–I know that they are all just full of shit. I just know that sex is okay, even for girls. And if god and the bible don’t know that, well then god and the bible are full of shit, too.”

 

 


The God of Sluts

By Chanelle Gallant

 

 

“Well, then I guess there’s no God.”

I decide this as I walk home from my best friend Anabelle’s house in the suburbs of Ottawa. I’ve just told her about my first consensual blowjob, with a boy named Julius. After he came in my mouth, I spat it out and said “no offense.” He laughed. I told her that part, too–how I was accidentally funny. She looked down at the ground under the swings in the empty playground where we were slowly swaying, her perfectly highlighted strawberry blond waves hanging around her face and said, “I didn’t think you were that kind of girl.”

Oh. Shit. Maybe not so funny?

Hot shame rushes across my face, the shame that accompanies every waking moment of being a fifteen year old girl.

On my walk home I think about what kind of girl I am. I think about how Anabelle seemed to believe that sex was wrong for girls like us–and how just about everyone agreed, even the bible. But I am that kind of girl. And somehow, deep inside–in a place that has survived the shame that sets my life on fire every day–I know that they are all just full of shit. I just know that sex is okay, even for girls. And if god and the bible don’t know that, well then god and the bible are full of shit, too. I choose blowjobs and joking with boys about their come over a god that would hate girls like me.

Fifteen years later on a bright August afternoon I’m sitting at a Prisoners’ Justice Day vigil at the Don Jail in Toronto. I’ve been going to protests and vigils and actions for years. This one, though, was the first time I’d ever seen a preacher speak: a tall, thin Black man with warm eyes and a white collar. He stands on a little patch of grass and motions to the jail behind him as he says, “The lives of people locked up matter because all lives deserve dignity. All life is divine.” I feel something old crack and move in my chest.

I’d only even gone to the event because I was hoping to see an ex girlfriend who I’d broken up with in the spring. Our short romance ended when I slammed the phone down on her after she stood me up for the last time–but fuck I still missed her. And now here I was on this little patch of grass outside the city jail trying to look unaffected while my eyes welled up. Quiet down now, heart.

But whatever steel wall I’d erected at fifteen to protect my slutty queer self from god’s Army of Slut-Shamers started to crack. Here now was a different kind of god, a god that apparently saw the value in us all and had bigger things to worry about than what I did in bed. Still. “I am an atheist,” I reminded myself as I left the vigil, a little horrified and angry at my tears. I held my head high, my kitten heels digging into the grass, so the ex would fully appreciate that any tears I had were not for her.

I didn’t give it much more thought until a few years later when I was in Laos sitting in the passenger seat of a jeep barreling down a gravel road, windows open, dust blowing in my hair. I was living in Thailand working with a sex workers’ organization and needed to renew my visa so I popped across the border to Laos, figuring I’d see some of the country before returning to Bangkok. I stayed with a friendly Australian ex-pat who kept his lechery limited to discreetly glancing at my tits when he thought I wasn’t looking. He put me up on his couch and offered to show me around. So that’s how I came to be driving through the rural roads of southern Laos in his jeep with a small piece of bamboo in my hand. We bumped and shook over the rough roads and waved back at the kids in school uniforms piled into the back of a truck ahead of us. It had been months since I’d seen any of my too-radical-for-religion friends. I looked down at the bamboo, noticed its minute and exquisite symmetry and thought: “God.”

That night, alone in my bungalow room near the border, I looked at the book I was carrying. Good god, could I have been any more earnest? It was Wayne Dyer’s Your Sacred Self. “I’m not religious,” I’d reassured myself when I bought it at the  second-hand book shop in Vientiane, “I’m just curious.”

Looking at the dorky yellow cover of that book, remembering the years I spent in Cathedrals (“I just find them comforting!”), and my original college major (religious studies) I realized two things: First, that I was a Christian and had been circling it for years, holding tight to my threads of denial as the evidence mounted.

Second, that I was a white woman from the Global North having a spiritual awakening in the  Global South. The horror: I was Elizabeth Gilbert in Eat, Pray, Love. I’m an intersectional activist, an abortion-loving queer lady of the night. Surely if god had any mercy, she would make me anyone but Elizabeth Gilbert discovering anything but her Christianity. In a Buddhist country colonized by a Christian one, no less,  all of this having started while listening to a Black Christian preacher whose faith communities were born in resistance to genocide and whiteness.

I whipped my copy of Your Sacred Self across the room in rage, crying as it smashed into the wall. I didn’t know what was more humiliating: being in my own personal Eat, Pray, Love or that I had been heading toward it for years and didn’t know it.

 

Chanelle Gallant is a writer, educator and long time activist in intersectional sex working and feminist communities. She has writing upcoming in Make/Shift and The Rumpus. You can find her at www.chanellegallant.com