Hello again! After a three year hiatus I’m cautiously dipping my toe back into the Bent Pentacle to see what it’s like, I’ve updated the About page and added an FAQ for submissions.
This has been a really rough few months within the queer community and I hope that this site can do something to bring queer pagans together in love and power, and help us remember our past and move into the future. It’s my belief that working to reclaim our power spiritually is a way for marginalised folk to find the strength, sustenance and focus to continue the fight the best way we can. It can help us to vision the world we want to create and know we’re never alone when working to manifest it. It can help us learn to use both compassion and anger appropriately and productively without having to limit either. In this spirit I invite anyone reading this to submit something to the Bent Pentacle and share their magic and vision with their queer pagan sisters, brothers and others. There’s no deadline (though I’m optimistically aiming for an update every fortnight) , and no one involved is making a profit.
(The title of this series is shamelessly stolen from the title of a previous work by Phil Hine. Credit where credit’s due.)
Do what thou wilt shall be the whole of the law
The following is part of a series I wrote a few years ago whilst quite new to a thelemic order, and as I was forming a relationship to its central philosophy. How did I relate to this? Is the law really for all and if so what is the sexual ethic of a new day?
This is a picture of a patch I got ages ago (I really need to find something to sew it onto)
Desire is something that I feel is very problematic to analyse or politicise. I had an experience when I was a teenager, when I was confused about sexuality and identity, wondering if I was feeling certain things because of this or that or the other, when I stepped back and said – “you know what? It doesn’t matter. These are my desires at the moment and that’s all I need to know”. This was a liberating realisation for me at the time and allowed me to explore my identity without going crazy with over thinking everything.
Going to a masked ball to flounce, flaunt and flirt is a well-established feature of contemporary London life, and – whether a private or public event, does not occasion much comment. However, in the eighteenth century, when masquerades first became popular public events, it was a very different matter. Masquerades were scandalous events which, according to their detractors, threatened the very social fabric of the land.
The above question is one that is heard a lot among queer circles, but one that I’ve always found quite strange and hard to really understand, let alone answer. If you ask me to describe myself and my experiences I’ll happily do so, but something about the word “identify” doesn’t really strike me as something I want to be doing.
By Kris Littlesun (This article is a follow up from my piece about aspecting Baphomet, read it here)
While I was at Queer Pagan Camp, my friend gave me a beautiful statuette of Baphomet. When I brought it home however I felt a strange reluctance to getting them out of my bag. I have a really bad issue with clutter, any space I occupy for any length of time ends up looking a complete state and my room is generally the epicentre of the chaos. This is something I have a lot of shame around, especially when it comes to people seeing my space when it’s in that kind of state. I realised that the reason I was uncomfortable with getting Baphomet out was because I was nervous about them seeing the state that my space was in – which I felt was rather strange, because of all the deities I feel Baphomet is probably one of the least likely to be bothered by a messy bedroom.