Hallowe’en is well-known (at least in my world) as a Big GAY Holiday that has all the celebration of modern gay pride parties without the direct connection to our painful history. That’s not meant as a criticism; there’s plenty of evidence that celebration (laughter and joy) can be powerful aids in maintaining good mental hygiene.
And to be clear, if you love celebrating the occasion, please go ahead and live it up.
I’ve never found it to be something I enjoy. Friends and followers know that childhood memories are a tricky thing for me. We moved a lot- arriving in our fourth town the summer I turned 10. That no doubt contributed to my having few childhood friends, and all sorts of difficulty in forming healthy relationships.
I’ve no recollection of earth-based or pagan spirituality being openly condemned at home- not really any direct religious instruction for that matter. Perhaps more because of my young experiences that nature is not kind I’ve only really just now (age 67) begun to connect with the great outdoors, ancestors, and other spiritual aspects so many queer folk are well-versed on.
Looking back with as much self-awareness as I’ve been able to develop, I have a theory as to why October 31st is just another day.
I came into this reality to immediately be “fixed and transformed into something better. Something more acceptable” (see Prenatal Trauma). My immediate response was to hide as much of my true Self as I could- in fact pretty much everything except my sexual identity. Living a life of masks meant that ‘dressing up’ for Hallowe’en would be redundant. I’m sure I played the part when my siblings would go Trick or Treating, but that was just not making waves- and perhaps some free candy.
As a way to explore other identities? Every day was spent learning how to (pretend) to be someone worthy. Dressing up as a pirate, a ghost, an electrician (Dad’s occupation) would be just another lesson in ways to hide.
As for this being a way to connect to spirituality. Being trapped in a ‘Denis Brown Bar’ didn’t prevent me from going outside, but it definitely limited exploration. And may’ve been the cause for the family dog there to disappear before we moved to the next town.
Nature and I are still not close.
Back in Toronto in the 1980s my then-partner loved to dress up, loved to do make-up. He believed that my resistance to painting my face was more than just sensitive eyes- although I doubt he caught the real reason- Nor was I able to see it, still caught in the process of hiding.
With hindsight I guess I could try and be ‘that kind of gay’ just this once, but trying to be the real Me is taking all my strength of will these days.
Some references on ‘gay Christmas’ as a real thing:
At PsychologyToday.com- Cross-Cultural Psychology: Halloween and Queer Culture.
From Pink News- The fascinating history of Halloween – how an ancient Celtic rite turned into ‘gay Christmas’.
