30th anniversary of the First Radical Faerie Gathering
No. 139 Autumn 2009 $7.75
(#140)
Vol 36 No 1 #139 Autumn 2009
Decennial anniversaries are often used by individuals, groups, and even movements as a time for reflection for what was and growth, hopes and dreams for what could be. We use this important issue of RFD as an opportunity for readers and writers to reflect on the thirtieth anniversary of the Radical Faerie movement. During the Labor Day weekend, August 31 to September 2, 1979, men from all over the United States gathered at an ashram in Benson, Arizona at the call of Harry Hay, John Burnside and Don Kilhefner. These men, and those who joined them, initiated a movement that would take on the name on the call:
“Radical Faerie”. As you will read in the following pages, the Radical Faerie movement was born out of many peoples’ sharings, ideas and visions. Early faeries looked at the world, including the gay world, in which they lived, and wanted something better, deeper, richer. And they wanted to do it with others who shared similar views. The term “Radical Faeries” perfectly embodied this vision in that our founders’ defined “radical” as “to mean the root of” and “faeries” as “to reclaim our identity as gay men”. The majority of the articles in this issue focus on the actual first “radical faerie” gathering while others speak to earlier gatherings and their potential impact of the community which came to be identified as Radical Faerie.
As you read through this issue, you will learn about one founder’s motivations for calling that first gathering, and his view of what we have lost, and gained, as gay men and radical faeries. This writer encourages us to look carefully at how society has tilted rightward over these past thirty years, and asks that we consider re-connecting with ourselves as a caring and compassionate people. Other writers speak of their experiences at those first gatherings, and those gatherings’ transformative impacts on their lives then and now. As the issue progresses, a few writers give us the larger context of who they were in 1979 and their introductions to the faeries, while Chicago faeries celebrate their 20th anniversary. Interspersed through out the issue,
and montaged in the middle, are photos from the archive of Blase DiStefano of that first gathering. Thank you Blase, for sending these and allowing us to share these with RFD readers. We, as the Collective, are also glad to note that a few folks made this exploratory journey personal by interviewing our elders about their experiences and then sharing those conversations with RFD’s readers. It is wonderful to see how a magazine like RFD can continue to flourish with such powerful and personal reader input.
As is always true, while much of the writing contained here is expository, there are also many poems reflecting faeries’ experiences with our past, present, and future. We urge you to take a moment, and carefully read each of these compelling contemplations.
Speaking of present and future, we are pleased to share an interview with Steven Riel, one of our former poetry editors, on the occasion of his new book, Postcard from P-town.
On personal notes, the Collective took enormous pleasure in receiving and reviewing these many reflections. We loved having the opportunity to speak with many of these writers, and learn more about their experiences.
We look forward to our readers’ responses to the call for materials relating to our Canadian brothers and sisters Faerie experiences in British Columbia. If you have experiences, memories, photos, and stories you would like to share of your BC adventures, please be in touch via mail or our email, submissions@rfdmag.org with radfaeBC in the subject line. And as is always true, we encourage anyone who has an interest in RFD to consider being in touch about writing, artwork, or submitting photos for its pages. As so clearly demonstrated by this issue, RFD is a reader written sharing of history, joys and dreams, and passions. We hope to hear from you. And as we must always say... subscribe, subscribe, subscribe.
Hugs—The RFD CollectiveRFD appreciates the following artists whose work appears in this issue:
Blase DiStefano <blasedistefano@comcast.net>
Ira Cohen and Frances McCann images courtesy of Harold Norse website, <www.haroldnorse.com>.
Cindii <evilhero.nathan@gmail.com>
Marc Kiska <www.marckiska.com>
Keith Gemerek <kgny@aol.com>
RFD is a reader written journal for gay people which focuses on country living and encourages alternative lifestyles. We foster community building and networking, explore the diverse expressions of our sexuality, care for the environment, radical faerie consciousness, naturecentered spirituality, and share experiences of our lives. RFD is produced by volunteers. We welcome your participation. The business and general production are coordinated by a collective. The collective has a listserv for those who wish to get involved at http://groups.google. com/group/rfd-production/ Features and entire issues are prepared by different groups in various places. We print in New England. RFD (ISSN# 0149-709X) is published quarterly for $25 a year by RFD Press, P.O. Box 302, Hadley MA 01035-0302. Postmaster: Send address changes to RFD, P.O. Box 302, Hadley MA 01035-0302 Non-profit tax exempt #62-1723644, a function of RFD Press with office of registration at 231 Ten Penny Rd., Woodbury, TN 37190. RFD Cover Price: $7.75 a regular subscription is the least expensive way to receive it four times a year. Copyright © 2009 RFD Press. The records required by Title 18 U.S.D. Section 2257 and associated with respect to this magazine (and all graphic material associated therewith on which this label appears) are kept by the custodian of records at the following location: RFD Press, 231 Ten Penny Road, Woodbury TN 37190.
Fred Vassie (FV), assisted by Mark Blair (MB) interviewed Dr. Don Kilhefner, cofounder of the Radical Faeries and longtime gay activist, at his home in Los Angeles. This is an abridged version of the conversation. A full version is online at www.rfdmag.org.
FV - This interview is for RFD Magazine on the occasion of the 30th Anniversary of the founding of the Radical Faeries in 1979.
MB - Don, do you have an opening comment?
DK - My opening comment: This person [holding up picture] is as old as I am. How come she looks that way and I don’t?
FV - It’s Cher — she wears a mask and you don’t. How’s that? Let’s look back 30 years and reminisce about the Radical Faeries Spiritual Gathering in Benson, Arizona in 1979, and see where we are now and what the future holds in the next 30 years. Don, can you tell us why the gathering was held, its purpose and hopes?
DK - In 1978, I was at Rama, a Sufi retreat center in the Sangre de Cristo Mountains in New Mexico. When I left I stopped by San Juan Pueblo for a couple of days to talk with Harry Hay about the direction of gay liberation and what we saw happening that concerned us. By that time gay liberation was about a decade old. There was a great deal of movement to the center, towards what
revolutionary push of the original gay liberation movement was slowly being absorbed by the middle class and losing much of its power and vitality. We talked about having a conference where gay men would come together to explore deeper elements of gay liberation, such as gay consciousness and gay spirituality. We hoped that would revive and renew the vigor of the gay liberation movement. The original purpose was to get gay men to look at the questions: Why do gay people exist? What do gay people do in the world that makes us so important? We hoped to chart a new course in gay liberation.
MB - Why did you choose the name Radical Faeries?
DK - First of all, both Harry and I come out of radical backgrounds, so that was a term we thought important. The word radical comes from the Latin word which means root – getting to the root or fundamental basis of something. The work was to be radical, both politically in the real sense of the meaning of that word, and getting to the root of what it is that gay people are doing in the world. Faerie has a long tradition of association with gay people. Those strange people in Celtic culture who live on the edge of society play a very important role in healing and creativity; they are magical beings. Other cultures also have faeries. Although Arthur Evans started some faerie circles in northern California in the mid-70s, they were short lived.
Faerie. Actually, the name was proposed by Harry as we were writing the leaflet announcing the gathering. Harry said, “Why not Radical Faeries?” I thought it was a great idea. That’s how the name came to be used.
FV - When you sent out the announcement for the gathering at Benson, it was before the age of the Internet. When I was talking with Bambi at RFD, he commented there already were a number of gay organizations, or faerie groups throughout the country. The Benson gathering was not the first such gathering. Still it was the first on a national level called Radical Faerie Spiritual Gathering.
DK - As I mentioned earlier, Arthur Evans had started some organizations in San Francisco that were of short duration. Otherwise, I didn’t know, and Harry didn’t either of other faerie circles around the country.
FV - How did you make contact? You had people not just from California or the West coast, but from the east coast and Canada.
DK - In two primary ways. Harry and I were at my apartment in L.A. and Mark Thompson, who was cultural editor of the Advocate came to interview Harry on the 10th anniversary of gay liberation at Stonewall. At the end of the interview, Harry mentioned the gathering planned for the Arizona desert. Mark put that in the published article, and thereby gave the announcement a national distribution.
We also created a leaflet [walks to wall to obtain framed leaflet]. This is the leaflet, one side had the announcement and the other had the call. This is largely what I wrote and sent to Harry to make a few minor corrections. We sent that leaflet anywhere we could find a gay organization, a gay community center, a gay church, a gay synagogue, anything that was gay. We distributed about 500-600 anywhere we could get names, including our own mailing lists, etc. You are right, it was before the Internet. It was a different kind of organizing.
FV - The gathering occurred 30 years ago in Arizona. I lived in Tucson for a while and was privileged to visit the Benson site with Dimid Hayes [who attended the 1979 gathering] and Michael Donlan. Were there any followon gatherings to Benson, and if so, where and when?
DK - First, let me go back to how we let people know there was a gathering. An important part was place because we agreed it was important to be in nature where there were no heterosexuals around, where we could really be among ourselves — and be ourselves. We needed a certain kind of location. From the Spring of 1978 until May 1979, we had looked all over and were getting desperate. I happened to notice in March 1979, an ad in the Advocate for an ashram in the Tucson area. I called Swami Anan Nanda and talked to him about our plans. He said he was coming to L.A. and we could get together. We met, but he was cautious about having a faerie gathering at the ashram. He said, “Why don’t you come and check it out?” So Harry, John Burnside, and I flew to Albuquerque and then drove to Benson.
First of all, Harry got into an argument with the swami and didn’t think the place was quite what we wanted. I thought it would do just fine, primarily because it had the kind of commercial kitchen facilities needed; previously it was used by the County Juvenile Probation Department. It had a dining room and a room where people could sleep indoors in sleeping bags and plenty of room for tents outside and there was a swimming pool. I did the math and when Harry and
John woke from a nap, I said financially it was possible to do here and I showed them the numbers. Finally, Harry agreed and we decided to have the gathering over the Labor Day weekend in 1979. There were three important elements in lining it up. First was finding the site. Second was moving Harry and John from San Juan Pueblo to Los Angeles. They were pretty much living in genteel poverty and fairly isolated, so it would be better to do the organizing from one place. We got a place in Hollywood, which became the first Radical Faerie
involved with organizing it. I mention this because he makes a big deal that he was involved, but he simply wasn’t. He was involved in the second and third gatherings, not the first one.
FV - Yes. I’m aware there was a recent fuss over Mitch Walker.
MB - As gay people, we segregate ourselves in so many ways and yet [often] we can focus on one thing, but divide ourselves in other ways. Why is it that some gays aren’t willing to compromise and come to a consensus and move forward in the direction we want to go?
DK - I’ve done over 40 years of organizing in the gay community. As you are aware, I was involved with the early organizing through the Gay Liberation Front here in Los Angeles, which became the flagship of the gay liberation movement in this country. I was the founder of the first gay community center in the country, which still is the largest in the world. I also founded the first residential treatment program for gay alcoholics and addicts at Van Ness Recovery House. My basic style of organizing has been bringing a group of people together, developing a shared vision, and then working towards that vision. Probably 95 percent of people work that way. There are 5 percent who get very egocentrically involved and it becomes all about them. They may cause big disruptions, but most of the time gays can work together toward a common goal. Did I answer your question?
sanctuary. I lived there with John and Harry and a young man named Michael Fleming. The third element was getting the leaflet into the mail.
Let me add something here that’s very important. Before we moved, Mark Thompson did the Advocate interview with Harry on May 1, 1979. We had invited Mitch Walker from Oakland to come and help organize the gathering. Harry and Mitch went for a walk and got into a fight and Harry came storming back very angry. Mitch returned right afterwards, packed and left. He did come to the gathering in Arizona, but was not
MB - Yes, I wanted to hear your perception because I find it fascinating.
DK - You have to remember that gay people are an oppressed people and part of this is what I call “pressure sickness” coming out. Oppressed people will take out their oppression on those closest to them, not their oppressor. There are hundreds of examples of this.
FV - Let’s go back to Benson. What is your best memory from that first gathering?
DK - Just the fact it happened, to tell the truth, because there was no guarantee this was going to take place. Harry and I thought we would be successful
if 50 people showed up. Well, 150 people made their way to this little ashram in the Sonora Desert from all over North America. It’s amazing to me that people heard the call and what we were trying to do. It wasn’t just anybody who came. These people tended to be bright, had themselves more or less together, and were ready to take the next step in gay consciousness. In some ways they were special people — atypical gays at the time because they were politically and spiritually aware. They knew something else was needed in the community. It’s not easy to get to the spot where we held this gathering. That’s part of the mystique for me. Those who did show up went back and seeded future faerie gatherings. There was a lot of seeding of Radical Faerie activity that came out of that first gathering which was not anticipated by either Harry or myself.
MB - You mentioned the spiritual aspect of the faerie movement, yet I find that it is lacking to a great degree. For me that would be something — to get people to reconsider themselves as magical beings. There doesn’t seem to be any spiritual emphasis, or as much as there might be.
DK - From 1975 to 1979, I conducted a series of workshops called Gay Voices, subtitled The Enspiritment of Gay Politics/The Politics of Gay Enspiritment. I was looking at gay visionaries from our history and what they were telling us about ourselves. This just didn’t occur at a gathering in the desert where we got together and talked about what might be possible. Harry had been studying this for decades. I had been providing workshops on it for four or five years before that gathering. When we came together in the Sonora Desert it was from a conscious point of view that both Harry and I had about what was possible for us as gay people. I would agree with you – it seems as if many of the radical faerie gatherings today are more like – I don’t know – vacations or social gatherings – people getting together to have a good time and the real intention of the original Radical Faerie gatherings since around 1983 or 1984 have been lost.
FV - Don, going back to your memories, how has the experience at Benson changed you, or did it change you?
DK - For me, I think the changes happened beforehand. They came out of gay liberation and doing the vision workshops. They changed me in terms of my understanding of gayness. The first Radical Faerie gathering for me was more in terms of sharing some of these understandings. If you read the call, one of the things we talked about was sharing our insights into gay consciousness with each other. It was meaningful to me that the organizing worked. It looked like there was a generation of gay men who were ready and willing to do the deeper work of examining gay consciousness and gay spirituality – gay centered reality.
FV - Do you still identify yourself as a Radical Faerie?
DK - Yes indeed! Many times when people have that experience and go to gatherings, it really changes them. Mark Thompson talks about how his consciousness was transformed by that first gathering. Many times gatherings have a profound impact on peoples’ thinking and consciousness. It’s something you carry with you. We gay men can come together, relate to each other, talk to each other but move in the world differently than others.
FV - As you know, we tried to have a commemorative celebration of Benson, dubbed Queer Spirit Roots or QSR. We came together three or four times and did some planning. I happened to be involved. Our attempt was based on a vision that Scotty Dog [faerie from Portland, Oregon] had. We came to consensus but the overall attempt failed
because of one thing. It’s sensitive. What is your thinking of the female being part of the Radical Faeries?
DK - That isn’t where Radical Faeries come from. One has to honor one’s past and respect where you come from. The Radical Faeries were designed as an opportunity for gay men to come together and share with each other new insights into gay consciousness. Now over the years, depending on which part of the country you are from, Radical Faeries developed differently. It’s a very decentralized movement. I have no problem honoring that it grew in different ways. But if you are doing something to honor the first gathering, then it’s a gathering of gay men, for gay men. Anybody with any political understanding knows this. There are lesbian groups that get together for lesbians only – for women to come together without men [other groups do the same]. This is a fundamental political reality in our country. Why some people don’t get that, I don’t understand. There’s a time for gay men to come together, Radical Faeries to come together and talk to each other.
FV - Whether there will be any largescale commemorative event or not, remains to be seen.
DK - There won’t be. We have a different climate in this country right now relating to gay men. We have a shrinking of the gay community taking place. We have gay assimilation taking place, gay people are not developing gay consciousness, gays are disappearing. We do not have either the political insight or the political consciousness, nor a sense of vision needed to continue something like having a gathering 30 years later. This June is the 40th anniversary of the Stonewall Rebellion, and nowhere in Los Angeles is that being commemorated, forty years after the central event that propelled gay liberation! It will be celebrated in New York and San Francisco, not in Los Angeles. I would imagine in most cities of the country it won’t be commemorated. Hear what I’m saying? We are in a crisis in the gay community right now. A crisis – we are slowly disappearing.
MB - Two things. One is the devastation the gay community suffered from AIDS, and the other is mentoring. You talked about mentoring in Seeing in the Dark
and said nobody is mentoring young people. So much emphasis is placed on drugs and sex that there is no self-identity – what I call the spiritual awakening of self to a greater essence of one’s being.
DK - Right. I would blame the primary focus on the [so-called] Reagan “Revolution”. For the last 30 years our values and people in this society have been shaken and shaped by the values of the Reagan “Revolution”, which basically says your purpose is to make money and get as much of it as you can. Secondly, community is not important – family is important. It’s important that whatever you develop be family oriented, not community oriented. It’s based on the idea that identity politics needs to be gotten rid of because it is destructive
to looking at others. We are interested in who we are, and at the same time we realize what’s going on is larger than we (and they) are. Yin and Yang might be the right words, indicating a wholeness in society that involves gay people exploring our identity.
for the nation. All of those tenets of the Reagan “Revolution” weakened the gay community. It was weakened because there was a swing to the right in the larger community. In the gay community there has also been a swing to the right. Our leadership tends to be more right wing than ever before in our history. They are not interested in community building; they are interested in fundraising. There is a difference.
FV - In light of what you have just said, what is the greatest challenge today for identifying as a Radical Faerie? Can one be a Radical Faerie and not interact with the community? If you want to be a witch you can practice Wicca by yourself, it’s not a problem. What about being a Radical Faerie?
DK - I would look at these questions by asking what common themes have characterized Radical Faeries during the last 30 years. They haven’t always lived up to them, but what was the intention, what was the vision, what were the central characteristics of the Radical Faeries?
One of the central characteristics is that Radical Faeries are gay-centered, by that I mean we look at ourselves prior
It means going back to Walt Whitman, where for the first time he distinguishes a difference in consciousness between gay and non-gay people. In his poetry Whitman used the word “amative” to describe what we would call heterosexual consciousness. He used the word “adhesive” to describe what we would call gay consciousness. For the first time we have somebody saying we carry a different consciousness. Edward Carpenter says we are doing something in society, we are fulfilling certain kinds of roles throughout the world wherever gay people are found – as shaman, medicine people, healers, leaders, and what have you – this becomes important. Radical Faeries are continuing in the footsteps of Walt Whitman and Edward Carpenter by asking what we are doing. What do we contribute to society that makes us so important? Radical Faeries today, 30 years later, are an antidote to the gay assimilation that we find all around us.
The second characteristic is that Radical Faeries are politically progressive. We tend to support progressive political movements, liberation movements of men and women, people of color, working people, ordinary people. We tend to support those political movements that represent the interests of the people. We get involved in electoral politics when integrity, honesty, and vision are involved. I think Radical Faeries like President Obama.
We have to remember that there is a whole generation of 30 years of gay men who have been shaped not by gay liberation, but by the Reagan “Revolution.” All they know is gay conservatism. We are dealing with that in Los Angeles right now. They know nothing about a radical or revolutionary gay movement, or gay identity. I recently loaned a young man my copy of the first documentary that was made on gay liberation here in Los Angeles in 1970. It shows the first gay parade on Hollywood Boulevard and the Gay Liberation Front taking over an international conference of psychologists. When he returned the
There was a lot of seeding of Radical Faerie activity that came out of that first gathering which was not anticipated by either Harry or myself.
documentary to me, he was angry. He wasn’t angry with me but he said to me angrily, “Why hasn’t anyone told me about this history? This is something I could be proud of.” Hear what I’m saying? For the last 30 years we haven’t taught that history here!
MB - You attribute part of that to 1969 when we had Stonewall. We stood up and said “We’ve had enough!” Today, we don’t have that struggle.
DK - No, the political pendulum has swung so that we are living in a conservative time. That was the value system when most of them were raised. They were taught to get an education, a job, make money, and consume. That’s what many of them do.
A third characteristic of Radical Faeries, based on my experience, is that Radical Faerie gatherings represent an ideal gay community because they recognize that everybody who is at the gathering has gifts. All of those gifts need to be woven into the fabric of the community. Those gatherings honor different age groups, as well as ancestors. Adults are present, youth is invited. The gatherings are cross-generational and intergenerational. They are places where we feed each other literally and spiritually. We have fun. We enjoy ourselves, we dress up, we dress down, we sing, we dance. Faeries have a creative consciousness and are creatively involved. There also is a political consciousness. In many ways Radical Faerie gatherings are much like the gay community we would like to live in.
As gay communities are contracting and disappearing across the country, I think Radical Faeries provide a new model of how we as gay people can come together to create the kind of community we want. I’ve always seen Radical Faerie gatherings like that. They are a model of what is possible.
MB - I want to be accepted. Yet there’s an internal battle going on: expression of who I am vs. wanting to be accepted by society at the same time. How do you merge these together to feel like a whole person?
DK - You’ve been told by your oppressor that who you are is a sex act. And that’s not who you are. It’s the tail wagging the dog. You are something greater than a sex act, and what you contribute to
society is not a sex act. Do you get it?
There’s a need to redefine what you’re doing in society and then communicate that to the dominant culture. We are pretty much prisoners of the identity our oppressors have laid upon us. That’s not an identity that comes from us. It’s an oppressive identity that comes from them. Homosexual is negative, it’s sick, it’s illegal; it’s a negative identity of who you are.
Gay people have to have imagination, and also have vision to define themselves based on what they’re doing in society. That’s what makes Walt Whitman so important. That’s what makes Edward Carpenter so important. That’s what makes Radical Faeries so important. Some heterosexuals are recognizing this too. E. O. Wilson at Harvard University, the dean of American biologists, the father of the socio-biology movement, and an evolutionary biologist looks at gay people. In a book on human nature he comes to the conclusion, I quote, we [gays] “ . . . are the carriers of the rare altruistic impulse in the human species.” Hear that, what he’s saying? He says nothing about whom you are fucking, or about what’s going in what orifice – nothing!
Joan Roughgarden, an evolutionary biologist at Stanford, has come out with a book called, Evolution’s Rainbow in which she looks at others like us throughout nature. She says that those like us are kindred in other species. We are carrying the quality of cooperation within different species. We are causing cooperation to happen. Hear it? Not a word about where do you put what or where to insert what.
MB - It’s not about sexuality. It’s about the humanness of who we are.
DK - It’s a trait — a characteristic that we contribute to society — and that’s what we have to come to an understanding about. Otherwise, we don’t have anything to dialog with heterosexuals about. Basically they are doing the same thing we’re doing – fellatio, analingus, you name it [chuckles].
FV - OK. Now, let’s shift a little. Is Radical Faerieism a spiritual journey per se?
DK - I would say so. How do you see it as a spiritual journey, Mark?
MB - In 1979 I studied some spirituality, and I was beginning to embrace it. I grew up in a very Methodist environment, with no thought of who you were in relation to yourself and creation. I awakened my own spiritual nature and continue to do so today. There’s a part of me that is aware of the greatness that I belong to, yet the independent part of me feels segregated from everything. When I can look into somebody’s eyes and touch what I call the windows of his soul, I come to deep understanding and empathy and commune with him, touching that spiritual aspect.
One of the conversations (or lectures) Harry did was on objective and subjective personalities and how we treat each other sexually. I’ve always gone back to that lecture, asking myself how do I approach people? Do I objectify them or do I subjectify them? Have I been objectified, have I been subjectified? The spiritual aspect is more subjectifying than objectifying. How do we define our spirituality? How do we define whom we’re connected with? How do I connect with my brothers and sisters in life as I walk my own journey?
I feel I’ve connected with people in the gay/lesbian movement but I don’t feel I’m embraced. You talked about Wicca, that’s not necessarily faerie either, but there certainly are gay people in those traditions. Touching the heart or soul is the essence of our being, and communicating with one another transcends anything else. I think this is missing [too often]. That’s partly what I’m searching for in my life. How can I connect with people at such a deep level?
DK - Well, it’s kind of unconscious. It comes down to: what role do you play in society? Are you doing healing work? Are you a teacher? What role? It’s not only the consciousness we carry, because that gets translated to how we move in the world and the kinds of work we are drawn to.
MB - Becoming a mentor or an elder and carrying and owning that role, not because I do any good, but because of who I am and what I carry within myself. That’s what I’m struggling with now. Then, going into the community and making a difference.
DK - For gay people, you asked about
Radical Faerieism being a spiritual journey – I think that it is. I think it’s a journey from false-self to true-self. The false self is what we were told we were. The journey to true self is who we are, and this is what we are contributing. We have always done this, no matter where we were found throughout the world. This is what makes Edward Carpenter so important.
FV - For most of my life, the difference between being a religious person and a spiritual person was very fuzzy. In earlier years I was a religious person, who finally evolved into this spiritual being of today. I’m a lot more comfortable having found myself spiritually. Having done so, I want to help others find themselves by giving back to the community. This interview is one way. It’s important to find a venue of some sort where we can come together and explore gay consciousness again, as faeries did at the Benson gathering.
DK - A national gathering is needed right now, more than ever. I would predict that if there were a national Radical Faerie gathering in 2010 or 2011, thousands of people would show up because there’s a thirst out there for something new. We’ve had 30 years of the Reagan “Revolution” and of gay assimilation; now there’s a thirst for something else.
DK - RFD used to be produced at Wolf Creek. The first time I visited,
I was sitting in the kitchen at about nine o’clock in the morning. As I sat and looked out the window into the big meadow, there was a young man standing there masturbating. [Chuckles] It was like a sight I’d never seen before – just somebody standing there in the meadow masturbating. When he ejaculated, I thought, “Oh Good, I’m in the presence of an angel of the Lord.”
FV - Certainly he was communing with nature! Don, as one of the founding visionaries and callers of the first spiritual Radical Faerie conference, what is your vision for the present and for the next 30 years down the road?
DK - I’ve just been talking to you about it for the last hour. That’s the vision. We must continue our process, we haven’t come home yet. We haven’t been able to articulate to ourselves, and to the dominant culture, what it is that we are contributing to society. I happen to think [the things we contribute are] major.
FV - It is major! Do you have any last minute thoughts?
DK - Part of that is a political understanding. In our lifetimes, we have seen white supremacy. We have seen people of color and their allies overthrow white supremacy because it was very destructive. We have seen women and their allies overthrow male supremacy. What we’re dealing with here is heterosexual supremacy. It’s everywhere.
The recent passage of proposition 8 [anti-gay marriage proposition that changed the California Constitution by denying gays the basic human right to marry] can be understood in terms of heterosexual supremacy. It will involve the work of gay people and our allies to overthrow that heterosexual supremacy. That overthrowing is part of what we’re talking about – being able to communicate that we are doing something to the advantage of society which contributes to the well-being of straight people [and others].
That’s why the work of E. O. Wilson and Joan Roughgarden are so important. These are leading figures in their field who are saying, “Wait a minute, you’ve got it all wrong about gay people. There are others like them in every species – penguins, sea gulls, and seals. They are contributing to cooperation within their species.” This certainly revolutionizes one’s whole view of gay people. Right now we are living in a time of heterosexual supremacy. It’s similar to white supremacy, with its Jim Crow laws and separate this and that... [this] still continues.
MB - What would be the one thing each of us could do to make a difference in changing?
DK - You tell me what you are doing. What I’m doing is trying to publish a Radical Faerie anthology so some of the primary readings and ideas of radical faeries can be widely disseminated. What are you doing? What are you doing, Fred?
FV - I’m doing this interview right now. DK - You’re doing this interview, and Mark you are helping with it. Wherever you are, start doing something. Don’t just stand there, do something! There are people out there who are listening. We are in a crisis in this country right now, and as President Obama keeps saying: “This is an opportunity to rebuild.” This is the same truth for gay people. We have to rebuild our consciousness. Thank you.
FV - Don, thank you very much. I appreciate the time you have given and I hope the message will be heard loudly and clearly.
Except for a few minor stylistic adjustments, the following article appears below as I originally wrote it at the Fall Equinox in 1979, barely three weeks after the first gathering at Sri Rama Ashram outside of Benson, AZ. However, please note that the two hundred and twenty attendance number I used was a number circulating in conversations at the time and not verified with the organizers. Cofounder Don Kilhefner was registrar for the event and his report on attendance would be more historically accurate.
Two hundred and twenty of us gather in a circle in the hot Arizona desert. Labor Day Weekend. 1979.
A young man in glasses rises in our midst, offering to tell us a story.
Weeks ago, when he first got the Call, he agreed that the conference was a good idea but felt no urgency to attend. When another announcement later came
to his attention, he asked the Goddess to show him whether he needed to be here. The Goddess was silent, but at the urging of friends, he drove crosscountry – thinking the trip would be a good vacation at least. The ride was long and hot. And on the floor of the ladies room at a highway rest stop, he unexpectedly found a woman giving birth. The Goddess had finally spoken; and the young man knew why he had been called to the conference… It was his destiny to assist his brothers in the birth of a culture – the creation of a new and more meaningful mythology.
Bells tinkle. Witches among us go shrill. Shamans circle with their feathers. We are fathers, artists, athletes and sissies. We do not fear gentleness and have no need to compete. We believe in the power of contradictions and the magic of laughter. That the quality of energy exchanged in lovemaking is more important than the gender of bodies. We acknowledge the sacred desert around us. Invoke guides from
the spirit world. Evoke our true selves. Free of heterosexist oppression, we have gathered in this space to explore and affirm whom and why we are, provide a sense of community and nurture each other’s growth.
The moon grows full. We dance in its light and review the lore of fairies. Elders remind us that fairies were mischievous magical nature spirits originally – the oppressed remnants of the antecedent Goddess religion. A lithesome race with its own ethical code; and often misunderstood – even when it helped the unfortunate. A race variously associated with the Druids, Wicca and Pan.
In Patriarchy, the history of the oppression of fairies parallels that of homosexuals. Thus have homosexual males (in particular) been pejoratively called fairies. In some cultures, however, homosexuals were openly respected as praise-singers, shamans and reminders of the psychically androgynous ideal. Only in Patriarchy have they been
condemned as evil, along with all things feminine, including magic.
The stars twinkle in the clear desert night. Around our great circle, various brothers stand and express what they would like to experience and contribute over the next two-and-a-half days. It is clear that we all hunger for a fresh and supportive appreciation of ourselves. That we wish to retrieve what we have lost. Wish to discard the models we have inherited and establish new ones for how we seek to be. From this open-ended session is formulated a variety of events and experiences to be led by ourselves and undertaken in an unstructured way.
In the purifying heat, with the taste of our bodies’ salt on our lips, we meditate, explore ancient myths, run healing energy on one another, practice yoga, stroke the horses, learn ancient Celtic dances, walk and identify desert herbs, discuss good nutrition, prepare vegetarian meals, watch the rabbits, examine our dreams, exchange massage, share poetry, swim, discuss the spiritual significance of sexuality. We play. Make music. Make love. Make magic.
Nude, a group of us walks the cracked earth into the desert. Here we cover our bodies with burnt-orange mud, forming a circle, arms locked around each other.
“Wearing our long-winged feathers as we fly, Wearing our long-winged feathers as we fly, We circle around, We circle around, The bound’ries of the Earth.”
On the ground in the center of the circle, one of us is stretched on his back. Mud is layered on him. Twigs, sprouts and flowers are planted on him. The chant’s rhythm accelerates, sweeping us along with its momentum. We are soon screaming and shouting invocations – mud-covered sprites, dancing to the voice of a solo pipe. By some holy madness, bringing Earth to flower.
Spontaneously, our wailing subsides. The “living” man is lifted above our heads – presented to the sky. Lowered to a standing position, eyes closed, he becomes the silent, stable center around which we enclose and hold each other. In a long line, holding hands, we weave
back towards the ashram, a heady desert snake. Brother to brother. Empowered and transformed.
“We are one in the spirit. We are one in our love.”
It is difficult to leave such a place. But the richness of this singular retreat requires we return to our ordinary worlds to more fully digest what we have shared. The
stands up in a speckled dress. Despite the feminine reserve suggested by his old print garment, he is shaking with emotion. He reads a letter he has just received, recounting how a girlfriend has been raped in a southern city. The account leaves him crying over the violation. Several brothers rise to comfort him. We who remain sitting sing softly. Our brother is soon calmed but his anger against the rapist goes unresolved. He asks for our energy to help dissipate the anger, sending it back to the universe.
pain of imminent parting hangs heavily over the closing circle. While much remains to be done among us, our work in the world must also begin. Listening to my brothers express what these three days have meant to us, I recall an elder’s words yesterday…
Though most of us have had no direct experience with rape, we are able to relate to some form of psychological violation we have endured. We rise and circle our brother. Our chanting intensifies. Someone sobs. Others are openly crying. We invoke our sisters. Scream in fury. Shout in defiance. A righteous rage. The rape of one is the rape of us all. All things gentle. All things feminine. The Earth. Our Mother.
A cool breeze refreshes us… an elder breaks the mood with a witticism. A proud silly sissy reminding us of the healing power of laughter. But someone among us dissents against laughter, demanding justice to all rapists. Another among us rises awkwardly, refusing to hate anyone, even Patriarchy – unwilling to transmute his loving into aggression and violence. Stunned by his emotional eloquence, the rest of us are silent as we wonder what can be done about the rapists. Somewhere in the circle, someone tells us…
“Love them to death. Love them to death.”
Thus, our work is set. Let us move into the world, an army of lovers.
Someone else gives birth to a new chant in our midst. It sweeps us along like a regenerative fire…
We embody masculine and feminine energies in a unique way… the unconscious regenerative Earth Mother and the conscious constructive Sky Father. These seemingly opposite qualities often prove destructive when used in and for themselves. Our work as fairies is to bring harmony between the two – to take the gifts of the Father back to the Mother.
A young man shakes a rattle and
“In the beginning, we flew! In The Beginning, We Flew! IN THE BEGINNING, WE FLEW!”
The clouds move. The quality of the light is changed. Our vision renewed, ourselves made whole, freed of anger, we make our farewell embraces.
We return among you, reminded of our gifts and our desire to help heal Earth. In gentleness. With laughter. Lovingly.
Bells tinkle. Witches among us go shrill. Shamans circle with their feathers. We are fathers, artists, athletes and sissies.1979 Gathering by Blase DiStefano
When I received the email call for submissions about the 1979 Faerie Gathering for the 30th anniversary of RFD I had mixed feelings. That was then - this is now. The community of folk drawn to the Radical Faerie milieu has changed. Originally drawing gay identified and holistic/cross-culturally oriented gay men, nature-honoring and spiritually inclined, gatherings nowadays often resemble more generic festivals. Many Radical Faerie identified men have transitioned, often due to the plague. Varieties of sexual identity and social acceptability have changed. I have also changed.
And yet I’m much the same as then. My first gathering in 1979 was a revelation, and filled me with the feeling, “Finally, I have found my tribe!” For a long time after that I shifted between feelings of both wonder and disillusionment, while struggling to define the term “Radical Faerie”, as if to find a box to include certain people and exclude others. Alternately, one may think of it as keeping focus. This of course brings up the question, “What determines our comfort zones?”
While it is an alluring idea, I was never completely convinced by the assertion of Harry Hay and others that we are a unique variety of humanity with a special role to play within the larger fabric. While that is a lofty and admirable role to aim for, and although it may have been realized in certain primal societies, we (those of us reading this) are often just as dysfunctional as anyone else. And there are kind and loving people everywhere. Although that first gathering was somewhat overshadowed by the personality and themes of Harry Hay, truly an admirable man, I was personally most charmed by the gentle loving nature and creativity of his partner, John Burnside. It’s also possible that
others such as Mitch Walker and Don Kilhefner (and also Arthur Evans) have never received enough credit as founding fathers.
Since the 1979 gathering I have run into a few folks that were also there, such as Parabacchus and Crazy Owl during the spring or fall gatherings at Short Mountain. Meeting Purusha
environment that has always brought out feelings of purification in me. There was a large Buddha shrine room. There was yoga, there was meditation, there was spontaneous music and dance. There were sharings about personal paths and journeys. There was the impromptu mud bath in the arroyo, which became an unplanned mind-altering and uplifting experience. There was the wonderful ritual preceded by a tinkling procession through the desert in the night—a Dionysian satyr guarding the way with his thyrsus. There was the mysterious and majestic bull with upswept horns, or someone like a bull, that appeared to some of us silently in the shadowy brush, witnessing our ceremony briefly and then vanishing, as if by magic.
(Christopher Larkin) at the 1979 gathering was eventful, and I spent some time with him in San Diego for a while after that. Many years ago I gave away my copy of his book, “The Divine Androgyne,” which is only available from rare book sellers now. During the recent reminiscence about all this I rented his film “A Very Natural Thing” from Netflix, which I hadn’t seen in a long time. It is quite autobiographical, as the main character develops much the same outlook that Purusha had when I met him. The film is an interesting cross-section of the time in which the 1979 gathering also happened, and in both the question was raised, “OK, we’re gay and we’re out about it, now what does it mean?” For Radical Faerie and counterculture approaches, one could also introduce the questioning of the standards of conventional, contemporary society, as well as the anthropological and ethnological quests involved in trying to find answers.
The gathering itself was magical, and had a sacred quality. An important aspect of that fact was that it was held at an ashram—a remote and meditative place with gentle residents and a rich library. It was also an inner homecoming for me to my native Arizona desert, an
Faery magic continues to weave through the lives of me and my partner, Pançika. The old faery magic lives on, reaching back into pre-Celtic times but now more accessible than ever, as well as Eastern wisdom, native first nation ways, core shamanism and animism, modern global teachings, and most of all the everyday wonder of existence and the presence that we can realize within that as magical Nature beings. And one of our favorite sayings is that Yoga is the answer to everything. But I would also have to add watermelon.
feyarts@austin.rr.com
...one of our favorite sayings is that Yoga is the answer to everything. But I would also have to add watermelon.Swami Bruce and Hyperion
By Mark Thompson
The earth was as red in places as dried blood on parchment skin, and every step was marked like a bruise in the sand. When the wind came spurting across the desert from far canyon walls, it tinted everything a dusty rose. The land was stark in every direction; the only distinguishable point on the map for miles around was our cloistered sanctuary of low trees, a few adobe buildings and a pool. Never has a body of water seemed more purifying. But cleanliness alone was never the point: quite the contrary that day.
By the second morning of the gathering, we were exhausted from talk. The previous day was a gushing torrent of words and images and pent-up feelings, a heady brew of near feverish intensity. Now it was time for silence. Leaving all clothes behind, a group of men awoke early and left the walls of the confine, trailing one by one to a special recess in the desert. Each man carried a bucket of water, careful not to spill a drop. Soon, we arrived at the nearby dry riverbed and a big puddle of mud was made.
Cries for “more mud” rang across the fields of cactus and sagebrush as we took turns anointing each with the reddish ooze. Twigs and blades of dry grass were woven through hair, adhesive hands linked, and a group of almost forty newly minted fairie men formed a circle. Then we came close together and lifted a brother high above our earth-caked tribe. Arms held high, we silently swayed in the clear morning light, bound as one. The scene was atavistic as it was enlightening, a harmonious act of personal erasure and rebirth. Many of us kept our mud suit on for the rest of the day.
But by the next day we were clean again as we festively dressed and painted ourselves with bright designs for another ritual to be held that night. At dusk, a deep-toned
bell chimed and we once again walked single file into the desert. Darkness swiftly fell, and our costumes caught on sharp branches. Low candles dimly flickering lighted the path, and now and then someone stumbled against an unseen stone. Nervous apprehension soon melded into contemplative appreciation, however, and our unfamiliar surroundings ceased to be an obstacle.
Then the circle split itself into two concentric rings. Facing one another, we greeted each man in front of us with a tender embrace and kiss. The rings moved forward and intertwined while declarations of “fairie spirit, fairie love” reverberated across the desert floor.
After about twenty minutes we arrived at the designated site. More candles had been set around to form a glowing ring and musicians serenaded our arrival. Our band of two hundred made a circle—a grand convocation of fairies!
The music ebbed and, quietly at first, a litany of friends and guiding spirits were called forth. “I evoke Walt Whitman,” said one man. “Marilyn Monroe,” the next. “The shadow of my former self,” declaimed another. Other names came more boldly now. “Peter Pan.” “Kali,
our creator and destroyer.” And so on until everyone was heard. Then a gutwrenching sigh collectively arose up from the circle like an offering to the starry sky. We began to chant, each note rumbling deep in our throats.
Then the circle split itself into two concentric rings. Facing one another, we greeted each man in front of us with a tender embrace and kiss. The rings moved forward and intertwined while declarations of “fairie spirit, fairie love” reverberated across the desert floor.
Music was played again, and each man made an offering to a basket that was passed around; a feather from Woolworth’s, a stone from the Ganges River, a lank of hair, a handwritten poem. We began to dance with the music, and in a few moments noticed we were being joined in our merriment by a large horned bull. Naturally shy, the animal was drawn close in. The bull stood and watched motionless, like some ancient hieroglyphic painted on a cave wall, then he just as inexplicably vanished.
Soon, we too began to drift away into the dark chill air. None of us would ever find again this particular place of red earth that had nourished us so. But even to attempt a return would be missing the point. Our journeys as a new kind of men, having been thusly inaugurated, meant that we would have many destinations, far and wide, still to attend.
From an interview on July 31, 2009 during the 30 year anniversary gathering at Nomenus Wolf Creek Sanctuary, approximately two hours before a scattering of the mixed ashes of Harry Hay and John Burnside.
Scotty: I’m here with Mykdeva, William Stewart, and Wrangler talking about the early faerie gatherings. So you went to the first gathering in 1979 with Harry, and then the second gathering was in Colorado.
Mykdeva: Yes, and I skipped the third one in New Mexico, went to the fourth gathering in San Diego, and to a handful more after that through 1993. I came to Wolf Creek in 1999 for Harry Hay’s sex magic workshop and to reconnect with his work. Now as 30 years comes around I wanted to be here for the spreading of John and Harry’s ashes, feel the energy of coming home again, and mark the Saturn return of the first gathering.
Scotty: So how did you find out you were not just a gay man but a faerie?
Mykdeva: In the summer of 1979 I was just coming out, it was mid July, I was at UCLA for a gay educational conference and I saw a flyer, with these four words: “Spiritual Conference Radical Faeries,” and that combination of words spoke volumes to me. I knew I had to attend. Before I left that first gathering I knew I was a faerie. I’d been taken by the faeries. Around 200 men responded to that call, all virgin faeries, wow. Somehow in putting that call out, what was pulled together in that gathering was absolutely amazing, and historic.
William: It is true that Harry and John had been circling with Don Kilhefner and Mitch Walker a certain amount, and
there were other lineages that were being tapped into.
Mykdeva: Oh, definitely. Anyone with an affinity to the emerging edges of gay consciousness would have been called by those four words and the other language on that call flyer. One thing that was really striking about that gathering was how compressed we were in the physical space of the ashram, like a tiny oasis in the surrounding desert. We had everybody sleeping on this lawn, and sleeping bags were rolled out wall to wall, we had to roll them up so we could use the space for heart circles or workshops. We were very much on top of each other for the three-day
experienced peripherally by me. I missed out on getting muddy, but I heard all this whooping and hollering and went to the streambed. I was playing my flute up on the bank and had my camera and experienced it that way. It was incredible to witness and to be there, but I wasn’t in the center of it. That kind of ritual experience for me came later, the next year in Colorado.
I was really moved by the evening ritual that some of the faeries had planned. They had figured out a path through a little ravine to part of the property behind the ashram that was a good level ground where we could all assemble. There was a gateway through which we passed and a processional evoking a nighttime journey through the desert to the sacred ritual ground. I remember that part pretty well, but as we began the process of moving into an altered space I quickly went into an initiatory state of consciousness that was somewhere beyond this realm. I hardly remember particulars of what transpired, but at one point this horned bull came in from the wild desert cattle range as if to join the ritual. It was one of those moments that you reach in ceremony, a message to let you know you have reached ritual space. It was a door opened into that other realm, stepping through it was clearly my initiation into ceremonial magic.
Scotty: So what did you bring home from the ’79 conference? How were you transformed?
Labor Day weekend, very compressed in time as well as in space.
Scotty: And what moved you? What did you find that moved your spirit?
Mykdeva: A number of things. But there was this culmination ritual toward the end of the weekend that was really something and went deep within me.
William: The mud ritual?
Mykdeva: No, the mud ritual was
Mykdeva: I went away from that conference reading Harry’s writings. I read Mitch Walker’s Visionary Love and other writings after that gathering. So there was that kind of learning, but what really clicked for me was something inside me. I knew what the faerie spirit was, I knew I identified with it, and had it inside of me. The gathering gave me the permission to cherish that, value that, and be able to let that faerie spirit show.
Scotty: So if ’79 was your year for learning about the faeries, then it was in ’80 that you were really transformed and you blossomed.
Mykdeva: Yeah, I knew I would attend more gatherings. One thing that struck
me was the variety of faerie garments at the first gathering. So designing and making some garments was a focus of my preparations for Colorado.
In the opening circle I announced that I had brought my faerie garments and I said I’d seen some other fabulous things and we should put on a faerie fashion show. That got a vocal response and everyone was like, “Yeah!” What that ended up morphing into was a pageant of the goddesses after dinner on Thursday night. Some of us would eat early and get dressed up to embody the seven goddess chant, which was like just all the rage at that time, and that would be our pageant. I remember David Cohen led the procession, and there were other faeries involved with various outfits.
We filed into the dining area as everyone was eating, and each goddess introduced herself speaking a bit about her aspects. It was really light and fun, mixed with some very serious speechmaking too. After all the introductions we ended by all saying in unison: “Now you know who we are!…Who are you?” That was as far as we had planned to take it, that was our fashion show/goddess pageant.
Then all of a sudden everybody was hooting and hollering as if “this is who we are!” Faeries put down their dishes, got up, and before we knew it everybody was over around the spiralphallus-totem-pole in the meadow and screaming and yelling and chanting and singing and as time passed the energy just coalesced there with all this focus around the pole.
Different chants and songs started emerging and the goddess chant took off. It seemed like it went on for hours with ebbing and flowing of background chanting for this circling of men that became this cone of power — our energy circled around this central phallic pole. There were erect cocks and cocks being sucked and fondling and a lot of climbing over bodies in the center heat of the circle.
Around that a concentric ring of watchful men circled, and farther out on the fringes there were less-involved men and faeries coming and going. All of this held a container for the very intense inner core where there was a lot of chanting: “Isis, Astarte, Diana, Hecate, Demeter, Kali, Inanna,” and it got [chanting noises] faster and faster then slower and slower, and then [loud chanting, more chanting sounds, didgeridoo-type noises and sex sounds]
moved deeper. It turned into this kind of magical otherworld.
At one point while dancing around the central huddle I felt a desire to dive in, and I found myself surrounded by this [chanting sounds] energy turning into what sounded like a bunch of people speaking in tongues. Next I found myself being lifted up into the air by this group of faeries holding me up on high to the sky presenting me to…I don’t know, the heavens. It felt to me like a curtain opened and revealed a glimpse of the glory of all God, all creation, all Goddess. It was a vision, that very moment was the peak lifetime experience of my 55 years. What a gift to get a glimpse of the almighty power of the universe for one instant moment, all that power, and realize how it is just so infinite, and there’s no way that you
numinous experience, and I’m thinking about the power of faeries learning to channel life-force.
Mykdeva: I learned a lot in that moment about those forces. During that experience, I remember an enormous amount of sexual energy was present, the likes of which I have only rarely witnessed in ritual space. The rarity is all the more notable because we’re talking about group sexual energy totally just spontaneously combusting. It wasn’t like some sort of facilitated ritual or now we’re going to have some orgy, touchy-feely event. This was the energy that showed up from those present, moving up through the hands below me and then through me. I was breathing ecstatically in an orgasmic pattern while being held up to the face of the Goddess. It was revelatory. It was a teaching moment, as they say.
could take it all in at once. All we can do if we are so lucky is somehow contain it and turn away in awed wonder and just be thankful for the knowledge of what is out there.
Scotty: Numinous. Absolutely numinous. Mykdeva: Yes, indeed. So that was really the gathering highlight for me. There were a lot of other things, and faeries met, and friendships started, that continue to this day.
Scotty: So all of this leads to a much deeper and more philosophical question: What is the connection between faerie sexuality and faerie spirituality?
Mykdeva: Well, to quote a Charlie Murphy lyric: “In the flesh I feel the magic.” That sums it up for me, sexuality and spirit are one and the same. Our bodies are temples. The sexual energy that is within us, that we can move up and down our spine, we can circulate through another person’s body, we can share, that is the essence of life-force. It’s what drives the universe. It’s the spark of life in each cell within us. It is the divine flame, and it’s all one with sexuality.
Scotty: I mention this partly because I’m thinking about the magic of you being lifted up and having this incredible
William: The teacher being the divine. Mykdeva: Actually, it was. I started studying belly dancing after that 1980 gathering, so I took that kind of knowledge, integration, and ritual experience, and brought it into the dance and sensual movement. Those ancient dance traditions provided a framework for expression of my faerie ritual experience and I explored all of that further. I learned how to move energy through the body and to use that power in ritual space and ceremony. I am now able to pull cosmic energy down into my circle, to pull energy in from the four directions, to call it up from the Earth. Then experience palpable changes in the physical environment around me as a result of conjuring and pulling in those energies. Yeah, I got all that—initiated at those first two gatherings.
Scotty: I think that really goes to the core of the magic of the radical faeries; what was radical for the Radical Faeries then, and what’s radical now…Well, I want to hear more…
…and the conversation continued, recounting memories of Harry Hay, and experiences at Sex Magick workshops.
Mykdeva holds the distinction of being the singular faerie at the 2009 Wolf Creek gathering who also attended the 1979 gathering in Arizona. Harry and John would make three, if you count their ashes. He lives in Santa Barbara, California.
Scotty Dog recorded the entire conversation and provided the transcript for editing. Thanks Scotty.
There were erect cocks and cocks being sucked and fondling and a lot of climbing over bodies in the center heat of the circle.
Last fall I was asked to write for the Breitenbush issue of RFD, but was too busy as Queen Registrar for the winter gathering. Then I was asked to write for the San Francisco issue, but was too busy with my HIV-related volunteer activities. Now I have some time, mostly because my husband Eric is away.
In mid-August 1979, my then lover John Bandy and I moved from Lawrence, KS, (I was a professor at the University of Kansas) to the San Francisco area where I had been offered a visiting position at UC Berkeley. As soon as we moved, we saw ads in the Advocate and on power poles in the Castro for a very intriguing event “to be called among other names, ‘A Spiritual Conference for Radical Fairies.’” It appealed strongly to both of us, and, besides, (1) it cost only $50 per person, (2) we thought we might make some Bay Area friends there, and (3) classes didn’t start until after Labor Day weekend (in fact, as I write this, it’s 30 years to the day since the “CONFERENCE” ended.) As the event was coming up soon, we quickly got our pre-registrations in the mail and received information for how to find the Sri Ram Yoga Ashram off I-10 near the tiny town of Benson, AZ, instructions for what to bring (remember the sunscreen!), and a polemic by Harry Hay and Don Kilhefner about our being a different people who had something to offer a world in need of our special energy.
The ashram provided vegetarian meals, a tenting area, a very welcome ramada that helped keep us cool in the hot afternoons, etc. The organizers (Don, Harry, Harry’s life partner John
One of the best known events from the Conference was the spontaneously created Mud Fairy Ritual (see White Crane #78, fall 2008 — my John is the first fae directly below the “n” in Crane on the cover), which attracted about 50 of us (I was too fastidious to take part) who descended into a gritty mud hole, creating a subgroup that, at least temporarily, formed a bond that went far beyond what the rest of us had — they hugged, chanted, played, and got mud and sand into body parts some of them had surely never dreamed they ever could or would!
As most of you know, this was the first of three of what, by the second national one (on national forest land in Colorado), would be called a “gathering” rather than the far too formal “conference.”
Burnside, and Mitch Walker) and others led the roughly 225 of us in seminars, discussions, demonstrations, dress up, dress down, clothing exchange, etc. The event fulfilled all our expectations and far more; we felt we had Come Home to a Place We Had Never Been Before! We also made some wonderful Bay Area friends, virtually all of whom, unfortunately, have either died or moved on.
This second national gathering was the beginning of at least three major traditions to come. First was the appearance of what quickly came to be known as “The Faerie Shawl,” which was crocheted by Dennis Melba’son of LASIS (Louisiana Sissies in Struggle) in New Orleans (see the cover of RFD no. 22 for a wonderful picture of Dennis wearing it and p. 82 of that issue for his article “THE ART AND PAIN OF CROCHETING”). The Shawl is now a holy, holey rag (on a white backing cloth that helps keep it from disintegrating further) that I’ve been privileged to be the keeper of between gatherings for most of the last 11 years. I call it a rag because that’s what it’s been reduced to by being worn and handled at least 20,000 times. What’s left of it (a bit over half) is now so fragile that I often imagine only our memories hold the remains together — so fragile
that, though it smells so awful to me I rarely take it out of its beautiful bag, I’ve never figured out a way to clean it that would be gentle enough to not destroy it. Most of the years I’ve been its keeper I’ve offered it to gatherings I’ve found out about through RFD and other sources (if you’d like to borrow the shawl, send me email at smuchnick@ sbcglobal.net , preferably as soon as possible so I can arrange a tour if there are several requests). I’ve always asked users to send me something to add to its
original Sisters of Perpetual Indulgence, who graced us with a procession and their ceremonies to expiate guilt. They were instantly adopted as a Faerie tradition, though they have their own special place in the world that doesn’t depend on the Faeries. They were both spiritual and radical from their beginning.
Third was a much stronger presence of Faerie poets, including, most notably, James Broughton, but also David Emerson Smith and others whose names,
the cities; and on and on.
In closing, I must mention that it’s always struck me as a bit ironic that, though most of us consider Harry our founder more than any of the others, most of us also place more emphasis on the “spiritual” than the “radical,” though Harry was, to his dying day, a self-confirmed atheist who’d don his orange political wig at the drop of a hat and declaim on topics well to the left of most of us. Still, Harry was much more successful with the Radical Faeries than
border for their event; at least six of the attachments are mine, so it holds many memories for me, some surpassingly wonderful and some bittersweet, for fallen faeries whose memorials it’s been part of. An intriguing result of a contact several years ago was news that Dennis had made a second nearly identical shawl in gray as a personal gift for a friend at one of the southeastern sanctuaries — I requested a picture of it, but never got a response, so I consider this a rumor.
Second was the appearance of the
I regret to say, have faded from my memory.
The third national gathering, in New Mexico, brought no major new innovations itself, except for the important realization for many of us that we didn’t need to come together annually as one large group — instead, we could form smaller gatherings closer to where we live; faerie sanctuaries, such as Wolf Creek, Short Mountain, Faerie Camp Destiny, etc. that provide living space and host gatherings; faerie households in
he was with the Mattachine Society in the 1950s, which was quickly turned by “moderates” into an organization dedicated to gay respectability, rather than its original form like the communist cells of his 1930s background. There was no question that the time for the Faeries had come.
Yes, it’s been “a Long Strange Trip” — and one I very much look forward to continuing!
My first lover, Guy Mannheimer, attended the first Radical Faerie Gathering in the Arizona desert in 1979. I got to thinking of those days--and the start of our “gay spirituality movement”-while reading the article “Diggers, Free Land and Diablo Canyon: A story of Faeries and Reclaiming” by Covelo in the last issue of RFD (Spring 2009 #137). The article was a wonderful reminder of how what we call Gay Consciousness arose in harmony with the hippie counterculture of thesixties and seventies. Covelo’s article recounts bits of gay history that are practically lost. I want to add a few details to his recounting.
Covelo’s interesting--and nostalgiainducing--article begins with a report on the idealism and communalism of those times, particularly associated with the Haight-Ashbury collective known as The Diggers. The name derived from a 17th-century English Utopian movement which “had promulgated a vision of society free from private property and all forms of buying and selling.” That communitarian/”hippie poverty” ideal gave birth to the Free Land Movement and the dispersal of many of the first Summer of Love participants into rural communes mostly in Northern California.
As Covelo begins to focus on the gay community that evolved out of those ideas and ideals, he mentions a gay/ straight consciousness raising retreat in 1972, commenting that it “had all the markings of a faerie gathering--heart circles, mysticism, nudity, vegetarianism, neo-paganism.” The gathering was held at a ranch owned by singer/peace activist Joan Baez called “Fault of the Earth.” It was in the mountains above Palo Alto, CA, located directly above the San Andreas fault.
I attended that gathering. Though, of course, the 1979 Spiritual Conference for Radical Faeries in Benson, Ariz., was the
actual start of the Radical Faeries, I have always thought, as Covelo commented also, that that retreat in 1972 was really a sort of Proto-Gay-Consciousness-Fairy gathering. It was my own introduction to Gay Consciousness as a spiritual phenomenon.
I was actually part of the organizing team from the San Francisco end (or, at least, as a newcomer, a tag-along). Covelo mentions that the Fault of the Earth Retreat was organized by Randy West in Berkeley, Lucky Mollin and him in Palo Alto. In the City, it was promoted as a follow-up to a gay-straight retreat that had been held a few months before at a building called Alternative Futures (on West Pine Street near Laguna in the neighborhood known as the Western Addition.) Alternative Futures was a former boys’ club/youth recreation facility that had been transformed into a countercultural community center. San Francisco Gay Rap met there once a week.
Retreat(s). There were two such retreats, as far as I remember: the first at Alternative Futures, the second at Fault of the Earth. I’m sorry to say I don’t remember names of any of the organizers other than Cliff Kraus whom I had a passing crush on and who was my introduction to the organizing committees for both the Counseling Service and the Retreats. I might be wrong about this, but I think I met Ron Lanza and Hank Wilson (who is eulogized in this same Spring 2009 issue of RFD) at Gay Rap. Many of the original Gay Rap people later joined Bay Area Gay Liberation (BAGL). Other names I remember from that time are: Jim Garver, Gary Titus, Howard Wallace, Cosmo the Massage-therapist, Mark Freeman, Michael Feri, Tom Fry, Gary Freeman, and Bill Paul.
Gay Rap was a consciousness-raising meeting for gay men. It had originally started in Berkeley in the mid-60s. John Newmeyer, renowned for his work with the Haight-Ashbury Free Clinic, brought the Gay Rap program to the City. The building where the meetings were held had a large gymnasium and many small meeting rooms. The weekly events began with a plenary session in the big room; there was almost always a relaxation/guided meditation exercise. Then people spontaneously suggested topics for discussion and the assembly would break up into small groups. This was a peer psychotherapy/encounter group at its most egalitarian. There were no leaders (though, of course, there were a few people who took responsibility for leading the relaxation exercises, for instance, and putting out snacks at the end of the evening).
One of the outgrowths of Gay Rap was The San Francisco Gay Counseling Service. Another was the Gay-Straight
I started attending Gay Rap just after the group had been approached by a “Men’s Movement” Consciousness Raising group of straight men whose female partners were Women’s Lib Feminists and wanted their men to experience similar C-R. Even then--or maybe especially then, in those psychologically sophisticated days when group encounter and psychological marathons were so popular--the straight men wanting to raise their consciousness on gender issues understood that that meant getting help, wisdom and understanding from gay men. So they came to Gay Rap to seek assistance. During one of the Gay Raps, I elected to go to the small group that was meeting with the straight men to organize a retreat. That certainly proved to be a life-changing choice for me.
At that first retreat, I met my first partner Guy Mannheimer. As I mentioned, years later he attended the Benson gathering that birthed the Radical Faerie Movement. At the time of the gay-straight C.R. retreat, Guy was involved with men in Palo Alto centered around the group practice of the first openly gay psychologist Don Clark. Several members of Clark’s circle of psychotherapy clients, peer counselors, volunteers and professional psychologists came to the Alternative Futures retreat.
Through my association with Cliff Kraus, I’d stayed on the organizing committee
That retreat in 1972 was really a sort of ProtoGay-Consciousness-Fairy gathering
for Gay Rap and so helped get Gay Rap people to the Fault of the Earth event.
I remember driving down in a carload of gay men on an advance mission to inspect the “facilities” at Baez’s property-really just a big dilapidated barn with space for bunking indoors in sleeping bags and a kitchen and dining area. Stretching out around the barn was extensive acreage with lots of room for camping and “camping.”
A few weeks later, we were back there for the retreat itself. I remember sitting in circles in that big barn sharing life history stories. I remember dancing. And I remember participating in some sort of creative ritual to honor our spiritual identity. I have three very specific and vivid recollections.
The first is of washing carrots in the kitchen and laughing with the other men, feeling such deep friendship and trustful interconnection. The second is of wandering out along the trails and discovering some of the guys had erected
wonderfully decorated bowers with streamers of fabric draped around camp tents; several of the men were dressed in hippie genderfuck drag. This was a revelation to me. The genderfuck styles were not shocking or surprising because they were hippie and obviously derived from the styles of countercultural idealisms and utopianism. And the neo-pagan/nature rituals that were scripted and performed during the event showed we were creating our own religions, clearly a sign that we were on the “cutting edge” of consciousness evolution.
My main recollection was that a private space had been created in the very middle of the barn by hanging parachute silk to form a sort of cube. Inside were massage tables. In the night, the “cube”-reminiscent of the Muslims’ Kaaba, I think--was lit from within and glowed magically. I remember making love with Guy on one of those massage tables, right in the middle of everything, but hidden in that sacred space. There was
such innocence and positive embrace and celebration of sexuality--yet another sign of evolution at the level of spirit. Around that same time, at Cliff Kraus’s urging, I attended one of Don Clark’s weekend encounter group marathons in the City. Together, the Don Clark Weekend and the Gay Consciousness Retreat were the introduction to me of gayness as both a sign of psychological maturity and of spiritual vocation.
•
Over the next fours years or so, by the way, Guy and I dated and lived together (for a time while I was living in the building at the southeast corner of Haight and Ashbury, next door to the apartment Arthur Evans would move into a year or so later), worked at the Mann Ranch in Mendocino County, and then lived in the little rural town of Napa and trained as psych techs together at Napa State Hospital
In 1975, we returned to the City and found an apartment on 18th and Noe. I got a job at Mount Zion Hospital Crisis Clinic and started down the path of professional gay mental health, eventually completing a PhD in Counseling Psych and working at The Tenderloin Clinic that had indirectly evolved out of S.F. Gay Counseling Service and Cliff’s lobbying efforts. Guy didn’t like psych work and for a while took a job cleaning houses with a gay male maid agency. It was through that job, I believe, and/or through his friend, Sam Blazer, that he learned about BAGL; we attended a meeting at Arthur Evans’ on June 19, 1975, and so, after our two-year absence from the city, we reconnected with friends from the Gay Rap days, now more radical “gay libbers.”
After Guy and I broke up, we moved in different circles. I was part of D.A.F.O.D.I.L. and gay mental health activism. In ‘79, Guy attended the Benson event.
More recently, as an editor for Lethe Press/White Crane Books, I had the honor of assisting Don Clark in publishing his memoir “Someone Gay.”
Toby Johnson, author, Gay Perspective, Two Spirits, Secret Matter, and more... tobyjohnson.com. Toby Johnson is former editor, White Crane Journal whitecranejournal.com.
Returning to the United states after an extended stay abroad allows an individual the rare opportunity of perspective. Such was the case with me upon my arrival to New York City in the summer of 1984. Amsterdam, like most of Europe, was everything it was supposed to be, gay tolerant, liberated: liberating. It seemed strange then that America’s most cultural city was in need of staging such a large-scale gay demonstration. This was not what we now call a “Pride Parade”, but an actual protest march demanding only acceptance and respect. The chant “Out of the closets and into the streets” was still in use then, because some many were still hiding in the proverbial closet. It was sad.
It wasn’t so long ago, but “fag bashing” was not only a popular term but also a recognized and tolerated straight boy activity. For anyone swinging their hips loosely, wearing pink boldly or allowing one’s wrist to droop beyond accepted standards, the threat of violence was quite real. Gay bars, for the most part, were hidden down a dark alleys, behind unmarked doors. Politicians weren’t exactly standing in line to fight for “gay rights”.
To make matters worse, there was an unnamed sickness plaguing the gay community, which was a still fragile, yet emerging movement. Gay men were getting sick and dropping dead and no one knew why. (No one, that is, except the political-right and conservative Christians. They speculated that this was no mistake, but rather a curse of God as a way to torture the sinful deviant homosexuals and wipe them from the good earth.)
Perhaps that’s why the solidarity and community that was growing in the hearts and minds of the marchers during the protest was so meaningful and moving. Thousands and thousands of gay, straight, bi, and transgender people had come together to stand and be counted. And then a strange thing happened: the parade came to a halt, and a moment of silence was observed for those who had passed from what was soon to be called AIDS. These were serious and somber times. A new kind of consciousness was on the rise. The silence broke with defiant cheers, hundreds of multi-colored helium balloons were released and bumped off buildings into the pale blue summer sky. The parade resumed, all of its participants un-officially changed. But there was another change that lie in wait for me just a few moments down the road, in the form of something that I would hardly be able to fathom.
The chants continued and the march went on. But no matter if I raced ahead or lagged behind, I could not find the
and most likely not even an official registered parade contingent. Nothing of the sort! They were a free-form entity, undulating like an independent fractal through the monotony of the parade route at large. Expanding and contracting as space allowed, it was immediately apparent that they were NOT following the rules!
Who were they? Painted and feathered and furred and bedazzled? It was impossible to know. They hoisted no sign, carried no banner. Late into this steamy summer day and long into the parade, they were not weary, but rather the personification of mirth and joyfulness. Their presence was notably effortless.
They surrounded me. They welcomed me into their crazy daisy chain of life, and in that moment I too was lifted from the drudgery of all the ills. I was at once enamored and perplexed. I dared not speak for fear that the illusion would slip away. and yet… something so elusive had to have a name, or be given one, or else (I was convinced) I might lose it forever. And so I humbly asked the man who looked like a grasshopper. His response was not what I expected, for it was not an answer at all but rather another question. “Who do you want us to be?” he said. In spite of my best efforts to get a straight answer, my queries were met only with Alice in Wonderland answers.
Then a most generous and magnificently gaudy bearded lady approached and let me in on a little,
contingent that seem right for me, so many groups of every imaginable disposition, but none that reached out to me, that spoke to me. That is until I found myself surrounded by a magical, mystical, whirling dervish of pure energy and light. Springing forth from the overwhelming ominousness of the day, and my own personal feeling of disconnectedness, here was a profusion of color and glitter and sparkle and fan fare. These were pansies dancing in the street! Not in a line, not in a formation,
well-kept secret: “We are Faeries…” s/he said, “Radical Faeries”. I remember the words spinning ‘round in my head, for these were words I knew I must never forget. “Radical Faeries?” I repeated back, “How do I become one?” I asked.
And when the riddle of the answer was tousled upon me, by the man who was the Grasshopper, I knew I had found my gay home: “You can’t JOIN the Radical Faeries,” he advised, “You have to BE ONE.”
In 1979, I was a senior in high school. I was the drum major for the marching band until the band director said, “We can’t have a Jew marching the band down Main Street.” He shook his head as he said it. I wore a uniform I had designed myself with big sequined princess sleeves, a trim bolero jacket, and three-inch platform heels. I was also in the color guard, twirling a plastic rifle covered with prism tape and glitter. I was the only boy on the color guard; still, they put me in charge of it. That summer, I had a girlfriend and we talked of marriage. I had a boyfriend I fucked regularly in the warehouse of the furniture company we worked for. Summer jobs.
On Labor Day 1979, I was at college orientation. I wore a tie-dyed shirt, a fringed vest, and bell-bottom pants in a fabric that read “White is Wonderful, Black is Beautiful, and Grey is Nice, too!” As I sat in the cavernous arena, I was told
I did not see, never mind respond to the Call in 1979. However, if I did not join the Radical Faeries in that year, I did leave the British army.
For me the war was over- the war within myself; that interior jihad or struggle whose destination was surrender. Surrender to becoming who I truly am, rather than dissipate huge energies in attempting to be who society, friends, family told me I “should be”.
As a serving officer and peace-keeper in Northern Ireland with the Royal Tank Regiment, in London and I went AWOL in late ‘79 to the fleshpots of Manhattan. Leaving also the jingoism of England under the new Premiership of Margaret Thatcher who was telling us “there is no such thing as society”. Maybe she’d like to have added that society was not oppressing me, and maybe she was right for once, I was oppressing myself via fears and chimaeras.
that one out of three sitting there would not graduate. I had no idea that half a continent away, a circle of sissies was screaming into their cages, crying some fragile life into the desert. Later that semester, my girlfriend came to visit. As I was on top of her trying to stay engaged, I found myself thinking of Plato’s Allegory of the Cave; we had just read it my philosophy class. I thought of the cave, of the muscled Greek men chained in its dark recesses, lit only by a fire. It kept me hard until I burst out laughing. My girlfriend left, and I ran across the quad to visit my new boyfriend and we had sex there while his roommate peered over the headboard and watched.
I sometimes wonder what my life might have been if on Labor Day 1979, I had been in Pruitt, Ariz., instead of Williamsburg, Va. What might I have learned that would have saved me from what I did learn? Still, already I was making love to the Goddess, having sex with men around a fire while others watched. Already I knew that grey was nice, too.
And the prophecy that one out of three of us wouldn’t make it through turned out true as well. Who could have seen on Labor Day 1979 that the plague was already among us?
I arrived in an under-world that like the collective unconscious, represented a deeper reality than that of the surface, filled with the mirrors that never reflected back any kind of me that I recognised, no matter how polished and shiny the image.
characters in Larry Kramer’s ‘Faggots’ (squirming foetally in embarrassment at the accuracy of his depiction of gay social mores on Christopher St, Pier 44, the Pines and Cherry Grove.
Someone explained the ‘Mineshaft’ as “taking the concept of a backroom fuck-bar, and moving it to the front bar.” Everything needed turning up-side down for me at that “fin-de-siecle” time before the onset of the AIDS pandemic. Just as when a precocious teenager at the tail-end of the sixties, I gorged in 79/80 on forbidden fruit. So much so I recognised the real-life models of most
My spirit somehow realised I needed to fuck my brains out. Years later I learned to quit my drinking addiction. I needed to first change my behaviours, then let my thinking follow—to allow myself to become vulnerable, to need others. To reject that Devil who offered me the whole world—that lay before me but was already mine and already past— status, money, establishment circles via Cambridge University connections. I couldn’t have transited from upper middle class Brit to radical and spiritual faerie without the vast lacuna of hedonistic excess. I needed to swim in it first before I could climb to a lifeboat.
The long voyage that was my Ithaca was an Odyssey fuelled by alcohol and other drugs that diverted me to make land at every island on the way: twice as long as Ulysses. Twenty years later I quit drinking and attended, months later, (Continued next page)
Someone explained the ‘Mineshaft’ as “taking the concept of a backroom fuck-bar, and moving it to the front bar.”Endora
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my first gay men’s week with Edward Carpenter Community. I had nothing much left materially, but more warrior’s scars of honour than ever gained in the Army and a wealth of emotional intelligence.
I started the process of healing within my tribe and unravelling the threads woven during my long flirtation with “the gay scene,” pursued by many suitors variously armed with improper motivations. It was as a very involved and very committed member of ECC that I represented this intentional community at the San Francisco Memorial for Harry Hay- at my own expense, sober, but joyful and working now for Stonewall Housing in London as adviser in Housing and Homelessness.
Symbolically, I had needed to lose my own physical homes before I could take my place and find true security in the less tangible, but more grounding fellowships and communities of Alcoholics Anonymous and ECC.
A literary acquaintance with the work and teaching of Harry Hay and others came to be replaced with genuine meeting and conversations with teachers and toilers in the vineyard from that weekend like John Burnside, or Clyde Hall. Grieving and honouring, feasting and laughing with the Circle of Loving Companions.
After attending in 2004 Gay Spirit Culture Project Summit at Garrison institute, I soon quit my full-time job to devote myself to communitybuilding, with ECC and the Eurofaeries at Folleterre Faerie Sanctuary from it’s inauguration- and trained as an Interfaith Minister and Spiritual
Counsellor.
As I write I am naked in a faerie’s garden in Holland. We have been visioning around the future of our community. Sharing our insights on the nature of Sanctuary. Loading my old car for the trip back to Folleterre.
We spoke of healing, how we can let go of our wants and deliver our needs in novel ways that harmonise with our land. I never heard that first Call- but for me as for others it is still resonating and still being answered.
are fine, scars are important- they mark the way wounds change us.
At 55 next month, I don’t expect my body to function as last year, but reflect every trip and fall I have taken. Folleterre will never be a shiny high-tech conference centre. And that’s okay. My friends and fellow-travelers will continue to build it with anything and everyone who comes to hand. Patchwork quilts are beautiful in my eyes.
I build so that when others stand on my shoulders they will stand on a firm base and see much further than me. Sharing is the only way I know to keep the treasures I have. I still march, but to a different drum.
My army officer’s staff of authority has just been put to best use in a faerie porn shoot during our Summer Gathering- the white glans of the ash stick disappearing up a young faerie’s butt.
Nothing is intrinsically evil in this world. Everything can be reclaimed. I recycle my past as I do the post-Gathering debris.
It will never be the same, but I’m not trying to cure, restore but heal (answering that Arizona Call). Wounds
I never did become a Jesuit priest.. But I recall it is written that the stone the builders reject will be the keystone. And another story from the same collectionthat the late arrival for work in the vineyard got paid the same as he who started first thing.
We are all valuable. As I slide into role as an elder at our Sanctuary, I vow to remember what they told me in AA- that the Newcomer is the most important person in the room. 30 years on I am returning tomorrow to Faeriland to be ready to welcome that new faerie who has just hear that invitation still echoing. And I’ll be letting Don Kilhefner know they are still turning up, and that I learn every day from them, the “children”, my teachers.
June 18, 2009, marked the twentieth anniversary of the first Chicago Radical Faerie Circle event. A small group of us were inspired by the 1989 Beltane Gathering at Short Mountain Sanctuary and decided to start a Faerie Circle here in Chicago. Held in Lincoln Park along the lakefront, it drew 10 people, and began a periodically festive, colorful, sordid, creative, spirited, supportive, and/or adventuresome his/herstory of activities.
Over the years we have collectively sponsored seasonal rituals, potlucks, heart circles, theater outings, coffee socials, parade entries, bonfires, envisioning circles, fashion statements, drumming circles, fund-raisers, an urban gathering, and more. And what a fabulous conglomeration of memories this has created. There, of course, have been periods of waxing and waning participation, but the Chicago Radical Faerie Circle has touched the lives of hundreds of people over time.
Here in Chicago, we are blessed to have access to a central location as well. The “Faerie Castle,” as we affectionately call it, is not community owned, but currently five Faeries live together there, and they generously host most of the heart circles and many of the other activities. Once you get within a block it’s easy to identify as it is beautifully painted with jaguar spots on the entire front of the two-story house.
Reflecting on the chronicle of events, it can be noted that heart circle has more consistently been central to the ongoing Chicago Faerie Circle than any of the other activities. Presently, the heart circle convenes on the evening of the 19th of each month, thereby rotating the day of the week to hopefully avoid an ongoing clash with any individual’s pre-set work schedule. With desire to build community and foster the sharing process, the heart circle has generally operated with more structure and intent than the other events.
Many years ago, a short list of heart circle operating guidelines was
developed to assist with that focus. Many of our heart circles started with a reading of, re-cap of, or sharing of the guidelines to set the tone of the evening. Each of the 10 guidelines summarized below has a fuller and richer background of understanding and meaning than the heading can convey. But briefly stated, these items included:
1. Form a circle
2. Pass a talisman
3. Refrain from dialogue
4. Share your name
5. Create safe space
6. Maintain confidentiality
7. Respect persons and personal boundaries
8. Use “I” statements
9. Pause between speakers
10. Help educate newcomers
Last November, many of the current heart circle participants noted that they did not feel that they had been personally a part of the consensus process by
Chicago, the event labeled “heart circle” continues to be much more than just a casual social gathering or conversation time, and as such requires much more intention and focused effort to truly listen to each other. Upon examination of the merits of each one, none of the existing Heart Circle operating guidelines were slated for elimination. And tongue-in-cheek we playfully, and pragmatically, added an eleventh to “Turn off cell phones.”
It was decided to use the subsequent months to experiment with and develop fresh ways of recapping the guidelines at the beginning of each heart circle, but the standards and principles remain. We encourage Faeries to gather with intent of building community, first by creating a truly safe space for sharing, and then by genuinely listening to each other.
Noting that there is a qualitative difference among ritual circles, checkin circles and heart circles, it has been
which the guidelines were adopted, and therefore they did not have the same vested interest in the guidelines. Noting the length of time that had intervened since the previous review, we decided to call a “Constitutional Convention” to possibly eliminate, possibly replace, or possibly reaffirm the existing heart circle guidelines. All presently active Faerie Circle participants, representing a full range of opinions, were invited to participate in the review. The review took two “Business Meetings” held in March and April, and was a wonderful time of reflecting, sharing, and discussion.
In the discussion, it became clear that, in
a while since I’ve heard specific reports about heart circles and how they are currently functioning in other locales. And if I’m not mistaken, it has been a while since the topic of heart circle has been written about in RFD. To paraphrase Harry Hay, “Have fun, but don’t neglect the heart circles.” Therefore, I remain hopeful that others are calling and enjoying the benefits of heart circles in their home towns. The rewards from the effort are well worth the energy spent.
My best to you all. Happy 20th Anniversary to the Chicago Radical Faerie Circle.
Blessed be.
All across the world we give the call, To a house reclaimed from silver birch and fir trees, Reclaimed again by forest fauna.
Both derelict and revived, both concealed and open. We fling wide the doors and light radiates the dust. We fling wide the doors and see who has answered We fling wide the doors and become the gathered. The initiated and the initiates, Pulled and drawn to be together again.
We are young and ancient, We are the hungry and lonely and the curious. We are the crux of the community, full of knowledge. We nurture our youth and learn from our elders
We nurture out elders and learn from our youth. Our blessed ancestors giggle with us by the fire and take joy in our regailed adventures.
We laugh and touch and kiss as we converse, We fall asleep in huddles, in deeply breathed cuddles.
In ballgowns and tutus we pick beans in our garden, Naked and gleaming we syncro-dive into our lake
Like forest creatures we emerge from the trees into sun-trap clearings
And shrink back when disturbed.
We wash in fire-warmed springwater under watering can showers.
We sing as we cook and eat in uni-chatter. In heart-circles we hold hands and talk of joyfulness in togetherness
We fling off the pain of the world like ugly tattered drag. We fling off the pain of the world and watch each other unfold.
We fling off the pain of the world and expose soft flesh and softer fundament.
We take new names bought to us by sleep and silence. And then, and then, we struggle with leaving, Redress in our civvies and free-wheel out of the forest-hills. Waved off with our tribal cries. And, emerged again in the eskew of daily lives. We fold in some, keeping what we can, And wait until a new call draw-pulls us back to our land.
— Nicholas FieldUneven circularity of dreams, curled in bedrolls around a central fire.
Waves of cloud across the moon. How do we become emptied for sleep after the fullness of the day? What does loss mean
once you’ve lost everything? That the moon’s solitude is anchored, counterbalanced, is no cure for its solitude; rather, it’s the reason for it. Despite the circle of people sleeping inside the galaxy of trees.
—Jason RoushSteven Riel’s third book of poems, Postcard from P-Town, is a little jeweled box full of very fine poems.
If Steven were a jeweler his work would be finely worked filigree with tiny gemstones placed in exquisite and surprising proximity to each other. You wouldn’t expect the next sparkle. His latest book, a visual and tactile treat itself from Ron Mohring’s Seven Kitchens Press, www.sevenkitchens.blogspot. com, examines effeminacy, celebrity, spirituality and mortality. He channels Lena Horne and Cyndi Lauper, eulogizes Robert Goulet and Kitty Carlisle, and has a row with the ghost of Tennessee Williams.
Steven is a longtime friend from the pro-feminist men’s movement and succeeded me as poetry editor for RFD where he served from 1987 to 1995. A Massachusetts native, he lives near Boston with his husband Neil Glickman. Steven is a librarian by trade. He discusses work, art, going back to school in midlife in the interview below. In asking Steven all these questions I hoped for two things. First, to let you know more about one of my favorite poets, hoping you will seek out his and know him too. Second, to encourage aspiring poets to keep working at the craft. We are all works in progress and as Steven shows, it is never too late to continue learning. He begins his new collection with a prescient quote from poet Frank O’ Hara, “it is the law of my own voice I shall investigate.”
Steven Riel—Interviewed by Franklin Abbott for RFD, 5/25/09
When did you realize you were a poet?
The honest truth is that I am still not yet sure that I am a poet. I say this having just graduated from the MFA in Poetry program at New England College, where the poetic gifts and skills (rhythmic and rhetorical, just for starters!) of our teachers were impressive and humbling.
I certainly try hard to write poems that satisfy me in the end. I have worked on some poems for many years. Sometimes good things happen.
submitting them to student publications. I had my first poem accepted by an adult journal when I was nineteen. During high school and college, I also tried my hand at fiction.
Growing up in a small, isolated town in a Roman Catholic family, the language I encountered at church — in the liturgy, including hymns and scriptural readings — had a deep impact on me, even though I have long since left the Church. I am aware how present the dialogue with my religious background continues to be in my poetry, even when that conversation is not prominent.
The first poet I was drawn to in high school was Alfred Lord Tennyson, because I somehow sensed right away that he used female speakers as masks through which he was able to speak his own truth. As a closeted gay teenager, I could relate to this strategy all too well. Thirty years later, I wrote my critical thesis on this very topic at New England College. Talk about coming full circle! This summer I’ll be traveling to Lincolnshire, England, to give a lecture at an international conference commemorating the bicentennial of Tennyson’s birth. Having spent so much time focused on him recently, I’ve become interested in many other aspects of his verse and the scope of his long life as a creative soul.
My two primary literary influences (more accurately, literary love affairs!) during my teens and twenties, however, were far and away Virginia Woolf and Adrienne Rich.
Who, living and dead, among queer authors has the most impact on you?
I first felt intrigued by poetry during my senior year in high school. I attended Wilbraham & Monson Academy in Massachusetts, where my English teacher that year was Roger Lincoln (who also taught the well-known poet Galway Kinnell in the late 1940s). I began composing my own poems and
This list would be long, because from the start I had a strong sense of being a gay writer and viewed those who came before me as family members, teachers, and muses. In the late 1970s, I worked at Lambda Rising Bookstore in Washington, D.C., for one year. There I had ready access to the limited gay and
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lesbian literature in existence at the time, so I devoured books by Harold Norse, Kenneth Pitchford, Aaron Shurin, and Ed Cox. I was also very interested in the work of women writers, including Susan Griffin, Olga Broumas and Judy Grahn. Over the years I’ve been primarily drawn towards Walt Whitman, Tennessee Williams, Richard Howard and Andre Gide. More recently, the gay poets whose work has most excited me have been D.A. Powell and Wayne Koestenbaum.
If you could not write poetry, what other creative form would draw you?
If I had a voice, I would sing. Naturally the art of poetry — its means and its strategies — overlaps a great deal with the art of singing.
I took a drawing class in college and
discovered I was not bad at it. It was very easy for me to draw the male models since I had been looking at the structure and curves of men’s bodies my whole life!
How do you manage to write, work and have a home life?
This is a huge struggle for me, especially because at this point in my life, my job (I am a manager in one of the cataloging and acquisitions units of the Harvard College Library) is usually enormously preoccupying and consuming. I have always written, however, throughout my adult life; I cannot imagine living without this. Maintaining the intense pace of the MFA program for two years while holding onto a full-time job ratcheted up the juggling act, but it also taught me how important it is for me to focus on my creative pursuits on the weekends whenever possible. The poems come if
I give them time to emerge. Fortunately for me, my husband is also a writer, so we share a need for quiet time at home.
Advice to budding poets?
I’m not sure there is a single way to move forward. Out of financial necessity, I took a detour and established a career as a librarian, not obtaining my MFA until my late forties. This surely slowed down my development as a writer, yet as a middle-aged man I brought a different set of experiences and maturity into the MFA program than I would have right out of college.
Naturally it helps to read and write a lot, to learn about the history of poetry and how its pendulum has sometimes swung. Belonging to writing groups and receiving feedback from poets whose judgment I trust has been enormously important for me. They, too, have been my teachers.
Scrunch on your back under branches to plunder the hard-to-reach pulp.
Succumb to the pull of plump clusters, their underslung, dusky abundance.
Then: blush as you dream lips brushed by a lush mustache.
When a fuzzy leaf nuzzles your cheek, you’re a gurgling tot, a suckling glutton. O, how to slurp up all this beckoning & not get stuck, a drunk beneath a thorn bush?
— Steven RielFrom the first bash of drums, we can bet this won’t be pretty. She’s dialing up 911–in a stomp-squeal frenzy of escape, a wail all lisp & ache, its silver spike heels nearly skewering comic-book scraps, untied ribbons underfoot.
A soul’s entrails. Road-kill of an ecstasy that never looked both ways.
Skipped drumbeats ricochet down the block. An empty lot. Her siren’s stiletto stab-stitches the sky. A house of cards props up one final offer till our blond stops holding her breath.
Girl-wire whose plea scrapes down to grieving baby talk. The beauty is we know what she’s groaning about.
— Steven Riel1. The winds at Los Muertos beach blow cool this evening. This heart that blazes up for you does not die down.
2.
My virtues are few and my faults many I am like the diamond that is flawed and cannot be cut just right, though for some odd reason the great jeweler still holds this jewel in esteem.
3.
The sight of him at the beach in his shorts was a gift from the gods. Many are the men who would go down on their knees to offer thanks.
4.
I ran away, but you ran even faster. I changed myself into a swift moving stream, you became a school of hungry fish.
I became the vast plain of the sea, you were the ship that sailed me. Then I was invisible as the wind, but the leaves on your tree kept trembling.
I swore at last you wouldn’t find me out, and there you are, the gold in my mountain-side.
5. His lips are honey, sweeter than any bee’s. And worth the sting of his tongue when he catches my roving eye.
6.
poetry cuts quick and clean as a knife now and again, you’ll hear the scream
7.
Your roof is leaking, termites eat away at the foundation, high tide rushes to your doorsteps Friend, that body you’re living in doesn’t belong to you
8.
truth is written in your own heart burn all the books you’ve ever read
9.
Cesar, you’ve taken your clothes off for everyone who’s had the cash. When youth and beauty fly, they’ll leave you fully clothed behind.
10.
the Cuale River overflows its banksI can’t get that boy out of my mind
11. clear nightone star after another blossoms in this heart
12.
I keep putting things offthe tea kettle is whistling
13.
What is flows along in its secret channels. Sometimes we are shallow and glib. Other times we are in our deep element and great banquet halls open before us. Then we realize we are the guest of honor and the beloved host.
14.
Picking your nose or chanting those sutras wherever you are that’s it
15.
Like the young beds of kelp off the coast at Point Reyes that sway with the currents this way and that your every whim moves me
16.
It’s not possible to go on like this without you becoming part of me. Your hair growing down to my shoulders. My eyes seeing your face in the mirror. Your heart, once again, inside this chest of mine.
17.
to R. Wear this amulet around your wrist where you cut yourself Only magic can soothe love’s wounds
18.
Summer fields of my youth at Sunnycrest ParkAre they still so green?
19.
If only I were an alchemist, Robbie, I’d change these ashes of yours into gold And fashion myself a ring to wear until my dying day
20.
mountain peaks in the calm clear lakemiles deep
—Michael MayoA family can form, In unexpected patterns, In unusual situations. When suddenly, a congregation of strangers shifts into something amourphous, And formations of new relations; bud without a consensus. This is subliminal, An unofficial adoption. No papers to sign, Just silent promises to keep.
—Nicholas FieldOur bridled gib* purrs soloing over manila envelopes postmarks crushed where the flush of stamps spatter –morose retreats, ink too dry.
Other escapes: a print from Portugal in a drain, the wrong blue, Tynemouth shells still salty, a few dusty bottles.
By means of glass, shadows, night, schismed time tarmac aqueous in moonlight.
Dark scares a snap in every fern, tensing crackling trees, moths wings at windows.
—Christopher Barnes
*tom cat
The evening has a thousand pieces and we and the songs on the radio are just some of them. I unbutton his indulgent shirt, submit a hand, fasten on the left nipple. Hum the familiar refrain. We twist with the lingering purr of music.
An hour is a number of heartbeats, full motion from the car’s heater, a number of glances. Being gay, he is tremulous to prove his devotion openly, the clatter of jackboots always expected…above the guitar.
—Christopher BarnesA cranium snooze on a crumbly pillow… frisson of out-of-tempo days, flag slipshod into a mosaic, we ferret channels of Amsterdam, the duet of us, to a Be-Bop lilt, woozy tints of Vincent.
A double-barrelled underground lugs arch expectations, toss of cosmopolitan stations, to the trolleybus, a zip-shunt journey, steering the suitcase, a pie-eyed mutt, we fiddle into the hotel, canal-silts, damp air.
Natty as barons we swat the itinerary tumble to slivers settling into glue, vitrics of hock, reek of skunk, Havana plays funky refrains.
As things are it’s snowdrop February, an all-thumbs Spring, glossy days, sprints with our mongrel, souvenirs hum like Waterlooplein bazaar under a jet-feathered sky.
—Christopher
Barnes“I think that it is part of human sexuality, and perhaps it should be taught.”
—Joycelyn EldersDuring the brief time Dr. Elders served as the United State Surgeon General, most of us cheered her on. Today, we advocates talk a lot about combination prevention and tool kits, but why don’t our polished power point slides include masturbation as a prevention technique?
Several among my all-time most enjoyable sexual encounters were exclusively masturbation-focused. Beyond being a fun pastime, a source of energy, an instrument of growth, and a balm for healing, masturbation can also be a handy tool for prevention.
One of the first AIDSrelated articles I encountered in gay media was a version of the New York Jacks’ “How to Have a Jack-Off Party.” Right there in my favorite digestsized jack-off mag I found a practical guide which covered every detail from how to set up your clothes check (paper grocery bags and magic markers were recommended) to what kind of lube to use (never use KY jelly which the article claimed “turns to glue and causes dick damage,” but always include a theatrical makeup remover known as Albolene.) During these parties, the article said, sex play was limited to masturbation – “lips above the hips” and “no penetration” were the watchwords. At the time I was much too inhibited to find or create a real j/o party for myself, but I loved the idea.
From the time I became old enough to discuss such things, I’d heard about circle jerks but never participated in
one. Certain neighbor kids and I had played games of titillation, mutual masturbation, and eventually more, but I didn’t ever encounter what I first imagined and later saw depicted in porn.
In the late 90’s and over a decade after I’d received my HIV diagnosis, I finally attended a New York Jacks party and had a blast. It wasn’t the first time I found limits to be exciting. I enjoyed the level playing field a nearly clothingfree environment provided, and the intensity of focusing on a singular aspect of sexuality was way hot. Moreover, I finally got to experience that fabulous,
related to my impatience with Internet profiles seeking “j/o only, must be HIV negative.” Sex parties can be fun, but in addition to the previously enumerated thrill factors, a true jack-off party would have obvious stress-reducing advantages for my HIV-positive self. In a supposedly liberated, out, post millennium world, why can’t horny men own their desires? Internalized homophobia? Maybe. Good old Baptist shame (this is the South)? Probably.
Eventually, I lucked into unique opportunities to explore the potential of a different kind of group masturbation. It began one gathering with the announcement of a big jack-off extravaganza called a PIGJO (panintergalactic jack-off.) Based on my experience and given the impromptu timing and anarchic setting, I decided not to attend.
As it happened, there were a few surprised and slightly traumatized participants at breakfast the next morning. They had entered the space thinking that the party would be about masturbation and masturbation only. They’d wanted to dip their respective big toes into the waters of group sex, and everyone else just canonballed off the high-dive. As the party evolved into an all-out suck-and-fuck-fest, they left, disappointed and a little freaked.
Fortunately, word gets around at gatherings. Immediately, in that magical faerie way, a
but elusive, Albolene. A couple of years later and nearly two decades after I first read about it, the lube finally came to Tennessee. I was so infatuated I bought three jars, enough to last for years.
Still, I was frustrated. One of my pet peeves was the misuse of the term jackoff party. It bugged the hell out of me that local hosts applied it to lots of their organized sex parties. My reaction was
response manifested itself. We’d hold a different kind of event – a masturbation circle where folks would only pleasure themselves. I jumped at the chance.
I refer to what occurred at that gathering as solo masturbation circles. For me, these happenings (during which participants pleasure only themselves) give new meaning to the idea of a circle jerk. I’ve attended and hosted a few of
them and experienced their potential to generate a very intense collective sexual intensity.
First, they’re safe in a way that’s difficult for other group sex encounters to be. The risk of transmitting sexual infections is reduced to nil. An ideal environment is created for those who have other anxieties about their bodies or sharing sexual energy.
Second, it’s a great way to focus intention for specific purposes (healing, changing the world, whatever.) Whether you’re masturbating for inner or outer peace, for stability or change, for more love or less war, there’s a powerful energy that can be channeled.
Not least of all, for we pozzies, it is a great way to get off with others while avoiding the mental effort of thinking about statuses, disclosure, and the like.
Masturbation as a ritual can be done in myriad ways. Here’s the kind of experience I’ve shared with my fey families. You may want to give it a try and create your own version (but if you’re rimming, sucking and fucking, you’re not having a jack-off party damn it!)
Do you need mats or pillows to sit on? What kind of lube do you prefer? Choices are good. I recommend providing at least one each of the following: water-based (consider silicone-free to accommodate those who prefer that,) plant-based (like coconut or olive oil,) and petroleumbased (environmental considerations not withstanding, some folks swear by baby oil and the aforementioned Albolene rocks!) You’ll probably want a roll of paper towels or a pile of clean washcloths. Drinking water is a must. I also recommend a bowl of fruit (more about this later.)
In addition to masturbating, most participants will want to share. You need enough space for everyone to sit in something approximating a circle—everyone should be able to see everyone else. Indoors or out, you want to ensure access and comfort. Excessive
distractions of any kind are a no-no (in one very focused session I went as far as turning off the power in my condo). If your circle is happening in the context
adventure. Other individuals may share that they are bringing spiritual or personal issues to the circle for healing. These may relate to self-image, a recent loss, or some kind of sexual baggage. Our groups are ejaculation neutral. If you want, go for it. If not, that’s cool too.
of a larger gathering, it should be easy for those inside and outside (nonparticipants) to recognize the space’s boundary.
Intentions are important for growth, healing, and magick. It’s good to start by going around the circle a time or two, using basic customs. We pass a wand or other talisman (it needn’t be fancy—a nice stone or crystal will do.) Folks can choose to “pass” but are encouraged to at least introduce themselves. Good questions to focus on are “Why am I here?” and “What do I expect to get out of this experience?”
Immediately, in that magical faerie way, a response manifested itself. We’d hold a different kind of event—a masturbation circle where folks would only pleasure themselves.
Facilitators or more experienced participants might want to explain how the ritual will proceed and reassure those in the circle that everyone is invited to participate in their own way with one caveat: it is not okay to “just watch.” At this time, you can address logistics such as establishing when the circle is closed to additional participants. Remind folks who have not already done so to begin disrobing.
During this “warm-up” stage, it’s good to encourage folks to feel free to begin touching themselves sensually. Some may have joined seeking growth or
At some point talk will naturally fade as folks begin to fondle and stroke themselves, each at their own pace. Energies will begin to move within and around the circle, the total being greater than the sum of its parts. You’re likely to find the experience heightened in a number of ways. These circles tend to create their own narrative; you’ll notice a natural beginning, middle, and end. Individuals will experience their selfpleasure with grimaces, laughter, tears, or quiet smiles. Some will come quietly . . . and others won’t.
Since everyone may not desire to or be able to reach a climax, knowing when to bring the masturbation phase of the circle to a close can be tricky. We ask our fellow masturbators to signify when they are finished by ritually choosing a piece of fruit and taking a bite. The group doesn’t move on until all have done so.
…talk
It’s not uncommon for at least one participant to feel a need to leave early or bolt towards the wrap-up. That’s fine. Most participants, however, will want closure. Pass the talisman a couple more times. “What did you feel?” “Was it what you expected?” When the time is right, circle up, hold hands, and close with a meditation or group hug.
Without exception, I’ve left these circles each time feeling very moved and connected to others who shared the experience. People’s desire to talk about it may extend beyond the session, or they may find themselves speechless. I always leave the circle reminded that beyond the fun and pleasure involved, masturbation can be a powerful ritual that creates connection between diverse souls, generates energy for healing and change, and serves as a path for profound selfexploration.
A version of this piece originally appeared on the gay men’s health blog, www.lifelube.org.
Todd left us for the spirit world on August 19, 2009. He was 44. Todd was born in August 1965.
I remember the time I took Todd to his first Faerie Circle, which was the last incarnation of Queen Circle in Long Beach, Calif. He said, “I knew you people were out there somewhere!”
Todd was raised in the Los Angeles and Orange County suburbs of La Mirada and Buena Park. Unfortunately, he was abused by his father, which resulted in a sort of lifelong standoffishness. It also forged a strong will, which led to his dropping out of school at 13 and becoming part of the tide of disaffected youth that made up the first wave of
After being introduced to the Faeries in 1989, Todd was soon involved with planning the Los Angeles Nomenus Great Circle, which for years had the reputation of being the only well-planned event ever put on by the LA Faeries. Todd disappeared into the kitchen and barely emerged for three days, bonding with the self-appointed kitchen queen; cohorts in mischief, they liberally added cooking sherry where their recipes called for it. Later that year, Todd helped plan the 10th anniversary gathering of the first Arizona gathering. It was the first of what I believe were five successive Malibu gatherings.
These are the memories I love of Todd. By now almost permanently dressed in his trademark leather jacket, T-shirt, tight jeans and Doc Martens, with a scarf added for the occasion, he would sit on the fence that led to the meadow and play on a flute or panpipes. Todd was a talented musician whose chosen instrument was the synthesizer, but he could play many medieval instruments as well. These gatherings had a certain anarchistic rock and roll spirit which fit Todd perfectly. He was an indelible presence.
Like most of us Faes on the West Coast, Todd gravitated toward Wolf Creek. He attended many gatherings, and lived there for periods. He left his mark by building the porch at Teresa House and the shelves in the library upstairs, as well as the memorial to Steven Maxine, and he helped with the kiva steam room. All of us who spend time at Wolf Creek leave part of our spirit there, and Todd’s definitely lingers there.
The last 10 years of Todd’s life were not so happy. In 1999, he was attacked in San Francisco and beaten so badly he suffered brain damage that resulted in partial paralysis and slurred speech. He took up residence in San Francisco for several years, but was rather bitter, believing that the Fae as well as mainstream community shunned him because of his disabled status. The true reason was that he fell back on an old demon -- alcohol -- to such an extent that he became hard to be around. In his last years, first in San Francisco and then in San Diego, he basically lived a hermetic existence. His solace and joy was music, which he expressed through two medieval instruments he could work with one functional hand, the harmonium and the psaltery.
By White Eagle and Night An’Fey, two of his many brothers in Seattle
Jan. 13, 1938–July 9, 2009
punk. Todd was a very talented artist and was able to create amazing facial designs in makeup. His hair was a never-ending kaleidoscope of colors. He became part of an inner circle of “true punk” kids, appearing as background in some early videos and low-budget movies and meeting artists such as Siouxie Sioux and John Lydon of the Sex Pistols. He was a club kid years before there was such a thing.
Leonard was born in Bellingham, Washington. He was raised by his divorced mother Nelly, who remained his best friend, confidant, and neighbor throughout much of his life. As Leonard put it, “I was what you might call a Momma’s boy.” Both Leonard and Nelly shared a love of gossip, cocktails and cigarettes. They lived the barfly life with passion. For more than twenty years their favorite bar was the Rickshaw in the Greenwood District of Seattle.
In 1987, and near the end of Leonard’s long career with various airlines, Nelly died and he turned his passions to cultivating
and exploring his long-held interest in all matters of Spirit. He was a member of Hearthstone, the Queer Men’s Coven, a Pagan group in Seattle, and also an active member of the Naraya Dance for All People. In addition, he explored a variety of Native American and African traditions always learning and sharing what he learned with others. Leonard had a true gift
quietly in his sleep. He leaves behind a close circle of friends. A ritual burning of his personal effects and offerings will be held in the fall.
“No man is an Island, entire of itself; every man is a piece of the Continent, a part of the main; if a clod be washed away by the sea, Europe is the less, as well as if a promontory were, as well as if a manor of thy friends or of thine own were; any man’s death diminishes me, because I am involved in Mankind; And therefore never send to know for whom the bell tolls; It tolls for thee.” ~John Donne, poet (1573-1631)
Tender Heart, your generous, kind, and loving Spirit will remembered and our lives are better for you having been in them.
By Firefly
Dec. 11, 1959–April 13, 2009
Our beloved friend Peter was a constant conduit of joy, limitless creative flow, humor, gratitude and love. As Charisma, she was a disarming enchantress and spell-caster, commanding a graceful confluence of beauty, hilarity, wit, irony, and love— always love.
A native New Orleanian, Peter was a potent source of life support for and Empress XIV of the New Orleans Radical Faeries, as well as a frequent visitor to Short Mountain Sanctuary beginning in the late 1980s. Peter/Charisma embodied the essential spirit of New Orleans and Faerie magic. By day, he worked for many years at the New Orleans Vieux
with Spirit; and as he aged the voices of the Spirits became his companions.
Leonard found the Faeries later in life. He visited Wolf Creek gatherings once or twice a year until he became physically unable to do so. He loved the Faeries and made many lasting friendships with the folks he met at those gatherings.
Many of us feel privileged to have known Leonard. He was one of those humble individuals who often thought he could not do the challenges before him. Then he would cause himself to step up to the plate and, for example, just stun everyone with his mellifluous Calling of Quarters. His Tender Heart connected with a sound, magically-trained mind and Spirit happened. One of many fond personal memories includes exchanging necklaces with Leonard; a metal arrowhead on a chain and a porcupine quill necklace from the Amazon, both for protection.
On the evening of July 8,, 2009, Leonard had his favorite dinner, steak and eggs, with friends at the Tulalip Casino. The next morning he had breakfast, a few cigarettes on the back deck and laid down for a nap. On this day in his 71st year, he passed
Carre Commission, enforcing architectural taste, historical beauty and code. By night, s/he tastefully broke and bent codes of every kind, inviting consciousness transformation and sprinkling glitter and healing magic over all beings within his radius. This enchanting two-spirited creature truly channeled male and female energy effortlessly and often simultaneously. By being the only way he knew how to be, Peter was a powerful, very visible and well-connected change agent for GLBT and gender equality, AIDS and HIV awareness, queer pride and human possibility and a dazzling hero for anyone who desired and dared to live out loud.
Following Hurricane Katrina and two months delightfully evacuated at Short Mountain with SMS residents and a large group of fellow New Orleans Faeries, Peter fell in love with Dino and relocated to Palm Springs, Calif., to forge a new life. Peter harbored strong desires to co-create this new dawn in human consciousness and evolution, and easily embraced technology, faith, sustainability, modern design, ancient ceremony and radical ideas for positive change. Witnessing President Obama’s “coronation” in January was a source of tremendous hope and joy for Peter in his last months.
Peter’s gratitude for this life coursed through him as a constant energetic force and cannot be overstated. In all the years I knew him, and particularly in the 10 months between cancer diagnosis and transition, Peter expressed his gratitude for everything, everyone, and for every precious moment. We returned to New Orleans five weeks before he died to celebrate Mardi Gras, and to scatter his brother’s ashes into the Mississippi as is customary on Mardi Gras Day. His brother Albert died of AIDS in 1987, and Peter understood it to be his duty to finally give Albert the queer celebratory memorial he deserved. All through our time in New Orleans, and in his last weeks in Palm Springs, Peter radiated gratitude, often verbalizing his appreciation in response to everything he noticed with a “Blessed Be” or “We are so blessed”. Peter died the way he lived: Radiantly beautiful, fiercely loving, courageous, grateful, serving wit and humor till the end, and surrounded by a mere few of us representing the thousands of fortunate souls who have been blessed and enchanted to know him. Peter’s remains will be scattered as he wished, on Mardi Gras 2010 in New Orleans.
Syl (with a Y, not an I), whose former Faerie name was Silver Angel, and whose mundane name is Paul Patterson, passed on a Thursday night in Colorado. He had just flown out from Portland that morning to spend some time with his son and daughter-in-law there, as well as his daughter Rebecca who had flown in from Brooklyn. They had a nice dinner together
and Syl went on and on to them about how much he loved living with us in Portland at Fae Haven and how happy he was to be a part of the vibrant Portland Faerie community. After dinner he had a massive heart attack and died on the way to the hospital. While still active at 78, he had just been diagnosed with congestive heart failure this past month and he was certainly slowing down. His fierce independence shined through to the end when we learned, after he was discharged, that he had spent a night in the hospital and had taken the MAX to the emergency room rather than ask his house mates! His concession to the congestive heart failure diagnosis was to fly to Colorado rather than drive from Portland. Though his death is a shock to us all, it is not a surprise and we are so relieved that he was able to be with his children at the end, that he was happy, and that he died quickly without suffering.
Syl was a brilliant man. He had done a wide variety of things in his life and had some amazing stories. I believe he came out in San Francisco in the early 70’s after his divorce. He later lived in Dunsmuir, California for many years. He came to his first Breitenbush Radical Faerie gathering about a dozen years ago and he connected well with the NW Faerie community. By early 2008 he had decided to sell his home in California and move to Portland. He moved in to Fae Haven in June of last year, taking up residence in the basement “deluxe bedroom suite with kitchenette and bath.” Periwinkle and Otter own the house and live on the first floor and Scruffy and I live in the apartment on the 2nd floor (and now so does, AyJay, Scruffy’s BOYfriend). Syl was the perfect addition to our household and he let us know when he moved in, that he “didn’t plan on moving again, ever.” The past year has been a year of wonderful community for the 6 of us. Syl was deeply loved and will be deeply missed. No one worked a beret or a headband like he did.
The picture that was on the cover of the RFD Breitenbush issue was taken by local faerie Pan (Wayne Bund) and it won honorable mention in our local queer paper, Just Out’s photography contest last year. In fact, that picture appeared in the Just Out publication the same week that Syl moved to Portland, so even his arrival was heralded by greatness! The quote from the judge was that he loved the serene picture of a “face that could tell a million stories.” He will also be remembered for his appearance at Breitenbush with his hair all done up, way high. While we all loved that high hair, he didn’t think it worth the effort and it shocked him to look in the mirror, so wanting to see Marilyn Monroe and instead seeing Ann Richards. His favorite drag was a simple, colorful, lacy, satin slip with go-go boots and hat/hair band. He was inspiration to us all.
There are as of yet no firm plans for a memorial, although we Portland Faeries will certainly do something Fabulous! He will certainly be invoked and in spirit at the Wae Fae Cabaret Queer Magic Fundraiser in our backyard this weekend (the show must go on!), and I’m sure there will be some official remembrance at the Breitenbush Gathering just 10 days from now, as he was planning on attending.
Thanks again for your thoughts and prayers. Our household is holding up fine. I appreciate this opportunity to share a little about Syl and I will make sure that any future plans for a memorial are posted.
July 6, 1916–June 8, 2009
Harold Norse, whose poetry earned both wide critical acclaim and a large, enduring popular following, died on Monday, June 8, 2009, in San Francisco, just one month before his 93rd birthday. Norse, who lived in San Francisco for the last 35 years, had a prolific, international literary career that spanned 70 years. His collected poems were published in 2003 under the title In the Hub of the Fiery Force, and he continued to read publicly into his 90s, bringing his work to new generations.
Born in 1916 to an illiterate, unwed mother, Harold Norse had a natural gift for language, influenced from the varied dialects of his surroundings. That led to a boyhood interest in writing that blossomed into a rich, peripatetic life that he documented in an innately American poetic idiom.
Like Walt Whitman, Norse was a Brooklyn native. He came of age during the Depression, an experience that significantly shaped his voice and endeared him to a varied audience of underdogs and the persecuted. Beginning in 1934, he attended Brooklyn College, where he met and became the
lover of Chester Kallman. In 1939, when W.H. Auden and Christopher Isherwood gave their first reading in America, Norse and Kallman were in the front row winking flirtatiously at the famous writers. Norse soon became Auden’s personal secretary, a role he filled until Kallman and Auden became lovers.
During the 1940s, Norse lived in Greenwich Village and was an active participant in both the gay and literary undergrounds. His close friends at the time included James Baldwin, who was a teenager when he met Norse in 1942. A close friend of Julian Beck and Judith Malina, Norse was integral in the early foundation of The Living Theater. In the summer of 1944 Norse was introduced to Tennessee Williams in Provincetown, Mass., where the two shared a summer cabin while Williams completed the manuscript for “The Glass Menagerie.”
Abandoning his doctoral work in English in 1954, Norse sailed to Italy, spending the next 15 years traveling across Europe and North Africa. Living in Rome, Naples, and Florence, Norse immersed himself in the classical culture that had survived the two World Wars. Norse found a mentor and friend in William Carlos Williams, who encouraged the younger poet to move away from the classical poetics of academia and explore the poetic possibilities of the spoken word of the American streets. The complete correspondence of Norse and Williams, titled “The American Idiom,” was published in 1990.
Norse’s travels continued in the 1960s, bringing him to Tangier, where he consorted with Paul and Jane Bowles, Ira Cohen, and Mel Clay. In 1959 Norse traveled to Paris, where he settled in the infamous Beat Hotel. Through friend and fellow Beat Hotel resident Gregory Corso, Norse met William S. Burroughs and Brion Gysin. It was Norse who introduced Ian Sommerville to Burroughs as the group experimented with the cut-up method of writing. Norse’s collection of writing from that period was published as a cut-up novella, “The Beat Hotel,” in 1983.
From Paris, Norse moved onward to Greece and Hydra, where he reconnected with the poet Charles Henri Ford, a friend from Greenwich Village days, and smoked pot with the then-unknown poet Leonard Cohen. Norse also spent time in Switzerland, Germany, and England. During this time Norse maintained a close correspondence with Charles Bukowski, who affectionately referred to Norse as “Prince Hal, Prince of Poets.” In 1969 Norse edited Penguin Modern Poets 13 featuring Norse, Philip Lamantia and, in his first major exposure, Bukowski.
In 1968, gravely ill from hepatitis, Norse repatriated to Venice, Calif., where he was met by Bukowski and the young poet Neeli Cherkovski. Norse enjoyed the social freedom and political activism of the hippie era, so presciently voiced in his writing, which breathed new life into his body and work. Norse also reconnected with Jack Hirschman; the two had spent time together in Greece during Norse’s expatriate years. Recovering
his health, Norse became a vegetarian and a bodybuilder at Gold’s Gym along with a young Arnold Schwarzenegger. In 1972 Norse moved to San Francisco, ultimately settling in the Albion Street cottage he would occupy for the next 30 years. The 1970s were a productive and personally fulfilling time for Norse as the personal and sexual liberty he had lived clandestinely now became the cultural norm. City Lights Books published a collection of poems tilted “Hotel Nirvana” in 1974. It was nominated for a National Book Award. “Carnivorous Saint,” published in 1977, was an historic collection of poetry that covered Norse’s gay erotic experience from World War II through the Gay Liberation Movement. During this period Norse was a habitué of North Beach coffee houses where he
often connected with fellow poet Bob Kaufman.
Norse’s autobiography, “Memoirs of a Bastard Angel,” was published in 1987 to international acclaim. Chronicling his rich life at the cutting edge of twentieth-century literary arts, Norse’s memoirs were republished in 2002. A National Poetry Association Award was bestowed upon him in 1991. During his final years, Norse continued to live in his cottage in San Francisco’s gritty Mission District, continually reworking his poems, giving readings, and corresponding with admirers from around the world.
www.haroldnorse.com
I’m not a man, I can’t earn a living, buy new things for my family. I have acne and a small peter.
I’m not a man. I don’t like football, boxing and cars. I like to express my feeling. I even like to put an arm around my friend’s shoulder.
I’m not a man. I won’t play the role assigned to me- the role created by Madison Avenue, Playboy, Hollywood and Oliver Cromwell, Television does not dictate my behavior.
I’m not a man. Once when I shot a squirrel I swore that I would never kill again. I gave up meat. The sight of blood makes me sick. I like flowers.
I’m not a man. I went to prison resisting the draft. I do not fight when real men beat me up and call me queer. I dislike violence.
I’m not a man. I have never raped a woman. I don’t hate blacks. I do not get emotional when the flag is waved. I do not think I should love America or leave it. I think I should laugh at it.
I’m not a man. I have never had the clap.
I’m not a man. Playboy is not my favorite magazine.
I’m not a man. I cry when I’m unhappy.
I’m not a man. I do not feel superior to women
I’m not a man. I don’t wear a jockstrap.
I’m not a man. I write poetry.
I’m not a man. I meditate on peace and love.
I’m not a man. I don’t want to destroy you
—Harold Norse San Francisco, 1972
Meet a friend of whom I first wrote in about 1992 while in prison in Florida as a result of his ad in RFD Magazine. Today I am reading a letter from him that is turning my stomach big time. I have decided to share part of his letter with you.”
“…Let me tell you what’s going on around here; prisons are getting more and more dirty, we don’t have justice. I was set up and accused of spitting on an officer at another institution which I never did and for which I now pay the highest price. I have been beaten and sprayed by officers for no such reason. Also they didn’t give me regular food; they put me on loaf food just like a dog and for 7 days. I refused to eat that food as it is very nasty tasting. Then they put me in a cell for 8 days property restriction; I had no mattress or blanket to sleep on. I slept on a metal bed with only boxers on. I thought for a minute I was going to die.
I was weak for refusing to eat the dog food, plus every time they came around they threatened me. I did everything I could to fight for my rights with no success. I was lying there on the metal half-way dead when a good preacher came around and find me just laying there on the metal. He screamed, “Oh My God, what happened to you?” and asked, “What happened to you?” and asked if I could get up. I finally started to get up and he could see the beating marks on my body. We talked for only a few minutes because they had removed the toilet and sink from my cell and there was no water to drink.” The pastor and another Christian man then helped get him back on regular food and then transferred to another institution.
My friend went on to describe the dangerous situation this whole incident put him in. As a seizure patient they are not supposed to gas him as it could kill him. He believes that God was with him and he is now in a safer location. He remains on 24/24 lock-down and notes that the crime for which he was convicted involved defending himself. At present, the situation is now included
in “self-defense” statutes but did not exist at that time. He notes that having funds to hire a proper lawyer would have been very helpful. He is indigent with funds coming from myself and several others who help when they can. He notes “sometimes and most of the time I feel like dying.”
In the last issue I described my partner Trixi’s extradition to Connecticut on an outstanding warrant from 1989. The warrant was listed as an Escape in that Trixi had left the state and gone to Oregon while out on parole. Although Connecticut had an opportunity in 1989 to extradite him from Oregon, they declined to do so and allowed him to be released on Bond from an Oregon facility. Following that incident there were other opportunities to claim him when his name would turn up when jobs, law enforcement and others did a check on outstanding warrants. Each time Connecticut failed to act. This prevented Trixi from getting jobs and left him in limbo. Now when he has a place to live here in Tennessee and has employment and was building a new life, Connecticut has decided to act and now we are fighting to get Trixi back.
The whole thing makes no sense and with the budget crisis facing Connecticut it makes even less sense. But then the whole prison industrial complex makes no sense unless you follow the money. Everyone makes money when the prisons are full. States pay a fee for each person housed. Families contribute money to be certain their loved ones have soap, food, medical visits. Then the phone companies make money on the telephone calls placed by inmates via pre-paid calls to the outside. And who pays those fees? The family. The state purchases canteen items and sells them back to the inmates at inflated prices with money paid by the family. And the poor move more money from the bottom to the top. Then you throw in the lobbyists for the prison construction industries and the private prisons battling to be certain we stay “tough on crime” so we can keep the prisons full, and justifying the building of more and more prisons.
So who benefits from the prison system? Follow the Money. Follow the Money.
An inmate writes to tell me that he has been denied RFD stating: “it was reviewed by the upper management and was deemed to be too sexually graphic in nature. So it was added to the banned publication list. He goes on to say: “I was quite bummed as I was looking forward to ordering a subscription.”
“It’s crazy here, these institutions are going on a widespread witch hunts against material that stimulates the human sex-drive, but then they wonder why these sexually frustrated individuals get stressed out and temperamental. . . . With these ill placed attempts at quelling sexuality they fail to realize that they are in fact breeding sexual deviants by making sexual arousal and gratification something to that needs to be secret and hidden.”
Dear ones: As some of you know, I have been corresponding with three men incarcerated at three different prisons in Illinois for about a year and a half. It has been an exciting and challenging experience for me. Each man has his own story, his own hopes and dreams, his own nightmares dealing with the reality of being shut out of society.
I won’t bore you with statistics about how many people are in prison in the USA, how severe our sentencing guidelines have become, how far the system is from any semblance of effort toward rehabilitation . . . I only wish to share how positive and rewarding it has been for me personally to become a pen pal to someone behind bars. I write once or twice a month to each person, send photos (which they LOVE to get), and constantly feel awed by the courage, gratitude, stamina and sensitivity which these men have managed to cultivate in the face of horrific circumstances.
If you’re interested in getting a list of men who are looking for a regular correspondent, please contact: Harry Vedder, Editor, Brothers Behind Bars, P.O. Box 68, Liberty, TN 37095. I suggest
starting with one person -- three was a bit overwhelming for me at first. Be prepared to become an important person in someone’s life, to feel a real responsibility for staying in touch, and to gain a whole new perspective on your own life..
Let me know if you decide to become a pen pal with one of our brothers behind bars.
Andrew 773-929-6139
Editor Note: To help defray mailing and printing costs please consider a donation of $3.00 to $10.00 when ordering a copy of the list. The list generally contains about 20 pages of ads plus art work and poetry.
I am in isolation at Central Unit. I am 40 (Oh God), crippled (paralysis the waist down from a failed escape attempt) and well, uh-um Gay. I’m Super Gay. The thing is I don’t look it. Though I’ve been down 15 years I’ve yet to participate in sexual relations with others. Can you please hook me up with a Trans, TV or TS Pen-pal? It sucks to be Gay and in prison. Everyone hits on you and it’s lonely. In here I hear voices but rarely do I engage in meaningful conversation. I hope you enjoy the Origami that I produce.
Patrick Lee Mullins #00276936 C101 Estelle HS, 265 FM 3478, Huntsville, TX 77320-3322.
Another writer requests we place an ad concerning his innocence and notes that the West Texas Innocence Project has become involved in his case due to new evidence which has come to light and which indicates his innocence. I would encourage any of our readers to write him for more information and to add your support to his cause.
G/W/M, 37, Honestly innocent of the murder I’m in prison for. West Texas Innocence project is looking into my case. Hopefully I’ll be released soon.
Will share more about case and self. ISO serious writers???
Michael I Ford TDCJ #557415, Michael Unit, PO Box 4500,
Tennessee Colony, TX 75886It is hard writing this letter as I don’t quite know what to say. I was a victim of sexual abuse as a child. That left me with many gender and sexual identity issues—where it becomes difficult to distinguish what was innate and that which was superimposed by abuse and its after effects upon the psyche.
At 51 years old I still haven’t fully sorted it all out—Gay or Bi or Transgender— I’ve been a bit of all three at one point or another—whether by choice, or coerced and compelled. At times seeking its refuge as the only means or hope of survival or maintaining the integrity of being.
Working doubly hard to remain at a single spot—I am presently in Solitary Confinement for being Gay. That’s not what the official records will say. But the system records only reflect that which is convenient or expedient for the system—which often has nothing to do with the truth—we’ve all been there and done that.
My present situation is a result of the truth, figuring that my problems were also the system’s responsibility to assist me in dealing with them—of course the system doesn’t exactly see it that way. Their response is often knee jerk reaction —or punitive sanction when they don’t want to deal with a reality that is presented to them. Be that as it may, I am a writer of experimental fiction novels concerning: abuse, crime, prisoners, prison life and homosexual, bi-sexual, transgender life in prison. Three of my novels, Lil Brother, Puerto Rican Red, Death Train and the upcoming novel Senses of Shadow deal with these issues.
I don’t know if I am asking for persons to communicate with, or to share space and time with. I have a life sentence – and no dreams to sell – only the realness of an open soul.
Steven Thomas #026260, Santa Rosa Correctional Institution, 5850 East Milton Road, Milton, FL 32583-7914
Today I received two of my outgoing letters to our Brothers Behind Bars back in the mail with comments on them or paperwork inside giving us new rules and new institutions that either will not allow pen-pal services or inmates making donations for our services. A friend of mine who has been inside the institutions says they don’t like inmates getting pen pals because they might happen to tip the media off about how bad things are inside and they can’t have that. Whether that is the case or not, I will never know, but it is a possibility. Our Brothers Behind Bars need support and love. You, the readers of this column, can help in providing that support. Become involved. You can contact us at Brothers Behind Bars, PO Box 68, Liberty TN 37095 or you can e-mail me at bbbmyrlin@yahoo.com.
New from AuthorHouse to order: www.pinkzinniapoems.com
www.pinkzinnia.wordpress.com
Seeking gay man (or partners) to work from home on U.S./Canada distribution of queer books which it has published. The oldest gay book press in the country (since 1975), Gay Sunshine/Leyland has published such authors as Allen Ginsberg, Jean Genet... Publisher seeks someone living in the extended Bay Area (from Mendocino, to Big Sur, and eastward accordingly). Need stable, dependable individual(s), preferably of mature age; countryside dwellers with space for storage, and with deep interest in books. Payment involved. This is independent contractor activity; initially minimal but hopefully growing.
Contact, with details, references: Winston Leyland: jared101@fastmail.fm
http://www.gaysunshinepress.com
Help support the oldest gay reader-written magazine in the country. See last page for rates and contact information. Thanks!
We accept submissions via U.S. Mail, or email at submissions@ rfdmag.org. When sending electronic files by either method, save the text files as an MS Word Doc, Rich Text (RTF), or Simple Text. Images should be high resolution (minimum one mega-byte (1 MB) in TIFF or JPG. Your work may also be used on our website.
We welcome your submission. Suggested length is 500 to 2,500 words. We will carefully edit. If you intentionally mean to vary a spelling, let us know. We will contact you if your submission is selected. Contributors receive one copy of the issue in which their work appears and a second copy upon request. Your may also be used on our website.
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Time to CIRCLE! How does THAT make you feel?
As we have been celebrating the 30th anniversary of the first national faerie gathering, many feel this is a good time to contemplate the Heart Circle. While not uniquely a rad-fae experience, heart circles are the mode through which we comtmunicate our thoughts and feelings while in community, whether at a gathering, in someone’s living room, or at the local community center. One may argue that being in heart circle is what defines being a radical faerie.
We are calling out to our communities across this globe and asking for writings about the Heart Circle. We are asking for articles of any length to share experiences, insights and stories about this process which is paradoxically our most intimate and simultaneously most public method of human relating. We are interested in ALL aspects of circling to have a critically honest discussion = what works? what doesn’t work?
What do you love about heart circles? Why do you HATE them? How do they work best for you? When have they moved your spirit, or caused you to fall asleep? Do heart circles scare you? Is it difficult for you to speak in front of others? Do you feel trapped in a dynamic of having to listen to others’ baggage ad infinitum? Are you too cool to sit in a heart circle? What is the future for heart circles in the faerie community?
Submit your writings to submissions@rfdmag.org. If you have ideas about writing, but fear the process, send an email to the same address = we can help!
a reader created quarterly celebrating queer diversity
Benson, Arizona. Location of the first National Radical Faerie Gathering.
