by Jombi Supastar [Editorial note: This article is related to another article by Jombi in our print issue titled "Toward a More Colorful Faery Future."
“We live in a society that has been so deeply rooted in white supremacy that it makes it very difficult to talk about class-based politics without talking about just how central race and racism have been in the constitution of American identity, culture, and society." — Cornel West
When I first came upon the Faeries twenty years ago at a Rainbow Gathering I was simply amazed. I had never met gay people like that before. Their fun attitude, the clothes they wore and the general feeling of warmth and inclusion appealed to me greatly. I was very happy to find them. I wouldn’t be the person I am now if it weren’t for the experiences I have had with the Radical Faeries. In telling about my experience with the Faeries I want you to understand that I don’t hold any resentments now. All in all I feel grateful. But I want you to know how it was for me, and it wasn’t all fun. Now mind you, it may not have been great fun for them either. I was no shrinking violet, and I did speak my mind. For some people I was a whole lot to handle.
After the March for Equality in Washington in 1993, I found my way to the Short Mountain Sanctuary in Tennessee where I met a wonderful Aussie named James with whom I fell in love. And so I moved there. For me it was a dramatically new experience. Not only was it my first time living with Faeries, it was my first time living with white people. And I think it was probably for some of them their first experience of relating to a black man on a daily basis. For quite some time I was the only Black face among the Faeries.
A number of fears came up for me being in that white gay male environment. Understand me, that was all there was, and then me. There was not even a single womyn. I knew my history. I knew about white men wreaking havoc on indigenous cultures around the globe. I knew white men were not known for their compassion or sensitivity or for trying to build bridges of understanding. So I was anticipating a stereotype, too. Luckily, there were some Sanctuarians who didn’t fit that stereotype, guys who reached out to me and who tried to understand and sympathize with my point of view. But about half of the stewards didn’t, and I resented those who didn’t. As white men they had the advantage. They had grown up with privilege. And all too many of them showed it.
Living at Short Mountain I often found it difficult to go to meetings without feeling what I contributed to the discussion was not taken seriously. I often felt patronized or in some cases ignored completely. Coming from an insecure place myself, that was really hard for me. As a Black gay man who had for too long felt put down in one way or another, I wanted to be heard, to be taken seriously, or at least have my feelings mean something. I wanted to be one of the cool kids, but I was treated as if didn’t even count. I remember how I grew to resent meetings, how I felt not really a part of the community, but just on the outside of it, which was a frustrating place to be.
I frequently got more validation from visitors than I got from other Sanctuarians. For some reason I was often the one who showed people around the sanctuary when they came to visit. Others didn’t seem to want to be bothered, but I was grateful for some connection with outsiders. I was interested in them and they returned the favor by being interested in me, in my opinions, in my thoughts about how things worked at the Sanctuary. It seemed ironic to me that these outsiders were more interested in what I had to say than many of the people I lived with.
And whenever another person of color or a womyn would come by, I would rejoice in their otherness because I was tired of being the only one who was other in a place called a sanctuary that was full of white men who treated me as other—or at least I felt too many of them did. I craved a sense of sanctuary myself. I wanted healing, but wasn’t getting it. I needed a spiritual hospital. We are all in need of some kind of healing. The kind of healing I most needed was not to be treated like I didn’t count.
One day after a meeting at Short Mountain I felt sad and frustrated because I felt too many of the stewards weren’t sensitive to my feelings. I told a steward friend that later. I said that I didn’t feel valued as a Black man living there, that I didn’t think people wanted to hear my opinions and take them seriously. Another one of the stewards overheard me expressing my frustrations and told me that he didn’t look at me as a Black man. To say I was in shock was an understatement. How could he say something so stupid, so insensitive? Maybe he thought he was being nice, making me an Honorary White Guy but, funny, I didn’t take that as a compliment. And even if I had, the whole rest of the white world would be ready to remind that I wasn’t.
On another occasion I was told by a resident at a meeting of stewards that he had issues of safety around me. I found that strange. I was the one who was way outnumbered, mine being the only black face in a sea of white. He and I were about the same size. I had never threatened him or been threatening or violent toward anyone else that would give him any reason to feel that way. The only conclusion I could reach was that his fear was based on a racial stereotype about black men. I was deeply hurt that he was seeing that stereotype instead of seeing me. I liked him and wanted him to see me as his friend. When I told him that he responded, “Well we’re not friends, Jombi, and I don’t think we’ll ever be friends.” I felt so weary, then. What was the point of trying to hold my own?
It’s time for all of us to look at our prejudices and get beyond them. Barak Obama is now the first African American president—intelligent, articulate, serious. He’s got a lot to do after eight disastrous years of G. W. B.. His election is not going to end racism, let alone sexism or homophobia, but it should help some white people get over their tired ideas about Blacks. It should be a bridge to understanding and hopefully lead to more peace in all our future. For the new age coming is one of cultural diversity. And our new age society will almost certainly be more colorful. The Faeries, in my view, must lead the way to that colorful future by embracing all who are talented and magical, even if they’re not queer white men.
I want to take care that what I’m saying here is not difficult to understand or easy to forget. I think it comes down to this, that those Faeries who have grown up accustomed to privilege need to think about that, and to understand that they will need to make adjustments to the way they think and behave if they are going to be able to get along with others who have not shared the privileges to which they are accustomed. That, and seeing that what they’re used to, what they think is right, doesn’t necessarily seem right from others’ way of seeing things. We need to open our hearts to others, and our minds to others’ ways of thinking and behaving. And as for some old school Faeries who feel an exclusionary attitude toward womyn, well, aren’t the Faeries a Goddess organization anyway? Where is respect for the Goddess in that kind of attitude?
Perhaps it’s different for younger queer people of color, but from my perspective I don’t think Faeries are going to get much new blood from beyond the privileged white male population unless Faeries make efforts to reach out to people unlike themselves. There just aren’t going to be many who will be willing to have to fight for an equal voice, who will be willing to fight to be taken seriously. If you’ve been put down all your life, it’s too much to ask. There were many more people of color at SMS Beltane this year than ever before. I loved that. Let’s hope they come to feel part of our community. How they’re treated will determine whether they will.
So yes, adversity— feeling put down, feeling like I’ve been treated as less worthy than others— has been a part of my experience among the Faeries. But believe me, I have had and still have many amazing and rewarding experiences with the Faeries. I have learned about ecology, having a green consciousness in the world, maintaining a curiosity about life, learning some of the traditions of the indigenous peoples of this land (such as passing the talisman in circle). Some of the other things I’ve learned are having a spirit of openheartedness, sharing sexual energies non-possessively, learning to be queer-positive, anti-assimilationist, honoring our queerness rather than trying to hide or apologize for it, being who I am with pride. Oh, and the anti-capitalist way of putting together both wardrobe and artwork from street scores rather than buying labels.
We Radical Faeries have a lot to celebrate about ourselves. And yet we have a lot of growing and diversifying yet to do. If the Radical Faeries don’t diversify, they will soon be far from radical and will simply become irrelevant, a quaint remnant of the old world order. Haven’t we all had enough of that, already? Here’s to a more colorful and a more radical Radical Faery future.
Jombi Supastar is an etiquette consultant and artist whose work explores the realms of the subconscious, the nether worlds and the sphere of the nature spirits. He was the first African American to serve as a steward of the Short Mountain Sanctuary in middle Tennessee.
