Coming out of the "broom closet":  a prospect that sends many new (and some seasoned) Pagans into attacks of the heebie-jeebies.  Visions of unemployment, of broken families and friendships, of community ostracism, and even of mob violence flit through their minds.  Without closely examining their anxiety, another padlock is clapped on the door and fingers are crossed in hope that their neighbors didn’t see their fingers testing the air beyond its crack.

O.K., so that is a bit melodramatic—but not terribly so.  At some time during almost every gathering of Pagans I’ve attended, the broom closet has become a topic of conversation.  The subject is also quite popular in literature both on- and offline, particularly in introductory Wiccan material.  Whether it’s one person expressing fear of the unknown or another sharing an encouraging coming-out anecdote, or yet another telling of the repercussions faced by a Pagan elsewhere after his or her religion became known in the workplace, the subject seems to hold a strong fascination for us in the Pagan community.  Why is it so potent?  And why do so many of us live in anxiety, if not outright fear, of discovery?

First, I must admit that I’m not immune to this worry myself.  Sometimes I excuse my reticence about discussing my religious beliefs as maintaining a comfortable level of privacy around my personal life, sometimes as avoiding stirring up ignorant people.  Both of these excuses (and others I’m sure I use) are partially based in fact; I do prefer that strangers not know every detail about me, and there are many people who are opposed to learning about other worldviews.  However, I have recognized that there is much less fact than fear about them.  It particularly smacked me in the face when I found myself evading questions from loving (and open-minded) family members and using similar secrecy embarking on trips for rituals as I would for covert military operations—all for simple fear of being thought silly!  This is not right or healthy.

While I certainly don’t endorse proselytizing, I recognize that being more open about my beliefs feels more natural to me.  I suspect that many other closeted Pagans would be more comfortable in their daily lives if they rationally evaluated their fears.  What would really be most likely to happen if family members, neighbors, employers, and all those other people in their lives were to learn about their religious beliefs?  Not worst-case scenarios, but probabilities.  In most cases, I think the closeted ones would be surprised at how little difference it actually would make, and at how telling any negative responses would be about the other person’s character.  Particularly with relatives—how much could that person love you if your being Pagan, Mormon, gay, purple, etc., alienates them even after you pleasantly explain what it entails and they realize how important it is to your life?

I understand many Wiccans’ and Pagans’ concerns about their religion becoming known in the workplace.  Ideally, it should never come up unless one works in a religious bookstore or some such place, but it frequently does.  Sometimes it’s as subtle as wanting to take a personal day or afternoon off for a holiday celebration—and generally hoping your supervisor won’t ask why.  There are intolerant people in most workplaces, but they don’t just target Wiccans and other Pagans.  Again, the reality of being out of the broom closet at work is probably not as bad as your imaginings, but it could be.  If you’re anxious about your work situation, ask yourself if you think it would be right—spiritually and legally—if members of other minority religions such as Judaism and Hinduism felt the need to conceal their religious identities for continued employment.  Of course it’s not right, and you have the same protections under the law if you are willing to push for them to be enforced just as members of those other more "acceptable" religions have done.

The more I think about it, the more I think that we Pagans of various paths must take a risk.  We must recognize our fears, then scrutinize and try to conquer them.  We must stop feeling alone and powerless—we are neither—if we want things to change, both in our lives and in the larger world.  The constant anxiety drains our power.  We must listen to our spirits, push the fear away and listen carefully, and decide how public each one of us is comfortable being about our beliefs.  For some it will begin with opening up to friends and family, for some it will be adding those openly Pagan bumper stickers you’ve been wanting to your cars, and for some it will go further than that.  But we must stop hiding if we want to begin having our legal rights recognized or to retain them.  We must stop hiding like frightened animals if we want to be whole. 

© Copyright 1999, Eilís Moonbrook