Why?

Imagine, if you will, that you've found yourself in a concrete and metal box. It's approximately six feet wide, eight feet long, and eight feet tall. The walls are thick steel reinforced bricks, and your bed, bathroom, and desk (the only furniture in the box) are all made of steel. You have no control over the lights in your box, nor can you block out the noise of the one hundred other people also locked in such boxes all around you.

Welcome to a prison cell. Now, there's much more to it, but as a "formerly incarcerated individual" I can tell you that it's the first thing I noticed about being incarcerated. Every morning, I'd wake up to the same walls, noise, crap food, and then deal with people that I'd never have even thought about when I was home. It's not exactly the best way to start your day, as you might imagine.

The highlight of my own days in the Oklahoma Department of Corrections were the days that the other Pagans and I were allowed to get together in the chapel for an hour and learn about different paths, practices, and how to use that knowledge in our own paths.

While I was incarcerated, I learned that I had a passion for teaching. I remember the exact moment: I'm in a prison chapel classroom with one or two Pagan inmates, alongside a few people who were curious about what we were doing and wanted to learn more. One of the men, a younger African-American guy who happened to be deaf, was following along with the lesson: energy ball work.

I had everyone ground and center, and guided them through the art of building energy inside themselves while sitting as still as possible. At the crescendo, I had everyone clap their hands together, rub them vigorously to build heat and friction, and then let go, separating their hands until they could just feel a trickle of energy between them.

The whole lesson, I struggled with how to reach out to my deaf student, as I didn't know ASL. His translator was also participating in the class, which made things even more difficult. As soon as I had everyone holding their ball of energy, though, I saw his face light up like Times Square in NYC! The whole class, he'd been struggling, too. He was super curious and very intelligent, but the communication barrier made things difficult for him. When he finally got to something he could follow along with, it shocked him to feel the energy that he was producing! 

That was the moment I realized I was meant to teach, and from that point on, I taught Wicca and Ásatrú to the folks who were interested at my facility. We were lucky, though; we were able to secure a time and place to gather, even though we were one of the first groups to lose our time or place when our Chaplain or his staff decided it was necessary.

I started the Oklahoma Pagans Unchained Project because I believe that just because someone is incarcerated doesn't mean they don't need the support of their community. Pagans in prisons nationwide are constantly discriminated against, most commonly due to a lack of knowledge and understanding about what it is we actually do and believe. It doesn't help that Paganism is an umbrella, under which there exist many traditions and beliefs. This of course means there are no central tenets, no core theology, no central church; to people coming from belief systems where those things are what help define their religion, it can be hard to find common ground.

As we begin the new year, keep in mind that those who are serving time are still deserving of your love, kindness, and respect. They have rights that are often trampled upon, and could always use a helping and open hand. 

If you or someone you know is willing to help donate to those Pagans in need, or would like to volunteer at your local facility to teach or to supervise rites and rituals, please reach out, and we'll do our best to make it happen.

Blessaður Sé!