Twenty years ago at the big Pagan campground where I became a priestess (we’ll call it the Old Place), a man named Alan created ceremony for a week-long megalithic festival. Each year for which he was responsible, he chose a different ancient culture to celebrate. In 2003, he chose ancient Greece.
He organized sacred theater about the Labyrinth. Minos, the Minotaur, Pasiphae, Ariadne, Theseus, and company were all in attendance. There was an ongoing reading of the Odyssey in various places at various times. There were (post)modern interpretations of different deities for different ceremonies during the week. There were snippets of the Greek Anthology read at Bardic Circles in the evening.
His main ceremony involved Hera (the queen of Olympus), Hermes (the messenger/trickster), Ares (the master of war), and Aphrodite (the mistress of sexual love).
For this ceremony, a priest, a priestx, and two priestesses would Aspect the deities.. Aspecting is a Wiccan priest/essly skill of bringing a deity to Presence, awareness, movement, speech, and life in the body of the priest/x/ess.
Alan wanted me to aspect Aphrodite.
I was shocked by his request. For one thing (the main thing), I was fat. I probably wore a size 22/24 or so. I said, “Are you sure you have the right girl? I mean, statues of Aphrodite aren’t exactly shaped like me!” His reply was that he thought he had “…exactly the right girl…Besides, big girls are hot.” In this ceremony, Aphrodite was being invited to come as the embodiment of feminine sexuality. None of what he said was creepy or a come-on, but still! Here was a cishet man acknowledging and inviting me—a fat priestess—to Aspect a goddess of beauty, love, and sexuality.
Could I do it? Could I get my own fears, my own negative thoughts about myself out of the way enough to welcome Her in front of the gathered assembly? I don’t remember settling those questions, but one way or another, I agreed.
I spent weeks reading everything I could find about Aphrodite. (http://theoi.com is amazing for easy access to primary source material about Greek deities, creation myths, etc..) I read theoi, I read books, I wrote and sang devotional songs, I spoke invocations aloud, I lit candles, I rubbed my body with sweet oils, kissed my lover passionately, and planned my look for the ceremony.
The day came for the ceremony, and I was a ball of nerves.
I knew that being too nervous would get me in Aphrodite’s way. It would foreground my worries and keep me from sincerely inviting the presence of the goddess into my body. I had to be wide open to everything She asked of me, everything She gave, everything She was that I could bring through. And nerves would not allow for that.
To deal with my anxiety, I had arranged to be alone. I needed to be both grounded and awake, both centered and aware, both in my body and open to however She might come through. And to achieve that complex state, I needed to prepare.
Some incense, some singing, and grounding and centering, some fervent prayer and a glass of sweet wine, and I was ready to begin my time with Her.
I bathed in night-blooming jasmine-scented water with bath salts to honor Aphrodite’s birth on the sea foam. After bathing and letting my hair air dry so it would be lush and wavy, I rubbed luscious, rich, amber-scented lotion all over my body, let it sink in, and put on my clothes. My vestments, if you will.
I wore a very simple, Grecian-style gown made of platinum-gold lame. I gathered the shoulders with gold rope and strung the same rope as a kirtle, creating an empire waistline. My feet were bare.
After loose, leaf-shaped gold earrings, my last touches were strings of crystal and blue beads strung through my black hair, winks of the sea foam on which Her stories say She first appeared in the Aegean Sea.
I waited a moment, and sang once more to Her a song of supplication, inviting Her presence, Her ways of moving and speaking, Her secret knowledge and Her playful, confident beauty. And then I addressed myself to my makeup.
It was a hot Labor Day weekend, I was young, and my skin glowed under the early fall sun. Similarly, I was warm enough that my cheeks were already joy apples when I smiled. I applied just enough simple grey eyeliner to make my eyes seem a bit wider, plenty of mascara, and an appealing pink on my lips. Finally, a dash of iridescent glitter around my eyes and along my décolletage finished off the look of the shimmering sea.
With each stroke of the eyelash brush, each fall of glitter, with every tie I put into my gown and every stroke of lotion along my skin, I felt more and more powerful. I began to welcome the goddess. Not just any goddess, but a goddess of allure, magnetism, charisma, attraction…and all the blessings and curses that can come with sexuality.
For the first time in my life, as I got out of the way to welcome Another in, I felt the power of my own femme gender. I was so focused on Her that I didn’t notice I was doing things a fat girl “shouldn’t do.” I luxuriated in the feeling of my own skin. I labored over just a little bit of makeup. I ran my fingers through the gentle, soft curls of my hair. I delighted in the glow of my own face and the whimsy of the glitter I applied. I stood up straight, aware of the rolls of my belly and the epic juiciness of my ass.
Very little, if anything, is inherent in gender, except maybe performance. But there are pieces of the puzzle that come together to build “Qira’s femme gender.” Conscious self-expression is a piece. Sexuality out to play—kinky, polyam, playful, flamboyant play—is another. Color, scent, movement, posture, and the pitch of my voice… all these gather together in my femme gender performance.
And all of these first began to blossom under Aphrodite’s touch. This touch, this whisper of love and affirmation of beauty, came steadily over the course of the afternoon and would come into full bloom later in the day. And even weeks and months and years later… to be continued.
