Treatise on Oregon
Welcome to "The Gods Are Bored," bringing you the Pagan-est Paganinity since Pagan came to Pagantown!
To answer your question ... No. I cannot be serious for a minute. I've tried, and the best I can do is 43 seconds. And that was the day my mama died. Someone stole my Cloak of Seriousness decades ago. Must have been that faerie I played with as a kid. "Serious" and "Anne": ne'er the twain shall meet!
I mean, if you want me to, I could get all depressed and angry and shit. Easily enough done, if you consider the tragic story of Sacagawea, kidnapped as a teen, sold into slavery to a French trapper, and then sent as a guide for an expedition half a continent wide with a friggin baby on her back.
What would Lewis and Clark have been without Sacagawea? Buzzard bait, that's what. The tribal areas through which they passed considered them harmless because they had a woman and child with them. Sacagawea knew how to speak Shoshone, thus paving the way for her fussy "captains" through the rugged Rockies and beyond.
For her long expedition and devotion to the white men through thick and thin, Sacagawea was awarded with ... nothing. Nada. Zip. Her husband got five hundred bucks and a farm. She died at 25.
I will cut to the quick and be done with this.
We need Goddess worship. Women should be honored and cherished and given leadership roles. They should have sovereignty over their bodies and the fruits of their labor. They should reject any religion that:
1. Casts them as the villains in the history of humankind.
2. Fails to recognize their equality by honoring them as equal priestesses in religious devotion, and
3. Expects them to have a new, tasty casserole for every gathering, no matter how hard they've worked all week.
If you don't think Sacagawea had to whip up the casseroles on her way from North Dakota to Oregon, you just aren't thinking.
When we consider Oregon as a metaphor, it ought to be in the context of female equality. Being a polytheist, I'll add: You show me a religion without a Goddess, I'll show you a praise and worship team full of exhausted females.
Before you start wagging your finger at me and tsk tsking, bear in mind that I was a Methodist for 16 years. I may not have been Sacagawea, but on the Sundays when the childrens' choir did their big musical, it sure felt like I was negotiating for horses with a bunch of ferocious native warriors on a wind-swept mountaintop.
Women, listen to me. Choose a religion where you are valued. Don't fall for that "okay, you can be a deacon" shit. Go for the path that lets you climb to the top.
Do it in the memory of Sacagawea. Do it in the name of religious diversity. Whatever. Just. Do. It.