Dykes on Bikes!

From the 1996 San Francisco Lesbian/Gay Pride Parade

Dykes on Bikes 1
It’s my first time here so I don’t know quite what to expect for the opening salvo, but all the other photographers are really jazzed up. Suddenly the crowd lining an empty Market Street breaks into a cheer at the tiger growl of motorcycles approaching in low gear. The parade has begun…

Death and the Modern Pagan

The Earth-Based, Goddess-Centered Pagan traditions, including Wicca, have a very different attitude toward death in general. Most of the Pagans I have spoken to over the years believe in reincarnation in some form, so that death is seen as a change, a “shedding of the skin”, rather than the end. For this reason the snake that sheds its skin is viewed as a symbol of rebirth rather than as a symbol of evil.
Hecate

The Long Good-Bye

The “Disappearing Indians” Myth Lingers On

It didn’t take a “melting pot” of settlers from other parts of the world to create diversity in North America. The native peoples who lived here already represented an enormous variety of cultures, and they had something in common that would help them survive centuries of misfortune without losing that culture.

Grandfather’s Dream

Native American Indian spiritual practices are not the glamourous and easily-digested catchphrases of wisdom portrayed by Hollywood or the New Age movement. As the following short story by this Canadian Metis author illustrates, walking the “Red Road” can be a challenging, even embarrasing, ordeal. – The Editor
Eagle

Minuteman

(The surreal world of a teenager stuck working at a fast-food joint)

hamburger - from wikimedia commonsJenna hated him, the garish tricolored hat, the white powdered curls fat as sausages, the tiny American flag clutched in his wooden hand. Her mother had bought the minuteman jack-in-the-box as a memento of the Bicentennial, placed it next to the miniature spinning wheel on top of the piano.

Native American Elders and their Children

Annette Biggart with mother
For as long as I can remember, I always knew that I was Indian, but I also knew that we could never talk about it in front of my Grandmother. For whatever reason, she would have a fit of rage if anyone asked her about it. She would say that she was NOT Indian and that she didn’t want to hear any of us say otherwise. We never knew why she denied it.

The Saga of my Hair

When womanhood came, my hair awoke
Heeding some inner genetic calling,
To a life of its own.

It framed my face like a cloud of blackness
Wild curls reaching in every direction
Armed with combs, with clips and barrettes.

My horrified mother
(Born a white Southerner and Never Forgetting It)
Attempted to tame it and failed.

Melissa Pinol - photo by David Arv Bragi

The End

(A short story inspired by the tragic 1911 Triangle Shirtwaist Factory Fire)

She is worthless, cloth legs and arms, sooty grey and smudged, grey as newsprint, or a spider, Little Miss Muffit sat on her tuffit, eating her curds and whey. Too poor for a printed face, no high buttoned shoes or jet beads small as gnats. Instead someone stitched her a round open mouth, two spiked lashed eyes and a flattened French knot for a nose…

Immigrant Rights Rally

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Photo Gallery: Labor Day march and rally in Tucson, Arizona in support of the region’s migrant workers.

The year was 2010 and tensions between the Arizona state government and its Hispanic residents had simmered for months…

A Letter To Young Wiccans

flowers

Advice for teens who are new to Wicca, Witchcraft and Paganism.

As a young person you probably have a lot of issues in your life that you need to work out; the teen years especially can be pretty confusing. As a young Wiccan you have the added challenge of setting out on the strange, new road…