As a female Dominican-Italian living in Washington Heights, I wasn't given many options in terms of my religious beliefs. As a young child barely able to pronounce my name in English, I was immediately handed a thick, dusted King James Bible to memorize. I recited my prayers every morning and evening, attended confession every Saturday afternoon, and, of course, did my best to pay attention during mass for an hour, sometimes even two. I never chose the Roman Catholic faith. Rather, it was handed to me and I simply obeyed the rules. Of course, I attended Catholic school and was even ashamed to say "Damn" when angry. I wore a white crystal rosary whenever I left my apartment and was content in knowing that Jesus was the Messiah.

Despite everything being set up for me to believe, I wasn't aware of the hidden lifestyle that thrived within my family. No one told me that my grandmother was a Santeria priestess.  Yet she quietly practiced hidden ceremonies in a locked bedroom frequently.  She spent her Saturday nights talking to spirits and Sunday mornings lighting up candles for the dead. For a living, she conducted love spells or one-hour tarot readings. I would watch attentively as my grandmother chanted in Latin while waving a black stone chain in the air. Her eyes opened and her pupils drowned within her mahogany brown eyes. "One day, you will follow the path of the witch," she whispered.   My eyes swelled up in tears. I didn't want to become green with multiple warts and have a cackling laugh. I didn't want to wear repulsive, frumpy hats and float on a broom. Most of all, I was only six -- why have wrinkles so young and eat plump children for breakfast?

I immediately told my mother about the incident with my grandmother and she became enraged. She called my grandmother that same evening over the phone and yelled at her for practicing witchcraft in front of me. Deep inside, my heart twisted in shame for having my grandmother yelled at by her own daughter. Ever since the confrontation, she hid her forbidden faith away from me.  The ivory-crested table covered with European saints disappeared. The blushing pink bowl of rosewater near her bed was drained into the sink. Her stone beads were stashed away. Her chanting was never heard again. The only sound that was heard was the "Our Father" before our meals.  I didn't understand why these events occurred or why my grandmother got yelled at for indulging my own curiosity. As I grew older, I wanted to learn about my grandmother's beliefs and discover what was not meant for my virginal eyes.

I spent my Saturday mornings at the Inwood Public Library solely to satisfy my hunger to read. At the age of thirteen, I made a visit that forever changed my beliefs. Originally, I was going to read another novel by Emily Bronte.  My curiosity simply became too strong to hold within me.  Instead, I conducted research on a subject that was kept forever hidden from my family. I suddenly remember the silent words my grandmother whispered to me and I immediately had an urge to learn about witches.  Truthfully, "Sabrina the Teenage Witch" or "The Wizard of Oz" weren't educational resources.  I wanted to learn about that part of me which belonged to the spirits.

I discovered Wicca, the modified version of witchcraft for modern society. I finally saw light that the Catholic Church could not shed for me. I discovered Diana and Pan, mother and father, lord and lady. I discovered the universal truth of being an equal to man, not an inferior. I found Mother Nature embracing my heart, nourishing my love for animals and all that grows and roams.

The mythological gods I once read about and fantasized about for amusement were alive and thriving in my wandering brain.  The five-pointed star, known as the pentagram, no longer became a universal symbol of Satanism.  Instead, it was a symbol of completion.  I had discovered my path, the way of the witch.  I aroused my hunger and curiosity with books by Ravenwolf and Cunningham, two leaders of the Wiccan path.  On one of the books was an illustration of a pale blue faerie staring back at me with twinkling green eyes.  Although she lay coated in dust, hidden beneath copies of the Koran, her eyes stared at me with hope.  She initiated my choice to learn more about Wicca.

When I returned home, I felt guilty for doing research on witchcraft.  I ran four blocks to Saint Jude's Roman Catholic Church and confessed for three hours. Salty, watery beads dripped from my eyes as I wailed, "Please Jesus, forgive me, I don't want to spend eternity in hell.  I'm sorry, I will never do it again." 

Despite my cries for forgiveness, my curiosity refused to die.  As I spent my final weeks preparing for confirmation, I debated which saint should become my patron saint.  Strangely enough, I chose Joan of Arc, a French maiden who was accused of being a witch and burned at the stake.  The evening before confirmation, I watched "The Crucible" with Winona Ryder and listened to "Black Magic Woman" by Carlos Santana.  I was certain Satan was teasing me with the magical faith so that I could become apart from God.  Yet, who was God?  My family chose Jesus as my Savior, but was He?  Here I was, about to officially become a Roman Catholic in the eyes of society, yet the religion seemed so foreign to me.  Could Jesus save me from the yearning to read about the occult?  Could Joan of Arc slay my curiosity?  On the evening that I was confirmed, I decided that I could no longer become part of the church.  I chose the path of the female god.  I became a Pagan.

I spent my evenings jotting down notes about my research on the craft.  I learned that Wicca was a loving religion that believes both man and woman are equal partners meant to protect the earth and all that thrive within it.  Those who've passed away were reminders of past teachings and mistakes.  I also jotted down questions that contradicted what the Bible stated.  My smile made the apartment glow, not the oil from the priest's fingers that had officially made me a Catholic. 

I found my own personal religion that made me content with life.  I no longer became "guilty" in following the path my grandmother and patron saint were condemned for.  I still remained wrinkle-free with a caramel complexion and no warts. Unfortunately, I don't have a broom to fly anywhere.  Therefore, I still have to pay four dollars and ride the subway.  I dedicate myself to the Wiccan path.  I no longer make choices erratically.  My faith has taught me that careful thought must be placed on every choice made.  My patience widens for others and all life forms must be respected as my equal.  Jesus was not my enemy, but not my heavenly father, either. Unfortunately, I have to face many battles for choosing an alternative lifestyle which only few can understand.

When people ask me for my religious background, I state it as being a Pagan.  Since few know what a Pagan is, I have to say that I am a witch.  Questions always pop up about my "witchy" status.  Some are obvious, such as "Do you worship Satan?" Others are weird, such as "Do you drink the menstrual blood of virgins?"  I am not a cannibal and I don't believe in a Satan. 

Wicca is a peaceful belief that cannot be preached.  It must come to you, and Wicca takes years of studying and meditating upon.  Unlike Catholics, Wiccans don't consider sex as a sinful act.  Rather, sexuality is part of human nature, and we won't be damned forever in an ocean of fire for being "bad."  Instead, whatever you do to others will come back to you three times.  Why three?  Well, why do Catholics have a Father, Son and a Holy Ghost? 

I've lost many friendships because people were afraid I would do curses on them.  Many ex-boyfriends were intimidated by having a girlfriend who could conduct a "speak the truth" spell.  Strangers would stare at my sterling silver pentagram pendant.  Yet, I would never suspect that I was being discriminated against because of my faith.

One Sunday morning, a yellow manilla envelope was shoved down my doorstep.  The address had the official stamp of Father Knapp, a traveling preacher.  I began to read his handwritten note.  It said:

"Deut 18:10-12 'There shall not be found among you any one that maketh his son or his daughter to pass through the fire, or that useth divination, or an observer of times, or an enchanter, or a witch or a charmer, or a consulter with familiar spirits, or a wizard, or a necromancer. For all that do these things are an abomination unto the LORD: and because of these abominations the LORD thy God doth drive them out from before thee.'

"It is amazing how such evil, such as yourself, can exist within the creations of the Lord. Imagine when you face Jesus Christ. Repent and turn away from Satan. Jesus Christ will take you as you are, just call on him. The future of Satan and all his ministers is a Lake of Fire. Don't go there. Yet, I can see that you are forever lost to the power of Satan.  I wouldn't be surprised if you had spiritual intercourse with demons, you wretched whore!  I do not apologize for what I state.  It is not a sin for a Christian to judge. We are commanded to. The Bible says "Judge not according to the appearance, but judge righteous judgment. But he that is spiritual judgeth all things." So you are wrong. I am to tell the truth from God's word, which I have done. God has revealed himself to you. I have given you the gospel of the Lord Jesus Christ. You have rejected it. Your Satanic God is condemned to a lake of Fire. I need no blessing from him, as he blesses no one. He is out to destroy me, as he is doing you.  I can only pray to you as you slowly cook beneath the lake of fire, where all the witches continue to roast."

Father Knapp wasn't the only one displeased with my faith.  Once my mother saw my altar to the Roman goddess Diana, she knocked everything apart until there was nothing left but dust from the shattered statue.  She grabbed my cheeks and slapped me with a Bible.  "I can't believe you are a witch!  You're evil, pure evil!"  As I would walk by a Kingdom Hall, a church for Jehovah's Witnesses, people whispered "Witch" and immediately walked away.  Even at the 2004 Pagan Festival, Christians chanted "Damn the witches, Jesus is Lord."  I wouldn't dare pay homage to my gods in front of strangers or my family.  My mother dislikes having a witch for a daughter but barely talks about it.  Rather than be discriminated against, I do rituals with a coven or privately in my bedroom.

Today at the age of 18, I continue to follow the path of a Pagan with no regrets.  I continue to answer questions about what is witchcraft and I frequently attend coven rituals.  I don't sacrifice animals during my free time.  Instead, I compose poetry on my blank notebooks or I simply spend quality time with friends on the streets of Manhattan. Although most of my friends aren't Pagans, they respect my faith and even find it cool to have someone who knows how to do dream analysis. When I'm not attending my classes at Eugene Lang College, I am working to make money, like any typical college student.   On evenings, I do tarot readings for strangers in exchange for money or a gift.  

I am even going so far as to create a group for Pagans in my university or a group in the East Village area.  Am I afraid of what people will say to me, due to my beliefs?  Not anymore.  Although rude comments do hurt my feelings, I am a human being and I cannot control the actions of an individual.  I just continue to be who I am -- a quiet, friendly female with aspirations to become a journalist. 

My only desire is for others not to prejudge me based on a misunderstood religion, but by the person I have become. I am a Latina with dreams of becoming a prestigious writer, and I never let discrimination discourage me from aiming at my goals.  Unfortunately, my grandmother was prejudged by her own daughter and had to face discrimination for simply being herself.  Thanks to her hidden magick and my curiosity, I now follow the same path as my grandmother as a "wise one." 

My path to Paganism has made me at peace with the world.  Why can't others be at peace with me?


Stephanie Nolasco is a frequently published writer located in New York City.  She is currently attending New School University in the East Village and is working on various writing projects.  She continues to practice her faith openly but still receives negative feedback for it. To learn more about Nolasco, visit her official web site at

The Goddess Domain:
http://www.angelfire.com/freak2/snolasco

Or join her mailing list:

http://groups.yahoo.com/group/NolascoNews