Almost Masons

Where's the goat?

I had left Christianity and was exploring a completely different path. I had been reading about Gnosticism, Masonry, the Golden Dawn, and a man named Aleister Crowley. I had two friends whom I will refer to as Fater Devious and Emo Boy for the sake of this article. It was 1991 or 92, and Emo wasn't even a word yet, but he was most definitely Emo and my boyfriend. They were both members of said secret organization. The only way to be involved was through initiation. It was mysterious and intriguing. I would ask them what it was like and what went on there. But I always got, "I'm sorry I was sworn to secrecy, I can't tell you anything" So annoying! I was advised to read about the Masonic rituals and rites.

I attempted to read the recommended material, but the terminology and jargon were unfamiliar. My overwhelming curiosity and the knowledge that Frater Devious and Emo Boy survived was enough motivation to mindlessly pursue the unknown world of secret societies.

The only requirement was that I had to be 18, and I was exactly that age, still living with my parents and just a few months away from graduating high school. I also needed to pay a nominal fee for the initiation. In preparation, I was instructed to read the Book of the Law by Aleister Crowley.

Exploring Masonic initiations and rituals didn't make much sense to me then. The Book of the Law was fascinating, but I struggled to understand the terminology. The names of the gods were Egyptian, which I wasn't familiar with, unlike Greek mythology. Everything was new to me, and I didn't know much about it back then. I needed to find something to fill the void that Christianity had left, and perhaps this could be the solution.

Before I delved into hermetic secret societies, I attended two pagan Beltane events and one Solstice gathering. Both events included the public and Frater Devious, who also participated in the pagan circle and was a family friend. At that time, I was still tenuously holding onto my Christian beliefs. Therefore, I had some exposure to traditions beyond those that are Judeo-Christian.

On the night of my initiation, I found myself sequestered in the bedroom of a woman I had never met. Her room felt like a sanctuary, highlighted by a large altar at the far end. The altar was adorned with crystal phalluses of various sizes—some tiny, some quite large, some made of rose quartz, and others of clear crystal. They sparkled brilliantly under the light of candles. I think I was instructed to meditate or something similar, but my mind was too overwhelmed to remember clearly. My anxiety started to rise; it was in that moment and space that I began to question my decision to join this organization of which I knew very little. The only connection I had was two male friends who were already members. There were also vague rumors floating around about goats being involved.

In my mind, I felt like I had been sitting there for an eternity, reflecting on what had prompted me to make such an uncharacteristic decision. Then, someone came to get me. It’s strange how the mind works; I can’t recall how I arrived at the facility where the initiation occurred. Did we walk there, or did we drive? We arrived at the door and used a special knock.

Although I have attended several Minerval degrees since my own, mine is a blur. An initiation feels like being the main character in a play without knowing the script or blocking. You find yourself constantly prompted. The first two initiations are both terrifying and awkward. Afterward, you analyze everything—wondering if you did something wrong, said the wrong thing, or just reflecting on every aspect of the experience.

Although I lived, there was no goat, and there never will be one, which, in retrospect, is somewhat sad. Afterward, there was a lovely feast and engaging conversation. However, it was late, as these events often run late and rarely start on time.

Later, I was driven home by Frater Voodoo, who had attended my initiation. At that time, he didn't know that his journey would take him to New Orleans and eventually to Cuba, where he would become a vudon priest. My mom had been trying to reach me because it was late. She had contacted Frater Devious, who promptly informed her that my initiation had gone wonderfully and that I was on my way home.

By the time I got home, the satanic panic had already taken root in my mom's mind, and she believed her daughter had joined an evil cult. When I opened the door, she called me to her room. She told me I was dwelling in darkness and insisted that if I didn't go and live with my youth group pastor, I shouldn’t be home when they returned from church that morning. The only time my dad reacted from the other side of the bed was when I told them I was no longer a Christian.

Why didn’t I arrange to sleep over at a friend’s house that weekend? I was supposed to be home much earlier than I was; it wasn’t meant to go that late. I didn’t think I would need a cover story. Additionally, this wouldn't be the first time Frater Devious had freaked my mom out about what I was up to with this new organization I had joined.

That morning, I called Emo Boy and told him what happened. I asked if I could move in with him. When my family returned from church, I was not there.

The initiation began as soon as I entered the room filled with phalluses and continued until I moved out the following day. This experience set me on a path of initiation and magick, where I would meet people who would come to mean more to me than my own family. However, it would also lead to the deepest betrayal—Shakespearean and Draconian in scope, a hurt so profound and severe that I should have seen it coming, but I didn't.

Our American society lacks culture and rites of passage. Initiation provided that for me. It offered mysteries to unravel and a "fraternity" of brothers and sisters: magical, artistic, intelligent, bohemian, unhinged, and fabulous people.

Since then, I have been initiated into higher degrees and earned even more silly, but prestigious titles. This organization became my primary focus for over a decade, the work and contributions that I made brought me immense joy and pride. However, eventually, with those bonds broken I lost my sense of purpose again and found myself trying to piece everything back together like Humpty Dumpty.