Rev. Ron Padrón shared their story and experiences with us recently and you can find our conversation below.
Ron, a huge thanks to you for investing the time to share your wisdom with those who are seeking it. We think it’s so important for us to share stories with our neighbors, friends and community because knowledge multiples when we share with each other. Let’s jump in: What are you being called to do now, that you may have been afraid of before?
I actually just signed a contract to write a book about queer spirituality and queer ancestors. Writing a book was never something I thought I would do, and it wasn’t something I actively pursued. In fact, when I was offered the opportunity to discuss it, I almost declined. I kept thinking “I could never write something that would sell well” or “No one wants to hear my thoughts on this.” It was actually my friends who convinced me to pursue it.
I eventually reached a point where I don’t care if it sells well, or if I get hate for it. I know exploring and embracing the places in my life where my queerness and spirituality intersect has been deeply fulfilling and incredibly healing. There is power in that, and I think that power is needed now more than ever. Especially for the LGBTQ+ community, there are those of us who felt we had to leave faith or spirituality behind in order to be authentically ourselves but that hole is still there, and I want folks to know that we can be spiritual people. That, across time and culture, queerness has often been at the center of divinity and spiritual connection. There are also queer folks who are deeply religious and faithful, and I want to lift up their experiences, too, to show our community is still present in these spaces.
Whenever I put it all together like that it sounds daunting, and I really think it is. But I’m going to give it my best effort and do what I can to add to the conversation. And, hopefully, it helps at least one person.
Can you briefly introduce yourself and share what makes you or your brand unique?
My name is Ron Padrón. I am the creator of White Rose Witching, which is the container for my queer-centered interfaith pagan ministry. I’m an ordained pagan cleric through the Sacred Well Congregation, and I studied Community Ministry at Cherry Hill Seminary. I’m an out gay man originally from the swamps of Florida, now living in the Baltimore area with my husband and our small dog. I’m also disabled, navigating life with a chronic illness, which impacts a lot of my advocacy and activism work, too.
I’m specifically focused on queer spirituality, queer ancestors, and spiritual activism. I’ve presented at gatherings such as the Salem Witchcraft and Folklore Festival, Hallowed Homecoming, Free Spirit Gathering, and Sacred Space. I’m a co-founder and co-editor of a punk spirituality zine, ALTAR PUNK, an interfaith project focused on reclaiming faith and spirituality from nationalist movements, and the founder of the PaganPunk Community Grimoire project, a collection of short zines on varying pagan topics. I’m also the co-editor of the third volume in “The New Aradia” series with Laura Tempest Zakroff, “Serpents of Circe: A Manual to Magical Resilience”.
Thanks for sharing that. Would love to go back in time and hear about how your past might have impacted who you are today. What’s a moment that really shaped how you see the world?
I’m from Florida originally, and spent the majority of my twenties living in Orlando. When folks ask me where I’m from in Florida, I’ll often say Orlando even though that isn’t where I was born or where I spent my childhood. I give them that answer because that is where the person I am now came into being. It was my first time really on my own after high school and college. It was the city where I came out as gay and started figuring out what that meant for me. It was where I really started to identify and explore my own interests when it came to things like art, music, and social activities.
I have to give that sort of background to really explain why my answer to this question is the 2016 attack on the Pulse nightclub. The attack that occurred there on June 12 is considered the deadliest incident of violence against the LGBTQ+ community in modern US history.
Pulse is one of the first gay clubs I went to after I came out. In my last few years living in Orlando, I lived just up the road from the club and would pass by it every day – driving to work, coming home, heading into downtown to hang out with friends, etc. The Wendy’s across the street, where they treated the wounded and dying, was my “bad day Wendy’s”, where I would stop on my way home from work after a particularly shitty day.
I was already living in Maryland when the attack occurred and woke up to a bunch of missed calls and texts on my phone. As more information came out, and the scale of what transpired started to sink in, the rest of the day was spent trying to get in touch with as many friends as possible to make sure everyone was safe. I was personally lucky in that my friends were safe, but some of them knew folks who died in the attack.
The reason I say this moment really shaped how I see the world is because, prior to this, I thought just existing publicly as a gay man was enough. I was never super into LGBTQ+ activism before this. Sure, I would write to my elected officials sometimes, and participate in Pride marches, but I mostly didn’t want my identity to be “political”. This attack, and the way it was treated by the media, politicians, pundits, etc. really reframed my understanding of what it means to be a queer person in the United States. I began to get more involved both locally and at the national level, and that hasn’t stopped since.
When you were sad or scared as a child, what helped?
I’ve always been an avid reader. Books were my escape and also my sense of security. If things felt too scary I could always fall into a fantasy novel and get swept into worlds where, no matter how dark things got, the good guys always won.
Books were also things that helped me make sense of the world and deconstruct the things that made me sad or scared. Growing up, my mom took me and my brother to the library a couple times a month, especially over the summer. She never really put restrictions on what we could check out. In elementary school I would frequently check out big non-fiction books or National Geographic magazines. These things helped me realize that books, and learning in general, could help me make sense of the world and make it less scary. I remember being really afraid of horror movies as a kid, which is funny because they’re my favorite now, but doing things like finding books about the history of zombies or vampires. Learning about the legends and folklore helped ground them and easier to process. Or I would check out classic books like “The Legend of Sleepy Hollow” or “The Invisible Man” and find ways to engage with the genre in other formats to expose myself to it in ways I could better control.
That carried through my entire life, to be honest. When I’m anxious or scared about something, I’ll throw myself into researching or reading as much about it as I can.
Sure, so let’s go deeper into your values and how you think. What’s a belief or project you’re committed to, no matter how long it takes?
Liberation. I know that answer my sound like I’m putting on airs, but I truly believe that is what I’m called to do. My particular approach to it is through spiritual activism and reconnecting queer people with the divine, in what ever form that takes. Building on a long, beautiful cultural legacy of sacred queerness that has existed, and will continue to exist, no matter how hard folks try to snuff out that flame.
But I also know all liberation is intertwined. Look at the modern queer liberation movement in the United States, for example. The early pioneers of that movement, especially post-Stonewall, looked to the Black liberation movement as a model and as an ally. As long as any system exists that oppresses a group of people it can, and will, be replicated to oppress others. So in order for any of us to be truly free, we need to ensure everyone is free. That is a poor paraphrasing of Maya Angelou, but its what I truly believe.
The work of liberation is vast and multi-generational. I believe we all have a part to play, even if we personally believe it is “not enough”. And my part to play is through healing the wounds around queerness and spirituality.
Okay, we’ve made it essentially to the end. One last question before you go. What is the story you hope people tell about you when you’re gone?
I have a strong sense of what I believe is right, and as I’ve gotten older I’ve really learned two things about myself: 1) I’d much rather regret having done/said something, than not having done/said something, and 2) at the end of the day I have to be able to look in the mirror and be proud of the person I see looking back. Those two things come from experiences where I’ve wavered. Where I’ve not done or said something I felt was right or just, and deeply regretted it later. Or when I said yes to something that, deep down, I knew was wrong and had to figure out how to live with it later.
So, when I’m gone, I hope people will talk about how I always did what I thought was right. I’m sure some folks might frame it as “he was incredibly stubborn”, but I hope they say it with a smile.
Contact Info:
- Website: https://www.whiterosewitching.com/
- Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/white.rose.witching/
- Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/whiterosewitching
- Other: https://patreon.com/WhiteRoseWitching
Image Credits
Ron Padrón
