Initiation and Adoption
My papa (initiatory father) has a lot to say on the issue of initiation and not being able to be connected fully without initiation. Since vodou is a religion of practice--that is, since we learn from people in a community and not from a book and on our own--there’s a lot missing from our lives when we don’t have that connection and community. He goes on quite a bit about this: about his own lineage, from biological family and from initiatory family. He has a lot of very good points, but for me where it gets personal is the idea of adoption.
I suppose this is just in keeping with the family history I’ve alluded to elsewhere, but let’s just say that while I have biological family, we’ve never been particularly close. In fact, I was legally emancipated as a minor (and through deed and relationship, emancipated in fact long before the judge signed off on it.)
I’m not an orphan, but I’ve spent most of my life feeling like one and trying not to envy people with functional, loving families. I have no fucking idea what it’s like to reach out to family members when I’m feeling down, or when I have trouble paying rent. I went decades without family members remembering my birthday, both in the sense of anyone getting in touch with me, but also in the sense of being called because my father was filling out paperwork and he couldn’t remember what day or year I was born.
My papa makes the point that initiation, when it’s done correctly, is adoption. He says, essentially, it’s not up to us to choose who we adopt. The spirit tells you who is to be a child and who is not.
Imagine my lonely shock when the spirits consented to adopt me.
There is no hunger like being totally alone in the world, and I spent many, many years alone in a dark apartment for Christmas, let alone when something broke and I needed someone to talk to. Decades of swallowing my emotions by myself, because even if someone had been there, I could not have possibly described myself to them.
I was missing too many parts to be able to account for myself.
The emotional ramifications of adoption didn’t quite hit me until I was there. The love at the temple knocked my fucking socks off--at first, I thought it was the people and I was just awestruck by the... radiant cleanliness and affection that I experienced in the badji.
Because holy fuck. People are often a snarled mass of confusion, anger, smoldering resentment, and/or self-centeredness that radiates from them in varying strengths. I have previously tried very hard to avoid people when at all possible because it’s like sticking your hands in sewage. Even when the person is otherwise awesome, the... well, it’s not pleasant to pick up on. It can be downright exhausting, though my tolerance for it has gone up considerably as my relationship with my spirits has grown and I have done as they bid me.
Obedience--even when the thing in question is a painful mess of self-reflection and change--gives strength and cleanliness. I obey and transform, and now I can be in the presence of all sorts of ick without existential fear or taking anything home.
I re-listened to one of my papa’s podcasts this morning and it hit me all over again: Me! They adopted me! Me, with no biological lineage (or at least none that I know about for sure.) Me!
I’m not even a part of the culture. They don’t have any reason to love me.
Someone picked me. Actually, quite a few someones picked me. They didn’t just pick me, they actually wanted me to be a part of the family.
I think I had to be alone for that many years to appreciate it, honestly. I have been one of the lost for a long time--a thrown-away girl and woman, easy to harm and worthless.
The idea that someone or someones would specifically say “this one” is...
Well, they say there are many motivations for being in vodou. Me?
I just want to be loved.
I have the assurance that, no matter what rank I do or do not reach, or what work they might have for me, that I am loved. I am finally someone’s child.
No matter what they have in store for me, it’s been worth it.
