Over and over again in witchcraft circles, it’s heavily encouraged to do “Ancestor Work.” This is working with your ancestors – people in your genetic line – to gain wisdom and insight.
The problem is I am White (barely). By this, I mean my mom’s side of the family are the WASPIEST of WASPs and my father’s side of the family was fresh off the boat from Campania at the turn of the 20th Century: a time when Italians were not considered people, much less White people.
I cannot think of anything these groups would have in common. What wisdom am I supposed to learn from these people? That the Irish are not to be trusted? Some profoundly incorrect ideas about the role of “race” in evolution? Is THIS the posse I have in my bloodline when I want to make appeals to the fabric of spacetime, such as begging for new shopping miracles?
This is the problem with being an American White and working with the Ancestors™. If you’re LUCKY, you will need to go back a few generations before you find a slaveholder, and even if you connect with one of the “good ones” (non-slaveholders), they probably didn’t die with the most enlightened attitude. Comparatively speaking, the mortals of the past were barely functional morons.
Like my Wicca teacher said, “Just because they’re dead doesn’t mean they’re smart.”
If you’re an average American whitey, you won’t need to go more than a generation or two to find some alarming opinions from your own blood. But it’s not their fault. Remember: if it was good enough for your grandfather, it was probably substandard, deadly, and and made out of “edible” lead and tobacco. The farther you go into the past, the dumber they get.
Which is why I was surprised/not surprised by my latest experiment with Ancestor Work during my meditation:
Me: Welcome, honored ancestors! I bid thee come and you came! So I have contacted you all to…
<Norman Franklin Cross (1858 – 1896)>: You were dating NI***RS!
Me: Wow, you really nailed the hard “R” on that word, asshole.
<Norman>: A gentleman always pronounces their words properly.
<Jennie Elizabeth Casler (1872 – 1967)>: I think they prefer to be called “Negresses.”
Me: They certainly do not.
<Norman>: And may I ask what the sub-human apes are doing at this table?
Me: These “apes” are the Italian side of my family.
<Norman>: Are they housebroken?
<Gaetano DiAndriola (1876 – 1942)>: Hey, fuck you, you lily white son of a whore!
<Jennie>: Beastly!
<Gaetano>: And you too, bitch!
Me: Okay, everyone, chill the fuck out!
<Perry Chandler (1888 – 1951)>: I see you favor your Italian side.
Me: You know, I have plenty of ancestors. I can send you from the table.
<Norman>: The rest of the GOOD side of your lineage agree with us about our ghastly unhygienic in-laws. You won’t find a single Cross, Chandler, Perry, Phagan, Hay, or any other distaff who will agree to do more than tolerate your semicogent paternal side.
<Gaetano>: You gonna tolerate this stiletto shoved up your ass, bitch?
<Teodosia D’Andreola (1848 – 1911)>: That’s right, Gaetanno, don’t take their Protestant hellbound shit!
<Perry>: How colorful! Gaetanno, is it? I bet you did your local hoodlums proud what with harassing ladies on the street and stealing apples.
Me: Name me a man who hasn’t harassed a woman.
<Jennie>: Alas, too true, dearie.
<Mary Di Andriole (1881 – 1942)>: We left Napoli so we wouldn’t have to take anyone’s holier-than-thou nobility shit from anyone. Yet, we come here and it’s the same old bullshit except they don’t have an actual title to hide behind. And now we learn we’re genetically tied to the very same assholes we fled from!
<Norman>: How DARE you refer to my ancestors that way, you barely trained baboon!
<Mary>: I was more referring specifically to you, fuckface!
<Perry>: How DARE you refer to my relative that way! We will not be talked to in this way by a… a GROCER!
<Gaetano>: We were never grocers! What the fuck is the fucking deal with those fucking insults?!
<Norman>: Sorry, we’re putting it in English like proper civilized people. Let me put it in a way you can understand: Ook! Ook! Banana!
<Gaetano>: I am going to fucking tear off your arm and beat you to death with the wet end!
<Theodosia>: Careful! You don’t know where that arm has been up!
<Jennie>: You can’t hurt us, simpletons, we’re already dead.
<Teodosia>: You have angered the wrong fucking family, little whore! Mother Dersia is a Striga and she’ll make you…
<Mary> I thought Dersia was a Benandanti!
Me: STOP! Everyone! Jesus Christ!
<Perry>, <Norman>, <Teodoria>, and <Gaetano> at the same time: The LORDS name!!!
Me: Is not applicable here. Shut up.
<Mary>: Gonna fucking regret EVER…
Me: ALL of you are dead! No one is gonna kill anyone here. Fucking Christ I just wanted to ask you for some “advice from the ancestors” kind of crap. I didn’t want to get involved in all of this! Fucking hell, can you all just shut up while I ask you a question?
<Jennie>: Of course, my child. What is it you want to know?
Me: Finally! I am beginning to get feelings for this person…
<Norman>: Is she a NI***R?
The BIGGEST minutiae 