I Am a Gay Shaman
Posted on May 8, 2012
I’ve been reading this interview with this PhD fellow from West Africa named Malidoma. He is an “elder” and a member of the Dagara tribe in Burkina Faso. He also has a fascinating view on gay people. He believes that the gay people in his tribe are “the gatekeepers.” They are the witches and the shamans and they hold the keys to other worlds. As Malidoma puts it and I’m paraphrasing, “gay people are well integrated into our tribe. They have children because the are fertile, but they are gay and they vibrate as such.” (I didn’t know about my gay vibration, but perhaps this is the origin of “gaydar”?) The vibration is otherworldly and makes them (the gays) the perfect conduit to the other worlds. In a nutshell, that’s what he says – Gay people are magical.
Now, Malidoma goes on to say other interesting things. For example, he talks about a once a year ritual where the “shamans go off into the woods and do whatever they do.” Apparently, when this ritual occurs if a non-shaman interrupts it, the shamans have the right to kill them. (And you thought it was simply awkward when your straight-ass accidentally walked into a gay bar. Nope, try being killed for it.)
So, the gay shamans go off into the woods and listen to Lady Gaga while they try to heal the tribe. (Sorry, my interpretation.) They pray and do gay things like bedazzling a sweat suit and sex, sex, sex, while praying some more. And you thought the rambles in Central Park was a shady affair, sorry my breeder-friends, it’s more like a CHURCH!
I have to tell you, I love this idea. And it’s not the first time I’ve heard it. There’s an argument that circulates, which uses the gay shaman angle as its thesis. The idea is this: if natural selection and procreation are the number one instinctive drives of man than anything that does not aid in procreation and the furthering of the species will phase itself out. In other words, if Darwin was correct – gay should’ve gone away by now. Gays do NOT naturally procreate with the same sex, so why hasn’t the gay gene – (or gay as a sexuality) – why has it not been selected right out of the pool?
The shaman argument says that while the testosterone filled males went out to hunt, the gay shamans stayed back and protected the village. In other words, the hunter who went out to get the meat then came back to hear the story about how his entire family was almost killed by a mountain lion, until the gay shaman stepped in and stopped it. Well, the beefcake-hunter is less likely to kill that shaman. After all, he saved the fam. Instead, he just may exalt him. You could say, a protective tendency and a tendency to feck the opposite sex anyway, is the reason the gay tribe has propagated itself.
I know deeply in my soul that I am a gay shaman. I know it like I know Britney Spears is stupid. I’ve never actually spoken with her, but I can feel her stupid vibration. Here is further evidence to prove my shaman-hood, do with this info what you will:
- I like to diagnose things. I know that sometimes when you have a stroke, you smell burnt toast first. So, I like to google things like, “I always smell pee” to find out if I’m having some other kind of brain infarction. If you live in my village, I’m liable to do the same for you. Chances are I can smell your arthritis before you even feel a stiff joint. Think of the preventative possibilities. We can medicate your menopause before it even begins, I think.
- If I saw two gay guys fecking in the woods, I would throw a large quantity of condoms at them (because I want to protect my gays) and then I would send in a few nicely folded airplanes made out of paper advertising the no-tell-motel down the road because there’s no reason to do this shit in the woods anymore. Who are we Oscar Wilde-ians? Wilde-ians, indeed. I say, pants up, rent a room, thank you very much.
- I would protect your kids. If there was a mountain lion and I was left to look after the village, I’d protect your kids. I would do this, even if your kid is an a**hole. Only a caring, gay, shaman is NOT capable of feeding an a**hole kid to a mountain lion. So, you’re lucky this gay was left in charge.
- I like rain dances. In fact, I love them. I want to dance-chant around a fire like the Native Americans. Actually, it’s more common to find me dancing around the lodge (my house) to The Weather Girls and It’s Raining Men. I do this, even though if it were raining men, I’d throw all the dudes back up at the Gods for one Wifesy.
- I am a gatekeeper to another world. In this alternative world, Kim Kardashian is not on TV, but instead a housewife in Tacoma struggling to pay the rent. Bruce Jenner has his regular face back, as does Kenny Rogers. Dolly Parton remains the same, but Pasty Cline never dies in that plane crash. JFK Jr postpones his trip to Martha’s Vineyard to nurse his foot. As a result, he stays alive and so does his wife and her sister. In 2040, he runs for president against Macaulay Culkin and wins. Lindsay Lohan gives up acting to become a full-time hit woman where she kills the most annoying among us. She starts with her own father and finishes with everyone who has ever appeared on Basketball Wives. Everyone in my alternative world has healthcare and a healthy family. The only pain comes from a thorn bush set up between the edge of the village and the pool with the swim up bar. You have to run through the thorn bush to get to the pool. I do this so people will remember what pain feels because typically there’s none of it in my world. Who wants an all-day-access pass?
- I like magic, but hate conspiracies. I can see right through bullshit, but love the pomp, flash, and circumstance of a good show. I like the smoke and mirrors, but I’m always aware of the looking glass. I have a potion for what ails you. I call it Lubriderm and it does miracle-wonders for dry skin without leaving you greasy.
- I have seen the good that Angelina Jolie can do. (Haven’t we all.)
What more could you want? I say, respect a decent gay today. For they could be a gatekeeper. After all, I’m the gatekeeper and if you’re good I’m likely to give you the key to the guest house in my other, beautiful, world.
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