Witchcraft with Chosen Ancestors

We're coming up on Samhain here in the northern hemisphere, which means it's peak ancestor work season for a lot of witches and pagans.

Even pagans who don't follow the Wheel of the Year tend to shift their focus to death and the dead as the weather turns colder. (For example, the Heathen collective I am part of celebrates the Feast of Hel, honoring the goddess of the dead, in October.) Even in secular culture, Halloween tends to be tied into these topics.

That's all well and good, but what about those of us who don't really feel like our ancestors are worth celebrating? What about those of us who are estranged from our families or have had to go no-contact due to abuse?

That's me, by the way. I have a great relationship with my mom and my siblings, but I've been no-contact with my dad since I was a teenager. I'm low-contact with extended family on both sides because I'm a queer woman who got tired of hearing homophobic and misogynist comments at every family reunion. It sucks sometimes, but I have to protect my own mental and emotional well-being.

Thankfully, just as our family can be so much more than just our biological/legal relatives, our ancestors can be so much more than just our family tree.

I'm a big believer in chosen family. Our chosen family is the living family we build for ourselves. Our chosen ancestors are the ancestral spirits we intentionally invite into our spiritual practices.

Chosen ancestors can include members of our chosen family who have died, but they can also include what author Patti Wigington calls "spiritual kinfolk" in her book, Badass Ancestors.

Wigington says that, "Our spiritual kinfolk are the ones who have directly shaped our thoughts, beliefs, and ideas to help frame the person we have become."

This might be the author(s) who wrote your all-time favorite book(s), the founder(s) of your spiritual tradition, the historical figures you look to for inspiration, and anyone else who had a deep impact on your life.

One of the groups of chosen ancestors I work with most frequently are my queer community ancestors. These are the activists who fought for gay and trans rights, the organizers who wove webs of community and support to keep their people safe, and the artists who made me feel less alone as a young queer kid.

My altar to the queer ancestors includes statues of Sappho and Achilles, who represent women-loving women and men-loving men, respectively. It includes images of Marsha P. Johnson and Freddie Mercury, two more recent public figures I find deeply inspirational. It could just as easily include Oscar Wilde, Stormé DeLarverie, Sylvia Rivera, Gilbert Baker, Frida Kahlo, and countless other queer icons who worked to build a world where I can safely exist as myself.

If you are drawn to the idea of ancestor work but have a strained relationship with your family, I encourage you to think about who your chosen ancestors might be and how you can invite them into your practice.