Is it “Hobbies” or “Hoarding”: A cautionary tale.

~ Angela ~ 3 Comments

Welcome to another unfun grief-addled post here at Anna’s New Rome!

Setting: I just returned from Jeff’s storage unit in Virginia.
Warning: Strong language, marital issues.

Okay folks in the SCA, 501st, cosplay, military, and everything in between: We need to have a Very Serious Chat.

I am putting on no airs here: I own a lot of stuff, but I’ve also made a conscious effort to cull this stuff significantly in the last few years when I realized it was not sustainable anymore. Us who craft, especially in any form of reenactment or living history, have to juggle owning things for multiple people when it’s really just us. I have a whole room just for my SCA life, this includes a sewing table, cutting table, painting table, and all the accoutrements needed to do all of these things. And while that sounds reasonable, it gets out of hand very, very fast if you aren’t paying attention. It’s so easy to go on insane shopping sprees for fabric, trim, pigments, tools, etc when we do this, and that’s okay, but we need to remember to USE these things and to part with those that no longer serve their purpose. The problem, as many of us addressed when faced with our imminent mortality since 2020, is the “sunk cost fallacy,” which is what I struggle with the most. But every time I throw out bags of junk, I feel more free. Right now I’m staring at my entertainment center and wondering if I can take this on this coming weekend and really get rid of a lot of extraneous bric-a-brac. I’m that over it.

When lived in Providence, I still had this whole room, but I had a hard time managing it, often having to call in friends to help me figure shit out because the executive dysfunction of ADHD would win every damn time. This just got worse in Portsmouth, which is when I decided NO MORE, and started to manage my belongings better when it came to a cross-country move to San Diego, despite Jeff glittering the ceiling with pewter and lead when he got a bit too torch-happy indoors. Unfortunately, San Diego is when Jeff really took over.

We didn’t have a garage in Portsmouth or Providence, we did in San Diego. And despite leaving items in storage in New Hampshire, he insisted on getting more out west, starting with the Bug and all of the tools needed to work on her. This seems benign, and it felt that way, because it was contained in the garage and I managed to keep a pretty tidy home there, but Jeff was also not home a lot, it being sea duty, so I didn’t get the full brunt of what hoarding really looked like until Jacksonville, and especially, COVID.

I need to remind folks that the Jacksonville move was not good. He had orders back to Groton that were stripped and replaced with a Kings Bay hot fill. This was enough to make me actually have a nervous breakdown because I had a home and a job lined up in Connecticut, developed mood disorders, and have to begin therapy after a fun stay on the grippy socks floor at Balboa. (People forget that the military life generally sucks, and it’s not the aristocratic nostalgia for wartime glam that some assume it is.) I also assume this is about when Jeff started to become sick, only we had no idea. Between the two of us struggling, cleaning was not always easy, but I managed to always pull it off, no matter how shitty I felt, because being a Florida native I know what can happen if things get nasty. *shudder*

But, Jeff didn’t just get out of control with the Bug, he got out of control with the bar, brewing, moneying, and 3D printing at the same time I was trying to make a living with silk painting and sewing thanks to being unable to find decent work in Jacksonville, and later Norfolk. Remember: milspouses are discriminated in the workplace because we’re seen as temps, so trying to find work, even with my resume from CA, was impossible on the East Coast. So every room in the house had a project. Every. One. The dining room was where I painted silk. The library became the 3D printing lab alongside my jewelry bench, the garage became an epicenter of pure madness and the bar appeared in the middle of this in the dining room and then lanai. It was too much. When Covid hit and we were both home, at first it sounded like a great way to catch up, but it just got worse. I ended up not sewing the nifty fabrics I bought to make cute dresses, he didn’t use the piles of lumber he bought to make furniture. He also wasn’t out there working on the Bug, citing Florida heat in the garage, but still buying parts for it. I brought this up to my therapist and she warned me that it was going to balloon if I didn’t nip it in the bud. Hoarding behavior, even when started as benign, is a form of addiction, addiction to consumerism, and the _idea_ of project completion, and if projects are not coming to fruition, then the supplies are now a hoard, and need to be dealt with. This was the time when I should have gone to Oxford for my paper on the Marian Relics, but because of Covid, I opted to go to visit Bestie for a week and help him untangle his father’s estate and the last of his grandmother’s belongings.

So there I was, going through boxes and boxes of someone else’s things, getting a firsthand account of what happens when you die and your possessions become “somebody else’s problem”, and it was also when the Cymbalta they gave me for fibromyalgia caused tardive dyskinesia and amplified my depression. I got back to Jacksonville off an emotional rollercoaster into a house that I left Jeff in unsupervised for a week, and threatened to walk into the Atlantic Ocean. Instead, I got carted back to therapy twice a week and told to stop taking the pills and I would feel better. At this point we already knew we were moving to Norfolk, they just weren’t settled on the timeline yet. I was angry that we had to deal with another move, surrounded by junk, and wanting none of this. So, one day, I called him at work, which I rarely did because calling base is one of those, “This needs to be urgent” calls, yeah well, direct line to his desk, and I just unloaded on him:

“You get the fuck home right now and clean this place up, or I am taking my things and the cat home to Tampa for good.”

He did come straight home. He did straighten up, but what I wasn’t seeing is that his “cleaning” was shoving random things into bins. These are the doom boxes I had to look at in Norfolk this weekend. This didn’t stop. He didn’t stop. He insisted he wasn’t a hoarder, but a packrat (really?) and there were regular fights about how he managed his belongings. So, we started couple’s therapy that summer with my therapist who needed to attempt to hammer it into his head what was going on. This was also about when he started having visible symptoms of cancer and getting ignored by the Navy, so in hindsight my behavior feels awful, or, maybe, I wasn’t hard enough. Jeff had me leave when the movers came for our things because of the “anxiety” I would have watching them touch my things, and to get Harald out of the way so he didn’t flip out either, but that didn’t stop me from seeing the bins and bins that went into the now 2-car garage we had in Norfolk, which just gave him more space to collect more tools.

We never really fully settled in up there. I hated it immediately, I was unable to find work because of the pandemic and obvious Navy base resume, so that’s when I started applying for PhD programs after a lengthy discussion with him on what I needed to do with my life to be happy. The answer was to get out of there, away from him, in my own space while he finished up the last 2 years in the Navy as it would be mostly deployment anyway, and we could both downsize and work on our issues. It wasn’t separation, it was geo-baching, but my unhappiness with his hoarding was becoming a major issue, and he promised me that he would go through all of his junk and such and get rid of what he could. I have no doubt it started like this, there is a rhyme and reason to the rear of the storage unit, but the bins and bins and bins say otherwise. I don’t want to say I was lied to, but neither of us knew what was coming, so I assume that he planned to just address it during his time in port.

What my brother and I opened the door to.

This all makes me feel terrible, but also angry. When we rolled that door up on Friday afternoon I could have spat. The first thing on my mind was “gas can”, but that’s irrational, no matter how fun it sounds. I knew I would have help. I knew this needed to be tackled. But I also know I shouldn’t have had to do this. He had warning that his hoarding made me loathe his existence, that it was the catalyst that was well on the way to destroy our marriage, and now it’s entirely on my shoulders. All of his years of accumulated junk tools from Harbor Freight, a completely disassembled 1976 VW Sun Bug, and whatever else he had on top of four 3D printers, a shelf of filament, all of our collective brewing materials and camping equipment. Hell, there’s a full oak barrel in there used to age stout.

This is not just a vent, this is a cautionary tale: It is not sustainable or healthy to live like this. While you may not think that your precious “collections” harm anybody, they are. We couldn’t have friends over in Jacksonville because I never knew what the house would look like.

I’ve also made it perfectly clear, many times, that books are a Problem. I have almost all the books, I found ONE box up there (thank god). Everything else is here, and I cut my stacks by half last year. You need to keep a working collection, not piles. I cannot stress this enough as a former librarian and archivist: Books can actually kill you, and the answer is not “more shelves.” They attract major pests and mold, in addition to being heavy and unstable if not shelved correctly. If you haven’t read a book in over 10 years: get rid of it. If it’s a scholarly publication that has had updated research in the last 20 years: Get rid of it. This is not a joke. I am serious, and I make these posts regularly to remind people to weed your collection. Libraries do this for a reason, and if you want a working library in your home, you need to act like it.

Fabric can also kill you. It attracts pests and mold, much like books. Even when stored appropriately the natural decay of cellulose and protein creates dust, and that causes microscopic issues around your home including making you ill. If you’ve been saving a special linen for a decade or so, there’s a good chance it may not survive the sewing process if you don’t live in a home with central AC, or worse, you store it in storage or a garage. Get rid of it.

PLA is biodegradable. My guess is that most of those tubs of 3D printing material in there are full of goo, not filament, but I won’t know until I can open every single one of them.

What an average box or bin looked like.
After the path was discovered.
Piles and piles of tool bins in the back.

Jeff left a mess of tools. Some are very expensive and carry value, but that’s just some, and I have most of them here already. Those bins and bins and bins of Harbor Freight doodads? Junk. Pot metal. I may not even be able to recycle them, so I have to figure out how to safely dispose of all of this when I’m not a resident of Norfolk and have no access to their dump facilities. There’s also bins of flammable and caustic chemicals still in there because we have no idea what to do with them until I can do more research and determine the cost of disposal. The two shelves in the middle were full of spray paint that was exploding. We removed them and were able to dispose of the paint.

Storage after the first “recon” mission. The trailer was given away, the center shelves were removed. We did 5 loads of large trash, and have empty bins and a ton of Damp Rid in there to help us when we return.

The reason for this post is that I know I’m not alone. I know that there are many of my friends and associates out there that have piles and piles in their garages, a timebomb of “that’s somebody else’s problem after we die.” Don’t do this, please. Consider the future and the impact you’re leaving on others and the planet. Consider the burden your loved ones will inherit when you do, eventually, shove off this mortal coil. While it’s not easy, or cheap, to juggle the living history life, we need to do better for ourselves, our mental health, and our loved ones. Don’t leave them with a sketchy storage unit 5 states away and the monetary burden it will be to disperse and dispose of it.

If, after reading this, you’re still on team, “They who die with the most books/fabric/tools/insert junk here, wins!” I beg you to reconsider.

No, Jeff didn’t know he was going to die, but there’s a chance neither will you. Please don’t leave your partner in the same predicament I am in. I miss him terribly and this weekend was a horrifically emotional journey, but if necromancy was real, I’d kill him again for this.



The SCA and death.

~ Angela ~ 2 Comments
The Arms of Gieffrei de Toesni, memorialized by the Memorial Shield Project


This post has been in the wings for a bit. It was not easy for me to write and I kept putting it off.

Oh March 18th, 2023, The Honorable Lord Gieffrei de Toesni, known as Jeff the Moneyer, Order of the Maunche and Order of the Silver Crescent of the East Kingdom, beloved populace of Trimaris and former populace of Caid and Atlantia, passed from this mortal coil after a short but fiery war with a rare, aggressive form of cancer found only 8 months prior. He was two weeks sky of turning 42 years old. I was by this side when he took his last breath, as our adopted daughter Aethelflied Brewbane felt his heart stop, and as Konstantia Kaloethina held my hand.

Aethelflied, a death doula, and I performed the sacred post-mortem, clothing him in a shroud made from his Manazan tunic and trimmed in fine Sartor brocade silk that was to be used for his eventual elevation to Laurel or Pelican. We felt the warmth depart from his body as I poured a libation of Guinness beer into his mouth for one final time. Coins that he struck himself were placed over his eyes to pay Charon so that he may cross the River Styx. We did shots of Jameson in the hospice room, that, ironically, was decorated with swallows.

Jeff’s shroud: His Manazan caves tunic, trimmed in fine silk brocade by Aethelflied.

We cried hysterically as his body was wheeled out under the American flag to Taps, the only ones who came to watch his service to the nation end. The next day was filled with the usual chaos following any death: The funeral home arrangements, people bringing us food to my parents’ house to comfort myself, my immediate family, and his, who were in town but couldn’t bear to spend another day watching him waste away in a hospice bed. The Navy showed up, of course, and the paperwork to ensure I wouldn’t be starving for the rest of my life was completed while Aethelflied and Konstantia took messages for me.

…within hours I had people asking for his belongings, both mundane and SCAdian.

This is not uncommon with death, unfortunately, in fact I was regaled with horror stories of people breaking into homes while families sat shiva or church “friends” putting stickers on items around a home to claim them. But this was maddening. His VW Beetle was the top request, followed by his moneying materials, a certain tunic, or drinking horn, or or or, the list goes on.

I stared at my messages in disbelief, especially since I had asked for peace and privacy. How could people who are part of a club that purports grace, chivalry, and courtesy be so selfish? Didn’t I have enough on my plate?

Facebook accounts were blocked, text messages were responded to with vitriol, and we made the decision that when we emptied storage that someone with a concealed weapons permit should be present.

“He would have wanted me to have this.”

I’m sorry, who are you again?

The tent is still in storage. So is the bug, so is everything, because it takes time to liquidate a life, and I should be granted time to mourn with those that came to support me, not watching best friends of mine telling random people I haven’t spoken to in five years to screw. It was awful and disheartening, but it didn’t stop there.

“You need to come to Pennsic.” There was no asking, “You need to come to Pennsic. We’ll put up the tent for you, just bring garb. His arms need to be on the boat.”

It was less than 24 hours after he passed. I became anxious and mortified that plans were being made for me, and him, without my consent. I eventually just started replying to every message with a single “No.” And left it at that. I imagined being confined to a room without a door, but shadows of people banging on the walls and windows to be let in. It was insane. It was unkind, and I don’t think I will ever mentally recover from any of this.

Again, this is not limited to the SCA, but I didn’t have any of his Navy shipmates reaching out for his things. If anything, they were the first to send monetary aid or gift cards for food, laundry services, and groceries.

My immediate family lives the next county over, so it’s not like they’re distant, but not close enough for daily help. I was told to go stay with my parents. I refrained. I figured I needed to get this over with sooner than later.

Ever see a cat grieve? Oh my god. My poor Harald. He hid in my craft room for 3 months, coming out for food, pets, and the occasional bit of attention before sequestering himself in there on a cat bed, sleeping the day away and not grooming himself.

Harald enjoying a moment with his daddy during Jeff’s final months.

For 2 weeks after I hid in my house, trying to catch back up on schoolwork that I was floundering on as a result of his sudden turn and passing, and trying not to fail out of my PhD program. I made plans to go to Malta for an archaeological dig, and then some additional time in Europe visiting friends in Germany. I’d be gone for a full month abroad, making Pennsic not possible. This made people angry. Those people got blocked. My non-SCA best friend who I’ve known longer than anybody other than my parents helped me do the big cull of Jeff’s mundane clothing and objects, and reminded me to take care of myself. His SCA life started to slowly disperse across the SCAverse.

My grief is not something to display like heraldry. My grief is my own. And while I invite all to grieve with me of course, I knew damn well that I would be paraded around like some dark royalty and I didn’t want, or need that. To be honest, I don’t know when I will ever return to Pennsic. I don’t want to at the moment. The pictures are destroying me, especially of those around my camp and the surrounding blocks.

He will not be there.

The bar will not be there.

The tent will not be there.

Everything that made Pennsic “ours” is gone. There is no more “us”, it is only “me”. And that is a loneliness that not even a two week event of 10,000+ people can fill. It’s not that I can’t do it, of course, I’ve solo-Pennsic’d and evented many times considering his Navy career, but I don’t want to. Because I know it won’t be the same. I know that by the time I finally make it back, some jerk will tell me to stop crying and get over it, because they haven’t yet discovered that grief is a non-linear menace.

I need to sell the round tent, it’s too big for just me and I don’t have the means to transport it, but I know that people are waiting for me to just give up and offer it for free. I also want to be picky about who I sell it to, which just makes it worse. I almost want to keep it out of spite, but I don’t have the space. It’s still in storage in Virginia, with our bar, his armor, and a full ¾ of our SCA life I haven’t been able to get to yet. I won’t be telling anybody when I get up there to empty it. Hell, aside from the car, I may even just make that my final Navy move, bring everything to Florida, and deal with it when I can despite the cost of storage.

I need to sell the flatbed trailer, because I’m not getting an SUV or truck anytime soon that will allow me to tow it. I’ve already given his truck to my brother who desperately needed a car. Again, someone is just going to wait for me to give it up for free. I may as well sell it for scrap. The VW has a home.

(Do not, and I mean, DO NOT, dare message me asking to purchase any of these things. When they are listed on public sites like SCA yard sale, that is your chance.)

His tools are all going to people I have chosen specifically to receive them. His scribal kit is now mine. His armor will forever be enshrined on a stand in my living room.

I sold a great deal of his garb to newcomers at Trimaris Memorial Tourney (Spring Crown), it gave me a significant amount of spending money to bring to Malta, which I figured I would use to treat myself to something nice.

The month abroad didn’t provide me with the reset it craved, because every piece of ancient and medieval architecture I took in reminded me of him. The cancer center calling me at 9pm CEST because insurance was playing chicken made it even worse. My mental exhaustion coupled with the physical exhaustion of excavation weakened my immune system and the medieval experience I craved became a little too real when I contracted a superbug version of shigella, or dysentery. Considering my affinity for hand wipes and washing, we have no idea where I picked it up other than careless preparation of food or a momentary encounter in a busy airport. This destroyed the relaxing week I had planned in Germany, and a 2-week recovery back in the states that resulted in an additional ER visit for fluids. I still haven’t fully recovered from the severe dehydration and inflammation, and it’s been nearly a month.

All I wanted was some peace, and I wasn’t even granted that. I am now tasked with moving to a new apartment while fighting with receiving his benefits so I can afford it. It’s not a lot, I will never not have a job, and I am not permitted to get married again until I’m over the age of 55. All this, and I keep getting asked why I’m not at Pennsic. The world does not stop for the SCA.

Two days before I departed for Malta, King Hans of the West died suddenly, and I watched the whole thing go down again, but knew better than to reach out to Duchess Helga or Queen Ciar. They asked for privacy, and I would give it to them for as long as they wished, knowing damn well that people were ignoring that.

When you play in a game that is 50% popularity contest, when you attain peerage, when you run a blog and become a favorite personality among people, you become a celebrity, and while this can be great fun, in the worst cases, it’s jarring and uncomfortable, and I wish more people understood this.

It doesn’t matter how many people want to talk to you or send thoughts, the death of my husband is the single loneliest experience I have every felt in my life because that’s what grief does. Period. Full stop. For every person that told me I was strong, I wanted to counter with a punch in the face. For every person that offered me “moral support” instead of coming over to do my laundry, I wanted to punch in the face. For every person that sent me “thoughts and prayers” instead of Doordash I wanted to punch in the face, and so on. I wish I could explain this, because none of these folks did anything wrong, and their words were not necessarily empty, they were just at a distance and a loss of what they could do to help, but all I could muster in return was a shallow “thank you”, and manifestations of anger unlike anything I’ve ever felt before. Plenty of people helped, I always had food on my plate, gas in my car, and the rent was paid, but it didn’t stop the loneliness. Once the guests that were here for the small backyard wake we had left, the silence was deafening. Jeff’s arms from the Memorial Shield Project disappeared from accounts on Facebook, and life continued.

Jarring and uncomfortable.

I am going to post the Ring Theory for those that need to read about it. I think it’s important not just in the case of the SCA, but also for anybody who is experiencing a traumatic event, especially death.

https://psychcentral.com/health/circle-of-grief-ring-theory

https://www.latimes.com/opinion/op-ed/la-xpm-2013-apr-07-la-oe-0407-silk-ring-theory-20130407-story.html

Grief is non-linear. I am not better now than I was in March, and Pennsic wasn’t going to fix that. I am not going to be okay ever again, and you know what? THAT IS OKAY TOO. I am never not going to be grieving Jeff, and the life we had and the one we had planned. He was a year from retiring from the Navy, and the adventures were being planned. This summer, we had a hopeful pipe dream of going to the UK and hiking the Pilgrim’s Way from Southwark to Canterbury. Instead I’m moving to a new apartment paying $600 more a month so I don’t have to look at the cancer center and VA hospital every day when I leave the house. I will never not miss our crazy projects, his ADHD explosions of SCA crafts all over the house (which honestly used to make me lose my mind) and his greasy smile after a day of working on the Bug. I will never not miss watching our favorite shows together, I have yet to finish the Mandalorian’s most recent season and don’t know if I’m ready to yet. I don’t know how to fix the 3D printers properly. I won’t miss the screaming at each other we did before each Pennsic, but I will miss the cool dewy nights at our camp bar or cuddling on our bed in the tent, looking up at the kaleidoscope of blue and green of our colored canvas as the sun rose at events in three different kingdoms. I’m going to miss our hiking trips into national parks and marveling of the natural beauty of the US. I’m going to mourn the future that was taken from me for as long as I need to. One day, I will see our tent somewhere else. It will hurt, but I know it’s bring someone joy, the same joy Jeff had when he ordered it in his colors.

Jeff in is element: Filthy at Pennsic after digging for clay to make paint.
Us in our Norman finest with our tent and bar behind us.

Be gentle to those you know in the SCA that have experienced loss. Give them the space they ask for. Help them when they ask. Don’t assume you will be given anything of the deceased’s belongings and keep your tantrums about it to yourself. The bereaved are not your jewelry, do not wear them at events, instead, make sure they’re eating, drinking, and that vultures and collectors are kept at bay.

A medieval village would come together in times of crisis to help their community, the SCA should be doing the same.

Jeff’s time in the SCA is not finished. His ashes are with me, and his art and service will continue in different forms inspiring others.


“Let them eat cake”?!

~ Angela ~ 2 Comments

Marie Antoinette is out of the SCA period. She also never said this, but the myth is larger than the truth.

Unfortunately, we have officials in the SCA who think they’re untouchable, and as a peer of the realm it is imperative that I call a spade a spade.

Leslie is the current secretary of the SCA, she is also the wife of John Fulton, known as John the Bearkiller, the Society President. Because N E P O T I S M is period.

This is in response to the recent brouhaha which isn’t worth repeating here because if you aren’t following the latest political upheaval that has absolutely NOTHING to do with filling a board with privileged royal peers who want nothing more than to stunt advancement in DEI and maintain the status quo in such a way they make the entire Baby Boomer generation look progressive you aren’t going to get it.

But let’s break this down: This is not “vaguebooking”, for one, it’s a direct commentary and breach of confidentiality that either pertains to the the amount of letters the BOD received regarding the Wistric vs Baldar sanctions, or, the amount of people who were able to watch the BOD meeting recently via Zoom. (I have been informed that they throttled the attendance for that but can’t confirm it.) This is not peerlike. This is at best: petty, salty, and a little trashy. I am an expert at all of those things so I can call it when I see it.

Now, everybody at this point knows that the BOD is nothing but a walking closed book that won’t even answer Freedom of Information Act requests, so the fact that the First Lady of the SCA decided to make this post is sort of hilarious, considering she assumed nobody would know what she was talking about. But we also need to focus on another thing:

Mr. and Mrs. President of the SCA are PAID TO DO THESE JOBS. Guess what I’m not paid to do? Write the BOD. It’s not that I don’t want to, or don’t think about it, it’s that whole, “Full time PhD student” thing. (wherein I’ve been told I need to start dissociating myself from the SCA because it’s a bad look. CAN’T IMAGINE WHY.)

Oh, and did you hear my husband died from cancer in March? Yeah, he did. I was going to make a larger memorial post about that once I regained some spoons, but here I am, making a post about this, because I know my blog has a wider audience than her public FB page, and the SCA BOD page as a whole. So needless to say, those of us with real lives outside of the SCA may not actually have the energy to sit down and author a well-dictated and polite, professional letter to the BOD. (And your letters SHOULD be professional, people. I mean it.) I’m exhausted on my best days. I’ve spent the last few months crying, cleaning, studying, and watching my spouse decline as cancer ate him alive. The SCA has not exactly been at the top of my list.

However, Bearkiller was once a great ally when I had my own run-in with Baldar a few years back wherein he essentially made “Final Solution” jokes on my FB page regarding Democrats, so you know the quality of human this man is. Oh, the BOD did nothing then, either. They slapped him in the wrist for his religious coronation but because he used his mundane name and the conversation was in a mundane context, it doesn’t matter if the then-King of Trimaris showed his swastika.

I’m disappointed in Bearkiller. I’m disappointed in his First Lady. I’m disappointed that those of us who made the choice to put our lives first are essentially being made fun of because we aren’t “activist” enough for a club we pay $50 a year for because we don’t have the luxury of time.

I’d ask for their resignation, but let’s be real, the proud never give up the throne. The medieval answer is usurpation, which is a lot better than what Marie Antoinette got.

I know many folks are thinking of leaving. That’s your choice, but what I do recommend is stay. They WANT to push away those that don’t agree with them.



So are we going to listen to what our POC are saying?

~ Angela ~ 1 Comment

Or are we gonna to continue to ignore the elephant in the room like y’all ignored the glaring, “Hey this is white supremacist” content in my viral blog post about crown tournament variances last month?
There is a reason _WHY_ I called out the issues of glaring white supremacy. Even if you, reading this, good person, are not bigoted, or racist, you benefit from a society that has it ingrained in its core.



Read Gianna/Gigi’s post here: https://fleurtyherald.wordpress.com/2022/12/23/equity-inclusion-and-the-sca/

And read Zahra/Jessica’s Facebook post here: https://www.facebook.com/jess.vanhattem/posts/pfbid0g4roV2zxB8YmDL3jf6kxijcDLiaTJi3nSS9SvsXipYUi28JWMdvVaL7yT3LPT3u4l

And their appearance on Voices of Color: https://www.facebook.com/watch/live/?extid=CL-UNK-UNK-UNK-IOS_GK0T-GK1C&mibextid=2Rb1fB&ref=watch_permalink&v=1244865616066724

If you don’t want to read them, or go, “I don’t care.” That’s on you, boo, but I think it’s way overdue that we the populace put in a vote of no confidence in our Board of Directors, and start fresh. Don’t leave. Don’t quit. Don’t give them what they want. The time to fight like hell is now.

My Accessibility Porter Idea

~ Angela ~ Leave a comment

Switching from the overly volatile current SCA zeitgeist, I received from questions from folks interested in my porter idea. Here goes.

A few weeks ago on FB, I posted this:


“Accessibility porters need to be a more common thing at SCA events.

While there are always good gentles that will help folks carry things, having it as a regular fixture for those that need assistance setting up/tearing down would really help make in-person events more appealing to members of the populace that have mobility constraints, age-related or otherwise. A lot of folks, me included, like to pretend like we’re still young and spry and not full of some form of degenerative joint disease and fibromyalgia, so we won’t ask for help. Instead of asking, it should just be offered at gate. Create a corps of porters that volunteer for shifts much like any other gate position.

I think the way Trimaris has the drive-up sign-in gate at some events is super beneficial here, because then that eliminates the need for the individual needing assistance to have to get out of their vehicle to request aid.

When you talk about inclusion, including the disabled shouldn’t be last on the list.”

I do know that some kingdoms have an actual “accessibility porter” office wherein their job is to help make events more accessible, so this is not to be confused by that. Names can always be changed, and “porter” sounds better than “event bell boy”.

The gist of this would to have a corps of volunteers that sign up to do this like any other shift job at an event. You show up and put in your hour or two. The general idea would be to assist folks that need an extra hand lugging their SCA lives with them into events. Be it camping, A&S display, armor, etc. I can be for mothers will small children, elderly with mobility needs, etc. It does not have to be just “the disabled”, of course. Sometimes having that one extra hand to carry a chair makes a world of difference for somebody like me when I go solo. It would be request-based, with gate offering porter assistance at check-in. This would make sure the volunteers don’t get overworked and spread too thin, especially since not everybody likes strangers touching their belongings. Set up and breakdown help can also be requested in advance based on availability of porters, but to avoid a queue or shorthanded staff, it cannot be accommodated day-of.

I figure for smaller events, having 2-4 per shift would be good. Larger would command 4 or 6 or even 8. (Even numbers allows for better tagteaming.) Wagons and dollies can be made available if there’s the budget for it. I have a folding wagon I purchased at Walmart a few years ago that has helped immensely, and porters can also bring their own supplies. Breakdown would have a similar request system. “Roving” porters can also be a thing during peak setup/breakdown times as well.

Benefits:
1. Folks who are currently on the fence about coming to events because of a shortage of hands or mobility issues will have one less thing to worry about.

2: This is an excellent way for newcomers and teens who don’t mind doing some work to meet some established members and build connections.

3: It’s an easy way to give back and help others.

Potential Issues:

1: Impatient members being rude to porters, or abusing and bogarting the service from people who actually need it. Which supervisors need to make sure doesn’t happen. Honor system still stands: If you REALLY don’t need the help, you don’t ask for it. Likewise, they aren’t caregivers, just schleppers. Individuals who need more specific care will have to bring their own caregivers. It’s just too much of a liability otherwise.

2: Porters potentially missing key event moments like court and feast.

3: Weather hazards need to be taken into account. Porter safety is as important as everybody else’s. If the weather is too inclement, the service will be suspended until the weather passes.

Nothing is without issues, of course, but I think that I want to give this a shot organizing it at an upcoming SCA event I can actually go to, maybe. Or see if I can coordinate it here in Trimaris even if I cannot go. I definitely think this is a good kingdom to start in, as a lot of our population is aging (Save your Florida jokes for another time.)

This is obviously too much for a HUGE event like a war. I also need to figure out a way to keep tabs on folks that need aid without labeling them in a way that creates stigma, such as having those that requested aid to bring in their gear send a text message to the supervisor porter when they are broken down and ready to go back to their vehicles, or more likely, send somebody to the gate.

The important thing is to keep this simple. This is not abled bodies for hire to do any bidding, this is “I am physically incapable of bringing in all that I require and I need a hand.”

About that whole Crown Variance Request by Lochac:

~ Angela ~ 17 Comments


Edit: I keep adding more stuff to the bottom as discussion points cross my feed as well as made some clarifications in my original post (it was late last night when I was getting ranted to by a dear Lochacian friend so things got muddy on my end as well.)

I am nearly permabanned from Facebook at this point thanks to the ridiculous reporting attack that went down right after my elevation that followed me onto my new account, but you can’t ban me from speaking my mind on my blog. So sit the hell down and listen:

It is not period to choose sovereigns by right of arms.

I know, I know, “But that’s not what the game was founded on!”

We’ve changed a lot since the 60s. The women aren’t wearing Gunne Sax and calling it “garb” for one, and two, the SCA has developed into a much larger more inclusive society EXCEPT FOR THIS.

I have no issue with heavy combat crown tournaments, but I do think that we’re way overdue to look at mixing it up. This post is about the labels we attach to our tradition, and why they are problematic, though.

No, you are not permitted to get in my face about this. I see you (nondescript you) and the way you’re treating people on Social Media right now and it is not a good look. “You’re not a fighter!” No, I do not fight in the SCA anymore because I do not have the time or physical capacity to do so. I have been authorized in both heavy combat and rapier combat, in addition to being a black belt in TaeKwonDo and having been practicing martial arts in some respect for nearly 30 years at this point. Do not cast aside my “Well you aren’t wearing spurs so your opinion doesn’t matter, you snarky little Laurel”. I see you. If you’re so big and bad, drop the sword and board and join me in the TKD ring. It’s been a hot minute since I fought in a national championship but I can still hold my own. I’ve kicked heads in camp at Pennsic.

Oh, you won’t. Why? “It’s not my element and it’s not fair.” You’re right, it isn’t. Much like heavy combat in the SCA is not the element for most participants, and it’s, indeed, not fair. But it’s also not fair to say that folks should not have thoughts on something when they aren’t combatants.

The Chivalry has the privilege of being the “most equal” of the peerages. I have no qualms saying that out loud because it’s true and I’ve had multiple knights and MoAs tell me the same. When you threaten their elevated pillar over the other bestowed peerages, they back into a corner and lash out like terrified house cats, and this is the reason why. We cannot in good faith offer an egalitarian experience if we do not have ways to make participation equal. Period. That’s it, that’s the tea.

No wait, no, that’s not -actually- the tea. I’m still boiling that water, so buckle up.

“The SCA is really a Victorian King Game and we should continue that tradition!”

Sure, let me, with my 2.5 history degrees, unpack this nonsense.

The Victorians -ruined- the Middle Ages and subsequent modern perception thus. The Victorians gave us the myths of damsels in distress, knights in shining armor, Pre-Raphaelite over romanticism and faux history designed for the purpose of the subjection of women, children, LGBTQ+, and POC. There. There it fucking is, isn’t it? The Anglo-American Victorian Period was rooted in white supremacy, and these “king games” were part of them. We modern classical and medieval historians are still working to unravel myths of medieval individuals not bathing thanks to the absolute abhorrent mess the Victorian “historians” created.

“Tradition” is a nice word that means you’re letting dead people tell you what to do. In this case, the “dead people” in question were using colonialism, white supremacy based on horrifically bad early anthropology theory, and sweeping dead children riddled with tuberculosis out of the gutter after they worked 18 hour shifts for quarter wage to justify the Smithian and Malthusian virtues of classical liberalism’s “invisible hand of the free market.” So maybe, just fucking maybe, we shouldn’t be putting this asinine period, during which the United States still permitted slavery for most of, on its own pedestal. The Middle Ages had their own issues, but we cannot recreate “the Middle Ages as they should have been” while touting that our organization is literally an echo of one of the most oppressive centuries in world history. If any of you supporting this theory have spent more than breathing on a Wikipedia page’s worth of reading on the Victorian period and its treatment of medievalism, you wouldn’t want to be waving this flag. Period. For a group of people who purport themselves to be belonging to an educational group, you’re really bad at educating yourselves.

This brings me to the boiling point before I pour that tea.

What did we do to disabled individuals during the Victorian period? The same thing the SCA is doing now: ignoring them. While care was not exactly great in the Middle Ages, disabled individuals usually found support in the family unit or community. The Victorians would throw them away and lock them up if they could afford it. Otherwise, they were unalived in a variety of ways such as drowning, falling, or just…”He went for a walk and didn’t come home. Pass the tea, old horse.”

The entire premise of the Lochac proposal was to create an avenue to be more inclusive of those that cannot physically fight for whatever reason (update: It was even less rigid, they just asked to be able to choose their own crown formats). Two sovereign nations, Australia and Aotearoa New Zealand, came to an agreement for the betterment of their own kingdom literally on the other side of the planet from North America, that this was what they wanted to do. They proposed it using disability as the example, and suggested that Lochac, being distant and away from the “core” kingdoms of the US and Canada, be a great testing grounds for this new idea, and the North American BoD couldn’t be arsed to give them a better answer than “Not right now.”

Okay but why? Where is the rest of the answer? Is the rest of the answer, “We are going to start developing this so standby”, or is it actually what I think it is, a shrieking harmony of toxic masculinity and ableism disguised as “tradition”? This is not a good look for the United States, but it’s also expected. We’ve managed to really show our asses in the last few years.

If you want the Victorian Interpretation of the Middle Ages As they Should Have Been, then I definitely recommend cooling down the ableism, racism, sexism, and all the other -isms that make it all 100% still Very Victorian Middle Ages As They Were, only with Less Consumption and More Covid. They also wouldn’t stand for any personae from Ireland, Italy, or Eastern Europe. In fact, Jewish personae need not apply either. Orthodox, Catholics and Jews go home, totally. The problematic term “Anglo-Saxon” is also 100% Victorian, and was used then, as it is now, as an avenue to promote white supremacy to support colonialism.

Or, you know, stop using the Victorian excuse. I’m sick of it, just tell us you don’t want to be inclusive of disabled individuals and would rather have the whispers of racist dead white men in your ears telling you what to do than make a fresh attempt at being inclusive.

There’s a good chance most people pining for the romanticized Victorian Middle Ages have no idea what they’re espousing, but they need to knock it off.

That, my friends, is the hot tea.

The SCA is in trouble as it is on the recruitment and retention front, a great deal of this has to do with the le Ancien Scadien Regime touting their sad devotion to their ancient traditions, but also because of inaccessibility, racism, and just you know, wow, there’s a lot of Nazis. White supremacists are not as dumb as we want them to be. They see and hear this “Victorian King Game” and connect the dots of all the points I made above, and we all know how they feel about the disabled, queer, and POC folks that already struggle to be seen in our game. We should stop inviting them to play. I had hoped they would have all left to go to the SMA, but alas, we have so many missing stairs newcomers are falling to their demise before reaching their AoA.

Either we’re an inclusive society that wants to recreate the Global Middle Ages, or, we’re a pseudo-Victorian society upholding dangerous ideals disguised as a historical education society.


Choose wisely, SCA.

Addendums based on what I’m seeing on Social Media, since I can’t post. I’m updating as I see more talking points.

I think that Milpitas should let Lochac give it a shot. If it doesn’t work, then we go back to heavy combat crowns. No harm, no foul. But the Palatine Barony of the Far West and Western Seas has a rotation scheme for choosing their baronage. I fail to see why this can’t be implemented as a crown format either. Nobody says it will never be fighting again ever, all folks want to do is make the experience more inclusive, which I see a lot of push back on in the form of “The SCA doesn’t have to be everything to everyone.” Um, that’s literally what inclusivity is. That’s a fancy sentence for, “I don’t want somebody disabled in charge for 4-6 months.”

I should note that the Palatine Barony is starting to fall apart with lots of inactive pockets due to a lack of support for the military community from the SCA as a whole but *sips tea* I know jack about that, I suppose.

I also see a lot of very odd mental gymnastics in regard to, “This is what we were founded as, therefore…” by the same people who will argue tooth and nail about interpreting the US Constitution and what the Founding Fathers would have wanted. This is only coming from the Americans, not the Australians, Kiwis, Canadians, or Europeans. In my opinion, it’s the same thing. If you can argue that the interpretation of the US Constitution should change with time, then SCA Corpora should be given the same respect. Don’t say, “This is how we did it in the 1960s” for the SCA, turn around, and argue about making the amendment for term limits for Congress in the same breath. You look dumb. Also, so are term limits, but this is an SCA blog, not a political one. Anybody who follows me on FB has gotten that well-documented screed enough.

The whole thing is a power grab, period. Not by the Chivalry, but by older members who refuse to let go. It’s like watching a professor who should have retired 20 years ago continue to hold onto a chaired seat just to refuse it to a younger generation who challenged their scholarship.

DEI is not just about BIPOC and LGBTQ+ members, I can’t believe I have to keep repeating this because it makes me sound whataboutist, but that’s just the Diversity portion. The I means Inclusion, and Inclusion means EVERYBODY. The E means Equity, and that means allowing everybody the chance to be given accommodations to sample all that the SCA has to offer. When the DEI office got slammed for having a roundtable talking about the military experience in the SCA because the panel was not visibly queer or POC, I got angry for obvious reasons, even as a member of the queer community, coming off of the massive struggle we had moving between 3 kingdoms in 2 years. But why is disability always on the back burner? Why is it always skirted when it comes to site accessibility and event options? When I mentioned having accessibility porters at events, folks who need assistance loved the idea, and then I got able-bodied folks telling me they didn’t want to “waste” their time at the event carrying other people’s things for them. Oh, okay. I am not disabled, but I do have chronic illnesses that can make my event experience less-than-fun, so usually I just don’t bother going. With Jeff being as sick as he is right now, we aren’t going to events anytime soon anyway, because I can’t trust people to help him if he needs it if I’m busy, or mask up near him while his immune system recovers from chemotherapy. This argument just cements further that the SCA is not a club for those that need an extra hand once in a while, and that is upsetting.

“You’re attacking the chivalry!” No, no I’m not. I’m attacking inequity and exclusion based on bad “traditions”. I didn’t badmouth the Chiv at all other than repeating words they have already told me: They are the most equal of the peerages and that they carry the most clout. This was by design in the game. Toxic masculinity does not define the Chivalry, it defines the systemic issue. If you hear the phrase “toxic masculinity” and assume “Chivalry”, then that’s indicative of a whole other problem entirely, isn’t it? Toxic FIGHTERS that bad mouth the other paths are another issue entirely, and they rarely wear chains.

“We need martial leadership for wars!” Okay, I agree. Then make non-war reigns non-martial crowns? Why can’t the Sovereigns be on the field at Pennsic for the champions battles while the Heirs visit the A&S Display to support their populace? Hell, I’ve had sovereigns express dismay at missing so much other stuff at wars because of, well, war. That tells me that we need to stagger things better.

“I don’t want my non-rattan community to become toxic like rattan has become, and the toxic people from rattan will just go into rapier, etc.” – Actually, this one makes a lot more sense to me and I’m glad someone brought it up. Again, I need to reiterate that not all fighters and especially not all chiv are toxic. The system is what breeds toxicity, but all competitions do this. Training on the national level in TKD wasn’t exactly free of drama, toxicity, or the like, I think it’s just human nature. Which is grossly unfortunate. I’ve been in and apart of enough A&S competitions that have gotten so cutthroat I could only imagine what adding crown to it could do. Still, I think that non-martial crowns should still be experimented with.

No, this has nothing to do with me planning to expatriate to Aotearoa New Zealand. I’m doing that because I want distance from the US and the inevitable trauma of losing my husband sooner than later.

“If you don’t like it, leave.” What, and miss _THIS_?

I just heard from a Lochacian that one of the reasons why they pitched this is that they have less fighters than they used to, but an active and large populace as a whole who are doing amazing things. So it’s issues of burnout with the current fighter pool as well as the desire to try something new to be more inclusive. Likewise, I’ve had ‘Strayans offering me beer all day and I’ve already lost that drinking game before.

“We should just abolish crown tourneys.” – Now we’re talking. Or, we can do something crazy, and medieval: A REPUBLIC.

On CTE and TBI: We are not talking about this enough. I’ve seen what happens to athletes in multiple sports with CTE. Please, PLEASE take this into account. It’s one of the reasons why Jeff decided he didn’t want to fight as much anymore. But we also need to approach this in a way that we don’t make the fighting community think it’s an insult or that they’re all just going out there and getting their bell rung. I’ve gotten popped in melee as well as singles, it happens and normally we just shake it off without thinking of the consequences. The same in TKD. “Well I just saw Tweety birds, better shake it off and get back out there.” AYEEEEEEEEEEE what are we doing to ourselves? Can this be solved with calibration? Maybe. Can it be solved by eliminating head contact and more active marshalling? Yes, but that requires having everybody on board, and head shots are sort of part of the game since it’s a fast kill. There may also be padding solutions, but as we’ve learned with the NFL, no amount of padding will make this perfect. Reduced contact is the only answer.

Members of Lochac have clarified that they did not ask for a specific crown format or with disability in mind (which is what another Aussie told me, which might still be a catalyst of course), they simply asked for the variance that says they can choose the crown format they wish, and the US BOD just struck them down without any clarifying questions or the like. I think the insta-denial is the issue here more than anything. The BOD could have gone, “What do you have in mind?” or “Can you provide us with more info?” And instead chose not to.

I made a separate post about my Accessibility Porter idea here: https://annasrome.com/2022/12/16/my-accessibility-porter-idea/

I just want to point out that the bulk of this post is about white supremacy echoed in terminology and practice and so far, not a single message or comment I have received about this has been about that. If you are one of the offended that read that and get upset, you may be telling on yourself.

I really really hate insults like, “Stick jock”, “wire weenie”, “garb nazi”, and “service junkie”. Stop that.

Yeah so, my husband is pretty sick.

~ Angela ~ 1 Comment

I’m pretty sure the entire SCA knows at this point, but THL Gieffrei was diagnosed with a rare form of cancer this summer known as Neuroendocrine tumor (NET). It is metastatic.

We are doing our best to get it under control, and he has been transferred to a major cancer center here in Trimaris for his best odds, and so far, so good.

As a result, we will probably not be showing up at any major events anytime soon, not that folks have been asking or anything. With the new lack of COVID Protocols thanks to a BOD who is more eager to get back to “normal” than protect their club members, we’d prefer to not be around germ vectors. We are considering culling a lot of our supplies, including more garb (after I parted with quite a bit last year before I moved), and maybe some camping equipment. We just don’t see the point anymore if we aren’t active enough to use it all. It takes up space.

I’ve also started to reduce my engagement in social media. After getting banned from Facebook became my Stupid Peer Trick, getting banned from Twitter followed after anti-intellectuals enjoying hating historians on that platform went after my account, I realized that it’s best that my attention stay elsewhere, anyway.

It is okay to embargo your research, it is not okay to pester those that aren’t ready to share.

~ Angela ~ 3 Comments

I’m going to make this succinct and blunt.

Nobody, not even your SCA bestie, or any academic, has to fork over their research to you for the asking.

Putting your research out there for free comes with risks of plagiarism and those potentially capitalizing off of your hard work. While plagiarism is, of course, abhorrent, and anybody who outright steals information, images, and other research to make a buck off of it is just fucking shitty, SCAdians and other reenactors are by far the biggest culprits out there and I am not afraid to throw you all under the goddamn bus about it.

“But you have to share with me.” Somebody asked, “You’re one of US!”

What does that even mean? And I do share, this entire blog is me sharing. I embargoed my Hittite for a while because I actually had people, when I mentioned I was going to give it a shot, tell me that they were ready to basically make whatever I put out there without a second thought, or, try to steal my thunder first.

When somebody tells you they are working on a major project, you RESPECT THAT PROJECT. You wait for publication, be it on a blog or social media for free, or in print. You provide citations and contact information when that research is made available. You do not pass it off as your own, you do not take somebody else’s documentation and turn it into your own A&S project, and you do not, DO NOT, try to make patterns off of it and sell it as your own (You know who you are).

A freely shared project is still the intellectual property of the owner, and and those that choose to not embargo should not be embarrassed or have to pursue litigation because somebody outright stole their work. I had to have a paid account on Academia.edu for some time because I had a SCAdian steal my research and try to pass it off as their own while at university. The person has since left the game.

All creators, be it hobbyists or academics, have a right to withhold research for publication until they are absolutely ready to share, and I am going to start recommending that all SCAdians consider waiting to share anything, even pictures on social media, of works in progress. It may sound counterintuitive to the educational aspect of the society, but creators should not have to worry about poachers.

I’m very excited about my upcoming projects, but since I am in the position for academic publication, I cannot share anything about it. I will also be embargoing my dissertation completely until it is also in a position for publication.

I look forward to being screamed at by Le Ancien Regime SCAdiens on Facebook for this.

“You haven’t updated in a while, are you okay?”

~ Angela ~ 4 Comments

The short answer is “YES!” I am okay!

I never really settled into living in Atlantia. In fact, I generally hated the region of Hampton Roads. Nothing against the people of the Barony of Marinus, who were awesome for the short time I was there, but after getting turned out for a ton of jobs, I decided that it was time to do something for myself.

I am back in Trimaris.

I am in the Barony of Wyvernwoode, my ancient and venerable stomping grounds, and have embarked on my PhD at the University of South Florida in Tampa.

THLord Gieffrei is remaining in Norfolk to finish his naval career, and I will remain supporting him from 800mi south. He wasn’t really around at all for my MA in the East, or even when I lived in Caid, so this is nothing new for us. In fact, we do better when apart. My immediate family is still in the Tampa Bay area, and out of the schools I applied to, USF offered the most funding and the best track for what I want to go into in order to further my work with museums and public history. If anything, the Pandemic has taught me that it’s important to be near those you care about, and I did not have that in Virginia. Jeff was out a lot, I barely knew anybody, and frankly, I’m very burned out of this whole “Navy wife life” BS. It was time for the Byzantine Girl Summer, so to speak. (You know, my almost-40 year old “girl” self.)

Needless to say, I am BUSY. I am in 3 classes in addition to working as a grad assistant. I do still plan on making it to a few events here and there, but with COVID being so badly managed here in Florida, and the SCA’s adoption of an “honor system” versus mandating vaccines, I don’t see myself out much until things change. I am fully vaccinated (House Moderna!), and I am masked and exposed to germs daily on campus. Not to mention, the SCA’s continued bad acting in the face of issues including white supremacy, sexual assault, and even D&I issues (though I applaud the D&I staff and office), I just can’t grok with the game right now. Things need to turn around.

I know there’s a lot to be said about a new peer sort of backing off after elevation, but it’s more common than people think. The system is designed to wear us down, and I am not tolerating it, nor am I allowing my associates to tolerate it. I haven’t even posted about my elevation ceremony itself yet, because I was so damn burned out from it all I ran completely out of steam and didn’t want to blog about anything at all.

So this is what I have done instead:

-Lost 30lbs by watching my food intake and working out. Kettlebells, yoga, and Body Groove have changed my life. I’m working on my next 20lbs.
-Returned to Taekwondo after a 15 year hiatus, and will be pursuing my next black belt degree.
-Applied to, and was accepted to, 3 PhD programs. USF being funded enough for me to live on my own.
-Bought a new car! Nothing that special, but hey, new cars are always nice, right?
-Took a total break from sewing aside from masks, and SCA related art, and sold half of my fabric stash.
-Enjoyed reading fiction again.
-Reconnected with my best friend of 30+ years (no he’s not SCA, and never will be.)

This doesn’t suck.

Do I miss my SCA friends and family? Of course I do. Every day. I miss camping. I miss events. I miss the old normal as much as everybody else, but the New Normal is what we have, and we need to accept it and adapt to changes, be it Pandemic-related, or cultural. The SCA is stuck in the 1970s when other similar organizations are moving into the 2020s. When those who dislike change to the point they become a viable threat to the game bounces, they start a new SCA clone with blackjack and hookers, and none of this looks okay for somebody like me who is entering the dreaded enemy of the SCA: Academia. They don’t care what game I play. They just see the press releases, social media posts, and take the next step.

I will be back. I want to come back, but I want to see changes first:

I want a vaccine mandate. If the Boy Scouts can do it, so can we. If you’re going to be an ass and bring up “freedoms”, allow me to remind you of the preamble of the US Constitution: “Promote the general welfare.” Full stop. Get over it.

I want white supremacists GONE. Not coddled, not “well they just have a difference of opinion”, no, Get them. The fuck. Out of. My Game. And no, not “Conservatives”. Most of my household is _conservative_. They also are pro-vax and anti-Nazi. Get with it, “conservatives”.

I want sexual assault investigated swiftly, safely, and any assailant removed from the Society IMMEDIATELY. No beating around the goddamn bush. “Oh but the BOD…”, the BOD can also change procedure.

I want a better environment for BIPOC and LGBTQ+ members. I want to see more inclusive events and development opportunities for non-Western European personae. This is already going well, but we can do better. I also want people to understand that “inclusion” does not mean just BIPOC and LGBTQ+ individuals. Seeing the social media reaction to the D&I office sponsoring a session on active duty military made my blood boil, and almost made Jeff quit entirely.

Likewise, I want SCAdians to realize that my husband’s job takes precedence over events and commissions. Asking for a commission from Jeff a month or so before we PCS or he deploys and then pitching a fit when he says no is not a good look and bluntly, we’re sick of it.

I want our bullying policy to be revisited and less able to be weaponized. Yes, I’ve been bullied, but I didn’t say anything because the person at the helm held more power than me, and we all know how that works in the end. All it takes is for me to snap back at somebody on social media, and then, snap! I’m the bully. If I defend myself against sexual assault, I can be kicked out as a bully. Think about that. Since the day I was elevated, I’ve had frequent attacks on Facebook wherein my posts are repeatedly reported for bullying and hate speech if I speak out against certain individuals and their behavior. (Getting banned from Facebook is now my Stupid Peer Trick.)

The SCA needs to not lean on Facebook so much. It is a flawed platform that allows for abuse of reporting and algorithms to control speech from all angles. It makes it harder to determine who are actually missing stairs, and who is just getting piled on for dropping an F-bomb. Unfortunately, it’s also the best platform as far as discussion groups go that isn’t Discord. That is a problem in itself.


When the SCA does better, a lot of us will come back. Until then, don’t be surprised if you don’t see me much until Jeff retires, or I’m done with school. I certainly don’t plan on attending Pennsic for a while.

Does that mean you shouldn’t contact me? Absolutely not. Please email me. Please message me. I know I owe a couple of folks silk banners (military movers did not play nice this last go around and things…yeah things. I need to replace lots of things.) I still want to share my wealth of knowledge with everybody, but my brain is elsewhere right now. I still care, maybe I still care too much, and that’s the point of this rant.

I just think we can do better, and I’ll be around.

A Peerage in the Time of Plague, Part 3: The Libation Ceremony

~ Angela ~ 1 Comment

Sorry about the delay in getting this last piece up. I relocated from Trimaris to Atlantia for yet another military PCS, and we’re still trying to decompress having done this just before the Holidays.

The morning of my elevation, still weary from my vigil, I got up relatively early with a plan. As my area of SCA focus isn’t just Byzantium, I felt the need to go back a thousand years and change to pay homage to the old gods in a way that would best suit them, and myself.

I chose October 17th for a reason, it is the Festival of the Khalkeia in the Hellenic faith. It honored both Athena and Hephastus as gods of art and crafts, so it seemed fitting to pour a libation to both of them. But, because of the nature of my husband’s very mobile career choice and our upcoming move from Trimaris to Atlantia, I new better than to make Poseidon jealous.

So I got dressed in one of my archaic chitons I wasn’t afraid to get a little salty, put on the Roman glass necklace I had made a few days before, a reproduction Hellenistic bracelet with dolphins, and a Greek perfume made by Lady Dugu in Northshield. I poured off the last of my hibiscus mead, a fan favorite, into a terracotta amphora, and made Jeff drive me to the beach on base at Mayport where I knew it would be less crowded than a public beach a few blocks south.

It was cool, and windy, and the people there didn’t seem to care that a crazy lady wearing a Greek dress showed up on the sand. Children were playing with their dogs in the surf as the parents watched them cautiously from the shoreline with their morning coffee. We picked a spot close enough to the mouth of the St. Johns River and the major waterway in/off base and Jacksonville as a whole, so that the surfers weren’t nearby. It was quiet for the most part, save the giggles of children and the roar of the waves.

So I dropped my shawl, took my hair down, grabbed the amphora, and walked right into the Atlantic Ocean up to my calves. It was there that I poured my offering to the ancient gods of art, crafts, war, and the sea.

I did get a bit photobombed by a large shipper coming out of the channel, but Jeff did what he could to avoid it for the most part. Overall, I couldn’t have asked for a better setting to pull this off.

Plus: THE PICTURES JUST LOOK SO DAMN COOL.

Next up, Part 4: The actual elevation ceremony.