Category: General Medieval

Okay but why NOT a saint?

~ Angela ~ 2 Comments

There’s many jokes to be made about marriage here, so I’m going to ask y’all to sit down about that.

But, in short, in the last year, I’ve started the process of making my late husband “Larger than Life” in the SCA (I mean, aside from dragging him for filth with his hoarding, I guess), and wanted to start a sort of ongoing A&S project on Folk Saints.

After being poked and prodded by local friends to go ahead and make this so, especially since I creeped nobody out on social media by pouring him a pint of Guinness or Dr. Pepper, there is now a website devoted entirely to the Cult of St. Jeff the Moneyer. We already have some traction, even with folks that did not know him, and so far I’m very pleased at how this is being received.

Feel free to take a look here at its dedicated website: www.saintjeff.annasrome.com

I’m sure there is going to be a corner of the population that is very not-okay with this, and that is your choice. The veneration of folk saints is incredibly period, and honestly this is a practice I think that the SCA could have a lot of fun with. Obviously I’m still working out details, this is a living project, not a one-and-done deal. So anticipate changes and updates overtime as more people become involved with this “cult”.

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.


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.”

“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.

The Earthquake You Felt Was Real

~ Angela ~ Leave a comment

On Saturday, September 26th during the Ethereal Court of their Majesties Trimaris at Village Plague, I was sent forward to contemplate my elevation to the esteemed Order of the Laurel.

My vigil will take place on the evening of the 16th of October, and my elevation the following day, on the 17th, which also marks the Hellenic Festival of the Khalkeia, which celebrates craftsmen under the patronage of Athena and Hephaestus. (The 18th is the anniversary of the Battle of Dyrrhachium, but we aren’t going to talk about that.)

This will be a virtual event, with only a small team present here in Castlemere to make this safe and socially distant. More information will be posted as I receive it.

Break time.

~ Angela ~ 3 Comments

As of this point, I am taking a step back from the SCA for a duration of time yet to be determined. I will still show up at some events, but current politics, coupled with exhaustion due to drama and other issues has driven me out.

I am happy to continue to field questions and will be actively monitoring my site until I feel fit to return to my research for the society’s purpose. Until then, I am going to be focusing on my mundane research for upcoming conferences, and consider moving forward with my PhD.

Consider classifying your garments into different levels of “dress”.

~ Angela ~ Leave a comment

This is definitely more of an aristocratic tradition than a lower class tradition, though I assume that well-to-do merchant class Byzantines may have had a tiered wardrobe.

While doing research, you may find annotations or information for clothing known as “undress”, or “court undress”. Before you think you need to get nekkid, look at the context. It’s somewhat antiquated, but the concept of “undress” is the lowest level of acceptable dress. Not really your pajamas, but something you could be comfortable being seen in, while out for a meal in the palace with friends, or maybe the emperor if the occasion is not a state one.

Basically, court undress is your business casual, while full court dress is your best of the best ceremonial-grade garments. In between could be half-dress, your “cocktail hour” attire, or something you would wear to a weekly liturgy at your local basilica, a gathering at the palace, or a less formal court. Coronation? Easter? Christmas? A marriage? Get your good stuff on, non-optional.

It’s no secret that I love garb.  I sew a lot, and probably own way more than I actually need to. My reasoning, or at least, what I tell people, is that you really can only get better and learn to understand new patterns and shaping if actually get the needle out. Another reason, is that stratifying my Byzantine collection is important. I’m still working on it, and developing more “undress” for myself as an aristocratic woman.

For example, my 12th Century outfit? This is not for everyday wear. This only gets trotted out for special occasions, namely coronations, and fashion shows because it’s just so extra. This is court dress. The propoloma elevates it.

coronation4

But then, you have my 11th Century set which I made for my thesis. Is this court dress? Well, the mantle certainly kicks it up. But it’s not the highest ceremonial dress. Why? I’m not wearing a propoloma, I’m in a fakiolion instead. Could I wear this to court? Yes. Probably not for a coronation, or for Easter/Pascha ceremonies. But this would be acceptable for an event where fine dress is required. It could even be undress if I lost the mantle. That is more or less adding an air of piety to cover my shoulders for the divine liturgy. If I added a propoloma to this, it would be court dress without question. This is a good example of half-dress.

open on

True undress?  Probably more along the lines of this look. I’m in a minimally decorated wool delmatikion, with a plain white veil. I still have jewelry on, as I am aristocratic and need to wear some wealth, but this was Festival of the Rose out in Caid in February of 2017, and not a major event like Coronation or Crown Tournament. I was comfortable and completely dressed, I just don’t have a full body picture.

16463157_10154568809493143_8514993308683255735_o

A good source for a woman in aristocratic undress would probably be the Theodore Psalter, which Tim Dawson references for similar reasons in “By the Emperor’s Hand”. Here, the woman pictured in well dressed, but not weighed down by ceremonial accouterments. This is something more along the lines of what I should be wearing regularly (when it’s not as hot as the surface of the sun outdoors.)

theodore_psalter_29v (2)

I do have a couple older linen delmatikioi I should try wearing more beyond Pennsic when I’m not melting down here.

Another level, though I am unsure if this is truly an aristocratic woman or not, is from this miniature in the Menologion of Basil II. I like this because it doesn’t have the long angel sleeves, and clearly has a short-sleeved esoforion beneath it. However, I’m not sure, exactly, who she is. Is this the empress in her “casual” wear because of the red boots? Is this a middle class woman? Either way, it’s another form of undress. My guess if she is aristocratic, or the empress, it’s very much of a “It’s warm out, and I’m keeping to myself” type of clothing. It’s still pretty ornamented, and red is not a cheap color. Of note is the fact that it is clearly an emergency situation with the “bad omen” in the sky, and her head is uncovered outdoors. Lots of questions!

Menologion_of_Basil_074
Anyways, I hope this post helps people think a bit more about building a tiered wardrobe. It’s definitely something I need to put more thought into working on for myself.

 

Exhausted and homesick, but not giving up.

~ Angela ~ 2 Comments

I left the East Kingdom on Memorial Day weekend in 2016 for Caid.
I left Caid for Trimaris in January of 2018.
Three kingdoms in three years, and not without scandal.

I normally don’t post dirt or personal feelings much on this blog. I prefer to have it reserved exclusively for my research and helping others. But sometimes, helping others and performing a service isn’t just steering them down the path of Byzantine goodness, it’s also helping them navigate this crazy life that is the SCA, because as Yoda said: Once you start down the dark path, forever will it dominate your destiny.

A hobby is not much of a hobby if it starts controlling your life.

Here’s the rub: This isn’t going to be a pleasant post for me to write, but I’m at the point where I need to play SCAdian Kool-Aid Man and bust through a wall. Much like it wasn’t easy last year for me to come forward about my battles with mental illness and the SCA, I need to come forward and discuss how the last year has taken a toll on myself, my marriage, and my want to participate in the SCA.

We had front-row seats to Caid’s “Trimgate” when we were leaving for Trimaris. Our last event was the coronation with the ill-woven trim. I didn’t see the blatant swastikas until after pictures were posted, because the day was rather joyous. The newly-crowned royals were well loved and it seemed like we were going to miss something fun. And, here I was, driving across the country when the hivemind went into overdrive, and those I knew from other Kingdoms were pinging me directly for the dirt. I admit, at first I got sucked right in. I was driving to a place I didn’t want to live. I was miserable and tired. I had no furniture and replied to Facebook posts via phone. I posted things, and then I backed up. I got reminded by others that I needed to focus, and I did. I stopped answering DMs, I started dispelling false accusations that were flying across my feed so fast I couldn’t stay on top of the fact-checking, and I slipped away from conversations that were getting heated and allowed the kingdom I was leaving to take matters into their own hands, which they did with grace, and without me getting in the way or being some weird third wheel to satisfy the hunger of a pack of wolves half the world away chomping at the bit for juicy drama. When all was said and done, that debacle was all and all a result of bad theater. Yes, go ahead, get mad at me: Bad. Theater. Bad choices were made, bad answers were given, bad accusations were being made. None of which, by the way, deserved death threats in response. I hate that knee-jerk reaction. I’ve been at the receiving end of them before in my mundane line of work and it’s usually the ultimate show of immaturity and lack of class. And, also a great way to get the FBI on your ass.

So, that’s how my 2018 started. I shook that off, and tried to make the most of being in Trimaris. I still should have made my husband make a hard turn back at Albuquerque.

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I’m not going to go into the entire saga that was last year’s summer reign in Trimaris. I’m not even going to post names so that search engines pick it up, but, like the Caid Coronation, I had front row seats, again, to the very religious Trimaris Coronation, which used the same ceremony structure as I did for the Eastern Coronation that same month. The words for how I felt watching that train wreck don’t exist. I wanted to chalk it up to Inter-Kingdom Anthropology, but when you get warnings on people the first week you live in-kingdom, the Spideysense tingles a bit hard, and I should have seen all this coming.

Anybody who is friends with me on Facebook, knows I’m actually some sort of fire elemental with a temper like Mt. Etna and enough heartburn for everybody. I also have zero tolerance for BS.

It was -my- Facebook page that his former majesty of Trimaris decided to use as his proving ground for baseless Nazi “jokes” a year ago. And I woke up to a barrage of DMs that made me wonder if somebody I knew died. Seriously. I was asleep the entire damn time, and it was my non-SCA friends who were in the fight.

Sure, blame it on them for instigating all you like, which I got, from a lot of people. Hell, I was victim-blamed enough myself, even from people I thought were my friends. And while I have a lot of friends that run the gamut of political opinion, I’m not a fan of the current hard right. When you start “joking” about treating liberals like Holocaust victims, I don’t care what kingdom you’re from, what your job is, or even if you’re Her Majesty Elizabeth II of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland, you’re toast. I am going to nuke you from orbit, and rightly so.

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And sure, you may come in here with your whataboutism and go “But Anna, what about the Alt-Left, they’re all ANTIFA and COMMUNISTS, AND SOCIALISTS AND-” And I will knock you down with every book on my shelf in the form of Chicago Manual of Style 17th Edition citations.

…So now’s a good time to talk about what I do. I’m a historian. A real one. Not just a hobbyist. Some of my projects from my previous employer have involved working directly on the cause and effect of fascism and anti-fascism movements in 1920s-1930s Italy and Germany. So when somebody plays the wingnutty crap on my social media, I tend to get a wee uppity. I can also go into a lengthy discussion on the differences between Marxism-Leninism, Stalinism, Maoism, and other examples of Communist regimes because that comes part and parcel with this whole focus on mid-20th Century history that I was doing for a while. (Hilarious for a Byzantinist, I know, but research and historical method don’t change. I also had excellent courses on this period as an undergrad that allowed me to have a springboard.) This is something I know A LOT about, and I also know that it hasn’t been communists sending me death threats.

What this king said was bad. What he was posting on his own account was bad. I didn’t even remember friending him, or why he decided to target one of my threads that specific day. It’s over now. And then Pennsic happened, and then the BOD did their thing, which is still a contended issue.

And then I was nominated to the Board of Directors, and am currently sitting on the list of other nominees wondering if my time is going to come around. It’s a thankless job, and people will hate me for it. I know I can’t go in there with an agenda, and nor do I plan to, but if my voice can be the slightest hint of change, then so be it.

Gieffrei and I refused to attend a single Trimaris event from then on out. We spent our entire last spring prepping for Pennsic as our only SCA involvement, which worked out, because I’m also a member of other clubs and it was nice to see something else for a change. I was reached out to by many Trimarian peers, and while they are all wonderful people with the truest intentions in mind, our hearts were broken. We wanted to be done. We wanted to get our citizenship back in the East, and go forth with that.

Our minds were actually changed at Pennsic by the then-heirs to Trimaris, who heard about my issue, and took the time to hear us out. We’d go to Fall Coronation, and see how it went. Honestly, I really enjoyed the break we had. I was gung-ho active in Caid for 2 years, and I needed a nap.

Jeff, on the other hand, being fresh off of a sea duty, wanted to hit everything he could before he got back to a boat and I didn’t see him again for another 3 years. I obliged him. I decided that we could start reentry by checking out the baronial chancery. I could get back into scribal, and he could meet others. This ended up getting him into scribal extremely hardcore, and he went from painting blanks with my gouache to taking off with my dry pigments and making his own paints for use on pergament in the span of about 2 weeks. My head spun.

We treated ourselves to a trip back up to the East Kingdom for Birka this last January, and it was a nice, fun, change of scenery. But I also found it made me dreadfully homesick upon coming back down to Trimaris after a scant 2 nights away in the frozen north. Jeff fulfilled his dream of chartering the Royal East Kingdom Moneyers Guild while living 1500 miles away, and I enjoyed catching up with friends.

Inter-Kingdom Anthropology between the East and Trimaris is pretty substantial, way more than I experienced in Caid. Every event down here is pretty much the same: you go to one of the three most commonly used sites, and there will be cabins/tents, fighting, fencing, something A&S, and a feast, so the scenery doesn’t really change. This is what works best for Trimaris, and I’m simply making my observation as an outsider. Coronation and Crown are 4 hours from where I live in the kingdom, and are at the same site, so you’re guaranteed to make that haul 4 times a year. My parents live 2 hours from site, so we’ve been able to work from there for a day trip until this weekend when we actually camped it. It’s a nice summer camp site, but provides little opportunity for the populace to bust out their good garb for coronation. If the climate won’t make you want to die in it, the dust will destroy it. It’s a minor detail for those that have lived down here their whole SCA career, but for someone like me with a closet full of fine silks and wools just waiting to be moth bait, it’s depressing. This isn’t anybody’s fault but my own, of course. It’s my wardrobe, and my variety of experience. It’s the price I pay to be a Navy spouse, you could say, but it doesn’t make me any less homesick if anything for the ability to wear something other than linen I can throw in the wash from my Pennsic wardrobe. Hell, even using the term “homesickness” is somewhat ironic in this sense, considering I grew up in Florida.

We were very much welcomed this weekend at Coronation, and apologized to frequently for last year’s explosion. But I still feel distant, and foreign. I’m not sure if the pilgrimage to Birka did this, or not. I think it was the concurrent ongoing of East Kingdom Coronation and getting those notifications popping up across social media at the same time I was elsewhere that may have done it. It’s hard to watch my friends assume the thrones of the East when we’re not in striking distance enough to help. When we can’t go to the events we were so accustomed to, and were looking forward to attended again before the Navy invested me as Baroness of the Alligators. It’s not that we’re not having fun, we are, and simultaneously can’t wait to leave in order to form the strangest collective of feelings one can feel at once. The folks we’ve fallen in with here in Castlemere are our kind of tribe, so at the very least, if we don’t make it down to the Crown site again, we can still have a good time up here.

I’m sure a lot of this is exacerbated by my inability to find work, my daily struggle with depression and anxiety, and my new friend fibromyalgia, who moved in several years ago, but didn’t get a name until recently. It’s making camping suck, which for me is horrid, beause I love camping events, I love our tents, and now I’m dreading being a physical burden on my husband and household at Pennsic should I have a kicker of a flare. I felt like hot garbage for a fair chunk of coronation, but did my best to not let it show. Nothing some Tylenol and a few cups of magic grape juice couldn’t at least distract me from.
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I also feel that the political climate being what it is, the upheavals across the society being what they are, are also a driving factor in my exhaustion. It did me little good to have last year drudged up again at Coronation, though I wholeheartedly accepted each and every apology given to me, because it is right to do so.

As a historian, I am beyond aggravated at these internet memes and “alternative facts” that support and drive white supremacy and Nazism into Medievalism. I want them out of my game and my life. Period. We’re always told that we should let peers do the work of dealing with such affronts, but I say, in this regard, that we’re all peers when it comes to striking down hate and dragging it out of our lives and our game. When we see something, we DO something. Period. We stop bad theater before it starts so nobody gets hurt making a bad choice, we catch bad behavior in action and deal with it accordingly before they ascend to the throne. No more casting the job off on somebody else based on a hierarchy that will get us a latte at Starbuck’s for $5. It is not “social justice” to want a club that has diversity and inclusion, especially when the periods we are representing WERE diverse. (HELLO The Byzantine Empire had an “Office of Ritual Brotherhood”, which may have been same-sex marriage, AND allowed and accepted transgender individuals to join their calling in the orthodox clergy and FFS there were African blacks in Europe that were NOT SLAVES.) There is enough counter-offensive on the internet now with sufficient documentation from us pros in the history biz to stop this cassarole of Nazi nonsense. I have a hard enough time taking them seriously when they show up dressed like Homer Simpson with tiki torches, but I’d be damned as hell if I let my grandparents’ bones turn in their graves further or the legacy of my husband’s career be diminished by allowing them to walk all over my hobby. We are an educational group, are we not? We do what we need to do in order to blare our ZERO TOLERANCE neon sign from on high and nip this junk in the bud before it blooms.

Despite my own exhaustion, I’m not leaving. I’m not going to quit and let the SCA turn into Uncle Hitler’s Charm School for Wayward Jaded White Men. I may be in pain, but I still have a lot of fight left, and if I gotta go, I’m going colorfully, and with lots of company. I’m sick of reading posts by other members who have had their hearts broken.

If my nomination to the BOD goes through, great. I will do what I can to make the SCA a better place. If I’m ever elevated to peerage, great, I will do what I can to make the SCA a better place, but my work should not be limited to if I achieve those positions.

This is going to take a village, a populace, and a knowne world.

Never Again. And not in my SCA.