“Coming out” is a phrase you tend to hear more in the LGBTQ+ community. It’s an apt description, and it’s not just exclusive to our queer brethren and sistren. Coming out can describe the act of revealing any hidden aspect of yourself, not just your sexual orientation or gender identity. As a straight, cisgendered woman, I never thought I would have to “come out.” But when I decided to follow Satanism, I quickly realized I had a choice to make: I could hide it from my friends and family, or I could come out and be open about it.
As it is in the LGBTQ+ community, coming out as a Satanist is a deeply personal act. Sometimes, it can come with severe consequences. People in your life might not be as open-minded as they seem, and if you live in an area dominated by the church, you could face social ostracization. Some people have been reported to CPS, and some people have even had their jobs threatened. I once had a customer at work try to convince my coworkers and a supervisor that I drank human blood and sacrificed animals. Fortunately, my coworkers knew better than to take any of that seriously. Nothing came of it, but if the wrong person caught wind of that, I could have easily lost my job.
Coming out as a Satanist isn’t a requirement. I understand that there are circumstances when doing so might not be safe, and I don’t want to encourage anyone who doesn’t feel comfortable to do it. For me, my Satanism is an integral part of who I am, and pretending I’m someone I’m not doesn’t sit well with me. Living an authentic life is important to me, and part of that is being “out” as a Satanist.
That being said, I came out as a Satanist not long after I decided it was the path I wanted to follow. I became a Satanist in June 2017. I stayed in the closet about it for all of like a month. I didn’t give an official announcement or anything—I just wore my Sigil of Baphomet in public and started sharing Satanic links and posts on Facebook. The only people who got anything like a formal announcement from me were my two roommates at the time, who also happened to be my closest friends at the time. It wasn’t much of an announcement, either. One day, I simply asked, “Hey guys, what do you think of me being a Satanist?”
Their response was basically, “Yaas, queen, do it!”
So I did it.
Even though I didn’t give a formal “coming out” announcement, I still ended up having serious conversations about my Satanism with some of my family members, especially my mother and my two younger brothers.
My mom’s reaction actually surprised me. Before then, I’d always seen her as fairly open-minded. She was also the one person in my family I could count on to advocate for me when it mattered most, and I assumed this would be no different.
Well, we know what happens when we assume shit.
I was indeed made an ass. Mom wasn’t interested in why I made the choices I made, or what it was even about. She instead took my Satanism as a personal attack against her faith. It’s been a few years, so I don’t remember her exact words, but the gist was, “I love you, but I can’t support this.” I’m fortunate that she wasn’t so close-minded as to cut me off entirely, but I would be lying if I said it didn’t hurt. I’ve since come to the realization that I don’t need her support in this, but our relationship has nevertheless changed. We’re not as close as we once were, and I’m less eager to share what’s going on in my life with her.
My conversation with my brothers was a little more formal than the one with my mom. Whereas my coming out conversation with my mom happened over a visit in her living room, I came out as a Satanist to my brothers in a restaurant. My youngest brother was back in town from med school, so the three of us went out for wings. While we were catching up, I told them about the choice I’d made.
The youngest brother asked a few clarifying questions, but he otherwise didn’t care as long as I wasn’t trying to force anything on him. The middle brother, on the other hand, had a similar reaction to my mother’s.
To be fair, pushback from my middle brother was completely expected. He’s the preacher of the family, so of course, he would be dismayed to find that his sister had “turned away from Christ.” His reaction was to argue about it. He asked a lot of questions, but none of them were genuine. He was pulling the old Evangelical trick of trying to “save” me by coming at me with hostility. Later that year, as we were driving down to Houston to visit our brother in the hospital after a near-fatal accident, he told me that, like my mother, he wasn’t interested in learning about my new belief system.
Surprisingly, out of my immediate family, my dad is the only one who hasn’t said anything about my Satanism. He was the one I clashed with the most growing up regarding religion, so I fully expected him to have the most to say about it. But so far, I’ve never had any conversations with my dad about why I left Christianity or what drew me to Satanism. As far as I’m aware, my dad, who was raised as a Southern Baptist, doesn’t have any problem with me being a Satanist (or at least not any that he’s brought to my attention).
As far as my extended family goes, not many of them have had much to say about me coming out as a Satanist. I’m sure I’ve been blocked on social media by an aunt or a cousin I don’t actually talk to, but nobody I talk with regularly or actually respect has had any problems. A great aunt once told me that I’ve always marched to the beat of my own drum in response to me coming out as a Satanist, and I’m choosing to believe that was a genuine comment rather than a backhanded compliment. Another cousin messaged me on Facebook with questions about it—real ones, not the ones my brother asked that were meant to make me second-guess myself. It was a nice conversation, seeing as how we don’t see each other very often.
Despite a couple of setbacks within my immediate family, most of my friends have been supportive. Makes sense, considering I’d always been Satanic-adjacent before I took the plunge. I tend to associate more with the outsiders anyway, so most of my friends were not surprised when I came out as a Satanist. There was a little pushback, though. One of my old high school friends got caught talking about me behind my back and was promptly shut down by one of my staunchest supporters. There was another incident when I was excluded from some plans my core group of friends were making because of my new religion. That group included those two roommates I first came out to as a Satanist, and that situation is exactly the reason we’re no longer roommates. I understand why they excluded me from those plans, but that doesn’t necessarily make the pain of being excluded by people I thought supported me any more tolerable. Though I’m still a member of that friend group, I’ve withdrawn somewhat, sticking to the periphery rather than putting myself in the core where I’m clearly not wanted.
I’m fully aware that I’m more privileged than many other Satanists, in that coming out as one hasn’t completely burned any bridges I’ve been actively trying to maintain. But that doesn’t mean I haven’t felt the flames. I don’t regret coming out as a Satanist, but one of the consequences of doing so is that many of my relationships have changed, and not all of them for the better. But that doesn’t mean they’ve all changed for the worse. I was upfront about my Satanism when I met my now-fiancé, and that was one of the things we connected over. My best friend from high school is even more protective of me than she used to be since I came out as a Satanist.
If you’re a closeted Satanist and thinking of coming out, the thing to remember is that Satan makes a lot of people—even people you otherwise believe to be open-minded—extremely uncomfortable. And when people get uncomfortable, they get defensive. If you’re serious about coming out as a Satanist, there’s a high likelihood you’re going to lose people in some capacity. Maybe not entirely, but you might not be as close with some of your friends and family. I don’t have very many tips for coming out as a Satanist or explaining Satanism to religious relatives, but I do have one bit of advice: keep it to a small group of friends and family you trust most, at least at first. Build that support system, and then let the whole fucking world know.
Playing With Demons 