No one can say that pagans don't have a sense of humor about their polytheistic traditions, which were on display yesterday for Pagan Pride Day on the Tidal Basin.
"We're out of the broom closet," said Rosemary Kooiman, a self-described witch and the 74-year-old high priestess of the Nomadic Chantry of the Gramarye in Mitchellville.
It was a joke repeated more than once, and next to the "Not All Witches Are From Salem" T-shirt, it was about the height of humor among the 100 or so pagans who set up their fall harvest celebration steps from the Franklin D. Roosevelt Memorial.
But after the chuckling was over, the pagans had plenty more to say -- about their faith and about their place in a country where for most people there is but one God.
"It's difficult, because anything people do not understand, they fear," Kooiman said.
Paganism is a religious movement rooted in nature and encompassing a range of magical, polytheistic faiths, such as druidism and Wicca, the tradition that Kooiman works out of.
A slight, weathered woman, she was hard not to notice, even among the eclectic outfits of many of the pagans. She wore a jeweled crown, an amber necklace and a pentagram ring representing earth, air, fire, water and spirit. Below her right shoulder is a tiny tattoo of the word "Witch."
Five years ago, Kooiman fought a Fairfax County judge who would not allow her to marry a Virginia couple. She lost, but her willingness to stand up for her faith is a source of pride among local pagans.
"Being pagan isn't really hard," said Balu, an Alexandria man who is the assistant chief of the Sankey Tribe and who declined to give his full name, explaining that he goes by one name in spiritual matters. "It's getting recognition and having others recognize that I have a faith -- rather than religion -- and that it's a legitimate faith."
Indeed, many of the dozen or so pagan groups that gathered yesterday, from SpiralHeart to HearthStone Paths, are quick to point out their nonprofit status, a cherished, if less than spiritual, sign of legitimacy, courtesy of the IRS.
On a tree-shaded field, groups laid out literature under tents and gathered in circles to dance and pray, giving thanks for the food and water that the earth had given them.
"Love, love, love, love. . . . Life, life, life, life. . . . Love life, love life, love life," they chanted to the beat of drums.
Even with the rain, the event was more festive than solemn. "One thing you will notice is that when we worship, we have a lot of fun," said Sherry Marts, a board member of the Open Hearth Foundation, which organized the event, now in its third year.
Many came dressed in jeans and T-shirts, but others were in flamboyant outfits. Eric Riley, known among pagans as Fritter, wore only a sequined skirt, the sequins fashioned from CDs.
"We like to dress up and have fun," said Riley, a member of the D.C. Radical Faeries, a group that describes itself as "promoting earth-based religions and interfaith religion."
And for hours they did, even as the showers persisted, only hours later giving way to sun.
"Being a part of nature's religion," said one of the organizers, Eric Eldritch, "you don't worry much about the rain."