A Threat to Paganism: How Small Dick Energy Is Killing Our Country
- marty mullenax
- Nov 4
- 4 min read
Across America, a storm is brewing — not a sacred tempest, but a man-made one fueled by fear, ignorance, and fragile ego.
Christian nationalism has become the latest disguise for an old disease: the lust for control dressed up as divine will. It’s an ideology that mistakes domination for devotion, tyranny for theology, and power for piety.
Let’s not mince words: Christian nationalism isn’t faith — it’s fascism with a cross around its neck.
And at its heart?
A deep insecurity.
The kind of small, trembling energy that wields religion like a weapon because it has nothing of the sacred left inside. The kind that measures its worth in laws passed, bodies controlled, and freedoms denied. That’s not holiness — that’s small dick energy in a pulpit.
Despite what revisionists claim, America was not founded as a Christian nation.
Thomas Jefferson wrote in his 1802 letter to the Danbury Baptists that the First Amendment built “a wall of separation between Church & State.”
James Madison, the chief architect of the Constitution, warned that the union of religion and government “is injurious to both.”
Even George Washington, in his letter to the Hebrew Congregation of Newport, declared that the U.S. government “gives to bigotry no sanction, to persecution no assistance.”
These weren’t godless men — they were spiritual thinkers who understood that faith and freedom cannot coexist under compulsion. They built a secular republic so that all beliefs — Christian, Pagan, Jewish, Muslim, atheist, and beyond — could flourish without fear.
Christian nationalism seeks to tear down that wall brick by brick. It is not patriotism; it is heresy against democracy itself.
Underneath the scripture and slogans, the Christian nationalist movement dreams of a theocracy — a nation where one narrow interpretation of Christianity dictates law, culture, and morality.
They want prayer mandated in public schools, Ten Commandments monuments on government property, and policy shaped by biblical literalism rather than evidence or empathy.
Recent years have seen this ideology go from fringe to front line:
Politicians openly declaring America a “Christian nation.”
Court rulings favoring one faith’s symbols in public schools and courthouses.
Attacks on reproductive rights, trans rights, and marriage equality — all justified by scripture.
Book bans and curriculum censorship targeting anything outside their moral comfort zone, from sex education to indigenous spirituality.
This is not about protecting religious freedom — it’s about enforcing religious dominance.
It’s about erasing everyone else’s gods, traditions, and voices until only their version of truth remains.
For modern Pagans, witches, Druids, polytheists, and spiritual independents, this fight isn’t theoretical.Our communities have already seen what happens when religion and government fuse — history calls it the Burning Times.
We know the danger of being labeled “other,” “heretic,” or “ungodly.”We’ve been here before.
The right to practice openly — to celebrate the solstices, teach metaphysics, register covens, or wear a pentacle at work — was hard-won. Pagan veterans fought for years to have the pentacle recognized as a valid religious emblem on military headstones. It took ten years and countless lawsuits before that small symbol of faith was approved in 2007.
Now, Christian nationalism threatens to undo decades of progress.If one religion becomes the law, all others become crimes. And when theocrats write policy, the Pagan becomes the scapegoat — again.
This isn’t paranoia. It’s history repeating itself in new robes.
The scariest part of Christian nationalism isn’t its open aggression — it’s the way it disguises oppression as righteousness. It preaches “family values” while breaking up families of different faiths.It cries “religious freedom” while trying to outlaw every religion but its own. It waves the Bible like a weapon, but ignores its teachings on compassion, humility, and justice.
And yet, this isn’t real strength. Real faith doesn’t need to silence others to feel secure. Real spirituality doesn’t fear diversity — it revels in it.
The truth is, Christian nationalism is powered by fear: fear of change, fear of equality, fear of losing power in a world that’s evolving beyond their control.
It’s the spiritual equivalent of a toddler tantrum — loud, self-righteous, and deeply insecure.
That’s the essence of “small dick energy”: a desperate need to dominate because you no longer know how to inspire.
So what do we do about it?
We don’t hide our altars.
We don’t whisper our prayers.
We don’t apologize for honoring many gods, many paths, and many truths.
We practice radical pluralism — the belief that every faith, every gender, every voice deserves space to exist.We build interfaith alliances with Christians, Muslims, Jews, atheists, and others who understand that secular governance protects everyone.We speak up when school boards try to sneak religion into classrooms, when politicians invoke God to strip away rights, and when fear masquerades as holiness.
And yes — we vote, we organize, and we teach our children that freedom isn’t inherited; it’s defended.The separation of church and state isn’t anti-religion. It’s what allows religion to be real — freely chosen, not forced. Without that wall, faith becomes a prison.
Christian nationalism isn’t just a political battle — it’s a spiritual one.
It asks each of us what kind of world we’re willing to live in: one of fear, conformity, and hierarchy, or one of diversity, freedom, and growth.
As Pagans, we honor balance — sun and shadow, male and female, order and chaos.
But there is no balance in tyranny. There is no sacredness in supremacy.
So light your candles.
Call your ancestors.
Speak the truth, even when it shakes the walls of power.
Because the small-minded, small-hearted forces trying to remake this country in their image may be loud — but they are few. And like all brittle things that mistake control for courage, they will eventually shatter under the weight of their own fear.
The Goddess endures.
The Earth endures.
Freedom endures — if we choose to protect it.
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