How I Became A Teenage Devil Worshipper Without Really Trying

Back when I was starting high school, in the fall of 1987, it was pretty much a disaster.  The high school I was headed for was known in New York City as a “zoned” school, Bryant High School, which is a school for kids in the neighborhood that can’t get into any of the better schools (in NYC, you can apply to "good" high schools like college). Zoned schools had to take you. 

Pictured: An 80s fashion plate.

So, I was thrust into a zoo of a school that was very dangerous in the midst of the 80s in NYC. I was 14 and coming from a relatively safe school where kids didn't carry knives or follow you home from school to kick your ass. 

In order to survive, I transformed myself.  I became a “metal head”, black hair, black eye liner, the works.  I hung with the metal crowd, got into metal music and built my defenses.  I also learned the art of truancy and ditched the year.  The. Whole. Year. I shit you not.  I embraced the metal/goth culture and still listen to the music, have skull jewelry and band shirts. However, my hair style and makeup skills have improved substantially. 

After my failed freshman year in Bryant and a summer of trouble, my Grandma and Mother decided to enroll me into an all-girls Catholic school, St. Michael’s Academy, in the hopes I would straighten out my act. I agreed...what the hell? At least I wouldn't get stabbed in the bathroom.

In September 1988, I transferred, made friends and did well.  I actually attend due to the fact that my Grandma was paying for this school and I didn't want  to waste her money. My grades were good and although I was smoking in the girls room  and drinking beer on weekends, I wasn’t doing much more than any other kids my age.  (Except being guilty of shitty fashion sense.)  Sadly, in October of 1988, my Uncle died at the age of 33 after a lifelong struggle with drug addiction. My Grandma and Mother had to bury him less than a year after my Grandpa’s death.

 

It was the 80s and Heavy Metal music was under fire (thank you, Tipper Gore), which started what is now historically known as the "Satanic Panic".  It was on the news, in the papers, on the radio, everywhere, there were warnings to parents.  The were accusations that if you played the theme song to the 50s TV show Mr. Ed, it had a secret satanic message.

Hail Satan....? More like Hail Aqua Net.

Heavy Metal's Hero?

Also, and I remember this clearly, Geraldo Rivera had just aired a special called   "Geraldo Rivera's Devil Worship - Exposing Satan's Underground" (I would highly suggest watching this hilarious garbage that shows just how scummy Rivera is) just days before, and it was sensationalistic journalism at it's mustachioed finest, complete with the monotone speaking daughter of the founder of Church of Satan, Zeena LeVay, sounding like she'd taken too much Xanax that day (she's now a Buddhist), metal rocker King Diamond in full, KISS wanna-be make-up, and  a babbling, bleached blonde Ozzy Osbourne trying to defend himself. 

Someone must have been watching in the Rectory, took the ball and ran with it.  This was at a time when parents accused heavy metal bands of subliminal messages, sued them when their kids committed suicide and rallied for warning labels on albums. Heavy Metal was Public Enemy Number One and would make your kids slaves of Satan! (In hindsight, I'd like to sue Heavy Metal bands for influencing me to have really, really shitty hairstyles.)  So, it started a panic in the school among the staff.  Literally.

Da fuq?

Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, Year: NEVER

A few days after that special, I was summoned to the principal's office. The nuns sat there, straight faced, accusing me of having a witch's altar in my locker, sacrificing animals, pretty much accusing me of everything, verbatim that was discussed on the Geraldo special (I wish I were making this up).  I was also accused of self mutilation, because of a really nasty cut I gave myself on my upper thigh shaving my legs. 

They went down a checklist of supposed behavior I was exhibiting that was discussed, point for point, on the special. (I did listen to King Diamond's  theatrical "Satanist" music, but only to piss my mother off. In hindsight, he was actually a terrible, terrible musician.) 

They then forced me to sign an agreement, without a parent present, that I wouldn't hang any posters in my locker or wear metal shirts on dress down Fridays (this didn't apply to anyone else). 

Apparently that wasn't good enough for the school, so my mother got a call from the principal’s office at school to come in for a meeting.  (I was doing well at school and not causing any trouble, by the way. If anything I was known for breaking up fistfights because that was automatic expulsion.)  My Grandma went with her because she was paying for school, and I was called to the office when they arrived.  

The kindly, godly nuns sat down my Mother and Grandma, who had just buried my Uncle (and the faculty was well aware of that fact) and kindly accused me of being a Devil Worshipper.  My mom sat there, pretty much mute, while my poor Grandma cried because they were threatening to kick me out.  

 

I, on the other hand, spoke out and argued back with them, invited them to go check my locker for this altar and was livid at the implication that I would harm any animal. (I've been an animal lover since I was born and now rescue them...dressed in black, wearing skull jewelry.)

I was also enraged that they even spotted the cut on my thigh which was very high up, that was caused due to my inexperienced teenage hands shaving my legs (young women tend to Wolverine themselves when they first start shaving) and accused them of inappropriate behavior.  My Mother numbly agreed to their inane demands and I was from that day forward branded a witch and devil worshipper in school. Oh, and they would be "watching me".  

THANKS, ASSHOLE!

Saved me from a few asskickings.

It worked to my advantage though, in a small way, since it was the 80's and race relations in NYC were really, really bad. The school was predominately Black and it wasn't uncommon for white girls to get jumped after school for some minor altercation that happened in school.  

When word spread of my new label and everyone that might want to kick my ass steered clear of me because they were afraid that I actually was some sort of witch.  (NYC girls fought and fought hard in the 80s, no matter what school or demographic.). 

When I went to the bathroom to smoke a cigarette, it cleared out of girls in other grades or ones that didn't know me well. I did have friends, quite a few at that, but there was a very discernible racial divide in the school. I was also able to intervene on my friend's behalves on many occasions.  

Still, I went on.  I continued to do well in school despite the suspicious glares from the nuns. I lasted another year and a half there until I eventually dropped out of the school, not due to bad grades, pregnancy, drugs or anything else, but simply because I was tired of the faculty’s bullshit.  

Everything I did, every paper or book report I wrote, was analyzed for “suspicious” elements, Stephen King novel I was reading at lunch (that my mother had read and passed on to me, as was her habit) was snatched from my hands. I was told is sounded "satanic", to which I responded they should call my mother and ask her how it ended because she read it first.

  

I eventually just couldn't function as a student in a literal “Witch Hunt” environment, being singled out, spied on and unable to freely learn, so I left. My exit was very dramatic. I went to school that day dressed in everything they'd banned plus my motorcycle jacket. I took all of my textbooks and barged into each classroom in the middle of a session, stomped up to the teacher's desk and dropped the book loudly on her desk. I then waved goodbye to the other students.

So much for the Catholic church and embracing love and charity and all that crap.

BURN HER!

Looking back, had my Mother been in her right frame of mind (as she mentioned later on in life) she rightly could have sued the school.  They were victimizing a 15 year old who had lost a family member, had a best friend in the hospital (my best friend and classmate was diagnosed with Cancer that year as well) and accusing me of friggin' witchcraft.  

Had my Mother sued, I might be writing this from a house in Malba on a brand new Macbook pro that I paid for with my structured settlement from the Archdiocese of New York City rather than a basement apartment in Astoria on a six year old Dell with a missing "e" key.

Such are the wonder years of a Devil Worshipping Witch.

Me on a weekend.