Who is Joaquín?

Jaqui Lokadottir

Joaquín, in one of their more femme moments, back when they had hair.

Why, hello there. I’m Joaquín Lokabarn (Jaqui on femme days), and this blog is where I talk religion, spirituality, and — very rarely — politics.

I’m AFaB, genderfluid, and bisexual with a leaning towards other AFaB folks. “Queer” sums me up really well, actually.

I answer to gender-neutral pronouns: they/them/themself.

Religiously, I identify as Rökkatru. I’m pretty firmly polytheistic — archetypes are great and all, but I think the gods are Bigger Than That, and I also think that while everything might be part of a still larger Divinity on a cosmic level, Odin is no more Hermes than I am Lady Gaga. If people aren’t interchangeable, neither are gods.

My religious beliefs are shaped by both lore and personal gnosis, so you should not take my beliefs as emblematic of All Heathens Everywhere, or even all Rökkatru folk. If I say something that resonates with you, feel free to use it and distribute it with credit. If I say something that sounds like I’ve pulled it out of my ass, ignore it. If I say something blatantly offensive, call me on it.

I’ve majored in history, worked in phone sex and tech support and telemarketing (I am so sorry for that last one), and had the standard crappy fast-food jobs. When I was still living in New Orleans, I read tarot in the French Quarter, and I still offer readings online. I write stories and hope one day someone will pay money for them.

I’m fat. I’m also big-boned, and there are, in fact, muscles under all this padding, but none of those things change the fact that I’m fat. I do not like the BBW label. I’m fat. That’s it. I’m trying to get healthier, and get my body to the point where it can do the things I want it to, but I may never be skinny, and I’m learning to be okay with that, though it’s often hard going.

I used to smoke. I don’t anymore (thank you for that, Lady Hela), though sometimes I miss clove cigarettes desperately, and I adore the smell of pipe tobacco. I hate beer, but love vodka, tequila, and hard cider. I read a lot and can be found doing tabletop roleplaying of one form or other several times a week. I’m addicted to stories and spend more money on books than I really should.

I’m mentally ill (bipolar type II, anxiety, PTSD) and taking medication for it, and I deeply resent it when people think this means any religious insights I might have are invalid because of it. This is a good way to get banned from commenting. Another good way to get banned is to tell me how awful psychiatric medication is, and how it’s making me less creative/psychic/genuinely myself.

You know what really made me less creative, psychic, and genuinely myself? Depressive episodes and anxiety so intense that simple things like showering and leaving the house seemed impossible. Not to mention it gets really hard to hear gods and spirits when they’re drowned out by the inner monologue listing all the reasons I’m worthless and should die. My meds quiet the jerkbrain down enough that a religious practice is possible.

Being genuinely myself is the entire reason this blog exists: because the stories we tell help shape the reality we live in, and people who aren’t represented in the most common stories tend to feel alienated and alone. The more members of marginalized groups tell our stories, the more room we make in our culture for others like us.

Perhaps this blog will get me fired one day. Perhaps this will keep me from getting hired at a place that would otherwise take me if my potential future employers really do their homework. (Hi, potential future employers! I’m pretty weird, huh?) But you know what? I really don’t do well in closets. This is who I am, and the more I try and hide that, the unhappier I get. Not worth it.

I’m not interested in forcing anyone else out of their closets — closets are nice, safe places, and I don’t blame anyone for wanting or needing to stay in one, especially when coming out can get you killed in many cases. But I find it vital to my own well-being to stand up and go, “Hey, people like me exist.”

So yeah. That’s me. I exist. Now I’m gonna get down from my soapbox and get back to writing.

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