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I was born on October 30th- I tell my friends that the universe knew I needed to be both a Halloween baby and a Libra so it split the difference. My childhood was generic princess costume, ancient Greek princess costume, and culturally appropriative princess costume. My dad watched with pride when I learned how to whistle like him during one cold night of trick-or-treating. I remember a full orange moon – orange from pollution he told me. Neighborhood teens jettisoned pumpkins up and down the street in a way that bordered on violence in front of our house with a bullet lodged in the siding we never knew from where.
At nine years old I said I wanted to be a witch for Halloween- my mom grimaced. Instead I went to our church harvest party as Queen Esther, the harem wife of the Bible whose humble desire is the hanging of Haman. We received candy out the backs of pickup trucks.
A few years later my mom met a Wiccan who celebrated the day and Halloween was banned from our lives completely. Or maybe she heard second hand of this Wiccan from my ballet teacher. My dad kept a candy bowl full during late October.
Each year I receive a few birthday texts in November- we had
delayed my parties to avoid Halloween. I spent my October days staring out of
windows longing to freeze my nose off getting shitty candy I’d someday throw
away.
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