Pride and the Black Madonna

 

A Madonna between two male figures. A knotwork heart in the background
Our Lady of Montevergine by Anna Hopkinson

Please note: This article does not intend to appropriate the lived experience of Black or Romani people, gay men or traditional Third Genders. Please read the linked articles for wider perspectives.

Night was drawing on fast, and with it temperatures none could survive. The ground was covered in a crust of snow. The lovers’ extremities began to turn blue. By morning, if the wolves didn’t hurry, early walkers would find two bodies encased in blocks of ice.

But it was not the wolves who came.

It was the Madonna.

The Black Madonna, they called her. Our Lady of the Shadow-Side.

 It’s Pride Month and - aside from posting rainbows and reminders that the A in LGBTQIA+ isn’t silent - I’m crowdfunding a book of Diverse & Inclusive Saints called Legends from Lindisfarne. 

One of the most obviously Pride-centred stories in the book is called “Our Lady of Montevergine: Affirmer of Same Sex Couples”. It’s a retelling of a medieval legend about a Black Madonna, who protects a gay couple from persecution. This particular Madonna is revered annually at Candlemass (2nd February) by the Feminelli, the traditional Third Gender of Naples. Read more here. 

Interestingly, the Feminelli trace their roots back to the Galli, the eunuch priests of Cybele, who I wrote about in Asexual Myths & Tales. Cybele/Kybele was a Phrygian goddess, who became known in the Roman Empire as the Great Mother. It is possible that she symbolised Mother Earth itself.



A snake eating it’s own tail; a pine tree in the centre
Attis & the Priests of Cybele by Anna Hopkinson

Black Madonnas

There are hundreds of Black Madonna images in churches and shrines around Europe - and beyond. As well as challenging the whiteness of much historic Christian imagery (the imagery of the coloniser, rather than the Biblical, Middle-Eastern Jesus, Mary and the apostles) Black Madonnas form a link between the Christian faith and older religions.

I recently learned about the Romani saint/goddess Kali-Sara. In Provençal legend, Sara is the Egyptian maid of the Three Maries.

This legend mentions Sarah, a Black Egyptian servant who accompanied the three Maries and who sustained them while they were spreading the Gospel by travelling around begging alms. Another legend claims that Sarah, the Egyptian, spread her cloak on the water when the boat was in danger of sinking, thus enabling the three (now two) Maries to reach land safely. A Romani folk legend claims that Sarah was the “queen” of a Romani group living in the area when the three Maries arrived who became baptised and taught her people Christianity.

It’s also believed this revered figure is an aspect of the Hindu goddess Kali. (The Romani trace their roots back to India). Kali is a Black Goddess, a mother goddess who is often seen as a goddess of death, but actually brings about the death of the ego and illusory self-centredness.

This is the imagery of the Black Madonna, the Lady of the Dark Mysteries.

In “We need images of the Black Madonna more now than ever”, Brother Mickey McGrath, an oblate of St Francis de Sales, writes: 

Archetypally speaking, the blackness of black Madonnas is symbolically linked to creativity and newness, to welcoming the darkness while seeking the light, to embracing mystery. Mary’s blackness reminds us of the rich, fertile soil in which we scatter the seeds of new dreams and possibilities. Hers is the cosmic blackness of the night sky and the ever-expanding universe. It is the darkness of the womb, the “maternal womb of mercy,”

A Black Madonna in red & gold on a black background
The Queen of the Universe Tends her Sacred Flame by Shiloh Sophia McCloud

 Above is my favourite image of the Madonna, by Shiloh Sophia McCloud. I have a copy of this at my desk. Read more here.

The Black Madonna and Pride

Just from this article, we can see that the Black Madonna - with her many faces and names - is a comforting and empowering figure, with whom we can journey into the darkness and the chaos of the earth/womb, to face the pain, grief and outrage we feel for ourselves and for the world. And there is much to feel pain about, from the Israel/Palestine situation to climate crisis to increasing prejudice against trans people.

It seems fitting, then, that she should be a champion of same-sex couples and traditional Third Genders, and all oppressed minorities, as Kali-Sara is a champion of the Romani. The Progress Pride Flag reminds us of our intersectionality, and that a Pride that isn’t inclusive of all is worthless.

Progress Pride Flag

I think the Black Madonna is a perfect symbol to hold onto this Pride Month. And I’m proud to be telling just one of her stories, among 18 other stories of diverse & inclusive saints from history and legend. From a refugee accused of being a werewolf, to a trans monk in 3rd-century Lebanon. From a Glastonbury brother with dwarfism to a Saxon cowherd with social anxiety. From a Victorian Vicar who dressed as a mermaid to an actual mermaid saint.

I really hope you will support my project. These stories need to be told. Pledging for the book costs £10 plus shipping. If you can’t afford that, there is a Special Pride Pack for £4. For this, you will get an illustrated PDF of “Our Lady of Montevergine” and “Marinos: The Trans Monk” to read before anyone else.


I will leave you with the song “Black Madonna” by Soyinka Rahim.



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