Witches, Bitches, & Whores Get A New Patron Saint In This Queer Author

Ani Ferlise by Rashelle Palmer

Join Ferlise on a divinely raw and darkly hilarious journey through modern spirituality in an attempt to quiet her demons.

On a balmy night a decade ago, I asked a hot girl to light my cigarette in a Long Island, New York parking lot. I thought she looked like a rocker version of Mila Kunis.  Since then, we’ve been inseparable best friends, dancing in each other’s flame and alienating everyone around us with our lowest-of-the-lowbrow sense of humor. Ani Ferlise has become my Joan of Arc in false lashes and rhinestone cowgirl boots, and as soon as I looked into her smokey eyes, I knew she had a story to tell.

Now, the Brooklynite’s true story is ready to unfold in front of the masses with the launch of her debut memoir, “Messy Bitch Magic.” Early in pre-sales, she shot to #22 on Amazon’s LGBTQ+ Biography Bestsellers, before her official launch Tuesday, February 28.

 

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What is spirituality for the ones who find God on the dance floor? What does ascension look like when you’re the kind of person who knows more about pasta than meditation? And how are you supposed to love yourself, when you can’t even figure out who you’re supposed to be? These are the questions that Ani asks in “Messy Bitch Magic,” as she navigates the decade-long dark night of the soul leading to her Saturn Return. Her journey includes an apprenticeship with a sadistic witch, a priestess weekend, and a visit to Mt. Shasta, where she finally (sort of?) gets to speak to God. And through it all, she doom-scrolls social media while snot-crying into her blankie.

A coming-of-age and coming-out tale, “Messy Bitch Magic” is one hell of a ride and I’m not afraid to admit I have a built-in bias here. To prove her talent, though, my editor had me sit down with my best friend (the debut author) and talk it out. We sat down across from each other, at our lighted vanities, grooming ourselves with various TikTok-influenced gadgets, and enjoying the comfortable silence cradled within our pink fluffy walls. (Did I mention we live together in an over-the-top decorated duplex in Williamsburg? We’ve come a long way from our college dorms.) Today, Ani’s space, and mine, has 70s on 7 (the Sirius XM radio station that plays 197os classics) constantly bellowing from an electric jukebox. Our shelves, much like Whitman’s soul, contain multitudes: vintage “Playboy,” books of poetry, a crochet vagina, a crystalized penis-shaped lamp, classic rock records, Sonny and Cher Barbie dolls, Lana Del Rey prayer candles, onyx black panthers figurines, and Moet chalices.

Every morning usually starts with us sharing our every thought (I think I’m going to start wearing blush, what do you think? / Have you been constipated lately? / Are you afraid of death?) but today she’s a debut queer memoirist.

Ani is wearing an orange bra top with matching bell bottoms, her long black hair clipped in her signature half-up half-down style. Even lounging on our couch, sipping an oat milk macchiato, she is serving ’70s glam. But don’t let Ani’s hot-girl presence fool you: she is a certified priestess (literally), and her wisdom spills onto every page of “Messy Bitch Magic.”

GO Magazine: How does your journey of spirituality tie in with queerness?

Ani Ferlise: The path of spirituality, I think, in its essence, is queer. Queerness and spirituality go hand in hand because it is your own unique relationship to yourself and whatever God you believe in. Just as we express ourselves in our relationships and in our style, we [express ourselves] in spirituality. I like to say, ‘God has a sense of humor that only I would get.’ And I think that’s with everybody. We tend to think of God and spirituality – that we have to act a certain way. I call it M’ladying the divine because we start using words that we never do. We’re like, ‘Our Father who art in heaven.’ Things like that. But to have this relationship with spirituality that is so candid and expressive and so uniquely you is the most magical thing.

GO Magazine: So it’s more accessible?

I think it’s just as sacred and divine to talk to God like you’re a cast member on Jersey Shore than to also have these deep, meaningful prayers. It’s sacred to have a raw conversation around a dinner table. And rawness doesn’t always mean serious and confessional. It can mean silly. It can mean weird and wonderful. And all of the things that you would find in queer spaces, especially that kind of breaking away from how we think we should act, can be embraced more in spirituality. Does that make sense?

GO: Yeah, I think it’s really ironic that there’s something kind of religious about being queer, even though there seems to be a huge disconnect from religion and queerness– and a lot of trauma there for a lot of people. Speaking of queerness and religion, in your book, you talk a lot about finding God on the dance floor. Nightlife is so important to queer people especially. Can you talk more about that?

AF: There’s this one scene where I am on the dance floor and this human comes up to me and starts twirling me around and we’re just dancing. It was one of the most profound moments because it was everything that I was training to do that happened so organically. And it was, partially because [of my spiritual training] but also just being lost in the moment with somebody. I think that there is, especially in queer spaces, this ability and desire for connection in a way that I haven’t seen in other spaces.

GO: Yes, I love that.

AF: It’s one of the most sacred places I’ve ever been to. Nightlife was always where queer people who have historically been very othered and very ostracized and treated very poorly were able to fully connect. And so there’s this reverence that I have for those spaces. I think everybody who enters those spaces, for the most part, has a kind of awe of the people that came before us, that we’re able to do this. It’s so magical to be able to walk into a space and know that you’re connecting with something bigger than yourself.

GO: I love that you write in the present tense throughout your whole book. What was it like, accessing moments you’ve never talked about and writing about them with such closeness and immediacy?

AF: Shitting. Throwing up, crying. Just kidding. Not really. It was really interesting. I rewrote the book, like, three times because the first time, I was trying to remember everything while also having to protect identities and collapse timelines. The second time was feeling all of the emotions that I thought that I felt but I actually didn’t feel until I was, like, in it. And then the third time, when I really went back in and I could see more clearly, it became more of a balanced storytelling approach.

GO: Yeah.

AF: At one point you’re like, oh, shit, I did that. That’s me. I’m the problem. It’s me. And it’s a way to digest your life experiences in such a close and personal way. They say when you die, your whole life flashes before your eyes. This is kind of like a long, intense version of that. Very humbling and very intense, but the most powerful thing I’ve ever done. It took fucking guts. It was like all of the things that I was so scared to have people find out about me for such a long time. These dark thoughts that I would have that would rule my life, my experiences that I kept so locked up and close to the chest. It’s so liberating, not just for me, but for everyone. Like, when I was working with clients, everyone had so much shame around what they’ve done and the things they’ve said. What if we just actually put it all out there because we’re so connected in the things that we keep so locked up? The thing that liberates shame is connection.

GO: This is your first published work. Why now?

AF: I found that everyone was preaching at me all of the time. And this book was originally going to be kind of like a self-help-y kind of book. And I realized storytelling is so powerful, it’s way more terrifying, but way more powerful to actually embody the lesson rather than talk about the lesson. When I have read a story or heard a story about someone who’s experienced something that I carried shame about, it is so fucking healing. And the art of storytelling has been so sacred cross-culturally forever. My intention with this book was not really to teach, but to connect. And the time was now, because I don’t see a lot of that happening. I see a lot of bullet point lists on Instagram of 10 ways X, Y, and Z. I don’t want humanity to be boiled down into a list. I want to show the full scope of things. When I see someone really owning themselves, a part of me comes alive and I learn and connect so much deeper. I feel that raw connection. This is all to say, the time was now. Right now, we need connection more than logic.

GO: And there’s value in everyone’s story, too.

AF: I truly don’t believe in the word basic. Like, I have never once met someone who did not blow me away when they started telling their story. And that’s something I also tried to highlight in the book, even with the DL spiritual frat bros.

GO: Yeah, I completely agree.  I think it’s also way more interesting to read a story than be told something.

AF: Well, yeah. It’s kind of like saying, like, you should just smile when you’re really depressed. You know what I mean? Like, just smile. Look at yourself in the mirror and dance.

GO: Nothing will make you want to fucking kill yourself more than looking in the mirror and trying to dance in the deep depths of depression. I tried it, it’s demoralizing.

AF: Exactly. And this is the whole point. Think about when you’re in the depths and someone comes up and they just tell you the story [of when they tried to do that] and they felt like the biggest asshole of all time.

GO: That’s way more healing and funny.

AF: It’s especially the reason why I brought humor to this book. A lot of the time, this work is so serious. I don’t believe in evil, but I believe in laughing in the face of evil. And there’s a reason why a lot of people who have experienced hard things can be very funny.

GO: This book is absolutely fucking uproariously funny. I was pissing, screaming, and laughing. Samantha Irby is probably the only other writer that makes me actually laugh out loud instead of just, thinking to myself, oh that’s funny

AF: Thank you.

GO: Your story is absolutely spellbinding — between frank discussions of sexual abuse, to your apprenticeship with an actual witch, getting baptized by a snake, sleeping alone atop Mt Shasta, and becoming a priestess. Talk about writing inspiration.

AF: This is the first time I’ve actually written dialogue and gone really deep into a story. I started writing [personal essays] when I was launching my first business, Kozmic Ryder, a lucid dreaming kit. And within the first week of launch, I turned the whole website into a blog. Instead of doing marketing emails, I would just tell a story about how one random moment where I found the magic in the mundane. It was very quickly revealed to me that I loved to write and tell stories. I never thought being a writer was something that I could do because it just seemed, like, too cool. It was actually when I was ass over tea kettle, horribly depressed, worst night ever [when I started to write the book.] There are these moments where I’m in the pits of hell, where the only thing that gets me out is writing. I was sitting on the floor of my apartment, there was mascara [running] down my face, glitter in my eyeballs ripping my corneas, and I flipped open my laptop. I just started writing.

GO: What is your biggest hope with the publication of this book?

AF: My biggest hope is that when someone, whoever it is, reads it and can take a sigh of relief, like, exhale. I feel like most of my life has been one big, giant, continuous inhale until my shoulders reach my ears. My hope is that this creates a space where we can let go of this intense need to fix and heal and work on – all that internalized capitalism and internalized sense of urgency to just heal yourself, fix yourself, and then you can have what you want, and then you’ll be happy. You’re not good enough. You’re not saintly enough. You’re not moral enough. You’re not in your body enough. You’re not healed enough. There is constantly a reason to be here, at least one reason to be here. Even when you can’t see it, it’s here. Going to a coffee shop and seeing a couple of old men sitting there in silence can be enough to keep us here. Life is short and fleeting, and we have, as far as we know for sure, one life here. This is it. This is not a drill. This is not a dress rehearsal. I don’t want to waste another second waiting for it to get good.

GO: Oh, yeah.

AF: This is my ode to nuance. Something that our culture really fucking needs right now is nuance, complexity, and embracing the gray area. I was really burned and I burned others. People can have really good intentions and do shitty things and people can have really shitty intentions and still do good things for you.

GO: Right.

AF: Anyway, my hope is that people can take a deep breath, and love themselves no matter how they’re showing up right now. And get curious about the magic in the mundane and the nuance of what it means to be alive.

GO: You always make me think of the Tom Robbins quote “I believe in everything, nothing is sacred. I believe in nothing, everything is sacred.” And that really comes through in your book. In the past, your biggest fear has been other people knowing your story. What has changed?

AF: Nothing. I am shitting myself. I think that what has changed is that I myself have gotten more comfortable with nuance and accepting the fact that I’m not, nor ever going to be, and never was, a saint. And I trust myself. Self love isn’t stable, but self trust is. Because when you have that sense of self trust, you’re able to connect more in community. You’re able to put yourself out there more because you don’t have to worry about controlling what happens to you. Because we can’t. But what you can do is you can trust yourself that no matter what happens, I can show up to it.

GO: What have you learned while writing the book, and what do you hope readers learn?

AF: Everyone’s an angel and everyone’s an asshole.

GO: If you could start a spiritual retreat around a queer icon, who would it be?

AF: Oh, my God. You know how there are patron saints? I think it would have to be that. Like, Diana Ross would be the patron saint of taking up space.

GO: Okay. Love.

AF: Cher would be the patron saint of learning to laugh and create art with the things that have hurt you. And Dolly Parton, patron saint of compassion, comfort, and resilience. And RuPaul, patron saint of —

GO: Nerve and talent?

AF: Charisma, uniqueness, nerve, and talent!

GO: Describe the most recent time you felt God at a gay bar.

AF: I was at my friend’s birthday party and this wonderful, amazing, talented drag queen, very reluctantly but lovingly performed You Oughtta Know by Alanis Morrisette because the lesbians in the audience wanted to hear it. Seeing someone do splits to You Oughtta Know?

GO: I am screaming.

AF: I got goosebumps. You could just see years of pent up hurt feelings pouring out and everyone connected in the shit but also the glory. And then there’s just like this fully glam queen, like doing back flips, and the lesbians just screaming their heads off. And then Alanis just being a patron saint of healing and heartache.

GO: Of female rage! If you were up for elimination in Drag Race, what would you want your “lip sync for your life” song to be?

AF: “Ain’t No Mountain High” enough — the Diana Ross version because that’s what I want to be buried to.

GO: Right. I have that in my notes in case you die before me.

AF: I’m the first one to die in the friend group, so I can lead you all.

GO: Your book concludes with an ode poem to Young Lilliths, witches, bitches, and whores. Can you talk about the experience of being a female outcast and how that relates to queerness? It doesn’t have to be a female outcast specifically, but a feminine presenting person that’s othered. 

AF: A witch is anybody who owns their power and who can flirt with life because they are able to hold curiosity. And then a bitch is someone who has boundaries and also knows how to advocate for themselves, whatever that means. And then a whore is someone who owns their desires. I honor all [of them.]

GO: Was I your favorite character to write? I will write that you said yes even if you don’t.

AF: Obviously it was very easy to write about you. Your mannerisms are so specific that it’s so much fun to pick them out and highlight them. Like, even you on the toilet holding a martini glass.

GO: I hate you so much.

You can follow Ani at @aniferlise on Instagram, check out her website at aniferlise.com, and buy “Messy Bitch Magic” on Amazon, Barnes & Noble, and wherever books are sold. Ani has a big project releasing in March, so stayed tuned for even more messy bitch magic. If you are in New York, come celebrate the release of “Messy Bitch Magic” tonight at the iconic Cubbyhole from 6pm to 9pm.


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