Pledge of Allegiance, Sunday School, and Glamour Magic

Something To Ponder

What if symbols we are supposed to find comfort in, are used to create fear?

I grew up in a tiny town—really, more of a village—in western Nebraska. One of my earliest school memories is learning the Pledge of Allegiance, standing every morning with my hand on my heart, hoping I didn’t mess it up. As we got older, we took turns raising, lowering, and folding the flag that flew in front of our little school. It was an honor, especially in sixth grade, to be entrusted with such a responsibility. The flag, as we were taught, was a symbol of pride in our country.

My family wasn’t particularly religious, but we attended church until my parents realized they couldn’t force us. In our town, the cross was everywhere—on jewelry, holiday cards, graduation announcements, and, of course, in church. Ours was a First Baptist church, and in Sunday School, we were taught that the cross symbolized Jesus’ sacrifice and his promise to wipe away our sins. The cross was meant to inspire devotion to Christ and Christianity, symbolizing faith, love, and salvation. Yet, throughout history, it has also been used to justify violence, oppression, and war—from the Crusades to colonial conquests—leaving a lasting impact on countless lives.

In my early twenties, desperate to escape the Midwest and lacking the financial means to do so on my own, I joined the military. Boot camp was an overwhelming surge of patriotism, relentlessly drilled into us day and night. Sleep deprivation, fear, and endless presentations glorifying military victories served their purpose—I internalized the message. The flag was omnipresent: displayed in front of buildings, encased in glass, and carried with us wherever we marched. By the time I completed training, the conditioning was complete.

While the American flag is intended to symbolize freedom, democracy, and national pride, in practice, the United States has often used its power as a global enforcer of violence. Through military interventions, regime changes, economic coercion, and warfare, the nation has positioned itself not only as a dominant force but as a principal architect of conflict—wielding patriotism as a mask for imperialism.

Somewhere along the way, though, I changed. My spiritual journey led me to unlearn the narratives I had been force-fed my entire life. With every step of self-discovery, I saw my privilege more clearly—I saw how it had been a ladder keeping me afloat, while so many others were never given one. That realization fundamentally altered who I am and who I strive to become.

Now, I see that the symbols many Americans are conditioned to revere evoke the opposite reaction in me. If we approach the flag as a symbol within occultism, the implications are striking. What was once meant to inspire pride now represents fear, genocide, and oppression. Just look at the propaganda on the White House website—patriotic imagery paired with a scowling leader. What if we worked with this symbol to strip away the glamour it holds over so many Americans? What if they could see through the illusion of ‘patriotism’ and recognize the reality beneath?

The cross exists in the same space. What if we could help people see through the manipulation?

I don’t claim to have all the answers, and I recognize the complexity of working with symbols so deeply woven into traditions that seek to erase those who don’t fit their mold. I’m not suggesting we hex the flag or the cross—but what if we could strip away the glamour that blinds people to their true impact? What if we could expose the layers of conditioning that turn these symbols into tools of control rather than sources of unity and hope?

Just something to ponder.

Are there symbols you grew up with that feel different to you now? Unpacking these things is part of awakening to what’s happening in our country. I challenge you to reflect—whether through journaling, art, or even recording a voice note to yourself. You might be surprised at what you uncover.