Applied Luciferianism Project : Resistance/Rebellion

I should probably start off by pointing out that the words ‘rebellion’ and ‘resistance’ mean two different things to me, but can also be used in combination with one another. While ‘rebellion’ suggests going against an already established system, ‘resistance’ includes more preventative actions to avoid the formation of unequal systems of power, systems that directly affect myself and the communities I am a part of. It also seems to be more inclusive of non-violent strategies of opposition, something I’ve very much in favor of.

 Resistance is much closer to my heart.

It is present in the very blood that runs through my veins, the genetic continuance of a people who others sought to erase. The effort to keep our traditions and culture alive is a form of resistance, as is making the effort to learn my native tongue despite being displaced from my homeland. The small snippets of Nawat present in even the colonial language I grew up with are reminders of the legacy of resistance I’m upholding. My faith is a form of resistance in itself, in that it is composed of doubt and questioning a ‘truth’ I was brought up to follow blindly.

And yet, sometimes rebellion is necessary, as my past can attest to. When resistance goes unheard or ignored, rebellion becomes the only other option. Along with rebellion comes increased risks and sacrifices—loss of a job, alienation from one’s peers, etc. And with armed, combative rebellion comes death, including innocent lives. I think this is why I tend to prefer resistance over rebellion, because I’ve experienced what it’s like to have conflict due to rebellion cause tragedy and loss. I know what it’s like to have your family torn apart and scattered because of rebellion and war, to grow up in a place that isn’t ‘home’ and be constantly reminded that I don’t ‘belong’ here. Of course, there were other forces in play that led to my particular situation (like the US not being able to keep its nose out of other countries’ business), but the rebellion of my people was definitely a key factor. The need for change sometimes requires such sacrifices, which I’ll talk about in a later entry, and this is where rebellion builds its strength and becomes an agent of change.

This is also why I believe it is important that one ask themselves what exactly it is they’re rebelling against and why, and if the end justifies the means. Technically you could consider a 5-year-old’s temper tantrum to be a form of rebellion, or a moody teen throwing insults at their parents, but what do either of these things really accomplish? While Luciferianism can be considered a very selfish path, I would argue that it’s also in the nature of Luciferianism to strive for bigger and better things—why struggle for the little things that only affect yourself when you could initiate a bigger change that affects an entire group of people? Obviously this is also situational, and can differ according to whether we’re talking about resistance or rebellion.

In its most basic and general form, it means not conforming to what others say or do simply because they’re in a position of authority or power. It doesn’t have to be about waging wars or leading large-scale uprisings— resistance and rebellion takes various other forms, from vocally disagreeing with what one perceives to be an unjust statement, to taking a much more active role such as defending a victim of bullying. It can also take a much more political stance, through participation with a social justice movement. It’s about not allowing oneself to remain passive or simply accept things that go against one’s own moral code. Resistance and rebellion is the ability to recognize injustices and do something about it.


Sometimes I wonder why I ended up as a Luciferian. If I hadn’t been tapped on the shoulder by Lu, would I still have somehow found my way onto this path?

And then I stop to think about the central issue behind Lu’s mythos—rebellion.

Rebellion is as much a part of my daily life as it is a part of my spirituality.

Rebellion is in my blood. My mere existence is a rebellion against the attempted genocide of my ancestors. My culture and traditions are a rebellion against the attempted erasure and assimilation of my people. The color of my skin is a rebellion against society’s ideals of beauty. My home is a rebellion against those who claim I don’t belong here. My lack of shame toward the fact that my family came here illegally is a rebellion—a rebellion against the very people who funded the civil war that tore my family’s homeland apart, the same people who now urge us to return.

I am a rebellion against the stereotypes of my people. I am a rebellion against the idea that I must be uneducated and lazy. I rebel against the notion that all my people are all criminals, that we’re all gang members and cholos.

I rebel against the idea that we have nothing to offer the community, that all we do is take away jobs and homes. I rebel against the thought that an indigenous school of resistance can accomplish nothing. Please, come tell me that to my face and I will show you the marshlands we have recovered, the GMOs we have stopped from entering our food supply, the injustices we have fought against and won.

I am a rebellion against the stereotypes of my faith. I rebel against the stereotype that I must be intolerant and hateful.

So maybe I’ll never be called to follow in Lu’s footsteps and rally troops or lead wars against tyrants—that isn’t the sort of rebellion I am called to do. My responsibility to my community, my people, my calpulli, and my god call for other acts of rebellion, ranging from protests and rallies against injustice, to much more innate forms of revolt as those mentioned above. Rebellion doesn’t have to be solely about violence and warfare.

I believe that those of us who are devoted to deities end up reflecting the qualities of those gods, but I also believe the opposite is true—that we are called by those that see themselves within us, however small a part.