No, actually, healing crystals aren’t so bad. You can buy them.
You know what’s behind the hypocritical policing of these crystals? Mysoginy. It’s not environmentalism. It’s mysoginy.
If the subtitle above sounds a bit confusing, keep reading.
First of all, I’d like to clarify a thing: this article is not about “woo”. Yes, I know, healing crystals are marketed to a newage, Occultist audience (sometimes just boho/fashionista or what-have-you). I’m not big on them, myself, but I find them pretty and calming and I definitely wouldn’t be mad if someone gifted me these crystals — a thing which has happened and keeps happening. I love and cherish these gifts.
Nonetheless, I am not talking about their uses. I’m talking about healing crystals here from a very down-to-earth, materialistic perspective. Namely: where they come from, how we get them, and SHOULD we support the market. Perhaps, even if you’re not a spiritual person, you’ll end up taking home a bit of food for thought.
So… Are they good? Bad? Interesting? Silly?
Look, I’ve been through a lot of phases.
The first phase was, as you might have guessed: “wow, these are so pretty. I could look at them for hours. Maybe it IS true that there is more to them than meets the eye”. My first contact with them was actually through my mother, who seemed to reject her very legit pre-Christian family heritage in favour of, eh, whatever metaphysical stuff was in fashion because I guess she wanted us all to fit in (I’m honestly surprised she didn’t get into Wicca. But I digress). But resentment aside, yes, she introduced me to the concept of healing crystals at home. When I first spotted them in the esoteric section of teen magazines (yes, printed. Good old pre-internet times), I sort of already knew what they were — and bought into the trend, already knowing it was a trend, if that makes sense. I learned about their alleged healing properties quite superficially, without bothering to learn more. I stayed in that phase until, in my mid to late teens, I realised I was “not like other girls” and wanted to be a metalhead instead.
The second phase started during my sex, drugs, and rock-and-roll era. Just kidding, my mother wouldn’t even let me decide my own haircut, under the constant threat of abandoning me, so (fun times!) I guess I had bigger things to worry about than joining the rebellious teens. Nonetheless, mother labeled be a rebel because I said “no, thanks” to becoming 100% shallow and Barbie-like just so she could look smarter and more down-to-earth in comparison (I’m not joking. She went as far as throwing an emotionally manipulative tantrum every time I asked for a book for Christmas). Basically, that was the reason. But let’s have some fun here, let’s imagine I actually had a chance to become that rebellious teen who only wears black and hangs out with “the boys”. I did actually do that at school, eh, to some extent and within my means — I of course ditched my crystals for silver chains that vaguely resembled what I was going for. This stayed on the shallow for a bit, until I started actually looking into more political reasons for choosing this new path… Coupled with learning, at school, about certain political facts my family withheld from me. (“Did you know we had a right-wing dictatorship from the late 60s to the early 80s” registered in my mind as “Lucy, did you know your parents actively supported a dictatorship and still act as if it was in force”, for example). This led me to…
Third phase, now as a more independent young adult. Mother still tried sabotageing my chances of getting jobs locally, but couldn’t do much online, so I eventually started freelance translating and earning my own money. This opened doors to actually (finally) getting my own clothes the way I envisioned them. On a separate note, I got into Uni and suddenly had access to those juicy databases full of academic articles, which mere mortals usually have to pay hefty fees for. This meant I could go into rabbit holes WITHOUT stumbling upon drunk conspiracy theorists uttering nonsense on the internet (and having my mother adopt them as gospel). What else could I hope for? — that’s why I keep telling myself Athena (yes, the goddess) is my real mother. She represents wisdom. Academic stuff always felt like motherly comfort, away from the insanity at home.
I was studying a “humanity” but I dove into the hard science as well — much of the complicated math I couldn’t decipher, but the articles did a decent job at explaining what they were about for dummies. (All hail the footnotes!). I won’t keep you for hours here with all of the fun facts I learned and keep stumbling upon here and there, so let’s get back on topic: I learned for example, that certain stones commonly sold at metaphysical shops (like pyrite, turquoise and selenite) dissolve in water — and no amount of praying will undo that. I also learned about the minerals we can no longer mine for in certain locations because it became illegal (ever heard of Kashmir?). This is how a hard science rabbit hole can lead you to History and Politics, or even, ya know, health and safety for my “woo”.
The third phase of my crystal “journey”, as alluded to above, is over. I’m on a next one currently, but before I talk about it, let’s get into why it can be problematic to cling too much to the narrative that “healing crystals are bad for the environment”.
First of all, yes, that’s true. Any amount of mining can damage the environment where the minerals came from. This is a very good troll argument because, like any troll argument (as ContraPoints wisely says), it contains a half-truth in it which is hard to debunk without writing huge paragraphs no-one is going to read. I could go on and on about how the very electronic device you’re reading my blog on came from a mine (or several mines) somewhere in [insert developing country here] which is probably rife with underpaid labour, rampant pollution and poor quality of life altogether. But who wants to go down that path? Nobody. It’s easier to virtue-signal against the poor innocent “woo” crowd because they look more feminine than your average iPhone afficionado — and by extension (according to patriarchal definition), more “dumb”. Easier target, aye?
I’ll say more: had I not ditched my crystals during my “pick-me girl” phase (let’s name it what it TRULY was, shall we), I would still have them. Ya know, call me dumb, call me silly, call me whatever you want, but the motherfucking rose quartz that people are mocking these days still works for realigning the chakras or whatever it is it does. And it will keep serving that purpose when a healer’s daughter and granddaughter get their hands on it. Does your 5-year-old tablet still work? Yeah, I doubt it. In fact this isn’t nature’s fault, it probably would still work if programmed obsolescence wasn’t a thing. Oh, wait, the dumb girly fortune teller is using complicated words now? What’s happening? (/sarcasm).
I’m not saying there is no problem. I’m saying the problems YOU emphasise show the agenda you think you’re hiding.
This is why I haven’t bought into veganism (which pollutes with plastic and/or excludes poor people, and don’t get me started on the poor people who live in cold climates), or the weird “green” movement against flying for your holidays (as if the cargo planes that carry your internet purchases weren’t MORE harmful), or anything radical like that. I have not and I never will buy into them. And if you think I’m dumb for staying outside them, the joke is on you.
There is a sad truth a lot of people don’t like admitting, but I will leave it here for anyone interested (wasn’t I the unapologetic one who “speaks truth to power?” Well let me honour that title) — if a solution to a global problem looks too simple, it’s not a solution.
As simple as depriving yourself of fast international travel? Not a solution.
As simple as depriving yourself of animal products? Not a solution.
As simple as depriving yourself of leisure and entertainment? Not a solution.
Not only are the pseudo-solutions above connected by the common thread of oversimplification, they also have another thing in common: depriving yourself.
How many other things that make your life worth enjoying will you deprive yourself of, whilst simping for billionaires who do a whole load more damage to the world than you will ever achieve in your most indulgent fantasies?
Food for thought.
