On any given day you will find me doing all sorts of “witchy” things. I could be offering something to the earth, journeying with the elements, having a moon ceremony, I could be saging myself or my home or clearing energy, hiking in nature, meditating, reading people, doing “magic” of all sorts.
But I am not a witch and I don’t resonate with the word, while it’s making a massive comeback for so many women, especially women “like me” who are embracing and embodying the ancient wisdom that flows through us, reconnecting with nature and the elements and our own divine greatness.
But I am not a witch.
You see I am just a woman.
And a woman in her power is a witch, or as they once called us while they built the fire under us, drowned us in wells to see if we floated or sank, raped us to see what kind of fight we would put up, terrorized us in the name of creating a difference between us. To control us, to create fear, to stifle us.
There is a witch.
And there is a woman.
But you couldn’t be both.
And I get the reclamation of the word. I get that witch = woman and that SO MANY women feel called to reclaim the word witch. But when I see you wear witches hats, hanging out in cemeteries, and mixing potions in a cauldron in your back yard, I get the defiance and I tip my proverbial witches hat to you for your courage, bravery to reclaim what feels good to you, but for me I see still that it just creates the illusion that witches are somehow different than women.
It could have been any one of us burned for being who we are. As women, we had to conform, sell each other out, hide good fortune, good looks, intuition, knowing – we had to become what we were not – closed, hidden, cut off, turned off from our power lest we could or would be in danger.
Because they didn’t burn witches, they burned women.
But for me I am a woman, a wild and free spirit, a witch and a holy bitch who will not conform, nor be silenced into submission, if you will, an unpleasing and not a “good woman” . I’ll never know my place and I’d gladly burn for it.
And while some might call me a witch and many will not agree with me or even like me after this piece, the truth is, whether you are in touch with your inner witch, holy bitch or wild woman is irrelevant. “I am the granddaughter of the witches you didn’t burn” – thats’ ALL of us.
We are ALL granddaughters of the witches they didn’t burn BECAUSE we are women. If they burned all the witches there would be no women. By our very nature we are divine, in tune, connected, holy, of this earth but not. We carry the DNA of woman, not of witch.
And I believe the truth is important. When we say I am a witch it means separation, that I am different than a woman. And I am not. And I will not shrink from that. I am a woman. And my witchiness and my power and my instincts and my wildness are all part of being a woman.
When we call ourselves witches we are seperating the truth still, that because I live in practise of the wild medicine and a soul filled life that I am different somehow than the woman who puts on a pantsuit and practises law.
I am not different than her. We carry the same DNA, the same ancestral wounds, whether either of us knows it or not. And to be in living practise of a witch I do not need to do these things. A witch is not always a pot stirring hat wearing broom riding crystal carrying boat burning woman (ok she definitely stir pots and burns boats)!
Sometimes she is just a woman, a woman who gave birth to a baby with a birthmark, or she grew a good garden, or had luck on her side. And she could and would be burned or drowned or beaten for that. And I want that truth to exist. The truth that we are women first. That they didn’t burn witches, they burned women.
And I want to stand in the truth and the power and integrity of that when I march, when I empower other women to clear their pain and fear of being a women, when I help women heal the bonds of sisterhood, I want to stand in the truth that I am a woman, not a witch.
I am a woman, who is wild and free, a woman who holds the pain of being a woman and who understands the generational fear and trauma passed onto women through fairytales of the big bad wolf and the fear of stepping out of line.
I don’t want there to be a seperation in the belief that they burned women with something wrong with them. I want it to be known that they burned women, regular, everyday women. And that it is women still who fight for the right to exist, to live, for fairness and equality and in that fight we are really just fighting for our right to own ourselves, to be in charge of our own lives, to live within our bodies in safety and not regulated by the government or men.
And when I see you wearing your witches hat and calling yourself a witch, I know your intention is to reclaim the witch, to reclaim the word, to ensure that the world knows that truth, but frankly I find it falls short and continues to separate us and fails to tell the story that it wasn’t witches they burned, it was women.
They burned us and shunned us and called us by different names. And so I will not call myself by any other name. I will let the truth hang in the air, as the truth loves to do, that it wasn’t evil, vile women they were ridding the earth of, it was strong, confident, lucky, beautiful, intuitive women, aligned, powerful women they were ridding the world of;
The burned women they couldn’t control and tried to strangle the strong women DNA out of us. But in bedrooms and closets and secret societies it was preserved and it grew in the dark, like a seedling struggling to find it’s way to the light.
And as it’s bursting out, I respect and tip my hat to your courage to stand out as a witch. While I choose to hold my space as merely a woman. Because when we call her witch, we forget she is just a woman, an everyday woman doing everyday women things. And I want that truth to live out loud.
And I will burn before I will bow.
PS… If you like the writing check out Unchained ->