One of the more frustrating aspects of writing about witchcraft is addressing what we might lovingly (snark intended) call “no-not-me moments.” These moments tend to arise when we attempt to say something that is true about our own practices and traditions as witches, and especially when underrepresented currents of craft dare to speak up and describe what we do and believe. It tends to go something like this:
Folk witch: “I often utilize the psalms in my craft. I enjoy participating in the long history of cunning folk who have put these incantations to magical use.”
NoNotMe: “Witches are of the Old Religion. We don’t use psalms or rosaries or anything like that. Stop calling yourself a witch if that’s your thing.”
Now, before we pile on the NoNotMe in this situation (for our instinct, as folk witches, is usually to invoke a much-needed history lesson), let’s consider their perspective for a moment. Let’s be more than fair. They may have had some extremely negative experiences with Christianity as a young person, and when they came into witchcraft, they probably experienced those old shackles falling away. Perhaps they never again thought they would encounter remnants of their painful childhood turning up in their new spiritual world. Perhaps they joined a modern initiatory tradition under leaders who told them, without context or history, what one must do and what one must believe in order to call oneself a witch. These words and rituals were probably prescribed to them regardless of their culture or background, and they were probably written within the last 50 years, but were presented to the new initiate under the guise of a supposed ancient lineage, which made them feel quite special, much like the use of the psalms feels quite special to our folk witch. NoNotMe was probably never informed of the diversity of witchcraft traditions in the world. They were told their tradition was the only one, that all of the others were false pretenders. Given this context, it isn’t hard to understand NoNotMe’s reaction to an element of craft that feels so outside of their comfort zone. NoNotMe isn’t a bad person, even if they are spreading bad ideas.
The problem here is really two-fold. First, NoNotMe believes that their form of witchcraft is the only one. This isn’t new or unusual in any spirituality. How many wars, within Christianity alone, have been fought over who is the “real” believer, the most correct, the most special, the most chosen? The larger issue, and the one that is more difficult to approach, is NoNotMe’s belief that everything that is said, shared, or written about must be, in some way, for them. They cannot imagine a world in which things exist for other people, for folks with different beliefs or preferences or tastes, but not for them at all. This is, in part, the result of a modern information age that tailors all media to our individual likes and preferences, sealing us away in our own little sepulchers of discourse, unexposed to difference. And without regular exposure, difference is uncomfortable. It reminds us that we are not, as we might imagine ourselves, the most worthy, the most correct, or the most special. We’re just like everyone else, really, trying to figure out what works for us and what doesn’t. We’re just another branch on a very large tree.
I’ve been encountering quite a few NoNotMe moments since the publication of The Witches’ Devil last year. They don’t upset me or offend me, but they do make me worry about the broader state of things. Part of the thesis of The Witches’ Devil is the slow and steady incorporation of pagan and animist elements into the character of the Devil over many hundreds of years, not merely the recasting of Pan into the Devil’s role, which is an oversimplification, but the shifting of the inherent symbolism of our thousands of ancient horned deities and regional spirits, resulting in a complex connection between the demons of the grimoires, the old revered daimons and spirits of the ancient world, and the Devil as a teacher of witches in early modern lore. It’s a tricky subject with many facets and no simple answers. This question is delicious to me, and it’s largely been met with responses from folks who love these kinds of folkloric inquiries as much as I do, but it has also attracted the attention of a few Wiccan NoNotMes who are, well, less enthusiastic about the devilish aspects of folk craft traditions. Let’s put it that way.
On a personal level, these responses have about as much an effect on me as junk mail, but what disappoints me is that we still, after so many years, are so far from being accepted as folk and traditional witches among the broader body of witchcraft discourse. It seems that the modern forms of witchcraft that took root in the mid-century are still viewed as the status quo, that witches operating in veins of cunning craft, herb-doctoring, fairy-doctoring and the like are still viewed as the weirdos in the room, despite our history and our legacy. This is disappointing to me because it means that witches operating in culturally-specific craft lines, who are by and large outside of the modern initiatory traditions of Wicca, may feel discouraged from writing about their craft and adding to the conversation of occult literature. And we need these voices. There aren’t nearly enough books on brujeria, stregoneria, hoodoo, and the like. These and others are sister traditions to my own streams of Scottish and Appalachian folk craft, and these voices are already underrepresented and often (worse) whitewashed or wiccanized into something more marketable and unrecognizably bland.
As folk witches, we’re a lot more like our Devil, it seems, than even I originally thought. We aren’t going anywhere, but we also can’t seem to shake the box that has been made for us. Though, perhaps there is some old magic at work in this as well, that the deep mysteries at the heart of our traditions are so far out of reach from those who lack the historical knowledge to appreciate them. Maybe the poor NoNotMes, who are, again, not bad people, who are surely moving through their own journeys of discovery towards their own destinations, are being kept back from something that could prove harmful to themselves or to others at this stage in their journey. If that is the case, may those barriers hold firm. May the gate we need appear only when we are surely ready to cross it. For all of us.
Roger J. Horne 