From Broomsticks to Board Rooms: The Witch's Two-Century Makeover

The Witch

The Witch's Two-Century Makeover

Introduction: The Devil's Housewife Gets a Rebrand

Two hundred years ago, if you'd called someone a witch, you were essentially accusing them of having signed a dodgy contract with Satan, murdered babies, and ruined the neighbours' crops—all whilst wearing unflattering headgear. Today, you might be complimenting their Instagram aesthetic, their small business selling crystals, or their ability to manifest abundance through the power of positive thinking and a really good vision board.

The transformation of the witch from society's ultimate scapegoat to its spiritual influencer is one of the more peculiar journeys in Western cultural history. It's a tale of Gothic novels, feminist reclamation, Gerald Gardner's questionable historical methodology, and the curious fact that capitalism will eventually monetise absolutely everything, including hexes.

The Victorian Witch: Safely Dead and Thoroughly Frightening (1820s-1900)

By the early 19th century, the last witch executions were comfortably in the rear-view mirror. The 1735 Witchcraft Act had effectively decriminalised witchcraft in Britain—not because Parliament suddenly decided magic was real and harmless, but because they'd concluded it was entirely fictional and prosecuting it was rather embarrassing for a modern, enlightened nation.

This left the Victorians in the enviable position of enjoying witches as entertainment rather than existential threats. And enjoy them they did.

The Victorian witch was a creature of literature and folklore—a Gothic prop, essentially. She appeared in fairy tales as the crone who cursed princesses or poisoned apples, in romantic poetry as a symbol of dangerous feminine power, and in emerging anthropological texts as evidence of our ancestors' charmingly primitive beliefs. Sir Walter Scott's "Letters on Demonology and Witchcraft" (1830) allowed respectable people to read about witch trials with the same frisson of horror one might get from a particularly gruesome murder case—safely historical, deliciously macabre.

The Victorian image crystallised several enduring tropes: the witch was old, ugly, and poor (youth, beauty, and wealth being the Victorian holy trinity). She lived in isolation, consorted with animals (especially cats, because of course), and was fundamentally antisocial. She represented everything the Victorian cult of domesticity opposed—the woman who refused to be respectable, maternal, or decorative.

Crucially, she was also safely dead. The last execution in England was in 1682; in Scotland, in 1727. The Victorians could therefore indulge in witch imagery without the awkward business of actually burning anybody.

The Early 20th Century: Occultism Gets Organised (1900-1950)

Whilst the mainstream continued to treat witchcraft as a historical curiosity or a children's story, something rather interesting was brewing in the margins.

The late 19th and early 20th centuries saw an explosion of interest in occultism, esoteric orders, and "ancient wisdom." The Hermetic Order of the Golden Dawn (founded 1887) attracted respectable middle-class types interested in ceremonial magic. Theosophy promised access to hidden knowledge from mysterious

Eastern masters. Aleister Crowley was doing... well, Aleister Crowley things, which mostly involved self-promotion and being thrown out of various countries.

But these weren't "witches." These were magicians, occultists, and seekers of hidden knowledge—a distinction that mattered enormously at the time. Witches were the ignorant peasants of folk superstition; magicians were the sophisticated practitioners of ancient arts. Witches were women in pointed hats; magicians wore much more fashionable robes.

The cultural image of witches remained firmly Gothic. Disney's "Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs" (1937) gave us the archetypal witch as nightmare fuel—the beautiful queen transformed into the hideous crone, poisoned apple at the ready. This was the witch as pure malevolence, as the embodiment of feminine jealousy and vanity turned monstrous.

Meanwhile, anthropologists were industriously cataloguing "primitive" beliefs about witchcraft in Africa and elsewhere, blissfully unaware that within two decades, middle-class English people would be claiming to practise exactly such beliefs in their suburban back gardens.

The 1950s: Gerald Gardner's Revolutionary Historical Fiction

Enter Gerald Broussard Gardner (1884-1964), a retired civil servant with a penchant for nudism and a remarkably flexible relationship with historical evidence.

In 1954, following the repeal of the Witchcraft Act in 1951, Gardner published "Witchcraft Today," making the extraordinary claim that witchcraft had survived as an underground pagan fertility religion from pre-Christian times. He presented himself as an initiate of this ancient tradition, now bringing it into the light.

Modern scholarship has conclusively demonstrated that Gardner largely invented Wicca, drawing heavily on ceremonial magic, Freemasonry, Aleister Crowley's work, and his own imagination. His claims of an unbroken tradition were, to put it charitably, creative history

.

But here's the thing: it didn't really matter.

What Gardner did—whether intentionally or not—was provide a framework for reimagining the witch entirely. His witches weren't evil hags making pacts with Satan. They were pagans, worshipping a Goddess and a Horned God (definitely not the Devil, thank you very much), celebrating the cycles of nature, and doing magic through ritual and will.

Crucially, Gardner's witchcraft was a religion, not malevolent sorcery. This was revolutionary. The witch wasn't the enemy of religion; she was a religious practitioner herself, following a different—and conveniently ancient—path.

Gardner also introduced another innovation: his witches were often young, female, and performed their rituals skyclad (nude). This did absolute wonders for recruitment, though one suspects it had more to do with Gardner's enthusiasm for naturism than ancient tradition.

The 1960s: The Witch Finds Her Moment

If Gardner planted the seed, the 1960s provided ideal growing conditions: the counterculture, feminism, environmentalism, and a general willingness to question authority and seek alternative spiritualities.

Several factors converged to transform the witch from Gothic villain to countercultural icon:

The Feminist Reclamation: Second-wave feminism discovered the witch trials as a particularly vivid example of patriarchal violence against women. Whilst modern historians debate the gender politics of the trials (they were complex), the symbolic power was undeniable. The witch became a symbol of female power that had been violently suppressed, of women healers and midwives destroyed by male-dominated institutions, of knowledge criminalised because it belonged to women.

This narrative—however historically simplified—was emotionally and politically powerful. The witch transformed from the embodiment of evil femininity into the victim of patriarchal fear, and ultimately into the symbol of female resistance.

The Environmental Movement: The witch's connection to nature, herbs, and the cycles of the moon aligned perfectly with growing environmental consciousness. She became the ecological priestess, in tune with the Earth, whilst mainstream society despoiled it.

The Occult Explosion: The 1960s saw a massive surge in popular interest in astrology, Tarot, ESP, and all manner of occult practices. The witch was simply another alternative spiritual option in an increasingly diverse marketplace of beliefs.

Pop Culture: "Bewitched" (1964-1972) gave America its first sympathetic witch protagonist. Samantha Stephens was beautiful, suburban, and used her powers mostly for minor domestic improvements and the occasional karmic revenge on her odious neighbour. The show essentially asked: what if witches were just like us, but with better solutions to everyday problems?

By the end of the 1960s, "witch" could mean: a Wiccan practitioner, a feminist symbol, an environmental archetype, a pop culture character, or simply someone who was a bit alternative and owned some Tarot cards.

The 1970s-1980s: Goddess Spirituality and the Satanic Panic

The 1970s saw the development of feminist witchcraft, most notably articulated by Starhawk in "The Spiral Dance" (1979). This moved beyond Gardner's framework to create an explicitly feminist, politically engaged form of witchcraft. The Goddess wasn't just a Wiccan deity; she was a powerful political statement about feminine divinity, female authority, and women's spiritual autonomy.

This witch was an activist, an ecologist, and a spiritual seeker. She didn't need male priests or hierarchies. She created her own rituals, honoured the divine feminine, and saw magic as a tool for personal and political transformation.

But whilst feminist witches were reclaiming the image, another cultural force was pushing back hard: the Satanic Panic.

The 1980s saw widespread moral panic about supposed Satanic ritual abuse, with witchcraft frequently conflated with Satanism in the public imagination. This was the Gothic witch resurging with a modern twist—now she wasn't just evil, she was abusing children in elaborate rituals that usually involved repressed memories, dubious therapeutic techniques, and absolutely no credible evidence.

The Satanic Panic was Christianity's last major cultural pushback against the witch's rehabilitation. And it largely failed. Whilst it caused real harm to real people falsely accused, it didn't reverse the broader cultural trend.

The 1990s: The Witch Goes Mainstream

The 1990s delivered the witch to mainstream youth culture, primarily through three fictional vehicles:

"The Craft" (1996): Teenage witches with actual power, dealing with actual consequences. The film took witchcraft seriously as a practice whilst acknowledging its dangers—a more sophisticated treatment than previous pop culture offerings.

"Buffy the Vampire Slayer" (1997-2003): Willow Rosenberg's journey from nerdy hacker to powerful witch gave a generation a nuanced character whose witchcraft was both empowering and dangerous, a spiritual practice and addiction metaphor.

"Charmed" (1998-2006): Three sisters, photogenic witches fighting demons in fashionable outfits, made witchcraft look like an enviable lifestyle choice with excellent wardrobe options.

These weren't your grandmother's witches (unless your grandmother was rather cool). They were young, attractive, sympathetic protagonists whose witchcraft was an integral part of their identity and power.

Simultaneously, the explosion of the internet allowed witchcraft communities to connect, share information, and develop without geographic limitations. Solitary practitioners could find communities online. Information that once required initiation into a coven could be found with basic web searches.

The 21st Century: Late Capitalist Witchcraft

Which brings us to the modern witch, who exists in a bewildering variety of forms, all simultaneously:

The Instagram Witch: Aesthetically pleasing crystals, photogenic altars, and motivational content about manifesting abundance. Witchcraft as a lifestyle brand, thoroughly enmeshed with consumer capitalism. You're not just a witch; you're building a small business selling spell kits, offering tarot readings via PayPal, and promoting your brand identity.

The Political Witch: The "Witch hunts!" became a catchphrase of persecuted politicians, whilst actual witches organised "hex the patriarchy" events and rituals against political figures. The witch as activist, as resister, as the one who refuses to be silenced.

The Wellness Witch: Witchcraft merged seamlessly with wellness culture—crystals for healing, herbs for health, rituals for self-care. Magic as self-improvement technology, spiritual practice as a wellness regime.

The Pop Culture Witch: From "American Horror Story: Coven" to "The Chilling Adventures of Sabrina," witches remain reliably bankable characters, their image flexible enough to accommodate horror, comedy, drama, and teenage angst.

The Academic Witch: Courses in Pagan studies, serious scholarship on modern

witchcraft movements, witchcraft as a legitimate topic of religious studies and anthropology.

What's remarkable is that all these witches coexist. The contemporary witch is a Rorschach test—people see in her what they need. Feminist power? Certainly. Environmental consciousness? Absolutely. Consumer lifestyle? If you like. Spiritual rebellion? Of course. Harmless fun? Sure. Serious religious practice? For many, yes.

The Religious Climate: From Persecution to Pluralism

The transformation of the witch mirrors broader changes in Western religious culture:

From Monopoly to Marketplace: In 1820, religion in Britain meant Christianity, with minor denominational variations. By 2020, religion means a vast marketplace of options, or the option of none at all. The witch benefits enormously from this pluralism—she's just another option in the spiritual supermarket.

From Damnation to Diversity: The theological certainty that witchcraft involved literal pacts with a literal Devil has largely evaporated outside of certain conservative religious communities. In a relativistic cultural climate, who's to say which spiritual path is valid? The witch can claim religious legitimacy, and increasingly, she's granted it.

From Patriarchy to (Attempted) Partnership: As women gained legal, economic, and social power, symbols of female power became less threatening. The witch could be reclaimed because women could be powerful without it signalling civilisational collapse.

From Rural to Digital: Historical witchcraft accusations flourished in small communities with intense social pressures and limited mobility. Modern witches exist in sprawling, anonymous urban environments and in digital communities where you can be whoever you claim to be. There's no village elder to check your credentials.

Cultural Images and Tropes: A Taxonomy

The witch's cultural image has splintered into recognisable tropes:

The Crone: The original, still deployed in fairy tales and as the "true face" of beautiful witches. Represents male anxiety about female ageing and the loss of beauty-as-power.

The Seductress: The young, beautiful witch whose sexuality is dangerous. Represents male anxiety about female sexuality and autonomous female desire.

The Mother: The Wiccan emphasis on the Goddess shifted some witch imagery toward maternal, nurturing figures. Represents the rehabilitation of the witch through acceptable feminine roles.

The Rebel: The witch as countercultural figure, refusing social norms. Represents generational rebellion and outsider identity.

The Entrepreneur: The modern witch as small business owner, brand identity, and spiritual service provider. Represents capitalism's endless capacity to monetise everything.

The Victim: The witch as historical victim of persecution, symbol of marginalised people. Represents contemporary identity politics and victimhood culture.

The Charlatan: The witch as deluded or deliberately fraudulent, selling nonsense to the gullible. Represents materialist scepticism and anxiety about "fake" spirituality.

Conclusion: The Witch as Mirror

The witch's transformation from society's ultimate villain to its spiritual influencer reveals more about our changing anxieties, values, and cultural preoccupations than about actual witchcraft.

The Victorian witch reflected fears about social disorder, female independence, and the primitive past. The 1960s witch embodied countercultural rebellion and feminist awakening. The modern witch reflects our fragmented spiritual marketplace, therapeutic culture, social media self-presentation, and ambivalence toward tradition and innovation.

She has moved from the flames to the bookshop, from the gallows to the Instagram feed. She's been invented, reinvented, commodified, politicised, and merchandised. She's whatever we need her to be: a symbol, a scapegoat, a spiritual path, an aesthetic, a political statement, or a small business opportunity.

What's particularly amusing is that throughout all of this, actual magic remains precisely as efficacious as it ever was—which is to say, debatable at best. But that's rather beside the point. The witch isn't really about magic; she's about power, gender, rebellion, spirituality, and identity. She's about what happens when a culture's ultimate symbol of evil becomes available for rehabilitation.

And perhaps that's the real magic: our capacity to transform meaning, to reclaim symbols, to take what was meant to terrorise and turn it into empowerment, or at least a reasonably profitable side hustle selling crystals on Etsy.

The witch is dead.

Long live the witch.

She's updated her website, and you can book a tarot reading via her Instagram link.

Alan /|\