Feminists have long-identified with the witch archetype, lauding her self-reliance, bodily autonomy and refusal to be tamed. Maria Blyth suggests some witchy feminist reads to get you started.
The true story of witches, sex and women’s bodies, objectified and violated by misogyny, is fiercely explored in this slim but riotous history by the founding editrix of sex-positive website Slutist. By reclaiming the identities of witch, slut, and feminist, women today, argues Kristen, might acknowledge their long and agonising histories of oppression, whilst subverting and overcoming it in its contemporary forms. Tracing a line through film, music, pop culture, technology, sex work and identity, Kristen shows that the word “slut” is essentially our modern-day equivalent of “witch”. Sex positive and intersectional, this hustling powerhouse of a book shines its light on art and life to create a radically inclusive and exuberant war-cry.
Looking for a queer, dissident approach to witchcraft that defies boundaries, and champions the inclusive nature of witchcraft? Then this book of essays is a veritable trove of inspiration waiting to be unleashed, Whether you’re a queer witch, fashion witch, gender witch, sex witch or otherwise, you’ll find multiple essays here that will chime your bells, keep you spellcasting, and help forward your ideas to hex the patriachy in its myriad and monstrous forms. The Editors champion, in a sublime manor, folks of diverse experiences, from disabled witches to sex workers and those living with borderline personality disorder. The result is a book that upholds the powerful capacity we all have to uncover our very own magick, whatever that may look or feel like.
I could’ve chosen Federici’s classic ‘Caliban and the Witch’, but ‘Witches, Witch-hunting and Women is essentially an updated, more accessible version which opens out onto contemporary life in a way that is simply essential. It presents a concise argument of Federici’s, which is that “the witch hunt stands at the crossroad of social processses that paved the way for the rise of the modern capitalist world”. Through Federici we trace the body, as a working machine, and the shift which has made capitalist society’s demands seem plausible, if not desireable. We trace the damned history of the witch, the hag, the outlaw, and follow her through the 1700s to present day Africa, and those currently held in witch camps. Yet Federici gives us tools to move forwards, telling us not only what is happening now, but how to get active. As witches, we owe it to our forebears to step up to the mark.
Like many readers, I am an avid fan of Pam Grossman, and The Witch Wave podcast. In my personal sphere this entails (even in lockdown) an hour long walk through the woods where I devote my attention in part to the trees and in part to Pam and her diverse panel of guests. When Pam annouced the publication of her book, I was, like all good fangirls, straight on board with a pre-order. In Waking the Witch, Pam weighs in with her vast personal experience of the craft, whilst allowing others to shine too. Expect ancient voices and witchy art to fuel notions of embodied witchcraft today. Whether you identify with Hermione or Hecate, there’s something here for you. Pam traces the history of our ideas of witches and witchcraft without losing sight of the validity of the pop cultural references which have become so potently dear to us all. She champions an eclectic, community-oriented witchcraft which is ephemeral, ever shifting and responsive, but absolutely down to the ground.
This novel-cum-memoir features one of my favourite openings of all time: “When I was born my mother was so horrified to be handed a female baby that she took three months to name me. My birth certificate just says “Gore Girl”.” This is the story of a writer, a young single mother who reels against familial and societal expectations of her, resisting the abject objectification and commodification of her body, her life and her livelihood. Through these ever mounting acts of opposition and defiance, the protagonist Ariel uncovers her own version of power, channelling it via and into her art. Disobedient and confrontational in both form and content, there is a softness to this book too - Ariel’s willingness to be vulnerable, to lean into that, might be her greatest magickal power of all.