There was a time when the word Witch carried weight. It was whispered through clenched teeth, spoken only when necessary, laced with the taste of iron and fear. It wasn’t a brand. It wasn’t an aesthetic. It was a declaration—of power, of defiance, of being one who walks between worlds, unafraid to grasp fate by the throat.
But today? Gods help us.
Modern Witchcraft has been defanged, stripped of its bite, dulled down until it barely resembles its former self. It has been colonized, commercialized, and washed in the lukewarm waters of moral superiority. It has been pacified, rewritten by those who seek safety over truth, and silenced by the very forces that witches once stood against.
Witchcraft is being consumed by virtue signaling—a hollow performance of morality that exists not to create real change but to position oneself as more righteous than others. And make no mistake, this performance is deeply tied to white supremacy and the patriarchy.
There is an unspoken rule in these sanitized circles: real Witchcraft—the Craft that makes people uncomfortable, that calls upon the visceral, the blood-soaked, the wild—is wrong.
Instead, we are told:
- Do no harm.
- Turn the other cheek.
- Magic is a last resort.
- Never hex. Never curse. Never fight.
- Stay in your place. Be good. Be quiet. Be acceptable.
This is not Witchcraft. This is obedience. And I, for one, refuse to bow.
The Gospel of Powerlessness: When The Rede Became A Gag Order
“Harm none.”
You know the phrase. It’s weaponized in online discussions, wielded by those who seek to police the practice of others. The Rede, once a guideline for a specific tradition, has become a tool of moral supremacy—used not for guidance, but for control.
Let’s be clear: The Rede is not universal. It is not a foundational law of all Witchcraft. It is one philosophy among many, and yet, it is treated as an indisputable truth, enforced by those who would rather police their peers than examine the source of their own beliefs.
And where does this deep-rooted fear of “harm” come from?
The patriarchy.
Because a Witch who knows her power, a Witch who is unafraid to take action, a Witch who does not shrink in the face of conflict—that Witch is dangerous. That Witch is a threat.
So instead, we are fed a doctrine of restraint. We are told that to be a Witch is to be good, that we must be gentle, that we must never wield our magic in ways that disrupt the comfortable illusions of those in power.
This is not about ethics. This is about control.
Witchcraft has never been safe. It has never been about moral purity. It is about balance. About power. About knowing when to heal and when to destroy, when to nurture and when to sever.
Karma: The Whitewashed Lie
Ah, Karma. The Witchcraft equivalent of “Jesus is watching.”
Apparently, even if you don’t believe in it, it believes in you. Convenient, isn’t it? A universal law that somehow functions with the same logic as Christian fear-mongering, threatening to smite us the moment we step out of line.
But let’s talk about what Karma actually is, before it was ripped from its origins, stripped of nuance, and repackaged as a Westernized morality meter.
In Hinduism, Buddhism, and Jainism, Karma is not punishment. It is not cosmic retribution. It is the natural unfolding of cause and effect across lifetimes. It is deeply tied to Dharma, the sacred order of things, and Samsara, the cycle of death and rebirth.
Westernized Karma? It’s a joke.
It’s been bastardized into a feel-good fairy tale where “bad things happen to bad people” and “good vibes bring good fortune.” This version of Karma is nothing more than a sanitized, whitewashed distortion of an ancient concept—used by the privileged to justify their own comfort while dismissing the struggles of others.
“Oh, you were wronged? Just let Karma handle it.”
“Oh, you’re struggling? Must be your own fault.”
This is not spirituality. This is weaponized complacency.
Witches do not wait for the universe to balance the scales. We balance them ourselves.
Magic As A Last Resort? Says Who?
Another favorite lie: “Magic should be your last resort.”
Why?
Does a carpenter wait until they’ve tried everything else before using a hammer? Does a doctor refuse medicine until they’ve exhausted every mundane option?
Witchcraft is a tool. It’s one of many, yes—but it is no less valid than action, strategy, or force of will.
The idea that magic should be a last resort is a flimsy attempt to pacify those who are too afraid to own their power. It’s an apologetic whisper to the mundane world, an excuse to distance oneself from the raw and untamed nature of true Craft.
Stop asking permission to be a Witch. You are one. Act like it.
The Virtue Signalers & The White-Washed Witch
Now let’s talk about virtue signaling—the art of performative morality.
These are the Witches who must be seen as good. Who parade their kindness, their ethics, their superiority for all to see.
They are the ones who shame others for baneful magic while ignoring their own passive aggression. Who cry “harm none” while benefiting from a system that thrives on harm.
And make no mistake: this is deeply tied to white supremacy.
The push for a sanitized, soft, inoffensive Witchcraft is not new—it is the latest evolution of colonialist thinking. A Witchcraft that does not bite is a Witchcraft that does not threaten. And who does an obedient, pacified Witchcraft serve?
The same forces that have always sought to silence us.
This is why so many modern Witches reject ancestral practices that involve blood, bones, sacrifice, or spirit work. These practices, often rooted in Black, Indigenous, and non-Western traditions, are deemed “dark,” “dangerous,” or “wrong.”
But casting a money spell?
Charging crystals for a promotion?
Wishing bad luck upon an ex but calling it “shadow work”?
That’s perfectly fine.
The hypocrisy is staggering.
The truth is, Witchcraft is not a morality contest. It is not about being “good” or “bad.” It is about being honest.
And honesty means acknowledging the depth, the duality, the raw, feral nature of the Craft.
I don’t want a Witchcraft of whispered apologies and gentle affirmations. I want a Witchcraft that remembers its roots, that stands unapologetically in its power.
I want a Witchcraft that is real—bloody, raw, unfiltered, and undeniably alive.
If that makes me a “dark practitioner,” so be it.
If that makes me “too intense,” I’ll take it as a compliment.
But what I won’t do—what I refuse to do—is stand by while the Craft I love is diluted beyond recognition.
We are Witches. We are not here to be liked. We are here to be.
Now tell me—where do you stand?
