Many queer folks are attracted to witchcraft because of its DIY nature. There are very few rules to being a witch, and that makes it an accessible path for those who don’t want their spiritual practice to be burdened by other people’s biases. It’s easy to see why the very fluid, personalized nature of witchcraft is appealing to the LGBTQ+ community.

And yet, the witchy crowd is not without biases or issues. Many witches put an emphasis on divine feminine and/or divine masculine energy and use gendered associations for the elements, which can be alienating for people who don’t identify with a binary gender. An emphasis on sexual liberation and empowerment, while certainly healing for many witches, can make these spaces uncomfortable for asexual people. The toxic positivity culture that infects many spiritual spaces can add insult to injury for those who have been harmed by homophobia.

All too often, the burden of untangling these issues is placed on queer witches alone. Queer witches and like-minded allies are told that this is how it has always been done, and that it is their responsibility to find ways to make it work for them. This can be exhausting, and it leads to many people giving up on finding safe, affirming spiritual communities.

In Lavender Witchcraft: Crafting Queer Magical Practice, author Sam Wise does a little of this untangling for readers in the hope that this will make it easier for them to create affirming traditions.

The book’s title, Lavender Witchcraft, honors the history of the queer community. It celebrates the way the community has reclaimed the slurs and insults originally used to hurt them. It uplifts queer activism. It acknowledges that modern queer witches are part of a long lineage of queer spiritual seekers.

Lavender (both the plant and the color) has been associated with the queer community since at least the 1920s. Before the rainbow became the universal symbol for queer pride, both lavender and the color pink were used by queer ancestors to represent their identities and their fight for equal rights. In the 1920s, lavender began to be associated with gay men and lesbians. This association got stronger throughout the 1930s and 1940s.

Lavender Witchcraft is queer-affirming witchcraft that is rooted in queer history and culture. At the heart of this approach to magic is an understanding of queer identity as a liminal state and a source of spiritual power.

Merriam-Webster lists two definitions for the word “liminal.” The first is, “of, relating to, or situated at a sensory threshold: barely perceptible or capable of eliciting a response.” The second is, “of, relating to, or being an intermediate state, phase, or condition.” The word liminal comes from the Latin limen, meaning threshold. When we are in a liminal state, we are between two things. We are both, and we are neither. This both-neither state is deeply magical.

To be a witch is to be at home in liminal spaces. Queer identity is also very liminal.

Queerness is marked as “other” by a society centered on cisgender, straight experiences, and queer people often find themselves pushed out of mainstream spaces. Especially in places where queerness is not accepted, queer people can certainly feel like they are “barely perceptible or capable of eliciting a response.” And those who feel like their identities place them between traditional concepts of masculinity and femininity may find themselves living in that magical both-neither space every day.

Queer spaces are liminal because they exist outside of the binaries of masculine/feminine. When queer folks and other marginalized people find themselves unwelcome in mainstream spaces, they create their own special places between the worlds. Anyone who has attended a Pride parade or a drag show has probably noticed the electric, mystical energy in these spaces. Here, otherness is embraced and celebrated. Here, celebrants embrace the Other as a reflection of the divine self.

Many gods, goddesses, and other divine spirits associated with the liminal also have a connection to queer communities. The Greek goddess Artemis, who is associated with lesbian love and defiance of traditional femininity, is the patroness of those who live outside of the established social order. The Norse god Loki is described with masculine pronouns, but he often appears in female form. The Fon lwa Legba and the Yoruba

Orisha Obatala are both masculine spirits with male and female attributes. These deities illustrate how, for thousands of years, different cultures have connected queerness with magic. People who existed outside their culture’s gender and sexuality norms were seen as keepers of sacred power.

In Europe, Africa, Asia, and North and South America, many different cultures have connected magic and the Otherworld to people living outside of gender and sexuality norms. In some cases, these people were explicitly identified as witches, sorcerers, or magicians, while in other cases they were honored as healers, spiritual leaders, or prophets.

Some of these queer ancestors had identities that would now be classified as transgender or nonbinary, but not all of them. Many of them were associated with homosexuality or bisexuality in some way. Queer identity or, more accurately, social fears about queer people, have also informed folklore about witches and magic.

The witch as an archetype did not appear out of nowhere. Stories, art, and folklore about witches combine threads of older mythology about other, similar beings. Some of these stories go back to the very beginning of civilization. Many of these pre-witch stories are about women or feminine men who behave in ways that go against society’s expectations based on their assigned gender. In many of these stories, the witchy figure is divine or supernatural.

Some of these figures, such as the Slavic Baba Yaga, rejected feminine gender roles in ways that can be read as queer. Some scholars describe Baba Yaga’s pestle as a phallic object, giving her both male and female aspects. She lives in a hut in the woods and is said to kill and eat the men who stumble upon her home, but she is sometimes willing to help a brave, beautiful young woman. While Baba Yaga is never explicitly described as queer in Slavic folklore, it is easy to see how she is connected to negative stereotypes about queer women: she acts masculine, she hates men, and she is a “bad influence” on the young women she helps.

Queer men also play a role in shaping our ideas of witchcraft. In Iron Age Scandinavia, a vitki was a man who practiced the feminine magic known as seiðr. Men who practiced seiðr were seen as taking on a feminine social role, making them less manly. Even so, it was not uncommon for men to practice this magical art.

Even though seiðr was associated with sexual deviance, it was an important part of Norse society. Odin, the chief of the Norse gods, is a vitki.

Witchcraft is based on magical practices from Europe, North Africa, and West Asia. But it’s important to note that this connection between magic and gender nonconformity is also present in non-Western cultures. For example, in Yoruba mythology from West Africa, the orisha Oshun is associated with both magic and sex, and at least one legend describes her using her seductive charms on women.

This history is important for two reasons. First, it is a reminder that queer people have always been here and have always been part of the history of witchcraft. Second, it can be a source of inspiration for modern queer witches as they create their own practices.

This connection between queer identity and witchcraft is very present in modern traditions, although not often discussed. Many of the authors and teachers who shaped modern witchcraft as we know it were openly queer at a time when living outside of the closet was a radical act.

The late Scott Cunningham, perhaps the most well-known Wiccan author of all time, was an openly gay man. Cunningham’s book, Wicca: A Guide for the Solitary Practitioner, popularized the concept of solitary witchcraft and offered a model for practicing Wicca without a coven. It is impossible to overstate the influence this concept of solitary practice had on witchcraft and paganism as we know them today. According to the LGBTQ Religious Archives Network, Cunningham’s interest in solitary practice grew out of his feelings of being excluded from traditional coven-based Wicca because of his sexuality.

Another queer author whose work is foundational to modern witchcraft is Starhawk. Starhawk’s work, especially her book The Spiral Dance, has shaped generations of witches in the Wiccan, Feri, and Reclaiming traditions as well as eclectic practitioners. Starhawk has identified herself as bisexual and has described her sexuality as fluid. This identity is reflected in her vision of inclusive, immanent spirituality and magic.

Queer identity has always been a prominent current in the river of pagan spirituality, and queer people have always been on the front lines of the modern witchcraft movement. Lavender Witchcraft seeks to uplift and celebrate this history in a culture that too often minimizes and sweeps away anything that doesn’t fit neatly into a divine feminine/divine masculine model of practice.

This book is written for queer witches by a queer witch. This book is also intended to help allies who want to develop more welcoming practices.

Author Sam Wise uses the word “queer” as an umbrella term for anyone and everyone who is not cisgender and straight. Cisgender means someone identifies with the gender they were assigned at birth. (For example, someone who was born a boy and now identifies as a man.) Straight means heterosexual – someone who is attracted only to the opposite gender. (For example, a woman attracted only to men.)

This definition of queer is intentionally very broad. It includes transgender people, nonbinary people, asexual and aromantic people, and those who are still questioning their identity. It includes bisexual and pansexual people in straight-passing relationships. It includes people who use neopronouns (such as using xe/xem/xir instead of he/him/his or she/her/hers) and people whose identity does not fit a single label. Everyone has a place in the conversation.

Readers do not need to identify as queer or be an expert on queer topics to read and understand this book. Queer terms are defined as they come up, making the text easy to follow even for those who are new to these topics.

The book focuses on secular witchcraft, i.e., witchcraft that is not part of any one tradition or religion, in order to be accessible to as many people as possible from as many different paths as possible. There is no right or wrong way to be a witch, just as there is no right or wrong way to be queer.

Beyond exploring the history of queer magic, Lavender Witchcraft covers elemental magic beyond binary gender, queer planetary magic, spiritual allies for all identities, sample holiday rituals, and more. Throughout the book, practical exercises and thought-provoking discussions encourage readers to apply what they’ve learned to their own practice. Each exercise includes suggestions for accessibility adjustments to accommodate readers with different abilities and access needs. 

For more details: https://www.collectiveinkbooks.com/moon-books/our-books/lavender-witchcraft-queer-magical