Following the groundbreaking sapphic depiction of witches in Agatha All Along, Emma Cieslik talks to some other queer coven mothers
BY EMMA CIESLIK, IMAGE BY DINSEY+
Maren and Kim – two queer coven mothers – can’t get enough of hot queer 30-something witches, specifically those in Marvel’s new television show Agatha All Along. The series features openly queer witches, such as Jennifer Kale (played by Sasheer Zamata who came out this past year) and queer Teen (Joe Locke). Rio Vidal (Aubrey Plaza) and Agatha Harkness (Kathryn Hahn)’s on-screen chemistry in episodes one and four is palpable.
In time for Samhain – arguably one of the most important pagan holidays celebrated by witches each year – and Halloween – itself a queer sacred holiday, the series (coinciding with a major TikTok trend) is reinvigorating dialogue about historical LGBTQIA witches and queer covens today. A number of queer witches are responding with gratitude for this representation and shedding more light on how these communities provide a safe space for lesbian, bisexual, queer, and trans women. One of these spaces, the Queer Coven, was actually started accidentally by Maren and Kim – two queer witches living in Perth, Australia.
Maren grew up on the edge of a tiny town in the Canadian prairies. “I made friends with trees, talked to animals, listened to the wind, collected flowers and leaves and stones, and always had a sense of being watched over by nature, it was where I felt safety and freedom.” So for them, it makes sense why they resonates so deeply with elemental magick. They grew up touching objects at flea markets to see if they told a story and regularly saw and spoke with what they now understand as spirits, although Maren suppressed this in their twenties.
Maren would not rediscover magick and begin to deliberately identify as a witch until their thirties. Their craft is deeply connected to the elements and celestial magick. While Maren doesn’t often have time for large rituals, their practice today is woven into everyday life in their garden, cooking, dancing, making art, and maintaining altars.
On the other hand, Kim was born into their craft. “I am Māori (First Nation people of New Zealand),” Kim explained. “And my Grandmother is what is known in English as a Witch Doctor and one of the last of the practitioners of the pre-colonial traditions of our people. ‘Magick’ is woven into our (Māori) identity/existence and dictates our very existence on the earth.”
Ever since they were 11, they began learning about other Magicks and incorporated these traditions and rituals into their craft. Their craft is centred around people, focusing on uplifting loved ones and their communities practising daily to welcome in positive energy and release the toxic.
Like some queer witches, Kim and Maren’s gender identities and sexualities are deeply connected to their spiritual practices. Maren was quick to acknowledge that historically, women have been condemned as witches because of their power and independence as spiritual matriarchs, herbal healers, and unmarried women or women living with and loving women. Similarly, people who did not conform to a strict gender binary were also persecuted as social outcasts and as witches, an experience sadly shared by many queer people today.
This conflation of queerness with witchcraft even persists to this day, with modern far-right politics arguing that LGBTQIA people are evil, persecuting them as social outcasts and calling them witches, and inciting a modern Satanic Panic. The Satanic Panic was a wave of pushback in the 1980s and 1990s about unconfirmed cases of ritual abuse at the hands of Satanists. Concerned parents and conservative leaders also argued that role-playing games like Dungeons & Dragons, heavy metal music, schools, and even television series were recruitment tools. Some scholars suggested this concern also stemmed from fear around unmarried women and women working outside of the home and homophobia towards gay teachers.
Just last month, Rose Tanesi, a special education director at the Grossmont Union High School District, sued the school board for discrimination on the basis of sexual orientation. Tagnesi alleges that board trustee Jim Kelly called her and another staff member “witches” who were part of an “LGBTQ coven.”
It’s important to note that not all LGBTQIA people are witches, and neither do all witches identify as LGBTQIA. But for Maren and Kim, their magic is tied to unbinding these histories. “To me, magick is queer and queerness is magick; they are inextricably linked,” Maren said.
Kim is nonbinary and presents as masculine, and they strongly lean into the “divine feminine,” fighting the idea that a nonbinary person looks or acts a certain way or that nonbinary people and trans men cannot be in contact with femininity. “Sexual orientation and gender,” Kim explained, “was never something I considered in my craft until I wanted to practice with other people. I feel more safe in a queer space and I have found that my craft and magick is very well needed for those who are queer.”
This led to their coven’s founding when in 2021, Maren and Kim spoke with a friend about how they were struggling to hold rituals for the new and full moons just for themselves. The three decided to host the next ritual together, and as more friends heard about it, they began hosting rituals every two weeks in their home. Kim would cook food and everyone would bring a plate to share, and Maren would lead a ritual followed by a discussion about each person’s individual practices and experiences.
Eventually, the gathering grew too big, and Maren and Kim decided to hire a venue and open it to the wider community. “We actually really never intended to be coven mothers, as we wanted to create a self-sustaining community without hierarchy,” they said, “but we have found ourselves feeling a bit like coven leaders.” Their coven is currently taking a break because they had to begin charging people to pay for the venue space, food, and spellwork materials. “We found ourselves running a business when we really just wanted to create a community group,” they said, so they are taking space to restructure.
They are excited to return soon with a Queer Coven event at Boorloo Pride in November, believing in the importance of queer safe spaces and queer coven spaces. Despite the name of her Instagram account, solitary queer witch Coven of the Earth agrees. She is a practising Wicca who realized she was a lesbian at a young age and came out at 14. She was always drawn to women beyond sexual relationships, and said, “If I ever did join a coven or practice Wicca with others, then I would specifically look for all-female spaces. They wouldn’t have to be entirely sapphic, though that would be nice, but they would have to be trans-inclusive.”
Coven of the Earth also agrees that Agatha All Along is breaking boundaries. “It’s so rare to find sapphic representation done well in this area,” she admits. Previous television shows and movies, such as 1971’s Daughters of Darkness, have explored queer witches, but often in a way that demonizes LGBTQIA identity by conflating it with evil. Lesbian pulp fiction novels did the same, often connecting lesbian and bisexual women with the devil and witchcraft to circumvent strict censorship laws. One of the best examples is the 1969 Lesbian Witch where a woman is called a witch because she is attracted to women.
While the central character in Agatha All Along, Harkness, is sometimes morally duplicitous, other witches in the coven look out and care for one another, using their gifts to encourage, protect, and heal one another. Through these moments and each episode’s credits sharing witches in art and historical records, the show sheds light on the importance of queer witch communities and the persecution they continue to fight.
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