Zuras, Matthew. "We Asked Salem's Official Witch What to ...



The Wicked Witches of the Left:Feminist Power and the “Sexy Witches” of the 1970sKatie DugganProf. Amy HerzogVIS 369: Gender, Sexuality, and Media15 January 2018This paper represents my own work in accordance with University regulations./s/ Katie DugganAs women, we have come to distrust that power which rises from our deepest and non-rational knowledge. We have been warned against it all our lives by the male world, which values this depth of feeling enough to keep women around in order to exercise it in the service of men, but which fears this same depth too much to examine the possibilities of it within themselves. —Audre LordeWhich witch is which? It is almost impossible to define what a “witch” is, and summarize historical and fictional representations of witches, with any sense of comprehensiveness or unity. Witches have appeared everywhere from fairy tales to trial documents, and have manifested themselves in many physical forms—from alluring young women to ugly old hags, who do anything from make medicinal potions to cast love spells to worship Satan. There seem to be constantly dueling conceptions of what witches might represent; they can be good or evil, empowered women or dangerous forces of black-magic. In Drawing Down the Moon, a 1979 sociological study of pagans in the United States, American journalist and Wiccan Margot Adler explores the many different ideas of what a witch is, and writes that the very power of the witch identity lies in the name’s imprecision. According to her interviews with self-identified witches, many feminists and practicing witches consider the witch as a being conceived in rebellion, an unstable category capable of transfiguration, a “changer of definitions and relationships.” While the term “witch” has not been used solely in reference to women (for instance, men were also tried and executed for witchcraft in Salem), Adler notes how women across generations have noted the connection of the struggles of the witch figure to the struggles for female liberation. Drawing Down the Moon was published after years of studying Neopagan covens in England and the United States. The British witches frequently linked their practices to Celtic beliefs and the historical paganism of Great Britain, while some American witches she interacted with linked their spiritual practices to those of indigenous peoples of the Americas. The religious landscape context of the 1970s was informed by many spiritual traditions, but also deeply by second-wave feminism: witches were increasingly being invoked as both political symbols and sources of profound spiritual knowledge. On the winter solstice of 1971, Zsuzsanna Budapest founded Dianic Wicca, claiming herself to be a “hereditary witch” who learned magic from her mother, and began creating all-female coven matriarchies. At the same time various Wiccan and Neopagan groups were gaining more attention, the witch identity began to be adopted by several feminist groups, perhaps most notably with one called the Women’s International Terrorist Conspiracy from Hell (W.I.T.C.H.), which emerged in the late 1960s. This New York-based socialist feminist group, who sought to ally with other leftist causes and overthrow capitalist oppression of women, was not religious in nature, nor explicitly tied to Neopaganism or any other specific spiritual belief. Yet its choice of acronym and use of witch-themed stunts, like a hex on Wall Street, singled out the witch as one of the most influential pieces of iconography of second-wave feminism. As women’s studies scholar Wendy Griffin writes in her analysis of contemporary witchcraft in North America, “the symbol of the witch was an inspired one for these feminists. This was neither Glenda the Good from Oz nor Samantha from Bewitched. This was the rebellious woman who had secret knowledge, the power to hex.” Witches represented long traditions of female knowledge and power, particularly for women who were pushed to the fringes of society. Numerous feminist covens were formed in the 1970s; many of these groups, according to Rachel Moseley, were often women-only or lesbian-separatist, celebrating witchcraft as “a goddess-centered religion, based on a feminine principle which looked back to a universal matriarchal history and lineage and forward to a woman-centered feminist future.” The historical ties of witches to the natural world also parallels the emergence of eco-feminism in the 1970s (and Earth Day was first celebrated in 1970), and the desires of women to find new networks for reproductive healthcare or regain control over historically female knowledge. Marsden Wagner, a practitioner of maternal-natal medicine, notes that midwives in the nineteenth century were commonly accused of witchcraft and tried in court, particularly as male doctors sought to monopolize control over the medical industry—witches have always been deeply intertwined with questions about female power and the patriarchy.Yet beyond the real accused or self-identified witches through history, depictions of witches have also frequently made their way into popular culture. While one would be hard-pressed to find a decade that didn’t have popular witch films—like zombies or vampires, witches are ever-popular and ever-shapeshifting cinematic icons—the 1970s saw witches making frequent appearances in sexploitation B-movies and pornographic films. The depictions of witches in this decade frequently had the inciting incident as the witch first acquiring her power, which typically coincided either with a moment of sexual maturity or sexual experimentation. The link between female power and female sexuality onscreen made a dramatic event of “the potential attainment of adult femininity and (sexual) power,” as Moseley writes. Films like Mark of the Witch (1970) or Psyched by the 4D Witch (1973) or show na?ve, virginal young women transformed into a sexual and sexualized beings through witchcraft, while Season of the Witch (1972) has a bored housewife unlocking her repressed sexuality through magic. This continued focus on the experience of becoming a witch, particularly through sexual awakening, reflects the empowering potential of adopting the witch identity. At the same time, it also manifests conceptions of the witch as a radical and radically sexual being in 1970s cinema.Becoming a WitchThe 1970 horror film Mark of the Witch opens with a scene of historical and familial trauma: it is the seventeenth century, and a witch is about to be hanged. With a noose around her neck, the titular witch curses the man who has betrayed the coven and condemned her to death: she shrieks that he, Macintyre Stuart, and his descendants will remember the mark of Satan she has placed upon them. The witch is not initially presented as arousing sexual desire, but arousing fear, as she places the curse on film. The story flashes forward to its then-present-day college-campus setting: three hundred years later, the descendant of the cursed accuser is a professor teaching a course on the occult. His name is also Macintyre Stuart, though he goes by the more casual “Mac.” At a party, one of his students, a young woman named Jill decides to attempt to summon a witch by performing an ancient summoning spell in one of the course books. Though the other party guests laugh the spell off, the witch is in fact summoned: but instead of returning physically, her spirit possesses the body of Jill, who then in effect becomes a witch herself at least in body. The physical transformation into a “witch” is clear: Jill, initially a bookish student who wore her cardigans buttoned to the top and her hair in a tight ponytail, lets her long hair down and trades the sweaters for revealing dresses. She even explicitly states her lust for Mac, feeling “an insatiable desire for my first demon lover.” The witch’s relationship to her accuser is immediately sexualized. Jill-as-witch/witch-as-Jill seduces Mac, then lures one of the other college boys to a remote place with the promise of sex and kills him after forcing him to sign his soul away to Satan. Becoming a witch becomes synonymous with becoming sexual, acting as a visually appealing spectacle but also posing a danger to men (as the poster tagline wonders: Innocent co-ed… or bride of the devil?).Jill’s transformation into a witch is involuntary, though the other films to be subsequently analyzed often feature a young woman choosing to become a witch. W.I.T.C.H. argued for this power of choosing to identify as a witch, and show how adopting the witch identity might also allow for a reclamation of sexuality deemed dangerous, and connect women to histories of female knowledge. As one of the group’s brochures instructs readers:If you are a woman and dare to look within yourself, you are a Witch. You make your own rules […] You are a Witch by saying aloud, “I am a Witch” three times, and thinking about that.”Witch, then, is not an identity that one must be born into; it is an identity that is willfully adopted as a tool for organizing against the patriarchy, and anyone can become a witch. George Romero’s 1972 film Mark of the Witch depicts a woman deciding she is a witch. It makes its subject not a virginal student, but an abused and neglected suburban housewife, Joan, who harnesses her magic after reading a book entitled To Be a Witch. Yet while she is able to articulate to herself that she is a witch, as if she is following W.I.T.C.H.’s mantra, her journey also showcases the continued struggle of witches against patriarchal oppression. In the final scene of this film, after Joan has completed her transformation and returns to the suburban party setting that introduced her to witchcraft, she longs to publicly declare herself as a witch. She even starts telling the other guests at the party “I’m a witch,” but instead overhears them referring to her as simply “Jack’s wife.” To deny one’s witch identity, or to have it denied by society, can mean denying the power of women to articulate themselves and author their own lives.Mark of the Witch has a slightly more optimistic ending, depending on one’s point of view. While the screenplay, by female writers Mary Davies and Martha Peters, is not exactly radically feminist in nature, it does offer moments of representation of intergenerational trauma for women. The same actor performs the role of the past and present Macintyre Stuart, calling for a recognition of the history of patriarchal oppression that remains in the present. It is significant that the witch’s curse reveals that Stuart did not condemn the witch simply for fear of her magic: he, too, swore an oath to Satan and gained great riches, but betrayed the rest of the coven. In the final climax of the film, the witch is exorcised from Jill and killed using the power of a cross. But just as the witch is seemingly vanquished, the film flashes back to the opening scene at the gallows—only now it is Macintyre Stuart’s neck in the noose. To quote Mac’s own summary of his scholarly studies on witchcraft and the occult, “those who cast out witches suffered terribly… you wouldn’t believe they’re supposed to be the good guys.” The witch constantly twists binary conceptions of good and evil, forcing women to recognize oppressive systems and reclaim control over their fate – and consider importance of naming things “bad” or “good” or “witch.”Sex Rituals, Sex Appeal, and SexploitationI chose to call this trope the “sexy witch” due to the prominence of young, beautiful, sexually adventurous witches in films of the 1970s—there are fewer warts and grey hair for these onscreen women, and more eyeliner and prominent cleavage. As already noted, the process of becoming a witch in these films is frequently tied with discovering sexuality. Yet sex is also often ritualized and presented in a quasi-religious context, showing that for many witches, sex and sexuality can be sacred. Audre Lorde writes in “The Uses of the Erotic” that “the dichotomy between the spiritual and the political is also false, resulting from an incomplete attention to our erotic knowledge. For the bridge which connects them is formed by the erotic—the sensual —those physical, emotional, and psychic expressions of what is deepest and strongest and richest within each of us, being shared: the passions of love, in its deepest meanings.” Through this lens, eroticism is power, and by casting love spells or transforming themselves, witches are in some sense harnessing their erotic and spiritual knowledge. While some of the 1970s sexploitation films may be attempts to capitalize on the voyeuristic pleasures of watching women explore forbidden realms (often partially nude), the link between the spiritual and erotic exploration is deniable. In Romero’s Mark of the Witch, Joan feels imprisoned by her suburban life, repressed sexuality, and verbally abusive husband, until she discovers witchcraft. The opening sequence is a series of bondage-tinged dreams where she envisions herself being led around on a dog leash or whipped by tree branches, and domestic nightmares of being followed by a man with a clipboard listing her household responsibilities. Yet becoming a witch provides her with some level of sexual freedom and unlocks her carnal desire outside her marriage (worth noting that one alternate title for the film was Hungry Wives). Joan reveals her fantasies about experimenting with other men to her daughter and partially strips off her own clothes, prompting the daughter to remark, surprised: “You never really think of your mother as having a great body.” Joan becomes “sexy,” or at least undoes the de-sexualization she has experienced in her role as a mother. As a witch she is recognizable as a sexually desirable being once again, and Joan begins an affair with a much younger local professor, Gregg. It is unclear to what extent the depictions of sexuality in these films might be reactionary to fears regarding female sexual transgressions and adultery. Joan’s husband Jack is clearly unsympathetic—speaking angrily to his wife and even physically assaulting her—and the film unambiguously sides with Joan’s quest for freedom, yet her Joan’s sexuality is still portrayed as somewhat illicit and immoral. It feels significant that the object of Joan’s affection is not any random man: her interest in Gregg begins after her daughter brings him home as her date, and Joan overhears the two having sex. Her subsequent seduction of Gregg can be read as a betrayal of her daughter and of the stability of the nuclear family. Romero himself is quoted as calling the film explicitly feminist, saying that his protagonist Joan had “everything she could possibly want, except a life.” Yet by the end of Romero’s film, witchcraft is ultimately conceived not as radical freedom, but as another patriarchal system that ultimately controls her. Joan’s first “ritual” consists of going to a magic shop to purchase candles and spell books with a credit card—linking witchcraft and capitalism—and her induction into a coven involves having a rope put around her neck, mirroring the opening scene or suggesting a noose. In this world, radical witchcraft and free sexuality seem impossible. Whether this film is a direct response to the feminist ideologies of the time or not, it appears to cast doubt on what power the sexy witch actually has, and whether she has the ability to achieve true sexual liberation through witchcraft.Psyched by the 4D Witch (A Tale of Demonology) is the most explicitly sexual of the films discussed thus far, but despite its nudity content it also exhibits a hesitant approach to embracing the possibility of radical ideologies and free sexuality. Made in 1973 and credited to a Victor Luminera, the story follows a junior college student named Cindy who conjures a witch in her bedroom. The topless Cindy performs a candlelit ritual of “sexual witchcraft” to allow herself to become possessed by Abigail, said to be her ancient ancestor from Salem. Heavily influenced by psychedelic imagery, featuring a spooky theremin soundtrack, and told entirely through Cindy’s voiceover, the film depicts Cindy acting out “wild sex fantasies” of seducing her male neighbor and having sex with a snake. The witch teaches Cindy to become sexy and irresistible, but also promises to show Cindy how to have “an adventurous sex life while still remaining a virgin,” and tells her that “the magic words are: ‘Let’s fantasy fuck now.’” Cindy’s stated desire to remain a virgin, with her affairs happening on the astral plane or some other dimension of consciousness, marks sex as something dangerous or undesirable for a young woman. This “fantasy fucking” seems to be at least partly satirical, and the film’s swaths of neon light and punk-rock song “Psyched by the 4D Witch” song repeated on loop gives it an absurd tone. Yet Casey Ryan Kelly writes of the “abstinence satire” genre that this film embodies “resolve the social tension between permissive and neoconservative ideologies by exploiting both sex and abstinence within the same text.”These films both satiate desires for more explicit sexuality, and acknowledge conservative viewpoints. Salacious sexploitation films of virginal women suddenly becoming sex-crazed can be read as representative of anxieties over female sexuality, whether these films are satirical or not. The film simultaneously sexualizes the witch as well as demonizes that sexuality, making additional false dichotomies between virgin/whore and virgin/witch. These tensions and fascinations are right in the title of Virgin Witch, a British film from 1971, which centers on virginal women lured into a coven of witches. Sexual desire—but specifically female sexual desire—is both mythical and monstrous, equated with choosing the path of evil and of Satanic control, as women initiating sexual contact means men are threatened as the historical agents of desire and wielders of power. As one California witch said in an interview in Drawing Down the Moon, “Drugs and sex are an essential part of magical rites. Some of the heaviest power is obtained this way.” And perhaps because of this potential power, the erotic, and the knowledge it represents, is continually feared. “White Witches” and “Black Magic”The 1970s sexy witch, in addition to usually being young and very physically attractive, is almost always white. In addition, the sexy 1970s witch is usually heterosexual, or at the very least framed as the object of a man’s desire. In Virgin Witch, the high priestess Sybil is a lesbian witch depicted as having a predatory sexual interest in one of the young models she recruits to the coven, Christine. One of the only examples of a lesbian witch is villainized. There seems to be a primal fear of women and female sexuality, particularly non-white or non-heterosexual sexuality. Scholars have noted that when women of color are depicted in the films of the period, their magic is usually codified as something foreign or evil, frequently termed dark magic or black magic, in contrast to good white magic, and the colorist resonance of such terms cannot be ignored. Fleetwood Mac’s 1968 song “Black Magic Woman,” made a hit by Santana in 1970, sings about a woman “trying to make a devil out of me.” Such a song epitomizes the perception of the witch as a temptress who uses her magic and sex appeal to lure men to evil (and a racialized conception of this trope is echoed in the 1999 hit “Livin’ la Vida Loca”). Sugar Hill (1974) is a Blaxploitation zombie film, whose young protagonist Diana “Sugar” Hill seeks help from a voodoo queen, Mama Maitresse. Closer to the start of the film, the “good” Sugar is young, primly dressed and with straight hair, while the voodoo priestess is old, and the voodoo loa Baron Samedia is fanged and wild-eyed. While Sugar Hill’s narrative offers some opportunity for Sugar to symbolically avenge the dehumanization of her ancestors through her army of voodoo zombies, it is significant to note the way in which the magic of people of color is often conceived to have vague associations with darkness, demons, and evil. If not evil, then, their power might be used as a plot device for white characters (see the long history of the “Magical Negro” trope, which sometimes sees the characters literally practicing magic). Women of color, and particularly women from indigenous or Afro-Latina backgrounds, might be deemed as “brujas” in Latin American communities, rather than respected healers. Irene Lara writes in her article Bruja Positionalities that “[t]he current fascination with witches in mainstream media conveys the message that white women witches are okay—particularly if they embody what dominant culture deems attractive (that is, fair skin, youth, and thinness)—but that brujas are of another species altogether.” While Lara’s text was written in the early 2000s, it is an apt description of the 1970s witch craze. There are some more multidimensional portraits of witches created by writers of color: Bless Me, Ultima, a 1972 coming-of-age novel by Chicano writer Rudolfo Anaya, seeks to draw connections between indigenous practices and Christian ideologies. The titular Ultima is an elderly curandera, a native healer, whose identity as a “bruja” is never quite made certain. She is a source of comfort and ancestral wisdom, though her healing practices are often misunderstood. Yet she is also older, a maternal figure rather than an object of male desire; she serves as a mentor and protector for seven-year-old Antonio, and disrupts binary conceptions of the bruja as being pure good or pure evil.The ties of many witchcraft practices to indigenous traditions also raises questions about the role of cultural appropriation in witchcraft, especially in the commercial sphere. Crystals, candles, incense, and other paraphernalia are often readily available for purchase in New Age shops. While this seems to make objects related to witchcraft more readily available, some Neopagans may argue that making use of the fashion and imagery of the “witch aesthetic” while ignoring the religious and communal practices is appropriative. In addition, some practices unique to Native American communities, like smudging, which involves the burning of sacred herbs, have been co-opted or conflated with similar practices in such stores and stripped of their cultural resonance. There is frequently a do-it-yourself mentality to witchcraft, with texts like Mastering Witchcraft: A Practical Guide for Witches, Warlocks and Covens (1970) available for women to purchase and follow. The easy access to spiritual materials means that practically anyone has the tools to become a witch, at least in theory, yet the other side of this is that it means it is easy for white capitalist markets, and mainstream feminism, to commodify sacred rituals and sell them under the broad umbrella of “witchiness.” What is significant to note is that nearly all of these witches, regardless of race or cultural identity, in these 1970s cinematic depictions largely act independently. While covens may be seen briefly in films like Mark of the Witch or Virgin Witch, it is largely in the context of sexual initiation rituals that prominently feature male authority figures. Otherwise, the witch is seen discovering witchcraft on her own, or by communicating with an individual witch; diverse covens and gatherings of women are seemingly not allowed to exist onscreen. Perhaps the lack of coven representation is a manifestation of the fear of feminist organizing, and the fear of the power of a group. Real-life witches in the 1970s were deeply concerned with community-building and communal living, connecting themselves to nature and to each other through environmentalist practices, with various feminist and religious practices beginning to “interlace.” Yet there seems to be no opportunity for witches of different spiritual practices to join together under the “witch” identity onscreen. The power of the witch may lie in the empowerment of individual women, but also in the organizing in support of feminist causes—which, from Mark of the Witch to Season of the Witch to Psyched by the 4D Witch, we do not get to see any of the protagonists do. The “sexy witch” is thus largely isolated onscreen, seen through her sexual relationships and not through her relationships of friendship and sisterhood.Conclusion: Reproduction, Female Knowledge, and the Future of WitchesRegardless of whether one believed in the concept of a “hereditary witch” in the way Zsuzsanna Budapest did, historically in witchcraft there was always a sense of something being passed down between female generations: whether that was powers, traditions, recipes, or knowledge of nature and the body. Practices of witchcraft are deeply tied to female lineage and networks of tacit knowledge, whether these ancestors or coven members are acknowledged directly or not. Whether one conceives of witchcraft as a spiritual practice, a political system, or a feminist network, it allows witches to return to forgotten histories of feminine power that had been abjected by patriarchal society. Through providing sexual education, alternative medicine, and reproductive care for women, midwives and witches can both “return to old ways” of folk knowledge and indigenous practices, and allow this knowledge to be passed on and reproduced in future generations. Helen Berger notes that contemporary Neopagans frequently study herbal remedies, “which they view as both an element of self-empowerment and a return to the old ways when folk healers guided people toward health.” Like a recipe book passed down from your mother and grandmother, a spell book is also a piece of shared maternal knowledge. Contemporary websites like Vice offer guides to cooking spells and culinary dishes like a witch, including cooking feasts for Samhain, the pagan harvest festival. Spells, like recipes, should be reproducible, and the knowledge is nourishing. In contemporary feminist and queer communities, tarot readings and crystal use can be a form of self-care, allowing the user to foster deeper connections with their own self and focus on their mental health. All of these practices, and their links to witchcraft, seem to go back to the whole idea of witch/midwife, assisting women in reproduction of knowledge, and bringing their own life and power into the world in their many forms. Even if the 1970s sexy witches were often created by male directors or writers, and seen through the lens of the male gaze, who really has the power? Ultimately, the witch seems to give birth to herself through female knowledge, despite other forces trying to seize control over her story. W.I.T.C.H.’s guide to starting new chapters and protests stresses the importance of anonymity and concealing one’s identity, so perhaps any obscuration of the true nature of the witch is fully intentional.The “sexy witch” trope was by no means isolated to the 1970s—any Halloween party will show you that the popularity of the sexy witch imagery endures. Yet so does some of the radical feminism of the era. New chapters of W.I.T.C.H. have begun to appear from Boston to Portland, and when Supreme Court Justice Brett Kavanaugh was confirmed after facing allegations of sexual assault during a controversial confirmation hearing, a spiritual and occult bookstore in Brooklyn began promoting an event called “Ritual to Hex Brett Kavanaugh.” The store’s patrons choose to publicize their rituals and witch identities—directly echoing W.I.T.C.H.’s hexes on the patriarchy. While films and popular culture may not always represent witches with the same radicalism, especially when the works are made by male creators, witches in real life tackle real issues, explicitly organizing to fight back against sexual assault and the over-sexualization and objectification of their bodies. Though the sexy witch might be sexualized onscreen (or maybe not), she is never fully contained by simple descriptors or ways of looking. Just as feminism has many facets, the witch has many forms. As the W.I.T.C.H. manifesto states: “You can be invisible or evident in how to make your witch self known.” If you are a witch, you make your own rules.Works CitedAdler, Margot.?Drawing Down the Moon: Witches, Druids, Goddess-Worshippers, and Other Pagans In America Today.?New York: Viking Press, 1979.Berger, Helen A. "Witchcraft and Neopaganism." In?Witchcraft and Magic: Contemporary North America, edited by Helen A. Berger. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2005. Grant, Barry Keith. "Taking Back the Night of the Living Dead: George Romero, Feminism, and the Horror Film." In?Zombie Theory: A Reader ?edited by Sara Juliet Lauro, 212-22. Minneapolis; London: University of Minnesota Press, 2017.Griffin, Wendy. "Webs of Women: Feminist Spiritualities,”?Witchcraft and Magic: Contemporary North America, edited by Helen A. Berger. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2005.Kelly, Casey Ryan. “Sexploitation in Abstinence Satires.”?Abstinence Cinema: Virginity and the Rhetoric of Sexual Purity in Contemporary Film. New Brunswick, NJ: Rutgers University Press, 2016, pp. 108–127.?JSTOR.Langone, Alix. "Brooklyn Witches Plan to Put a Hex on Supreme Court Justice Brett Kavanaugh."?TIME, October 14, 2018.Lara, Irene. "BRUJA POSITIONALITIES: Toward a Chicana/Latina Spiritual Activism."?Chicana/Latina Studies?4, no. 2, 2005.Layne, Jodie. "How To Use Tarot In Your Self-Care Routine." BUST Magazine. Accessed January 06, 2019. Lorde, Audre. “Uses of the Erotic: The Erotic as Power.”?Sister Outsider: Essays and Speeches. Berkeley, CA: Crossing Press, 2007.Madara, Melissa. "A Spellbinding Guide to Cooking Like a Witch." Munchies, VICE. September 08, 2017. Accessed January 06, 2019. Mark of the Witch. Directed by Tom Moore. By Mary Davis and Martha Peters. United States: Lone Star Productions, 1970.Moseley, Rachel. "Glamorous Witchcraft: Gender and Magic in Teen Film and Television."?Screen43, no. 4 (2002): 403-22.Psyched by the 4D Witch (A Tale of Demonology). Directed by Victor Luminera. United States: New Art Films, 1973.Season of the Witch. Directed by George A. Romero. United States: Jack H. Harris Enterprises, Inc., 1972-1973.Virgin Witch. Directed by Ray Austin. United Kingdom: Tigon Film Distributors Ltd., 1971.Wagner, Marsden. “Hunting Witches: Midwifery in America.”?Born in the USA: How a Broken Maternity System Must Be Fixed to Put Women and Children First. Berkeley: University of California Press, 2006, pp. 99–125.?JSTOR.Zuras, Matthew. "We Asked Salem's Official Witch What to Eat at a Pagan Sabbat." Munchies, VICE. October 31, 2015. Accessed January 06, 2019. ................
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