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#Occultea Tag

Originally part of a series of posts on Tumblr on July 23, 2024.

Earlier this year, witches took to social media (mostly YouTube and Instagram, from what I can see) to talk about witchcraft in the social media landscape: community, influencers, grifting, impact, imposter syndrome, and more. They did this as part of the hashtag "#OcculTea" in a call to the community of internet creators to come forward and talk about their experiences. The tag was started by Ella Harrison, the Red Headed Witch, and the Polish Folk Witch to generate really important conversations across various social media sites.

The Polish Folk Witch actually created a playlist full of videos from witchcraft creators, which you can take a look at here if you'd like to watch a few.

I've spent quite a bit of time watching videos from various creators with their responses, and it got me thinking about how I'd answer those same questions. Our formats are different, and our internet niches are different, so our perspectives on the same topics are obviously different. So, here we are: I'm bringing #OcculTea to Tumblr! (I'm not the first; a handful of others have answered the same questions in the #OcculTea tag, and you should check them out!)

If you want to take part in this tag, please do! I'm not directly tagging anyone, so there's no pressure. The list of questions can be found here. If you make a post, tag it as #OcculTea! I'm following the tag, and I want to see everyone's responses. (:

Now, without further ado, here is the list of topics, if you'd like to jump to a particular part of the page:

Introduction

I'm Aese! I've been a witch for... oh, what, 14 years? 15 years? Something like that. Some of my earliest spellwork was almost 20 years ago (which is so wild to think about), but I didn't pick up the witchcraft label until late high school. I only started participating in online witchcraft spaces a few years ago. Honestly, it was god damn witchtok that got me into the online community at the tail end of 2019. The public rise of witchcraft made me realize how much I missed being really dedicated to my practice, as I'd let it stagnate and sort of fizzle for several years at that point. So, I refocused my efforts and ended up here!

Much of what I talk about involves divination, spirit work, practical magic, and recipes. I sort of go in cycles, you may have noticed! I tend to post about whatever I'm currently interested in. If I'm writing about something, it's likely because I'm actively doing a working related to that subject. I enjoy discussing theory most of all!

Topic 1: Impact on Community

What is my personal reasoning/inspiration behind sharing my practice online?

It's tough for me to maintain focus and interest on things by myself. It's far easier to stay invested in something when I'm actively discussing it with other people. Thus, Tumblr! Even if I'm talking to no one, just casting thoughts into the ether, it feels like I'm engaging with someone out there who's just as interested as I am in the things I'm doing. I engage with the online witchcraft community for the same reasons I engage with online fandom: inspiration, ideas, connection, and motivation.

I do also enjoy troubleshooting and sharing solutions with people. I do sometimes post 101-type content, but I far prefer when I get to answer a specific question or address a really particular situation. It's why I read tarot for the public -- questions asked and answered. It's fun and satisfying. Much of my practice I learned by trial and error, and by collaborating with others; I don't read a lot of witchcraft books. The things I share come from spirits, friends who practice, history and nature, and good old fashioned "been there done that" logic. I like sharing those experiences with people, both teaching and learning as I go along.

What am I looking to achieve by participating? Do I seek to educate, learn or connect?

I mean, sort of all three! Though, honestly, it's less about educating and more about offering information and experiences. I don't really see myself as an "educator" so much as someone who's experienced a lot and has stuff to say about those experiences. Anything I publish, even if it's in the style of a 101 lesson, comes from personal experience. None of it is authoritative, no matter how confident my tone is. (Which is, incidentally, just how I type. And talk. Default Mode.)

The nice thing about Tumblr is that ideas get passed around readily. When one person posts something or asks a question, other similar posts and perspectives tend to pop up. You read a post and go "oh, I have thoughts about that!" And then you either reblog or reply with a response, or you make your own post and tag it for others to see. And then someone else does the same thing, and so on and so forth.

So when I publish something from my perspective, offering up information, it's likely that someone else will have a thought and create their own post on the subject. Then, I get to read about it and learn something! It's great.

How do I believe social media, as a whole, has impacted the community?

Oh, hugely. Massively. Social media plays an integral part in most people's regular lives at this point, of course it influences the witchcraft community, too!

In a general sense, there's a pressure to share more and more about ourselves and our practices. Folks want content that's accessible, but they also want to know the person sharing all this information on a more personal level, too. Thanks to witchcraft's popularity rising in the last handful of years, we have a ton of beginners entering the scene. And because they're coming from social media that prioritizes The Algorithm and shock-based interactions, a lot of those beginners have set expectations for how information is presented.

And yet, on the other hand, there's an odd disconnect between folks who put out content and their audiences, both here on our blogs and elsewhere in the social media sphere. Some folks forget that we're not repositories of information; we aren't automatic machines that are going to have a perfect solution or exact answer for everyone. We're people with interests outside of our practices -- and sometimes, with interests within our practices that we don't talk about.

But even beyond the communities and the personalities existing on the platforms, the real issue is with the platforms themselves. The primary thing to remember is that social media apps and sites are products. They're machines designed to generate revenue for the people who own them. That means they don't particularly care about the quality of content; they care about what gets people to pay attention, to click an ad, to give interaction, to spend more and more time on the platform.

Algorithms exist to encourage certain types of content: urgent, alarming, exciting. If it doesn't get a reaction, it doesn't get attention. And the more details you put in, the less likely random people are going to be to stop their endless scrolling and watch (or read, as the case may be). Thus, nuance dies.

And when nuance dies in one place, it dies everywhere else, because that's what people come to expect. They want clear-cut, easy answers that they can pick up and digest without thought. There's no room for gray areas or questions or uncertainty. They want to Know, empirically and without a doubt, that they're Right. And they want it to be Simple and Unchallenging and Already Thought Out For Them.

How do I think social platforms such as TikTok, Instagram, and YouTube have each impacted education/sharing information?

It would be easy to point fingers at TikTok for the decline of quality educational content, and I think we'd be right to in many ways. Fast-paced, short-form video content is a good way to churn out lots of bite-sized information all at once. But like I mentioned above, it's not fabulous when it comes to nuance. It's why I left TikTok altogether, honestly. And yes, Tumblr is the Piss On The Poor website. I know. However, I still hold that this website, this platform, is superior to a lot of other options currently out there when it comes to easily-accessible, long- and short-form content.

Content creators are, in many ways, part of the content the audience is consuming. It's a bigger issue on other platforms, particularly YouTube and TikTok, but we see it here on Tumblr, too. The personality someone presents impacts the interactions they get on their posts. This means that popular creators, who so often drive community discussions and direction, are more careful about what they share. It creates an atmosphere of Us and Them, Creator and Audience, and that's not always conducive to conversation.

The boon of Tumblr is that the primary function of the site is passing information (posts) around and adding your thoughts to that information (reblogs, replies, tags). Websites exist out there where witches publish their research and thoughts, but they often don't offer space for conversation to occur. And that's fine; not everyone wants commentary and discussion on their stuff. Me, though, I thrive on it.

YouTube is a fine platform, too. You get a ton of good content on there, witches sharing their unique practices and paths and cultures from all over the world. You get a lot of bullshit, too, don't get me wrong. Videos on YouTube have more room for longer explanations, links to resources, and visual representations of what each creator is working on. You're not getting flashes of half-second clips of a spell; you're getting a full breakdown of materials and construction with a scripted voice-over explaining the how and why. You're getting nuanced histories and reviews that aren't rushed by a crushing time constraint.

At the same time, the Algorithm rules YouTube, and it's constantly changing. Certain content does better, and that's defined by whatever gets the most ad views. Google is a behemoth that's hell-bent on squeezing every dollar it can out of the viewer and out of its product: the content creators. If a creator isn't bowing and scraping to The Algorithm's almighty power, their videos are often buried and left to languish. A determined viewer can certainly find them, but they won't be recommended on the home page or in the side bar of videos -- which, let's be honest, is where most of us discover new content on YouTube.

All of this is to say that educational content isn't... gratifying, for The Algorithm. It doesn't generate clicks, it doesn't get ad money, and it doesn't benefit The Company. In order to make ends meet, creators have to seek out advertisers who get to dictate the content of the videos (no swearing, no explicit topics, no this, no that). They have to choose their words carefully. They have to market perfectly, create obnoxious thumbnails, write clickbait titles... It seems exhausting, and I'm never more glad than while watching these creators struggle against it that my own meager attempts to become a YouTuber circa 2011 failed spectacularly.

There, too, I think Tumblr is great. Yeah, we have ads and bots and weird shit that goes on with the CEO every so often and alarming moderation problems. This site has a multitude of issues that we ought to be vocal about. But the people of Tumblr are feral. We hate ads, we hate injustice, we hate grifting, we hate the nonsense that makes places like TikTok popular. It makes us unprofitable in a lot of ways, but it also makes this platform feel more authentic and easy to engage with because there's very little pressure to churn out nothing-posts for engagement (shitposting notwithstanding, as those have their rightful place in the Post Ecosystem).

Then again, clickability and aesthetics have a powerful hold on content creators, even here on Tumblr. Pretty pictures get lots of attention. Short, quippy shitposts get reblogs out the ass. Long, painstakingly researched, heartfelt passion projects get... less. Aesthetics win out over actually-useful content.

I blame Instagram (and Pinterest, in a way) for that, honestly. Staged, too-pretty altars that have never seen a speck of chalk or dirt or use surrounded by beautiful hundred-dollar candles all lit at the same time are deeply, deeply unrealistic. Simplified infographics misrepresenting the complexity of witchcraft abound. We (and I do mean we; I fall victim to this, too) desperately want the Ideal Life. We want the Ideal Practice. Aesthetics can be important to set the mood and enhance power flow, but photoshoot-ready set-ups aren't practical. It hardly matters when it comes to engagement, though.

#relatable #want #witchy #witchyaesthetic #dreamhome #dreamaltar #dreamdreamdreamdreamdream

I could probably go on for a long time about algorithms and clickbait and the nonsense it all brings. But the essence of it is this: The expectation of perfect, photographable, digestible, beginner-centric, unproblematic, algorithm-friendly content is a killer to people like me, who want to make genuine connections with real people about the things we're really doing. I see complaints all the time on Tumblr about the lack of Original Content, but our Original Content doesn't get interactions. If it doesn't get interactions, it seems like no one cares.

If you want to see something from your favorite blogger, interact with them directly. Bring back ask culture! Send an anonymous ask if you're shy! Leave a reply asking a question or saying thank you! Reblog the stuff you like with tags or additions asking for more or making conversation! Liking posts on Tumblr doesn't really do anything; it's the reblogs that spread stuff around and encourage more engagement. People putting stuff up on this website aren't entertainers. (Well, alright, some of us are, but for the most part...) We're people looking for connection, same as you.

Is consuming witchcraft content becoming a substitute for practice?

Oh, now this is a solid question. I think, for some folks, the answer is yes.

It's all too easy to get caught up in the social media trance. Scrolling forever, reading and watching and consuming -- it's all designed to capture and keep your attention, after all. I've certainly had that happen. I'll find that I haven't cast a spell or done an actual working in a while, and when I wonder why that is, it's because I've spent a bunch of time scrolling and watching videos without getting up and Doing The Thing.

And that's okay sometimes. If I'm sick or exhausted or just not feeling it, reading witchy posts and watching witchcraft YouTube is an easy way to engage with the craft. But I do have to remind myself that watching and reading alone won't get the job done. The only way to do magic is to do it.

I equate it to watching people play The Sims instead of playing it myself. I do love the game, but I don't always have the time or energy needed to sit down and play. Watching others build houses and create Sims and do challenges satisfies The Urge well enough, but it isn't the same as actually playing. And yet, that's okay, isn't it? If that's my preferred way to engage with The Sims, who cares? At some point, it does become "my hobby is watching YouTube videos of The Sims" rather than "my hobby is playing The Sims," but... well, that line is mine to define. "My hobby is The Sims" is generic enough to give me that space, and it's nobody's business what I mean by that.

It really all comes down to how people want to interact with witchcraft. If that's from a purely aesthetic, distant perspective, that's fine! If it's down in the trenches, trailblazing new theories and methods, also fine! So long as what they're doing isn't actively harmful (spreading bigotry, appropriation, dangerous suggestions, etc.), who cares? I've seen @/upthewitchypunx define a witch as someone who practices witchcraft and self-identifies as one. "Practice" in this case is defined by the witch in question. Mine won't match yours; to each their own.

For example, by my own definitions, if I were to stop the active parts of my practice (casting spells, performing rituals, observing holidays, and so forth), I wouldn't call myself a witch anymore. Even if I were still consuming witchcraft content, if I wasn't actively practicing, I wouldn't feel comfortable calling myself a witch any longer. But if that consumption is active practice to someone else (whether because that's all they're able to do or because that's all they want to do), that's their business to call themselves whatever they want.

With that said, I think the primary issue with "consumption as practice" is that it can only go so far. One's witchcraft won't really develop if you're only ever going off of what other people say. It takes a very real amount of work and thought to put a witchcraft practice together. At some point, if the only thing you're doing is consuming someone else's practice, you'll likely run into the issue of stagnation.

Stagnating is frustrating. There's a large focus on beginner-level witchcraft in a lot of spaces, because of the massive (Algorithm-friendly) demand for it. But also, as crafts and paths advance, they become more and more personalized to the individual. Unfortunately, there isn't a simple, one-way ticket to the intermediate. In my opinion, you can't Consume your way there. It's fine if you're content to let your practice be as it is. But if you do find yourself wondering why you aren't learning or progressing at all, and you're trying hard to exit the Beginner Phase but can't quite get there, think about what constitutes your practice. What are you doing to push yourself forward?

But again, after much thought and deliberation, I don't think it matters. It isn't my business what you're up to, anymore than it's your business what I'm up to. If you're happy, it's all good. Just remember that if you actually want to Get Good at witchcraft, content creators won't be able to pull your practice forward for you forever.

Noting, of course, that none of this includes the odd variety of person who might maintain a witchcraft blog, post original witchcraft content, and otherwise position themselves as a knowledgeable witch... and not actually be one at all. This, I think, is where the term poser comes in handy. I can think of at least one instance of this sort of thing being uncovered. For this type of person, I can't help but wonder what the actual goal is. Is it attention? Is it the intentional spread of misinformation? Is it the power to shape belief? Is it money?

Who knows?

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Topic 2: Influencer Authenticity

Out of what I share on social media, how much of it is staged vs reality?

Pretty much everything I share is reality. I've mentioned before that when I publish spells and rituals, I'm usually leaving out a step or two that are deeply personal to my practice. They're not things I want to share with the public, so I keep them to myself.

But I'm not staging pictures or publishing spells that I haven't actually done myself. Everything you see here is Real, Bona Fide Witchcraft that I actually perform.

That said, I'm definitely not fully me while I'm posting out here. It's a facet of me, sure, but it's a persona I choose to put on. This is for my own sanity and protection. Folks who interact with me one-on-one in more private, casual settings see more of The Real Aese, but you'll likely never actually Know Me on a personal level just by what I publish online.

Nothing personal. It's a safety thing.

Do I think there is an element of censorship in online spaces?

In a general sense, yes -- websites censor activity they deem unsafe or against their terms and conditions. Sometimes for incomprehensible reasons which might appear borderline indefensible (narrow look at this website's recent moderation tactics). Some sites are more strict than others. I know that TikTok has a reputation of shadow-banning people for swearing or for creating certain content, which has, in turn, created this odd tendency to censor words like fuck or kill on sites that don't do that (like Tumblr, for example). In regards to platforms silencing witches specifically, I haven't really noticed anything.

Now, censorship between individuals? Perhaps. I've seen it happen where folks share their experiences or views and get shut down because they disagree with the "popular version" of witchcraft. Note that this doesn't apply to cultural appropriation and bigotry in all its forms. I mean innocuous posts about opinions and personal experience being taken in bad faith. Complaints about certain laws that don't apply outside those certain traditions, arguments surrounding correspondences, demands for more accessible/easy/beginner-friendly additions or substitutions... It ranges from simply annoying to downright threatening sometimes.

It creates an atmosphere of anxiety. I've experienced it myself: the worry that publishing something too personal or too niche or too "out there" will bring in nasty commentary. I have exactly one hex published on Tumblr. I haven't gotten anything on the post itself, but I've gotten anonymous asks deriding me for "risking the consequences" of casting a hex. I just delete them and move on, personally.

But it does cause problems. Folks I know personally -- good, intelligent practitioners who would absolutely love to share their practices and views -- refuse to post anything online. The reasons they cite are fears over backlash.

This is where I'm uncertain how to define it. Does this constitute censorship? It's definitely something. We see the effects in copious disclaimers. "This is my personal practice!" "These are my views, it's okay if you disagree!" "In my opinion... It's my view that..." "Not to put anyone else's practice down or assume I know everything or put myself in a position of authority or pretend I know best or or or or..."

Don't get me wrong. It's important to delineate unverified personal gnosis (UPG) from other sources. But there's such a fear over being misinterpreted as speaking like "my way is the only way" that we crowd our words with apologies and defenses before anyone even speaks up to complain. We do see folks who act like that, talking as though it's their way or no way, sure, and that it's a privilege that they're sharing this information with the unwashed masses. Holier-than-thou is a solid term for that.

But most folks talking about their practices on here are... talking about their practices and the way they do things. Of course, they're going to talk like it's "the only way," it's their only way.

Bad-faith interpretations run amok on Tumblr, and it makes us fearful that we're next in line for a callout post. Is this censorship? I don't know. I do think it encourages self-censorship. It inhibits creators from being honest and sharing interesting, useful information that they otherwise would without hesitation.

And that's a damn shame.

How do I decipher what is "appropriate" to share online vs what to keep privately? Is this based on "social media etiquette" or a personal preference?

For the most part, it's basic internet safety. You know, don't share your name or location or personally-identifying information. I don't take pictures of myself to post publicly for a reason. My identity has to be secret and protected. Unless we're friends, you won't ever see my face. If we're only ever friends online, you may never know my IRL name. I like it that way. It keeps me safe, but it also helps me to draw a line between myself and my online identity.

Witchcraft-wise, that's personal preference. I won't ever share the full details of my spells, because there are things in there that I can't share. Many of my workings involve collaboration with spirits, and part of those agreements is that I don't talk about them in detail. A lot of my kitchen-based spells involve practices that have been handed down to me by my family -- superstitions I observe and rituals I perform in order to make spells work better and faster (and at all, in some cases). I won't share those because... I don't want to doxx my family? Lmao.

My general rule is that if sharing something would interfere with an existing working or get too close to my home, my family, or myself, I don't share it. Like, if sharing a spell would give someone a way to reverse or fuck around with a ward or something? That's not something I'm going to publish.

General information is usually safe. Spells I no longer use or that were one-time castings are often fair game. Methods and techniques are, for the most part, fine, with a few exceptions. Research is always on the table.

Stuff about my local environment, not so much. Practices I've developed to connect with the nature around me are so specific to where I live, I wouldn't want to publish them. Practices involving spirit work are usually fine; but individual relationships with spirits are less so. I think there's only one relationship I'd talk about in detail, and that's because the little bugger is an attention hog who loves to chat with whoever's willing to listen.

Have I ever encountered or heard of grifters in our community? Do I recognize them? What are significant signs of grifters in the community?

YES. Oh, my gosh, yes. There are so many people who are desperate for you to buy what they're selling.

We have a thriving community of professional witches who offer all sorts of services for pay (I'm among them, hello!) here on Tumblr. From tarot readings to custom spells to astrology services to spell kits and more, there are tons of very legitimate shops on this platform, staffed by knowledgeable, experienced practitioners of all stripes. It's awesome.

However.

Not all witchcraft services are equal. Always, always, always vet the people and shops you look at before making a purchase. There are folks out here who will overcharge you for subpar services and goods if you let them.

But there's another type of grifter in these Tumblr wilds. I won't name names, of course, in the interest of keeping the peace. You may know who I'm referring to, or have thoughts on who this might apply to, but keep their names off this post. Alright? No tagging anybody.

I talked in a previous question about creators hedging their statements in disclaimers about not being the end-all, be-all Knower Of Things and how it's exhausting and frankly disheartening to have to do. We do it for two reasons:

  1. Backlash; and
  2. Grifters.

There are absolutely folks on Tumblr who can and will claim that their way is the only way. Or the best way. Or the original way. Or the "people call what they're doing one thing, but in reality, they're actually doing this, because that's how I/my practice/my culture/my "ancestors" say it is." (Note: I'm currently editing this post, and I just saw someone saying literally that shit -- "people call [spirit] this and that, but it's ACTUALLY this, and I'm right, because that's my tradition, which is the Right Tradition, obviously." Nonsense.) They make claims that they come from long lines of witches with long-standing traditions that are so secret, you can't even imagine. And yet, they come onto this site and... share all of those secrets? How odd.

Anyone who claims that Their Way is the Only Way is full of shit. The truth is that none of us really know how all of this works. In many ways, we can't. We can visualize and describe and try and cavort with spirits and work toward the Ultimate Answer, but there will always be an opposing viewpoint that somehow discredits ours. There's no telling who's right. It's unknowable.

It's... y'know, it's esoteric. It's occult. That's sort of the point.

Even if the person promising that Their Way Is Perfectly Right isn't directly selling you something (a shop, asking for tips, etc.), that doesn't mean they're not a grifter. They have something to gain, even if it isn't your money. It could be your time, your clicks, your attention, your belief. Truthfully, though, it's usually your money.

Anyways, visit my Ko-Fi page if you're enjoying th-- [gunshot]

Claims like this are the a solid way to know that someone's pulling a grift. Other red flags might include New Age ideology, buying into conspiracy theories, using inflammatory language to get attention, plagiarism, and so forth. I also, personally, wouldn't trust someone to provide a metaphysical service if they either have little experience or refuse to elaborate on how much and what kind of experience they have. A genuine, trustworthy practitioner will be happy to explain their background and methods when asked. If someone gets upset when you respectfully ask for details about their services and history, that's a good sign that they're up to no good.

In general, be wary of people who claim to be absolute authorities on anything. Even the highest-ranked member of a religious order has something to learn. A good leader knows they're never done. The truly wise recognize that there's no end to learning. Someone who pretends they have nothing left to do but teach is either a fool or a liar.

Again, even if they're not demanding your money for services "only they can provide" (note: not services at which they excel or talents which they've perfected their technique; specifically claiming that "only" they can do it "the right way," explicitly stated or otherwise) they want something from you. What is it?

What tools are helpful to decipher misinformation, and how can we as a community prevent widespread misinformation?

This is a tall order sometimes, especially when the most popular search engine in the world is providing dangerously incorrect results at the top of every search page.

If you've ever taken a class on journalism, among the first things they teach you is how to read an article. One of the most important things to take note of is the author's goal. What are they trying to say? What do they want from you? What ideas are they sharing, and why are they sharing them?

Another important thing to consider is the sources being cited. Who is the author quoting, and why? Where is this information coming from? Are the sources reliable? What are the goals of the source material?

These two sets of questions can reveal some pretty damning red flags. If someone refuses to cite their sources for something they're claiming is Absolute Truth, that's a sign that they're dealing in misinformation. If their sources are dubious or debunked elsewhere but they won't reconsider their beliefs in those sources, that's misinformation. If the tone of their work is inflammatory, throws out wild accusations with little proof, and otherwise is attempting to get a rise out of you, it's not just misinformation -- it's a strategy.

Learning how to vet a source is crucial, and I would suggest doing so through mundane avenues. Read up on journalism and rhetoric. Familiarize yourself with persuasive speaking and writing techniques and learn to discern when someone is trying to sway your opinions and beliefs. Learn about cults, cult tactics, and common conspiracy theories. Learn the signs of conspiracy thought and propaganda. If you notice someone sharing information you know is untrue, tell them. Be kind, and don't shame anyone, because they really may not know the information they're sharing is wrong.

Our strongest allies against misinformation are each other. If we can kindly hold each other accountable and point out falsehoods respectfully, we can root out near any issue. The other side of this, of course, is being open to receiving that sort of heads-up. The knee-jerk reaction of needing to be "unproblematic" and free of guilt isn't helpful. Learn to admit you were wrong, thank the person who reached out to you, and delete the dang post. If it spread around, put up an addendum letting people know it was misinformation.

Shame is the enemy of progress. Be kind to each other and to yourself.

How does a large following impact the perception of the creator?

Perhaps a tough one to answer for me, personally, since I don't have a particularly large following when compared to other professional/content-creating witches out there (as of this writing, I sit around the 1,500 mark on Tumblr).

With that said, I've been a fan of YouTubers since YouTube became A Thing. I've been online and following creators on various platforms for a long time. I've seen the rise and fall of so many, been part of creators' fandoms, witnessed from the inside the insidious rot that can easily take over lives.

Having a large following, whether earned or not, imparts some authority on a person. The feeling is that, well, they wouldn't have such a following if they weren't doing something right. Right? Surely this person has a vast array of fans and supporters because they're right about things. Right?

Consider the humble Tumblr post. When you read a post, no matter the content of it, do you check the notes count before you reblog it? Not the contents of the notes, not the replies, not the tags. The number.

Popular posts with a ton of notes expand exponentially up to a plateau point. They're more likely to receive interactions agreeing with the most recent addition on that post, and not necessarily because it's right, but because the assumption is that, well, everyone else agrees with it. That's why they're reblogging this version. Right?

Right?

A larger, more popular witchcraft blog publishes a post on a subject. Their large following interacts with the post, liking and replying and reblogging, thus spreading it to their own followers and adding to the notes count. The more notes something has (without people within those notes debunking any misinformation or adding context), the more "trustworthy" it seems to be. Again, if everyone else is reblogging that post on that topic, surely it's correct. Right? The witchcraft blog, thanks to this post with lots of notes, sees a rise in followers. They post something else, and their followers reblog it.

The point is, even though we can't see people's follower counts on Tumblr (a good thing, in my opinion), the perception of popularity lends credibility to posts and posters. Calling out misinformation on posts like that is a dangerous thing sometimes; the more dedicated the creator's fans are, the likelier they are to send hate and vitriol to the whistleblower. Thus, the cycle of call-out posts comes into play...

This doesn't even touch on the distortion that can happen to the creator themselves when they obtain a large following. All those eyes, all that attention... Terrifying and thrilling in equal measures, I assume. So easy to fall into the role of Great Leader, so simple to fool oneself into believing those ardent followers' words of admiration and dedication. Parasocial relationships do go both ways.

It's tough. We want to make an impact and have our work seen, but we don't want to fall victim to the curse that comes tied to fame. Other, more popular witches might be able to speak more about this particular facet of things. I can only talk from the perspective of watching the rise and fall and rise and fall and rise of so many different creators from the dawn of Social Media to now.

Does this immediately make them an "expert"? Or are there other assumptions as to why they may have a large following?

I mean, no. Of course not. There might be the assumption of expertise, particularly from practitioners who are less experienced, but a large following (or lots of interactions on a given post or posts) doesn't automatically equate to expertise.

I can recall a blogger I followed when I returned to Tumblr a few years ago. I'll be vague and ungendered here to avoid pointing fingers at that blog. Essentially, they were publishing content and answering asks about witchcraft with the air of a teacher. After a while, they admitted that they weren't nearly as experienced as they thought when they'd started the blog. They abandoned the blog, stating that they were going to refocus on their own studies and step away from the teaching role they'd assumed. It was a brave thing to do, and I very much admire this blogger for it.

When a magical practitioner gains a large following, it's often because they publish content with an air of confidence. Whether that content is vetted, correct, and otherwise trustworthy depends on the individual. It can be hard to know when someone actually knows what they're talking about and when someone is just trying to seem like they know. The only way to know for sure is over time and by vetting their sources yourself.

Personally, having been burned by bullshit artists in real life, I tend toward the people who are happy to say "I don't know!" when asked questions they have no idea about. If I can find evidence of a creator admitting that they don't know something, I'm likely to trust them more solidly. If I can find them apologizing for being wrong about something... That's a very good sign.

How does one maintain the balance of authenticity and content creation?

It can be hard, to be sure. We want to protect ourselves and keep the core of our crafts to ourselves, but hiding away too much feels like leaving out important information. It's the context by which we measure our experiences and write our posts.

For me, I keep that balance by allowing my true voice to come through in my posts. I don't overly-edit them to sanitize them of swears and grammatical flubs. Believe it or not, this is kind of how I talk. I'm a verbose bitch. The Curse of Long-Winded Explanations was cast upon me at birth.

I like to think that it's my voice that draws people to my work. It's the cadence and tune beneath the written words. It's the way I write my ideas out and explain the way I'm thinking. It's the charm in them, and the honesty. At least, I hope so. I hope that comes through.

I refuse to just make shit up, and that includes my core personality. Yeah, there's a sort of persona going on, what with the esoteric tone and the smoke and mirrors around the actual way I'm doing the magic I post about. It's almost a character. But it is me, at the end of the day. Just because I don't share every detail about my life doesn't make me inauthentic.

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Impostor Syndrome and FOMO

When I follow other creators in the community space, does it make me feel genuinely inspired and empowered or does it create feelings of FOMO and being less than?

For the most part, it's definitely very much inspiring. I wouldn't interact in these spaces if it didn't make me feel good. I'd go elsewhere or find something else to do with my time. I'm not really someone who's content to be miserable at this point in my life. The Mental Illness sure does win the battle from time to time, but I'd like to believe I'm on the winning side of that war.

There are times when I feel... not less than, per se. Less experienced, definitely. Less knowledgeable, absolutely. They're not bad feelings by any means. I love knowing that there's always something new out there to learn. I enjoy the fact that I will never know everything. The world is so very vast. It's incredible.

It does make me feel unsure sometimes. The drive to be "good enough" to stand among my peers is a common one. So is the fear that I'm not quite there.

That isn't on other creators, though. That's on me and the whole, y'know, gifted kid AuDHD burnout thing. Engaging with a sense of wonder and admiration helps. Curiosity is a powerful tool. I don't need to worry about "missing out," because I can always experience secondhand joy from someone else's accounts. If I really feel like I'm going to miss out, I'll work toward whatever that thing is. Wallowing doesn't help anyone, least of all me.

If I experience FOMO, has it ever left me feeling vulnerable to be taken advantage of financially, or otherwise?

So, all of my big words about curiosity and wonder and not wallowing aren't just talk. They're hard-won truths I hold dear to my heart, because I have fallen victim to FOMO and doubt. Like I said before, I've dealt with bullshit artists in real life. And I fell for it.

In my case, I didn't lose any money. Rather, I lost time and self-respect. It was a harsh set of lessons that left me feeling very hopeless. It took time, but I've definitely recovered! Now, anytime I feel myself slipping into that urge to play pretend and Be Someone Worth Being, I remind myself that it isn't worth it. Things could've been so much worse.

These lessons aren't just social, either. Because I've learned to not worry so much about what other people are doing, I rarely feel that drive to fit in or buy things I don't need.

When practicing my craft, do I find myself comparing what I do to what I've been seeing people do online?

Sometimes, sure. Less in the way of "ugh, I should be doing that" and more in the way of "I do it this way, but that person does it that way; I wonder where that difference comes from..."

I tend to not worry about trends when it comes to my actual craft. In terms of publishing content, I think more about what's already in the milieu. I'd rather not cover the exact same topic that someone else has already talked about unless I'm adding something truly unique to the conversation. On the other hand, if absolutely no one is talking about something, and it isn't something I can afford to spend time on because writing and my Ko-Fi are my primary income right now due to health problems (my partner is our primary breadwinner), I'm unlikely to cover it.

I don't like trend-hopping. I don't derive any enjoyment from posting about stuff just because it's popular. Again, unless I have something to actually add to the conversation, I won't post anything at all. I'd rather boost other people's takes than make some shit up just to have something to say.

In what ways do I combat imposter syndrome?

In general, actual imposters don't bother worrying about whether they're faking or not. They know they are. If I'm thinking to myself, "Oh, man, am I full of shit? Am I the imposter here??" that's usually a pretty good sign that it's the anxiety talking.

I'm lucky in that I've done pretty extensive therapy for my anxiety problems. I've learned how to challenge anxious and other negative thoughts as they arise to keep them from taking over. Using real-life evidence that's contrary to the Imposter Thought is a huge help. After all, would an imposter create elaborate rituals to celebrate the passage of the year at regular intervals, not for clout or clicks, but for the pleasure of acknowledging the world around me?

I think not.

What would my practice look like without the social media influence of other creators?

Probably largely the same. I might struggle to get inspired for new ideas, materials, methods, etc., but my actual practice wouldn't change much. Most of my practice has been built offline on my own. I'm solitary by nature.

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Capitalizing Off Community

Do I consider online communities as equally valid to in-person communities?

I mean, yeah. Of course. I'm here, aren't I?

Interacting in the digital space is easier for a lot of people, myself included. Physical spaces aren't always accommodating or welcoming. I've found that online spaces are better for curating a personal experience than in-person spaces.

On Tumblr (and on other social media), you can scroll through someone's blog to see the kind of things they post and reblog before following or otherwise engaging with them. You don't get that in physical spaces.

Plus, personally, my brand of AuDHD makes typing easier than speaking. The ability to backspace and really think about my replies before sending is huge for me. Taking a big pause in a spoken conversation is often frowned upon, and conversations often move along before I even have a chance to fully formulate a reply.

I spend a lot of time in Discord communities, too. The ability to shamelessly lurk and "listen in" on ongoing conversations before deciding whether I want to stick around to participate, stay silent and absorb the conversation, or leave entirely is huge for me. I love to lurk. I love to listen and quietly form opinions on topics being discussed without the pressure of having to respond.

There are some things you lose in online-only spaces. There's something very special about standing in a physical space with people and knowing that you can turn to someone and say, aloud, "Oh, shit, it's the full moon; are we doing anything for that tonight?" Even being solitary, I'm not immune to the allure of the group spell. It's hard to describe the feeling of raising energy in a group and putting that toward a single goal together, as a team.

I don't think either online or in-person communities are better than the other. I also don't think that online spaces can fully replace in-person ones, and vice versa. For me, mostly-online and occasionally-in-person interactions balance out pretty well.

How have online occult/witchcraft communities impacted me as a person & practitioner?

Being part of online communities has encouraged my curiosity beyond its original baseline. I have a deep passion for the theories behind magic and the occult. It's so interesting. Every time I learn about someone's practice, hear their methods for casting spells, trade superstitions, pick up interesting ideas, and just generally interact with others in this online space, it inspires me to think hard about my own practices and beliefs. I'm constantly thinking, and I love it. It makes me a better witch and a better person. There are so many incredible people out here talking about their cultures and their experiences, and it's beautiful. That diversity makes us all better.

I've also learned more about cultural appropriation in the last few years I've spent on witchy Tumblr and other online communities than I have in my entire witchhood. Just that alone has made me a more conscientious person. Plus all of the lessons on ecology and the environment I've received from witches who have dedicated their lives to the uplifting and preservation of natural spaces -- particularly Indigenous people.

Being in these online spaces gives all of us access to worlds beyond our personal little bubbles. That access, that ability to search and find answers and learn and absorb from people who live and breathe the cultures, religions, magics I want to understand -- that's done more for me as a person than I can possibly say. I am endlessly grateful.

What are some of the dangers of the current phenomenon of capitalizing off the witchcraft community?

I think there are two big dangers to note.

The first danger is from the consumer's perspective. When you're a new witch (or an advanced one, we're not immune), you want to dive in and understand as much as possible and absorb it all at once. You want to cast spells and have beautiful altars and worship deities and work with spirits and live that #witchcore life. There's nothing wrong with wanting that!

But the danger comes into play when capitalism sits down at the table. Witchcraft is trendy right now, and the big companies know it. They're happy to peddle whatever they think will sell. Mass-produced and cheap. Quality takes a backseat when there's money to make.

Of course, even small sellers aren't innocent. There are hundreds of witchy shops on Etsy alone, all offering spells and services and products for the witch-minded individual. It's almost impossible to tell who's actually providing quality work and who isn't at first glance. The market is bloated with charlatans and low-quality garbage, all looking to make a quick buck off the unwary beginner. It sucks, especially as someone who is a professional witch writing spells and doing tarot readings on the internet for money.

Which sort of brings me to the other danger, on the side of the witch seeking to sell: The urge to sell everything.

I blame hustle culture. No one can just have a hobby anymore. That hobby has to be productive. It's got to be monetized -- or at least have the potential for it. If it can't make money, it isn't worth doing. I'll see young tarot readers with four months of experience offering up tarot readings for $20 a pop. Yes, your time is worth money, but buddy. Buddy chum pal amigo good friend broksi. Why are you trying to sell tarot readings when you're still just barely learning?

It's good practice to read for other people, yes. Absolutely. And again, your time is worth money. Sure. Yes. I believe that. But this drive to sell, sell, sell when you should be focusing on enjoying the process of learning and growing is so fucking harmful. You should be learning to be a witch because you want to and because it feels right, not because it's a new facet of your life that you could make a dollar or two off of!

The only reason I offer paid services is because I can't hold down a traditional job right now due to my health. I've done the learning (mostly; there's always something new to learn!) and the training and the practice. Years and years and years of it. I enjoy sharing that expertise with people, and I need to make money somehow. Thus, professional witch. Dream job, in a lot of ways.

This constant need to monetize our hobbies is a fucking poison, and I hate it. If you really want to be a professional witch (or tarot reader, etc.), go for it. Just draw a line and resist monetizing every aspect of your life and practice.

Have I been personally affected by this, or have I witnessed someone else be affected?

Oh, I've fallen victim to the cheap, cute, witchy item. The shiny bauble. I'm not immune to the aesthetic. I love a spooky object. I try to buy from small businesses whose reputations I know or can verify, but... well, like I said, I've fallen victim. I'm not allowed to go to Michael's by myself anymore.

And yeah, ditto on the monetization thing. Again, I made the decision to do the professional witch thing because it feels right. I love to write, I love witchcraft, I love performing tarot readings. All of this is super fulfilling to me. And I can't really keep a traditional job right now, so being open to tips and commissions is essential for me. I'm lucky that my partner makes enough to support my endeavors and is proud and happy to do so. It took a lot of conversation to choose this path.

But the urge to publish everything is strong. I've found myself planning spells that I didn't really want or need to do, but that would make Good Content. I caught myself in the act and changed over to something more productive instead, but man. It does suck sometimes.

Should there be paywalled communities and online courses?

People deserve to be paid for the work that they do. I've paywalled stuff. I do early access posts via Ko-Fi, but I've also done exclusives just for supporters. It's mostly work that takes a long time to put together or that's more personal in nature, which I want to restrict to only the people who really care about me and my work. The more effort something takes, the likelier I am to make it temporarily or permanently exclusive to supporters. Plus, I like having extra content available as rewards for people who choose to tip me (or commission me, become members, etc.). It feels like a good way to say thank you.

Honestly, it comes down to the creator's preferences. A paywall is a tangible boundary, past which they might feel more comfortable sharing more details about themselves and their practice. This stuff takes time and effort.

Free content will always have a place in the online ecosystem. There's a reason I make mine widely available after a week or so. But professional witches have to make a living, too. Even if it's free, if you get a lot of use out of a witch's work and enjoy what they're doing, tipping is the biggest, best, number one way to show your support. A very close second place goes to comments (and reblogs on Tumblr) with grateful messages and questions. Tangible interest goes a long way. Financial contributions say, "Hey, I not only enjoyed this work, but I would also like to tangibly contribute to your continued success. Please, use these dollars to make more."

How does one ensure the authenticity of courses/workshops/memberships/etc as a financial investment?

I always check the social media of the person providing the services first. If they constantly cloud their services, methods, practice, etc in a bunch of esoteric, woo-y language, I'm unlikely to trust it. If I can't know exactly what I'm getting into and what I'll get out of it, I won't buy.

But if their social media is full of real examples of their practice, what their workshop/course/whatever will entail, actual comments from people talking about their services, and other green flags, that's a good sign that their offerings are legitimate. If you can't find genuine reviews that don't read like AI nonsense, it's bullshit.

If I can find negative reviews, I'm going to read them all. Sometimes, the bad reviews are the ones that convince me to give something a chance. A reputable brand won't seek to remove or hide bad reviews. Rather, they'll take them into account. They'll reply to them, acknowledge the shortcomings listed, and then apply that feedback to their services for the future.

When in doubt, reaching out to a wider community I trust is the way to go. Ask, "Hey, has anyone heard of this shop/workshop/course?" Actual reviews and experiences from people you know and trust go a long way. I'll always trust word of mouth reviews over reviews published on someone's website homepage.

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Conclusions

What are some topics of conversation I'd like to see more of in our community?

I do think that there's a lack of intermediate to advanced content in the public eye. And I understand why, of course. Beginners find posts they don't understand and ask a million basic questions: "How do I raise energy?" "Should I cast a circle first?" "If I don't have this ingredient, what can I substitute? But I don't have that either, what about this?"

And if they don't get answers, or if the wrong person finds a post that speaks just a little too authoritatively, they get pissed. Tumblr's hatemail game is, indeed, unreal. It's hard sometimes to want to publish something personal or talk about something that the General Audience might disagree with or that's more advanced than what can usually be found out there.

It would require beginners to recognize when something isn't really for them (yet). It would also require people to give the benefit of the doubt and actually read a whole post before jumping to the replies or into the poster's ask box to complain about their wording or tone or "how could you leave out such and such specific detail" or other annoying, disrespectful nonsense like that. Alas, this is the piss on the poor website.

What are my community needs?

My top priorities in a community are somewhere to ask questions, somewhere to have casual, low-stakes conversations, and somewhere to share and vet resources (books, PDFs, shops, materials, websites, blogs, etc.). I sometimes fall off the face of the earth and go hermit-mode for mental health reasons, so communities that require constant participation and look down on declining invitations are no-gos for me.

For the most part, I do think my community needs are being met! I wish I had an in-person place to go, hang out, buy or make things, and just exist as a witch without worrying about conforming to love-and-light ideals and/or cultural appropriation. I've been thinking about starting meet-ups at our local library, but the idea of no one showing is... well, it sucks and is scary. So. We'll see how that goes.

Where would I like to be held and supported?

It really depends.

In this space (Tumblr), the greatest supports are reblogs. Liking a post does little for me in terms of exposure and connection. A reblog spreads my work to new eyes while also showing me that yes, the thing I've written is useful in some way. Replies are also good, but reblogs are really where it's at.

Direct interaction with my work encourages me to write and publish more. I stopped putting up my research into digital divination (which has continued, by the way) because it wasn't getting any notes. To me, that says that no one's reading it. If no one's reading it, I shouldn't spend so much time cleaning up my notes for presentation, because that's time I could use better elsewhere on work that will get attention and perhaps pay the bills.

Which kinda sucks! Research into theory and the history of these niche topics are very much passion projects of mine. I've got all sorts of notes dissecting Pick-A-Card tarot culture and clickbait tarot YouTube/TikTok videos that may never see the light of day, because it just... doesn't get noticed. No one cares. I care, obviously, and that's why I'm still doing it for myself. I'd love to share it, but... again, who cares, aside from me?

Basically, just... interact with stuff, lmao. Tip if you can, still interact if you can't. If you enjoy someone's work, reblog it. Likes do nothing for creators on this platform. And as someone who relies on this platform to spread my business, reblogs really do make all the difference. (PS: Everyone who has ever recommended my services to someone else, either here or elsewhere, is literally an angel. Word of mouth does more for small businesses than any amount of advertising I could possibly do. You've got no idea. Ily.)

Where do I feel like I'm not truly being seen by my community?

I get a lot of attention for my free tarot stuff that I do every Friday. And that's fair. People love a freebie. There's a whole subculture of tarot readers here on Tumblr who just do different kinds of free readings for people, often for fun.

But again, the stuff I'm actually proud of tends to get less notes than the throwaway shitposts. It's rough. I have a feeling that all the hours I'm sinking into writing out these questions and editing the posts will go to waste.

How can we help each other in removing the external peer pressure and grow in community?

Be the change you want to see. Here on Tumblr, there's a sort of fear surrounding judgment. In the interest of never being judged, receiving hate, or otherwise being "called out," we avoid publishing work that's anything close to controversial. Even if it isn't controversy, if something isn't being talked about, it's scary to be the first one to break into the topic. Because what if it's terrible to talk about?

When you see something you don't understand or disagree with, don't instantly jump into OP's replies or ask box with vitriol or basic questions. Try to find resources first. Check their tags; maybe they've talked about that topic before and have a more basic or detailed explanation on the topic somewhere.

Unless it's actively harmful (bigotry, appropriation, etc.), if you can't respectfully interact with someone's post, leave it alone. The important thing to remember is that we don't need to (and perhaps shouldn't) form opinions on absolutely everything we see. Some things aren't for us, and that's okay. I see things I disagree with and dislike all the time as I peruse the witchcraft tags. Just scroll.

The other part of this is acknowledging that some people just aren't going to learn how to act right. They just aren't. We, as a community, need to learn how to ignore those people. There's an age-old adage that I think we need to bring back into the public eye:

Don't feed the trolls.

How can we, as a community, come together more with constructive criticism without it seeming shady/passive aggressive?

The absolute first step is to learn the difference between hatemail, constructive criticism, and being fucking rude. Tone can be hard for some folks, especially when written out, but it's critical that you either learn how to decipher it or find people who can help you do so if you're not able to do it yourself before making assumptions about someone's meaning.

Hatemail is direct nastiness written and designed to make someone feel bad about themselves, their work, their circle, their practice, or something else. The idea is to make the receiver uncomfortable. This would include attacks on someone's character. This category includes sending people slurs, telling people they're stupid for believing something, demanding that someone prove their worth, and unsolicited and harsh criticisms of the work being put out.

Constructive criticism is intended to improve the content you're seeing. That's what makes it constructive. It's respectful to ask the OP if they're open to receiving constructive criticism before sending it. This category includes helpful notes on content, correcting misinformation, pointing out problems in the language used, and structure of the post in question. For example, I've received constructive criticism that my posts tend to be very long-winded. And, I mean, yeah -- that's a fair criticism. But I like writing long posts, so that's unlikely to change. However, I can include shorter posts in the mix to diversify and appeal to different audiences.

The prime example of someone being plain fucking rude is adding inane, off-topic, judgy comments in a reblog of an innocuous post or send unsolicited, long-winded trauma dumps to someone's inbox. This could also apply to giving unsolicited advice or speaking in a condescending manner. For example, assuming someone knows less than you and handing out "advice" as though it's gospel without checking to see whether they would or wouldn't know that information/practice differently than you. This category refers to the people who aren't (purposely) sending hate, but their words absolutely come off that way. I find rudeness comes from a lack of self-awareness and consideration for other people. These are the folks that when you tell them to fuck off, they get very offended and don't understand why you're reacting badly.

The key is reading comprehension, critical thinking, and compassion.

Before you send an ask, reply/reblog, or DM them, try to see where the OP is coming from. What's their culture, what's their background, how new are they to their path, why are they posting about the thing they're posting, etc.? Have you read their post correctly? Are you projecting any kind of expectations or assumptions onto the OP or their post that aren't actually being stated there?

Will what you say hurt their feelings? Has the OP stated that they're open to feedback? If not, should you ask them first? Will the OP suffer in some way or cause harm if you don't reach out to them about the thing you want to tell them? Are you reaching out simply to have something to say, or are you actually adding to the conversation?

If more folks come into conversations with kindness and genuine curiosity, leaving their egos, assumptions, and impulses to be "on the same level" or "better than" other practitioners aside, better interactions happen. Just... don't be an asshole. Think before you speak. Consider the consequences of what you say before hitting send. So on and so forth.

Consider a class or guide on providing constructive criticism. Creative writing or other literary courses and guides go over this kind of thing extensively.

How can we, as a community, do better when we do receive criticism/feedback?

Remember that, in general, even unsolicited criticism is rarely about you as a person. It is sometimes, but even that can be useful. The only times I would say you ought to throw out criticism entirely is when it veers into hatemail territory. You don't owe hateful bitches anything, least of all your time.

But in the case of actual feedback, even if it's not worded the best or if it arrives out of the blue, it's important to at least read it and take it into consideration.

Take a step back. Take a breath. The knee-jerk reaction to defend yourself is a powerful one. Let the sting of criticism sink in, and do whatever you need to do to soothe it.

Then, read it again. Parse what the person is actually saying. No matter how they're saying it, what is their actual problem? Is it something you can change? Is it something you're willing to change? Even if not, is it something you can take into account for the future?

Constructive criticism, when given and received in a positive way, can create some really beautiful moments of understanding and growth. Consider, again, a class or guide on constructive criticism. When they talk about giving it, they also talk about receiving and using it. It really is a life-changing sort of lesson.

As for dealing with hatemail, fuck 'em. Delete that shit, block the asshole, and don't look back.

Who are some community members I look up to that are reliable resources and aspirations?

Ohohohohoho, spotlight time!

It isn't something I can really direct people toward, since it's a private Discord server, but I'm part of a group of practitioners who are constantly supporting each other. We ask questions, give advice, chat about projects, and just generally lift each other up all the time. That server is, by far, the greatest resource I've got right now. It's a very small community of friends whose passions are diverse and incredibly interesting. The amount of learning and collaboration that goes on... man. I really do love it. (If you're in that server, and you read this: Hi, I appreciate you! (: )

Now, let's tag some people (going down my following list):

  • @elminx -- Minx is amazing. The recipe experiments, the astrology insights, the clever techniques... She's got something for everybody.
  • @fernthewhimsical -- Two words: rainbowmancy and hopepunk. Seriously, go to Fern's blog and go through the witchcraft tag. So much good stuff.
  • @jasper-pagan-witch -- Our very own TBR and Blogs Georg. I very much recommend checking out their sideblog @jasper-book-stash for brief book reviews.
  • @coinandcandle -- Click through Coin's pinned post for all sorts of goodies, including deep dives on deities.
  • @breelandwalker -- Tumblr's resident witchstorian! Check out her podcast, Hex Positive, for beginner-friendly, funny, informative content that ranges from spell techniques to the history of witchcraft.
  • @windvexer -- Chicken answers questions of all sorts! We share the gift (curse?) of verbosity. Their answers are detailed and informative, and I aspire to that level of coherency in my rambling.
  • @stagkingswife -- Silly! Hat! Theory! Stag's views on spirit work literally changed my whole mind about godspousing and what makes a deity a deity. Legitimately.
  • @asksecularwitch -- Spells Georg. THE secular witch. An icon whose gumption I respect above all others.
  • And... I'm so sure there are others I'm forgetting about. [gestures] All of my mutuals are lovely, follow them and throw money at their respective Ko-Fi and Patreon pages. (:

Off of Tumblr, I tend toward YouTube's witch ecosystem. A few people I follow there are The Green Witch, the Witch of Wonderlust, Mint Faery, and Hearth Witch. Again, there are more, but these are the channels I follow most closely for their content!

Final thoughts?

If you're a witchy content creator here on Tumblr, please feel free to check out the list of questions and post your own answers!

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