Dwain Northey (Gen X)

Long before they were dressing up in pointy hats and green face paint, witches were feared, revered, and misunderstood figures woven deep into the fabric of human superstition. The modern Halloween witch—with her broomstick, black cat, and bubbling cauldron—is a cartoonish shadow of her former self, but her roots stretch back thousands of years through folklore, religion, and pure, delicious fear.

The earliest witches were not the cackling villains of fairy tales but rather the local wise women, herbalists, and midwives of their communities. In ancient times, these women were often the closest thing a village had to a doctor. They knew which plants could heal and which could kill, and for that, they were both respected and feared. The line between “healer” and “sorceress” was a thin one—crossed only when crops failed, illness spread, or someone’s cow mysteriously stopped giving milk. Nothing says “witchcraft” like a case of bad luck with a convenient scapegoat.

It wasn’t until the rise of Christianity in Europe that witchcraft truly became a crime rather than a curiosity. Church leaders began branding any non-Christian spiritual practice as “devil worship,” and soon the village herbalist became a heretic. The infamous witch hunts of the 15th through 17th centuries—most notably the Salem Witch Trials—were less about flying broomsticks and more about fear, control, and the persecution of women who didn’t fit neatly into society’s boxes. The witch became the embodiment of everything patriarchal power feared: knowledge, independence, and feminine strength.

But as centuries passed, witches began to change form. In the 19th century, the rise of Romanticism and the Gothic imagination brought witches out of the darkness and into the candlelight of literature and art. Instead of being symbols of evil, they became mysterious, alluring figures—mystics, rebels, and even proto-feminists. Authors like Shakespeare and later, the Brothers Grimm, gave them complexity and charisma. By the time the 20th century rolled around, Hollywood had its broom ready.

From The Wizard of Oz’s Wicked Witch of the West to Bewitched’s lovable Samantha Stephens, witches took on new identities—sometimes frightening, sometimes funny, often fabulous. The witch became an entertainment staple: a vessel for everything from female empowerment to spooky comedy. Each generation remade her in its own image. The 1990s brought us Hocus Pocus and The Craft, where witches weren’t merely monsters, but the misfits and outcasts society tried to suppress. Sound familiar?

And that brings us to Halloween—the perfect holiday for the witch to reclaim her throne. The festival’s origins in Samhain, the ancient Celtic celebration marking the end of harvest and the beginning of winter, already involved honoring the spirits and the unseen. Witches, as keepers of the mystical and the forbidden, fit right in. Their imagery—black hats, cats, cauldrons, and full moons—melded seamlessly into Halloween’s eerie aesthetic.

Today, witches are as much a symbol of power as they are of fright. They decorate front lawns, fill candy buckets, and dominate costume contests—not as figures of fear, but as icons of autonomy and mystery. The witch has evolved from the hunted to the heroine, from the outcast to the icon.

So as you see witches flying across your neighborhood this Halloween—whether made of plastic, polyester, or pure imagination—remember that they carry with them centuries of transformation. Once feared, then misunderstood, and now celebrated, the witch has cast her final spell: turning persecution into power and terror into timeless allure.

And really, isn’t that the most magical trick of all? ✨🧙‍♀️