WitchTok. It’s a thing. And like all things having a cultural moment, there are good and bad things associated with the phenomena. 

It’s not that I don’t love what social media has done for these communities, but I do think it’s important to make it clear that it’s all sweet manifestations and positive affirmations. On the one hand, I absolutely love the fact that people can be more open about “alternative” forms of spirituality (read: anything that’s not institutionalized religion), but that doesn’t mean that it’s all love and light.

It’s not. 

And there are very real issues people have to understand so they don’t end up recreating the hot mess of institutionalized religions, including fear-mongering, spiritual bypassing, and run-of-the-mill performativity. (Quick side note: I’m talking about the bad stuff here and know that some people have been able to find meaning and goodness in these things. I’m not one of them, but more power to you if they’ve been helpful to you in some way.) In other words, just because witchcraft is a historically marginalized spiritual practice doesn’t mean it’s without problems, many of which I outline in this article.

I’ve been marinating on these issues after a recent interview on WitchTok by PBS Subcultures which offered a celebratory look at this pop culture phenomenon and the witches who have helped create safe online witchy communities. I especially appreciated how this segment made sure to point out ways to avoid cultural appropriation (a HUGE problem in the community) and that many of the WitchTok influencers that were interviewed seemed to be more aware and working within their own cultural practices. Yay!

Still, with full respect to the creators of this piece, I do want to take a little time to unpack the dark side of WitchTok. Overall, it was a thoughtful piece that focused on the very best parts of the WitchTok community, which is important given how often these marginalized communities are often villainized or misrepresented and, let’s be real, Halloween is a great time to introduce people to the concept of IRL witches. Who isn’t more open to new ideas come spooky season? And who wouldn’t like to know that some of their favorite story archetypes can also be…actual people with actual lived experiences?

So I guess this is my way of saying that I’m not some salty old crone who gets her kicks going around roasting the baby witches of TikTok. But I do think it’s important to teach people (I’m the bruja professor, after all) how to critically engage with witchy media. It’s not about choosing between loving or hating these subcultures or validating or decrying WitchTok (or social media in general). It’s about joyfully problematizing issues within these communities. It’s also about providing the historical context surrounding such conversations, including how streaming has introduced a new generation to witchy media that, in turn, has inspired a new wave of witches. And it’s about unpacking the nuances of a dynamic, evolving, and complex phenomenon.

I want my students especially to feel like they leave my classes with a clear sense of the beauty and wonder of these communities, but also the very real pitfalls and dangers. That’s the only way we can embrace the joyful and meaningful while also dismantling the hidden systemic oppression and other toxicities within these subcultures.

So…what does this have to do with WitchTok?

Well, let’s look at it this way. I think it’s great that witchy business is having a pop culture moment. Normalizing our communities keeps us safe and encourages others to explore their spirituality in ways that might be more fruitful to them than mainstream religion. Social media has gone a long way to making that possible.

At the same time, precisely because social media is so open, it can become a breeding group for misinformation, cultural appropriation, and general spiritual no-nos like sharing rituals from closed practices or practices that aren’t meant to be shared publicly or outside your circle (however you might define that—it could be your local or virtual coven or even your solitary self). There’s also the weird stuff of teaching people how to perform coercive love spells or summon demons…just don’t. It never ends well. Literally, any B horror movie will tell you this.

It’s also not as easy to say all witches are about social justice, including inclusion and religious freedom. Ideally, yes, we are. But there are still plenty of witches that engage in white supremacy and cultural appropriation, for example, or exhibit the kind of ignorant zealotry that suggests science and spirituality can’t coexist. Take the whole #WitchesWearMasks phenomenon. It started within the community to counter conspiracy-theory level panic about vaccines, masking, and modern medicine’s approach to curbing the worst of the pandemic. Many of us began using the hashtag to remind people that spirituality and science work hand-in-hand, and you can manifest your way out of getting sick in the way you can prevent the spread of disease by masking, social distancing, and good hygiene practices. 

Lastly, there’s also the issue of performativity. Yes, I like social media. Yes, I think it’s important for connecting people and disseminating information. Yes, I think we’re all performers in one way or another the minute we step outside our sanctuaries. But the dark side of this is that we can get lost in the performativity of an app rather than focusing on meaningful connections. This isn’t a particularly new or brilliant concept, but it bears repeating: there’s a fine line between reaching viewers and getting lost in the trap of creating content to appease algorithms. When creators rely solely on those algorithms, the things that say certain hashtags, songs, and subjects are trending, you start creating to feed the machine rather than coming from an authentic place. Hey, I’m not saying algorithms aren’t important—just that they shouldn’t be the sole motivating force behind creation.

Let’s give a few non-witchy examples of what I’m talking about here. A recent New York Times article explored how bad dates are great for TikTok content. On the surface, that’s kind of fun. We get to relate over bad dates, feel connected to a community that’s also searching for love, and generally feel better about the struggle to find The One(s). Yes, if these creators continue to make bad date content because it’s going viral, at what point do they become part of the problem? That is, at what point do they continue to date just so they have content to share, content that will hopefully continue to go viral? That’s not authenticity—it’s setting up prospective dates who unwittingly will become fodder for a creator’s feed.

We see the same issue with WithTok. We have to question at what point a beautifully crafted ritual or aesthetic is more authentic to the witch or the creator…that is, most of us witches don’t look camera ready when we’re making magic, and it’s important to remember that a lot of the “flawless” spell-casters out there don’t look like that when the camera is off either.

In another recent article, many begin to question how the rise of therapy talk in situations outside of the therapy room is hurting relationships. A large part of this is because of short TikTok videos from therapists advocating for clinical, almost corporate scripts to talk about relationship issues with friends and other loved ones. On the one hand, we can say, “Yay! I’m so glad to see therapy is normalized in this way!” On the other, a lot of people are missing and appropriating important terminology that should really only be used within a therapeutic context. Too many people bandy about words they don’t understand or try to use TikTok scripts to deal with complex situations—neither of which are ultimately healthy.

The same issue plays out in WitckTok. We get quick soundbites that offer self-care in the form of spell work or witchy business as an antidote to things like stress, depression, and anxiety. I get the allure of that—we all want magical solutions to mundane problems. But the problem is that WitchTok can sell conjure practices as a cure-all for serious issues that need professional attention. That, my readers, is not so magical, as it can make people feel like there is something wrong with them for not being able to manifest their troubles away or, perhaps worse, sell the illusion that you can do just that.

And yet…

I love that WitchTok is reviving this like whimsigoth, the fashion trend inspired by 80s and 90s witches (it makes it soooooo much easier to find home decor and fashion pieces). Basically, a whole lot of this phenomenon has to do with the fact that a new generation of viewers has been exposed to shows like the original Charmed and movies like Practical Magic, thanks to streaming and a lot of time at home during the pandemic.

Similarly, WitchTok, and social media more generally, is generating more interest in cottagecore lifestyles thanks to Instagram-worthy photos of That Bucolic Life. Truth? I am so here for inspirational reels that romanticize “roughing it” with zero understanding of what actual roughing looks like (yes, even cottagecore vibes and whimsigoth have their problems). Still…It’s aspirational. It’s fantasy. It’s just plain fun!

The problem comes when we treat WitchTok—or any group—as a monolith. It’s not. It’s got great things going on. It’s also got really bad things going on, and a whole bunch of stuff in the middle gray area. And it’s a gentle reminder, in the midst of witches trending on the internet, that we’ve been around for a long time and will still be around when the internet buzz around us has faded. The witches on this app haven’t invented anything. They’ve just made some things more visible to a new audience for better AND for worse.

Bottom line: Enjoy what’s there to enjoy on WitchTok, and social media more generally, and be mindful of its dark side so you don’t get stuck there. And remember that when WitchTok gets tired of whimsigoth and moves on to The Next Big Thing, the rest of us will still be living that low-key witchy life, loving our whimsigoth vibes and cottagecore aspirations. When the internet gets tired of watching videos of appropriated conjure practices or sus love spells, the rest of us witches will keep doing what we’ve already been doing all along: Making magic, even—especially?—when it can't be easily captured in a glossy click-bait video.

And who knows? Maybe some of those witches of TikTok will still be practicing, too.

The Bruja Professor, a witchy take on literature, the occult & pop culture, is the scholarly sister to Enchantment Learning & Living, an inspirational blog celebrating life’s simple pleasures, everyday mysticism, and delectable recipes that are guaranteed to stir the kitchen witch in you.

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