Internet Deep Dive: Witching Hour Edition

suspiria-remake-director   Jessica Harper in Dario Argento’s 1977 film, Suspiria. The remake is being released in theaters this month. Go see it! (If horror doesn’t make you queasy.)

Internet Deep Dive is a series of blog posts dedicated to my obsessions. I dig through longreads and YouTube and podcasts and post the links to my top three favorite pieces or interviews here on my blog. Here’s a link to my last Deep Dive, which is about Frank Ocean.

Happy Halloween! In honor of this glorious holiday, the theme for today’s Deep Dive is witches.

In case you haven’t noticed, witches have made a resurgence in pop culture over the last few years. From books and movies to tarot cards and group texts with “coven” in the name, witches and the style and imagery traditionally associated with them have come to be emblematic of both the #MeToo era and today’s feminist movement. There are lots of practicing wicca out there (I would be curious to know what they think of the way witches are being portrayed and undeniably monetized), but some people just love the symbolism behind being a witch in the age of #MeToo, when it seems like so few men can be trusted and it would be SO CONVENIENT to be able to put curses on the ones who have violated your bodily autonomy. There are also undeniable similarities between the way women are treated today (see: Christine Blasey Ford) and the way women accused of witchcraft were treated hundreds of years ago (see: Janet Horne and everyone before her).

With all of this in mind, here are a few articles about witches and witchcraft in the modern context:

  1. ‘Suspiria’ Then and Now: Finding Darkness in an All-Female World” by Julie Bloom
    Without giving too much away, Suspiria (both the 1977 original and the 2018 remake) are stories with female power at their center. I wouldn’t recommend reading this unless you’ve seen one of these films, but if gore isn’t your thing and you don’t plan on seeing them, read away! Bloom interviewed the filmmakers and actors about why they were inspired to tell these stories–because the films are definitely two different stories despite their shared themes–and how the original version managed to “flip the traditional dynamic of violence in horror movies on its head” by having women as both victim and perpetrator of dark magic and intense violence.
  2. “Lorde is the celebrity avatar of pop culture’s witch obsession” by Constance Grady
    Can’t talk about witches without talking about one of my favorite musicians. Lorde is a study in contrasts: her music is minimalist but powerful, and her looks are often monochromatic but still stand out against a sea of neon, over-processed pop stars. This article goes into the way Lorde’s rise to fame happened to coincide with the resurgence of the nineties witch aesthetic, but it also talks about the glorious idea of weaponized femininity and how that plays in to what we look for in the prominent ladies of music.
  3.  “Why Can’t Black Witches Get Some Respect in Popular Culture?” by “The lack of powerful black witches in film and TV is a symptom of a larger problem that has existed in America since its very beginning: the fear of black women’s autonomy and prowess,” writes Basti



Elizabeth I: Power and Singlehood in the Face of Patriarchy


Though the sex to which I belong is considered weak, you will nevertheless find me a rock that bends to no wind.

When Queen Elizabeth I was born, her father was disappointed. Henry VIII had been hoping for a son, especially since he had literally created a new Church of England (nowadays known as the Protestant Church) to marry Elizabeth’s mother, Anne Boleyn. The irony here is that his daughter would go on to become one of the most successful monarchs in England’s history, but that possibility wouldn’t have crossed King Henry’s mind. Not only did he make her an illegitimate child after he decided to execute Anne Boleyn for treason and adultery (he would later reverse this decision and make her his heir by law after his son Edward and first daughter Mary), but Elizabeth was a woman. The odds facing a successful regime under a queen rather than a king seem, to me, like they were next to insurmountable. I say “next to” because, remarkably, Elizabeth did it. And because I wanted to know how she did it, I chose to read Alison Weir’s The Life of Elizabeth I as the first of four biographies on significant women in history for Women’s History Month.

There are a million things I could focus on in this post, because, as it turns out, Elizabeth was absolutely fascinating. I decided that her decision to never marry despite the enormous pressure put on her and all other women in her day is very worthy of some attention. I believe the reason her legacy was able to shine through as it does is partly because she had no king to obscure it — not because she would have allowed her husband to have any real influence over her mind, but because that’s what history tends to do to women in positions of power.

According to Weir, Elizabeth first said she would never marry just after the execution of her father’s fifth wife, Catherine Howard. There is certainly reason to believe that her father’s infamous tendency to get rid of wife after wife may have had something to do with Elizabeth’s aversion to the idea of marriage. However, as I read Weir’s book, she makes it clear that this was far from Elizabeth’s only consideration. If Elizabeth was anything, she was logical, and she knew the sacrifices that would come with marriage. She was firmly the master of her own mind, and in her time, to marry a man meant to be subservient. Even if her hypothetical husband accepted her ideas and wish to rule, she still had to face all of Parliament and her Secretary of State, William Cecil, who believed that a man should be in charge of matters of state. Remaining unmarried as queen guaranteed that she would be seen as the sole authority on England’s welfare, and that was exactly how she wanted it.

Most feminists – and when I say feminists, I refer to both women and men – will agree that Elizabeth I’s stalwart decision to remain single was badass in a way that’s difficult for us to comprehend, far removed as we are from sixteenth century England. Equally astounding is that the topic of marriage is still a sensitive one today. There are still many people who scratch their heads at unmarried women, assuming that all of us naturally want to find a husband or wife and that there must be something wrong with the ones who choose to stay single or cohabitate with their partners without tying the knot (and I won’t get into the double standard this represents). And on the opposite side of that argument, there are people who believe marriage is an archaic institution, and that women who credit marriage or family as some of the best decisions of their lives are threatening to take us back to London circa 1573 (see this recent reaction to Beyoncé stating that Blue Ivy is her greatest accomplishment and you’ll get a sense of what I’m talking about).

It’s certainly better to have two sides to this argument rather than one. But looking at Elizabeth’s example and at the times she almost decided to marry (though I think some of her prevarication was just her playing with the Commons the way a person teases a cat with a laser pointer), I can’t help but wonder if sometimes she was inclined towards marriage but knew it would have irreversible effects on her rule. I believe we need to work towards a world where women can choose to make the lives they want for themselves without worrying about whether or not people will condescend to them for their decisions. I realize that this is a broad statement, and I think there are problems with the SUPPORT ALL WOMEN NO MATTER WHAT mentality. But those problems are trumped by the need to create a culture in which women are not demonized for remaining unmarried and childless, but in which they can also marry and have children without others assuming they’ve given up their autonomy or are simply fulfilling expectations. In the meantime, let’s do as Elizabeth did and use the power we have to continue down the paths we choose, throwing out flirtatious smiles and trotting on toes as we go.

Buy Weir’s The Life of Elizabeth I at Powell’s, Abebooks or Amazon.

Stay tuned next week for a post on Madam C.J. Walker.