Apparently, there are only two kinds of witches. Good witches and bad witches. No middle ground. No room for interpretation. You’re either floating around in a beautiful pink bubble spreading joy and happiness, or you’re dressed in black, threatening small children, and making questionable transportation choices.
Personally, I’ve always preferred bubble gum pink, but alas, I’m a grown-ass adult. With that said, black is so slimming, goes with everything, and doesn’t show stains. Decisions, decisions…
The whole good witch, bad witch seems oversimplified and honestly not a witch I’d want to go broomstick shopping with. Good witches are beautiful, sweet, helpful, and generally beloved by everyone. Bad witches are jealous, demanding, unpleasant, and occasionally have flying monkeys. Although, to be fair, anyone who has ever tried to organize a group of people knows the appeal of having a few flying monkeys at their disposal.
But why must we be one or the other? What if a witch is generally a lovely person who occasionally loses her patience? What if she spends her mornings helping others and her afternoons contemplating turning someone into a toad? Does the occasional toad-related fantasy automatically disqualify her from being good? Because if we’re being reasonable, there’s a considerable difference between thinking about turning someone into a toad and actually doing it.
We like categories. Good people and bad people. Nice girls and naughty girls. Respectable women and women who make respectable people slightly uncomfortable. It’s all very convenient, provided nobody does anything actually human.
The truth is that most of us are a mixture of wonderful qualities and occasional questionable decisions. We can be kind and impatient, generous and selfish, perfectly reasonable one moment and arguing with an automated customer service system the next. That’s just life.
I’ve decided that most of us are simply doing our best, occasionally getting things wrong, and hoping nobody notices when we accidentally set the cauldron on fire. So, if you happen to see me wearing black, surrounded by candles, and looking a little suspicious, don’t jump to conclusions.
I’m a good witch.
Mostly.
Charlotte
Feeling Wicked
