Tarot cards, herbal remedies, and close female friendships were once enough to have a woman accused of witchcraft. That danger has faded, but the fear behind it hasn’t, argues Lucianne Tonti in her new book, Good Witch: In Search of Our Lost Feminine Power. The shift from revered practices to punishable offenses didn’t happen overnight. It was a gradual erosion, one where women’s roles as keepers of knowledge, nurturers of communities, and stewards of the land were systematically dismantled. The accusations of witchcraft weren’t just about superstition; they were about control—over bodies, over resources, and over the narratives that shaped society. Even the act of gathering, whether to share stories or tend to a garden, became suspect. Women who met in groups were seen as conspiring, their bonds a threat to the established order that demanded isolation and obedience.
From “God sibling” to enemy
Tonti, known for her fashion writing and previous book Sundressed, traces how women who gardened, healed, or simply gathered became targets during the witch hunts of the 15th to 20th centuries. The book is structured around five archetypes: Gardener, Gossip, Spinster, Healer, and Nymph. Each chapter weaves individual stories of accused women with broader cultural shifts, revealing how these labels were weaponized to strip women of their agency. The “Gardener,” for instance, wasn’t just someone who grew plants; she was a woman who understood the rhythms of the earth, who saved seeds, and who knew which herbs could ease pain or induce labor. This knowledge made her indispensable—and dangerous. When land was privatized and enclosed, women lost access to the commons, the shared spaces where they had grown food and medicinal plants for generations.
“Gossip” is Tonti’s favorite. The word once meant “God sibling”—a woman’s closest friend and confidant. Over centuries of persecution, it morphed into a slur, a way to dismiss women’s conversations as trivial or malicious. The transformation of the term reflects a deeper anxiety: female friendships were seen as subversive because they created networks of support and shared knowledge. These bonds allowed women to exchange remedies, child-rearing advice, and even financial strategies, making them less dependent on male authority. The same pattern played out in other areas: women were pushed out of medicine, and saw their knowledge of herbs dismissed as superstition. The “Healer” archetype highlights how midwives and herbalists were gradually replaced by male physicians, who often lacked the hands-on experience of the women they displaced.
The “Spinster” archetype further illustrates this marginalization. Women who lived independently, without the oversight of a husband or father, were viewed with suspicion. Their financial autonomy was seen as a threat, particularly in a society where women’s labor was expected to serve male households. Meanwhile, the “Nymph” archetype captures how women’s connection to nature—whether through bathing in rivers, dancing in forests, or simply enjoying solitude outdoors—was framed as licentious or sinful. These activities, once part of everyday life, were recast as evidence of moral corruption, further justifying the need to control women’s movements and bodies.
The land and the body under control
The book connects the suppression of women to the exploitation of nature. Figures like King James VI of Scotland and philosopher Francis Bacon helped shift society’s view of the natural world from one of reverence to one of domination. James, who wrote the influential treatise Daemonologie, linked witchcraft to a broader campaign against what he saw as the unchecked power of women and the wild. Bacon advocated for a new approach to nature—one where it was dissected, analyzed, and exploited for human benefit. His vision of progress was built on the idea that nature existed solely to serve mankind, a philosophy that mirrored the way women’s bodies and labor were treated as resources to be controlled.
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Tonti spent three years visiting key sites of the witch trials, including Salem, Edinburgh and Norway. “It wasn’t until I really got to Norway, which was my final stop, and I was rig
Today, medical misogyny persists, with women’s pain routinely dismissed, their symptoms attributed to hysteria or anxiety rather than investigated thoroughly. Women continue to earn less than men, and domestic violence is prevalent. Tonti sees echoes of the past in the rise of “tradwife” rhetoric—calls to return to a supposed natural order where women submit to male authority. These movements often frame feminism as unnatural, arguing that women’s liberation has disrupted the “harmony” of traditional gender roles. Yet, as Tonti points out, these arguments ignore the fact that the “traditional” roles they romanticize were built on the subjugation of women and the exploitation of nature.
But she also sees resistance. Growing herbs, valuing female friendships, and reconnecting with nature are small acts of reclamation. Gardening isn’t just about growing food; it’s about reclaiming knowledge that was once criminalized. Female friendships, too, are a form of resistance, creating spaces where women can share experiences and support one another outside the confines of patriarchal structures. Even the act of pulling tarot cards, once enough to condemn a woman, can be a way to reconnect with intuition. These actions may seem small, but they are part of a larger movement to restore what was lost: a sense of agency and a connection to the land.
“We can all start in our immediate spaces,” she says. “You can find ways to feel enchanted by the natural world. And I do believe that when we all wake up to that, we’re going to get more motivated to push back against these bad forces.” The enchantment she speaks of isn’t about magic in the supernatural sense; it’s about recognizing the wonder in the everyday. It’s about seeing these things not as resources to be exploited, but as relationships to be honored. The witch hunts may be over, but the forces that drove them are still at work. The challenge now is to reclaim what was taken, not just for women, but for the earth itself.