The persecution of witches dates back to ancient times, peaking between the 15th and 17th centuries, coinciding with the rise and expansion of capitalism. According to Italian intellectual Silvia Federici, the timing of these two events is not coincidental. In her book Caliban and the Witch: Women, the Body and Accumulation, Federici argues that the surge of witch hunts around this period played a crucial role in restructuring family dynamics and redefining women’s roles to satisfy capitalism’s demand for streamlined labor and expendable bodies. Translation: babies, babies, and more babies—future workers who arrived right on schedule for the Industrial Revolution.
Knowledgeable women, particularly in herbal medicine and the body, were targeted because their expertise threatened a rising power structure. Authorities sought to control women’s influence by condemning practices like contraception and abortion, confining them to reproductive work, and increasing their dependence on men.
Today, the phrase "witch hunt" serves as a metaphor for powerful individuals, particularly men, deflecting scrutiny. Historically, witch hunts persecuted the less powerful, while now those in power claim victimhood, using the term as a shield against criticism. Witchy Women aims to reclaim the witch as a symbol of the power that women have gained by virtue of their sexuality, control over reproduction, and their ability to heal.
View Witchy Women via the button below, then scroll through to learn more about the themes and artists in this exhibition.
Evil Seductresses
In the centuries since Mark and Matthew wrote about an unnamed Jewish princess performing an erotic dance for her stepfather in exchange for the head of John the Baptist, the ambiguous biblical story of Salome has evolved into a cautionary tale about the treacheries of the femme fatale. Like Oscar Wilde and later Richard Strauss, Christy Savage reimagines Salome (pictured) as a cunning villain who seduces King Herod and demands blood as the price of her performance.
Biblical historians believe that Salome was likely just a young girl —perhaps as young as 12—when her drunken stepfather requested a striptease for his birthday. Could she have refused? Compounding the abuse, Salome’s mother, feeling slighted by John's outspoken criticism of her marriage to King Herod, manipulates her daughter into asking for the head of the holy man.
In a striking parallel, the figure of Medusa also embodies the transformation from victim to villain. After Poseidon assaults her in Athena's temple, the goddess betrays Medusa by transforming her into a monster and exiling her to a desolate island. Medusa’s association with serpents further complicates her narrative, linking her long hair—once a symbol of femininity and vitality—to the imagery of snakes, suggesting loss of sexual innocence and acquired knowledge through trauma. In many ways, Medusa's tale can be seen as a precursor to Eve's story in Genesis.
Reproductive Freedom and Sexual Liberation
For centuries, women wielded knowledge and power over their bodies, using herbal elixers, vaginal suppositories, and ointments to prevent unwanted pregnancy. Yet, in the 19th century, leaders criminalized abortion and imposed rigid restrictions that stripped women of their autonomy. This punitive turn reflected deep-rooted societal fears surrounding female sexuality and solidified a narrative that painted women’s bodies as territories of control.
In the delightful—and hilarious—miniature “Venus and the Pill,” Grace Weston envisions the goddess of love as a modern mom of three just trying to hold her shit together (and look fabulous while doing it). Siobhán Wilder’s tarot-like painting (pictured) plunges into darker territory: ten swords pierce through a bone-white pelvis, symbolizing the chilling impact of recent reproductive legislation.
Seasons of the Witch
Women have long been associated with nature, usually to our detriment. From depictions of snake goddesses in works like Ellen Petruzella’s “Breath,” Grace Netanya’s “Medusa,” Elizabeth Suriani’s “Chromophobia,” and Jordan Householder’s “Serpentine Sun,” to antler-wearing priestesses in Kelly Eden’s “Primordial,” women have frequently been associated with pagan ideologies and demonized within patriarchal frameworks.
However, emerging movements like ecofeminism are uncovering a truth that women have long understood: the degradation of the Earth and the exploitation of women are deeply and inextricably linked. In this context, a witch is someone who claims knowledge of the body and the natural world—a declaration that power, once wrested from oppressive hands, can be reclaimed. In this resurgence, we find the strength to rise, to challenge the status quo, and to embody the fierce, unapologetic spirit of the witch, who draws power from what once sought to subdue her.
All photos published with permission of the artist(s); featured graphic for Witchy Women: David Schwartz.
