By now TWH readers all know that I love me some pop-culture Witches. I can’t get enough of them. Whether the genre is action, or drama, or comedy, or even a silly kids’ show, Witches on my screen make me happy. But my very favorite is when those Witches are in love. And doubly so when those Witches are queer.
Besides giving me the feels, I also think it’s important. Important on a personal level, because these things make me happy, but I also recognize that these things are important collectively, as well. Representation is vital to any minority group for various reasons, not the least of which is helping to establish and strengthen a sense of belonging in the world. To those who have no such representation, it becomes too easy to see oneself as an “outsider looking in,” which brings with it a whole slew of challenges, even as it may afford some select knowledge, insight, or even privilege within certain communities or groups.
When we see our relationships depicted on our screens it gives us a sense of validation, of being connected in a way that has not always been available to queer people. Not so long ago the queer character in fiction was exclusively written as an object to be feared: the villain, the murderer, the “sexual deviant.” They stood as reminders to society of what awaited them in the “lonely life of the homosexual.” Almost invariably, these characters would endure a tragic end, just in case we hadn’t yet learned our place.
We have come a long way. Now we have queer characters exploring their lives, their loves, and even their sexuality on our screens alongside straight characters. And they are not there only to be feared or to be victims. We see queer people in charge of their own lives, stepping into their own power. We see them struggling, for sure, as we all do. But we see them live, and learn, and grow. We see queer characters who are not there to inspire fear, but to inspire hope.
Queer people who are also Witches are the members of an intersectional club: two equally diverse communities that each find themselves in a minority position. The social and political struggles of queer people and those with non-conforming religious views, have long been intertwined. The Queer is, in effect, a “heretic”, rebelling against the tyranny of the majority view, living an authentic life as opposed to one of mental enslavement.
In this revolutionary struggle for equality and freedom, the most potent weapon has always been the arts. Artists, writers, and other creatives possess a special type of magic, one that can influence hearts and minds and usher in a revolution whose’ potency far outreaches the transitory and fragile world of politics, laws, and governance. A cultural shift is far more powerful than a political one, and a big part of changing a culture is in the sharing of our stories. When those stories show multiple sides of our intersectional “otherness” then we are in for a real treat. And where those stories are also of love? Well, sign me up. (Yes, I’m a hopeless romantic – or as I like to call it, a Pisces.)
With all that in mind here are a few of my favorite examples of Queer Witches on Television: Love Edition. WARNING: Minor spoilers ahead!
I feel that I need to begin this list with Willow & Tara from Buffy the Vampire Slayer, if for no other reason than they were a first for me. Back in 2001 when they became TV’s first queer Witch couple (as well as TV’s first depiction of an ongoing, committed queer relationship) they were widely praised by both Witches and queerfolk alike. Their love was so pure and was presented in a real, natural way, juxtaposed against a backdrop of supernatural magic, demons, and vampires. And while some of the stories in their arc went quite dark and ended ultimately in tragedy, their stories were deep, touching, and imaginative, and always illustrated their love in a positive light. They were a gift to queer witches that in the early 2000’s we didn’t know we needed. “Willow and Tara forever!”
Another major milestone in our journey of queer tv Witches in love is the story of Jesús Velásquez and Lafayette Reynolds from True Blood. Most might remember fan-favorite Lafayette as the Black, flamboyant, quick talking, gender-bending, short-order cook (and later spiritual medium) of Bon Temps, Louisiana. Jesús was introduced in season three (2010) as a love interest for Lafayette. He is Latino, a nurse, and later is revealed to be a powerful brujo. His love for Lafayette was so strong that not even his death could keep them apart. While much commentary has been focused on fan-favorite Lafayette, what always stuck me about Jesús’ character is that, while flawed and deeply human, he was an icon of compassion. His love for Lafayette was always evident and together they provided viewing audiences the idea of queer love; not just sex but deep, soul-connecting love. This simple truth nevertheless flies in the face of generations of anti-queer rhetoric that paints queer people as heavily sexually focused and thus incapable of forming meaningful relationships (as if we can’t be two things at once). Queer characters who genuinely love one another is a powerful medicine for a collective psychic wound and the love of Jesús and Lafayette was a beautiful and powerful story that lent itself toward healing that wound, even if as with Willow and Tara, their story was one that ended in tragedy.
Another show that depicted queer Witches in love (and of color no less!) was the web-series Brujos (2017). This series was truly revolutionary in that it centered the stories on four gay Latino grad students and while the magic in their world was of the supernatural variety, it was all set against a backdrop of real-world concerns of a marginalized community and served as an exercise in the decolonization of self and society, with each episode becoming a lesson in how colonialization continues to be an agent of oppression and how the magical and the queer are tools of liberation against that force.
In my opinion, the current reigning queens of queer TV Witchdom are Raelle and Scylla from Freeform’s Motherland: Fort Salem (2020). This is a show that presents Witchcraft in a whole new light, set in an alternative world which asks, “what if supernatural Witches were real and struck a deal with the early American government?” In this world, those born Witches are conscripted into the army on their 18th birthday, an arrangement called “the Salem Accord,” which was negotiated by General Sarah Alder, and ensures Witches serve in the armed forces to keep civilians safe. Alder (now over 300 years old but not looking a day older than 40) is in command of the United States Army, which she runs from Fort Salem and is the only leader that any living Witches have ever known.
Motherland: Fort Salem airs Tuesday nights on Freeform and the next day on Hulu. [Freeform]
The story follows three new recruits: Raelle, Abagail, and Tally as they train their magical skills and learn how to use them to fight in the war against the Spree, a terrorist organization opposed to the conscription which they see as a form of slavery. While the show is compelling and gives us a unique take on Witches and their magic (Witches in this universe possess additional vocal cords and are able to produce certain “seed sounds” which result in magical “work”) one welcome element is the romantic connection between Raelle and Scylla, another member of the Witch army. The two went through a lot together in season one and were seemingly parted, though season two has them interacting once more. Who can say what their fate will be? Hopefully Freeform will refrain from following an all-too-tired trope of ending things in tragedy. We need to see some queer Witches having happy (and long!) lives.
Scylla and Raelle on MOTHERLAND: FORT SALEM, which airs on Freeform. [Freeform]
Raelle and Scylla aren’t the only queer representation on the show. In the second season, we are introduced to the character M, a second-year attendee at War College who is non-binary. There is even some subtly hot chemistry going on between Tally and General Alder (now 300 years old but appearing as a striking woman of middle-age), enough to spawn the hashtag “Talder” symbolizing the two as a couple. Will they get together? Who knows? But the speculation is half the fun and with the season finale airing next week, anything can happen.
While all of this can be taken just for fun (and it is certainly that) it is also an important step in the normalization of queer relationships and for users of magic to boot. It is a potent tool in the cultural revolution, helping to normalize queer relationships as well as alternative ways of viewing the world. Stories have the power to change the world. The revolution is now, and it’s being televised.
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