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Magic may be having a comeback, but in America witchcraft is still on trial

Secrets and symbols once jealously guarded are now available to anyone, sometimes with dark consequences.

CNNChelsea Bailey查看原文 ↗
魔法或许正在复兴,但在美国,巫术仍然处于审判状态。

You may not know you live next door to a witch, but there are subtle signs.

That purple front door? It’s a nod to fellow practitioners that a witch lives within.

Blue glass bottles in the yard might be more than just decoration – they also trap and ward off evil spirits.

And your neighbor’s rooster that heralds the dawn every single morning is actually a living talisman of protection.

These secrets and symbols – once jealously guarded – are now readily available to anyone interested in taking up witchcraft, thanks to an explosion of content online.

Social media teems with self-described woo-woo moms who swear by tarot readings, and even Hollywood has gotten in on the magic . Oscar winner Anne Hathaway recently revealed she’d “charged” water during a full moon , as Sandra Bullock and Nicole Kidman return this week in “ Practical Magic 2 ,” released by Warner Bros. Pictures, CNN’s parent company.

All the while, #witchtok garners millions of posts, and there’s no shortage of flash sales for love spells – or curses.

In a time of political upheaval and cultural shifts, witches and their customers can feel drawn to magic because it gives them a sense of agency and control over chaos. But when magic and money mix, some opt to lean into humanity’s worst instincts – perhaps with ominous consequences.

The heightened visibility of it all has divided some elders who, after living through periods of persecution, worry a new such era could dawn. So, while magic may be experiencing a resurgence, in many ways, witchcraft is still on trial.

The first thing you notice about Megan Archer’s home in suburban Maryland is how inviting it feels. The afternoon sunlight streams through a large picture window, and the smell of incense hangs subtly in the air.

Other than the occasional barks from her dog, who doesn’t appreciate being locked away for guests, the witch’s home is peaceful and a far cry from the dank, dark cottages often found in folklore.

Archer, of course, credits magic. Indeed, she specializes in “house magic” that protects and cleanses, and often blends feng shui practices with her spellwork to help direct energy.

The 31-year-old describes herself as an “intermediate” witch who began learning about witchcraft during the pandemic after discovering a community online.

“I’ve always liked sharing my journey, sharing beginner witch tips,” she said, adding her love of learning and research “makes me feel more confident teaching the beginner stuff because I’m right there living it.”

Today, Archer posts under the handle “InstantWitch” and has over a million followers across social media. After her content began taking off, Archer left the corporate world to focus on being a “witchy bestie” who shares how to use household items to achieve practical, magical goals.

It’s now her full-time job. Though, she admits, “I do cast spells for success and visibility.”

As she speaks, her pet rat, Fergus, sits contentedly on her shoulder, his tiny nose wriggling when he sniffs the air. Archer acknowledges some witches still prefer secrecy, which she says is likely a form of self-protection, given the host of misconceptions about witchcraft – namely that it has anything to do with Satan or the devil.

Archer was raised Buddhist, and its emphasis on ritual and spirituality eased her transition into spellwork.

“There’s a spirit that connects everything, you know? A lot of practices … religion, witchcraft, are all trying to work with that spirit.”

Some, she said, just call it magic.

Last year, Archer published her first book, “Instant Witch: The Beginner’s Guide,” which offers a practical approach to everything from astrology to candle magic; it was recently translated into Spanish.

“I don’t really gatekeep anything. With these covens, there’s a lot of secrecy involved,” she said. “The internet is sort of opening that up, which can be a good thing.”

Though, she quickly adds, “it can also be a bad thing if things aren’t taught correctly.”

Witchcraft was “not even on the radar” when Phyllis Curott’s friend dragged her into an esoteric shop in Manhattan in the early 1980s for a tarot reading. An Ivy League-educated lawyer, Curott was focused on dismantling organized crime in labor unions by day while also managing a rock band.

Still, she asked the woman – and the cards – for guidance and found the tarot reading oddly prescient. Afterward, she recalled, the witch extended an invitation for Curott to join her weekly group, which she stopped short of calling a coven.

“ I thanked her, and I paid for my reading, and I walked out the door with absolutely less than no intention of ever going back,” Curott said.

But sometime later, Curott found herself standing in a circle, in a room full of diverse women, invoking the Divine Feminine in a ritual.

“Suddenly there was this agency that was being offered to us, this capacity to find a spiritual power that was innate that had been suppressed,” she said.

She began practicing Wicca – a modern form of witchcraft – and she said it was like taking off “the blindfold that’s been tied on by history and also by habit, by culture.”

But in the 1980s, those who practiced witchcraft were under attack. The decade was bookended by the rise of the Christian right in politics and the “Satanic Panic” that sought to root out anything deemed “demonic” or occult, said Helen Berger, a sociologist who’s spent decades studying and chronicling witchcraft and paganism in America.

Far from being cowed, the backlash spurred Curott to advocate for Wiccan and pagan rights.

“People were really buried in the broom closet at that point,” she added. “But I made the decision that I was out.”

When she was asked to represent a group of Wiccan leaders in their fight to perform legally binding marriage ceremonies in New York City, Curott agreed – and they won.

In 1993, she attended the Parliament of the World’s Religions’ first meeting in a century and now sits on the board of the global interfaith organization. She began doing interviews, amassing legal and cultural victories, and attracting notice – especially after she published her 1998 memoir, “Book of Shadows.”

“I watched the world become a little less cruel and a little more accepting,” she said.

And, she noted, the success of films like “Practical Magic” and later the “Harry Potter” series, as well as TV shows like “Sabrina the Teenage Witch” and “Charmed,” helped shift the cultural narrative about witchcraft and magic.

But the rise of the internet age brought a change in how witchcraft is taught, moving away from group-based covens to an emphasis on solitary practice.

And soon, Curott said, what largely had been a spiritual path turned into a commodity. With it came not only benign hexes but also highly publicized incidents of violence that “can play into a stereotype” and feed fresh demonization of witchcraft.

After all, you can buy almost anything online these days.

Nervous about an upcoming interview? There’s a spell for that.

Want to ensure good weather for your wedding? There’s a spell for that, too.

And if you’re a hockey fan and your archrival makes it all the way to the Stanley Cup, you can see a witch about a curse.

At least that’s what Marissa Lee did when it became clear the Vegas Golden Knights would take on the Carolina Hurricanes in the 2026 finals.

“I am,” she confessed, “a Vegas hater.”

Ian Maule/Getty Images

Lee, who asked CNN to identify her by her first and middle names only because of the vitriol she says female sports fans can face, said she couldn’t stomach the idea of Carter Hart, Vegas’ starting goalie, being immortalized on the Stanley Cup – even after he was acquitted last summer in a 2018 assault case, she said.

So, she bought a hex.

“I never purchased anything like that online,” she told CNN. “I literally just Googled ‘hex,’ and she came up.”

Not only that, but the witch was having a sale.

“What’s the worst that could happen? It’s a scam,” Lee figured. “All right, whatever; it’s not like I spent $1,000.”

The witch sent her a receipt and urged her to “trust the spirits are already working.” After losing the opener, the Hurricanes won the next game in overtime. In Game 3, they caved by one goal in dramatic fashion, then came roaring back.

“No one tell me Etsy Witches aren’t real,” a triumphant Lee posted on Threads, referring to practitioners on the popular online marketplace. “Worth every penny.”

The Hurricanes won the 2026 Stanley Cup, and Hart made history as the first NHL goalie to allow at least four goals in five straight finals matches.

“It felt like a win for women,” said Lee, who – while still uncertain whether she believes in magic – knows spells and rituals can give “people a feeling like they have control, like they can help, they can do something.”

Similar solicitations, however, have become part of far darker storylines.

On September 8, 2025, the publication Jezebel posted an article claiming its journalist had paid “Etsy Witches” to curse the conservative activist Charlie Kirk . Although the tone of the story was mildly tongue-in-cheek, one of its lines soon would feel foreboding:

“I reminded myself: This is witchcraft, not Amazon,” the Jezebel reporter wrote. “The forces operate on their own schedule.”

Kirk was assassinated two days later.

The article drew swift condemnation , and Jezebel editors soon added a note atop it condemning Kirk’s shooting and political violence “in the strongest possible terms.”

Spells also featured heavily this spring in the trial of Larry Millete, whom a jury found guilty of murdering his wife.

Maya Millete vanished from her Chula Vista, California, home in 2021 after informing her husband of her intention to file for divorce; her body remains missing. Larry Millete later pleaded not guilty to first-degree murder, and his eight-week trial featured testimony from a spellcaster he hired to curse his wife in the months before she disappeared.

Prosecutors offered evidence Millete asked for hexes that would injure or incapacitate his wife, NBC San Diego reported . Frank Peavy testified Millete hired him off a freelance website, then bombarded him with requests to cast spells on his wife, CNN affiliate CBS8 reported .

Although Peavy confirmed Millete never asked him for his wife to disappear or be killed, he testified Millete’s interactions became manic, desperate and obsessive . Peavy said he blocked Millete before Maya vanished, CBS8 reported.

The spellcaster’s testimony was among several pieces of strong evidence that helped convict Millete, jurors told NBC San Diego.

“You look at those spellcasters and that pitch of going all the way up until – in my opinion and the jurors’, that he killed her, and then he stops. It’s ‘boom,’” juror Beverly Feldman told the outlet after the verdict was announced .

Such high-profile cases can make it “dangerous for those of us who know what (witchcraft) is really all about and are seeking to walk a sacred path,” said Curott, the practitioner and lawyer.

Still, time and experience have taught her, “you cannot practice this spiritual path in fear.”

“The world needs its witches,” she said. “It needs witch’s wisdom.”

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