Literal vulgarity—profanity—is a sonic spell. Use curse words to anchor your intent. Scream “Fuck off” into the wind as a banishing. Whisper “Shit” as you drop a war water bottle. The taboo of the word gives it edge.
Check the hashtag. You will see white altars, rose quartz, and pastel-colored athames. There is a persistent fear of grossness in contemporary witchcraft. Ask a baby witch how they feel about using menstrual blood in a spell, and watch them recoil. Ask them about burying a jar of urine in the yard for a binding, and they will offer you a lavender cleansing spray instead. The Vulgar Witch
But lurking in the shadow of this #WitchTok revolution is a figure who refuses to be sanitized. She is the muddy-footed hedge-rider. She is the crone who spits into her cauldron. She is the folk healer whose remedies involve bodily fluids, grave dirt, and the kinds of herbs you don’t display on an open shelf. This is . Literal vulgarity—profanity—is a sonic spell
Let the dust settle. Let the candle wax build up like geological strata. A used altar is a powerful altar. The grime tells the story of your work. Whisper “Shit” as you drop a war water bottle