''I'm Not Superstitious..But I'm a little 'Stitious''
Art by Liam Horgan.
Words by Kerry Graham
Irish people have superstition in their blood, and the world knows it. Where I live in Galway, you can’t go two minutes without seeing someone waving erratically, the second they spot a lone magpie (Perhaps that person is me). Go for a drink in a pub and watch as patrons of all ages cheers their drinks together, then maintain eye contact for the first sip (7 years of bad sex if you don’t). Even those who claim disbelief partake in these compulsions, just on the off chance they'll receive bad luck. Don’t walk under ladders, don’t go NEAR a fairy fort, don’t break a mirror for fear of 7 years of bad luck (Irish people also appear to love the number 7).
All of the myth and magic woven into the very fabric of Irish society seems commonplace to me, but when I look at other countries, we sound certifiable. However, I don’t want to lump every single Irish person into the category of superstitious headcase. For many, it all depends on how seriously you take these things. Although not everyone believes, they take part for fun. Sort of like Irish Catholicism. You’re going through the motions for the ritual of it, not because you actually believe in it.
In childhood, stories about everything from fairies to leprechauns, banshees, witches, and holy wells are commonplace. I don’t think I realised that the Irish myths we learn in Primary school were not legitimate historical accounts until I was far too old to believe in things like Tír Na n’Óg. To be honest, I am still holding out hope. Being young and beautiful forever? Sign me up!
Walk through a housing estate in the summertime and chances are you’ll spot a little girl in the garden, mixing a concoction of leaves and dirt into a ‘’potion’’. For many AFAB people, memories of amateur witchcraft or creepy special interests are commonplace. The difference for children in 2021 is that their exploits can be documented online.
@PlaytimeWithParks is a TikTok account run by Kourtni, who lives with her daughter Parks in Canada. The real star of the account is Parks, a three year old and creepy little girl extraordinaire. Her prized possessions are 3 decorative halloween dolls, the favourite being ‘’Sissy’’, a zombie baby doll. Will Parks grow up to be a practicing witch? Who knows. For now, she is content with her Halloween decorations and ‘’cweepy’’ dollies.
Although there is no video evidence (thank god), when I was a child, I used to sit outside and ‘’talk’’ to my dead relatives. My mother never found this odd or unnerving. Upsetting likely, but she never asked me to stop. I don’t commune with the dead on a regular basis anymore, but that doesn’t mean I've aged out of my spooky disposition, and I’m not alone. Plenty of people worldwide have retained that childhood fascination with the occult.
Attend a college house party in Dublin and chances are there’ll be a girl there offering tarot readings in the kitchen. Deliberately step on a crack in the footpath in Chicago and you’ll be met with horrified gasps. Throw a hat on your bed in the Philippines and watch it be swept off with a dedicated urgency. In previous decades, the spread of superstition was limited to your locality, which is likely why Irish superstitions have not spread worldwide (and we have plenty to share!)
Social Media has opened up the world of witchcraft, superstition and paganism. Since the earliest use of the term, dating back to 2019, #WitchTok has been a corner of the internet met with derision and devotion alike. As an Irish person, I tend to roll my eyes when I come across videos on my FYP of witches fetishising my home country as a wild, forgotten neverland. (They do know we have electricity here, right?)
However, the vast majority of online witches are dedicated to their own personal interpretation of the craft, pulling from many different cultures. The concept of teenage girls leaving their rose quartz in their tinder date’s car to aid in their romantic endeavours, or veiling their hair before going to hang out with a toxic friend sound very strange when you detail those concepts down in an article like this, but this is the reality of modern #WitchTok.
My TikTok FYP is littered with general mass tarot readings, videos of girls creating love spells to bag their high school crushes, digital reiki and more! It is starting to look as though the creepy little girls have merely grown into creepy adults. Witchcraft is no longer a group of naked women crowded around a bonfire (sounds like a fun Friday night), but glossy zillennials waxing lyrical about how they manifested their good grades, perfect skin and hot boyfriend.
One could argue that this current resurgence of witchcraft and spirituality is due in part to the desire to feel in control in a world spinning increasingly out of our control? A global pandemic, the housing crisis, the climate crisis, the job market, the fact that they keep taking The Twilight Saga off Netflix - There are just a few of the reasons that non-mainstream spiritual practises may be increasingly appealing to the masses. Crystals, another facet of #WitchTok have become mainstream accessories, with countless influencers sporting rose quartz, carnelian and more.
Astrology is more popular than ever, thanks to apps like Co-Star. My very first message from my wonderful boyfriend was asking for my big 3 (Aries Sun, Scorpio Moon, Libra Rising, for those interested). Reiki, another spiritual practise, concerned with promoting the consistent and unlocked flow of energy throughout the body has become very trendy of late. The accessibility of social media has created a new generation of spiritually engaged young people.
Serious witchcraft isn’t something I’m too interested in pursuing. I was raised Catholic and I’m still slightly terrified by the concept, just in case. For many, these practises are a fun hobby, picked up in quarantine. For others, it’s a serious lifetime commitment to a religion. I’m a casual crystal wearer, an occasional manifester. I will continue to read my horoscope, light incense and wave at magpies on the daily. That’s my own DIY version of the craft. Spiritual, messy, littered with Irish superstitions, just like me.
Kerry hails not from Kerry, but from Donegal. Following a BA in Classics and English at NUI Galway, she went on to graduate from an MA in Writing in 2019. Her areas of interest include comedy, contemporary life, sexuality and gender. When she’s not writing, pretending she's in a sad music video or trying to blow up on Tiktok, she can be found planning her Halloween costume months in advance, poring over her birth chart, or cleansing the vibes in her bedroom with lavender incense. A firm believer in aliens, she hopes they believe in her too. Her work has been featured in ROPES, The Galway Review and local newspapers.
