She Who Wakes: Reclaiming Our Witchborn Birthright

Fierce Revolution of the Divine Feminine

Apr 27, 2025

In an era where our bodies and voices are battlegrounds, from reproductive justice to trans rights, remember that every soul carries the medicine of the Witch archetype. To reclaim it is to strike back against fear, dogma, and erasure.

Why It Matters Now
We stand at the crossroads of history. Legislatures pass laws to control our wombs. Courts threaten trans existence. Corporations poison our water and choke our air. These are echoes, modern witch-hunts wielded by patriarchy and profit meant to fracture our bonds and sever us from our power. Yet the Witch’s blood flows in our veins, ancestral rebellion pulsing beneath skin and bone. To remember that medicine is to stand defiantly against rulers who would see us silent and subdued.

The Ancient Circle of Resistance
Long before rights were granted by kings or constitutions, women wove circles of communal healing. In hidden groves they shared midwifery lore and herb-cocktails for menstrual pain. They charted the cycles of moon and belly, forging underground networks to feed the hungry, bury the unclaimed dead, and bind up the wounds of war. This was not fringe; it was necessity. Witchcraft was community care, an organized living network of mutual aid that threatened every empire built on exploitation.

“The Coven was a council of equals, no throne, no priest, no master.”

Witch-Hunt Fears Then and Now
The same terror that drove oak-girded midwives to the pyre now drives bans on abortion, assaults on trans health care, and rollbacks of climate protections. When we heal ourselves or our kin, we bypass the gatekeepers of medicine and law. When we claim bodily autonomy, we bypass the state’s authority over flesh. Fearful of losing control, they shout witch once more, only now it’s codified in legislation.

Roe’s reversal is a modern pyre burning reproductive freedom to ash
Trans health bans hunt anyone who dares to align body with soul
Climate injustice crushes Indigenous land custodians, the original witches, who speak for Earth

Each attack echoes the ancient decree, “Submit or die.”

Reclaiming the Witchborn Birthright
This reclamation is not a costume or trend; it is a revolution. It begins in your marrow:

Listen to your body, your menstrual cycle, your dysphoria, your hunger—they are coded messages from ancestral knowing
Learn the language of plants, kitchen herbs are a grimoire of medicine and magic, a pinch of cinnamon is a promise of courage, a swirl of rosemary an invocation of memory
Gather in sacred solidarity, digital forums, kitchen tables, backyard bonfires are our modern covens where we share knowledge, resources, protest plans, and potions alike

“You don’t need permission, a title, or a deity. You only need to remember.”

The Divine Feminine as Revolutionary Force
The Witch archetype embodies both tenderness and ferocity, midwife and warrior, healer and saboteur of unjust power. In her image we find templates for direct action:

Mutual aid circles to share birth supplies, safe-space information, emergency funds
Earth-centered defense to block pipelines, restore polluted rivers, plant guerrilla gardens on empty lots
Vocal spellwork to speak truth to power on street corners, social media feeds, inside legislative halls

Each act of care becomes an incantation, each refusal to comply a spell of freedom.

Rising Together
They tried to bury us under laws and logs and lies, but we sprouted, rooted and relentless. We rise in every shape, gender, skin tone, and creed. We call storms to drown injustice, flames to burn contracts that bind us, roots to crack foundations built on exploitation. With every breath we breathe life into our birthright.

If you breathe,

if you bleed,

if you long for justice,

if you dream of a world reborn,

then you are the Witch.

And this path is yours to walk.

We are the witches who woke. Our revolution is soft as a mother’s lullaby, fierce as a storm-spell.

Together we reclaim our bodies, our voices, our planet, and our birthright.

She who wakes holds the world in her palm.