Sephora’s Starter Witch Kit: Identity Construction through Social Media Protests of Commodified Religion

Modern Witchcraft’s minimal organizational structures prompt researchers to look to practitioners rather than leaders, which is useful for understanding any diffuse community. Further, the internet enables scholars “to reach hidden populations.”¹⁶ Some Witches are still in the “broom closet,” and even those who are not necessarily hidden represent an “imagined community,” defined by political scientist Benedict Anderson as configurations of people who may never meet each other, but who imagine themselves as constituting a cohesive group.¹⁷ Many Witches are solitary practitioners, and those who are not belong to small, loosely structured groups.¹⁸ Although Witches may physically interact with their co-religionists infrequently, virtual spaces allow individuals to connect with the larger Witchcraft community by expressing their views and having their opinions validated.¹⁹ Discourse analysis of tweets shows how an imagined community collectively responds to larger issues. In this particular online debate, Witches negotiated authenticity by defining who could be a vendor of Witchcraft products and labelling potential purchasers of Sephora’s Witch Kit as inauthentic.

A discourse-centered analysis reveals how orthodoxy is constructed and how boundaries of belonging are formulated. Reflecting Witchcraft’s emphasis on personal spirituality, sociologists Helen A. Berger and Douglas Ezzy argue that Witches are their own “ultimate authority,” adding that “no central authority…can excommunicate or deny an individual the right to claim that [they are] a Witch.”²⁰ The internet’s similarly decentralized nature produces “the phenomenon of ‘instant experts.’”²¹ Within decentralized communities/spaces, “the real work of aligning with or distancing from other users occurs in discourse.”²² The Starter Witch Kit debate revealed which vendors, ideas, and traditions Modern Witches wished to align with or distance themselves from. Witches used Twitter to express their belonging to Witchcraft, articulate their visions for why Witches should (or should not) protest the Kit, and outline Witchcraft’s “authentic” characteristics. Religious organizations are “discursively and materially co-enacted by various actors” through performances in digital spaces as Twitter users speak for themselves but also claim to speak on behalf of and represent all Witches.²³ (Throughout this article, I use the term “user” as a shortened version of “Twitter user,” or more specifically, people who voiced their opinion about Sephora’s Starter Witch Kit using this social media platform.) Identity affirmation and boundary negotiation are particularly important for members of new religions.²⁴ Digital and social media allow people to “articulate their identities and subvert existing identity representations.”²⁵ Discourse analysis of the constellation of Twitter responses helps to understand how orthodoxy and identity is constructed within Witchcraft. In this particular Twitter debate, Witches distinguished their identities in contrast to what they perceived as a trivializing depiction put forth by Sephora. By rejecting the stereotypes embodied by the Kit, including green-skinned sorceresses who are powerful (but also feared) and superficial spiritual seekers, users opposed their community’s representation by Sephora and Pinrose and offered preferred visions of authentic Witchcraft.

Discourse analyst Stephen Pihlaja’s “discourse-centred approach” in digital spaces begins by identifying “drama,” or spaces/topics where debate occurs.²⁶ Drama episodes allow scholars to place specific debates within larger contexts of community interactions. Identifying the Kit as a drama episode, I entered “Sephora Witch Kit” into Twitter’s search function and monitored activity from 31 August 2018 to 1 December 2018.²⁷ During the first two weeks, around one hundred new relevant posts appeared per day. The rate declined considerably over September, with only one new post per day by October. I monitored activity over the following weeks, but the debate mostly occurred in the immediate days after the Kit was announced and following its cancellation.

All tweets (1,619) addressing Sephora’s Witch Kit were coded according to different categories. I was concerned with patterns of argumentation, such as reasons for opposition/support, the language used to position identity, and calls for action. Most of the users participating in the debate expressed distaste for the Kit, with 1,145 tweets coded as negative. Within this category of negative tweets, 332 accused Sephora of appropriation, 66 tried to redirect business towards other vendors, and 261 mocked the Kit’s potential purchasers. Only fifty tweets were coded as positive, with some of these suggesting that the Kit was potentially valuable for improving the public’s perception of Witchcraft. Sixty-one tweets with no clear stance were coded as “unclear.”

Several news articles also provided brief glimpses into the Twitter uproar.²⁸ Considering that some users re-tweeted these articles, they also likely spread awareness about the Kit. Sixty-two users re-tweeted articles reflecting no clear stance on the Kit, while 390 users disseminated stories coded as negative.²⁹ In terms of discourse analysis, such articles rarely offered new information, and most simply quoted users’ tweets. The debate also played out on Witchcraft-centric sites such as The Wild Hunt and Pagan blogs on Patheos.³⁰ While these stories offer important reactions, they largely echo the same themes found on Twitter, and are not this article’s primary focus.

Employing discourse analysis, I compared tweets within and across each category to understand how individual opinions contributed to an overall community outlook among Modern Witches.³¹ Recognizing the need to contextualize discourse-centered online ethnographies with additional data, in this article, I draw on studies of similar quarrels (i.e., commercialism or appropriation) to explore this debate about the Starter Witch Kit.³²

I relied on self-identification to discern which responses came from Witches. In some cases, self-identification was explicit, such as @Kendra_theSleepy, who wrote, “Myself and other ACTUAL witches find this incredibly disrespectful.”³³ In other cases, identity was inferred based on how a user framed their reason for disliking the Kit. For example, @noimalex wrote, “@Sephora is trash for…selling these.…It’s so disrespectful to the craft.”³⁴ It seems reasonable to assume that @noimalex felt disrespected, identified as a “follower” of the craft, and therefore is likely a Witch. This debate involved participants with diverse and complex identities. Some identified as practitioners of Witchcraft, but not as belonging to a particular religion. Others identified as practitioners of African-derived traditions like Haitian Vodou, which can—but does not always—fit under Paganism’s umbrella. Some protests came from members of indigenous communities, many of whom would not consider themselves Pagans. How Paganism overlaps with these groups is the subject of ongoing discussions,³⁵ but I confine my analysis here to responses that specifically invoked Witches, including responses from Witches and those who criticized Witches for feeling offended by the Kit and its advertising.

This section introduces the online debate by presenting several tweets representative of the negative responses from Witches. On 10 September 2018, @MaidenBarbara wrote, “Fuck off co-opting, appropriating & trying to sell fake spirituality…you don’t get to cash in on witches.”³⁶ Another user, @astrolyss, wrote, “DO NOT appropriate a culture as sacred as Wicca.…Wiccans don’t practice our religion for the attention of looking ‘cool.’”³⁷ Many Witches invoked the term “sacred” in their tweets to claim ownership of, and thereby protect, certain practices. Kathryn Lofton, a specialist in religion and popular culture, argues that scholars should pay more attention to “what believers (and consumers) consider sacred.”³⁸ While objects are not inherently sacred, this debate reveals how and why this status is sometimes ascribed. Without specifically identifying what makes Witchcraft sacred, Witches on Twitter who called their traditions sacred could more easily justify feeling offended that the Kit was being marketed to “outsiders.” Although Witches held no formal ownership over the Kit’s contents, on social media, simply asserting that traditions are sacred was a popular (and arguably effective) protest strategy.

Amid Witches protesting Sephora’s misappropriation of Witchcraft, some Twitter users (101 tweets) pointed out that Witches have similarly engaged in appropriation. The Starter Witch Kit’s white sage was the focal point for this aspect of the debate. Prominently used in some indigenous communities, some Witches also integrate sage smudging into their practices.³⁹ Although some Witches acknowledged that multiple communities/traditions use the materials included in the Kit, most, like @MaidenBarbara—who wrote, “you don’t get to cash in on witches”—suggested that these practices belong exclusively to Witchcraft.⁴⁰ Some Witches even defended this ownership claim through an ancestral lineage, such as @astrolyss, who wrote, “this is NOT what the ancestors of our religion would want.”⁴¹ Sociologist Courtney Bender similarly observes among spiritual practitioners that ironically, individuals who themselves combine diverse traditions to construct their identities simultaneously critique others for appropriation. Protesting the Starter Witch Kit became a means of asserting ownership, as Witches demarcated certain practices and materials, including tarot or sage, as exclusive to Witchcraft, eliding that some of these practices (as some users noted on Twitter) were adopted from other religions or cultures.

Competing ownership claims partly result from Witchcraft’s outlook on borrowing. Sociologist of religion Douglas E. Cowan describes Wicca as an “open-source” religion.⁴² Members justify this ideology in numerous ways. For some, deities of different pantheons are interpreted as “different manifestations of the same forces.”⁴³ For others, belief in reincarnation means one’s current ethnicity is not all that important.⁴⁴ Suzanne Owen, who specializes in contemporary indigenous traditions, explains that some Druids see Lakota traditions as “living examples” of what may have occurred in ancient Europe, offering models for constructing new rituals.⁴⁵ Among spiritual practitioners in the diffuse metaphysical movement, Courtney Bender finds similar strategies of past lives and “nostalgic imaginaries” to justify borrowing from cultures to which one does not immediately appear to belong.⁴⁶ Connecting themselves to religions and traditions across time and space, Witches do not see themselves as appropriating but rather as part of an oppressed group whose practices have been stolen (in this case, by Sephora).

Several Twitter users pointed out a double standard, since Modern Witches may have engaged in borrowing the very practices and sacred items they accused Sephora of stealing. One lamented, “The layers of hypocrisy and denial it must take to be a white girl witch who is mad about the Sephora witch kits.”⁴⁷ In a frequently re-tweeted blog post, Adrienne Keene discusses a larger history of appropriation in which Pagans have served as culprits, adding that Etsy returns almost two thousand hits on a search for “smudge kit” (a portion of which comes from Pagan vendors).⁴⁸ Echoing this outlook, @avraham suggested on Twitter that Modern Witchcraft “is largely based on cultural appropriation.…[Witches] took and twisted indigenous culture to make it a white [people] trend.”⁴⁹ Similarly, @boxerhole added, “Crazy how a bunch of white women are getting mad…like their entire religion isn’t frankenstined voudu [sic]/bruja/Native American religious aspects that they appropriated.”⁵⁰ Although many more tweets (332) accused Sephora of appropriating Witchcraft than accused Witches of committing appropriation (101 tweets), this debate suggests a future challenge for practitioners who draw on diverse traditions.

Witchcraft’s open-source model faces challenges when outsiders (i.e., Sephora) appropriate what insiders see as “their” symbols. Protesting Sephora’s Kit on Twitter, @Kendra_theSleepy wrote, “Wicca/witchcraft IS NOT [a] trend.…Keep to your beauty and we will keep to our OWN practice.”⁵¹ Those who asserted that “Witchcraft is not a trend” or who insulted Sephora’s targeted audience of “spiritual dabblers” sought to reinforce their own authenticity. Anthropologist of religion Laurel Zwissler calls Paganism a “ritual-laundering outfit, removing the baggage of cultural misappropriation from ritual elements outside…white, Western culture.”⁵² Just as Druids reinterpret Lakota traditions, Paganism is used by others to justify borrowing. Sephora’s Starter Witch Kit represented another instance of “laundering,” as upon purchase, one could borrow smudging from Witches rather than indigenous communities. In their protests against the Kit, Witches marked various practices as sacred, and most importantly, as belonging to Witchcraft, firmly stating that these practices are not a trend that outsiders can adopt or borrow. Claiming to be victims of appropriation also allowed Witches on Twitter to side-step allegations of their own appropriations from other traditions. This strategy bolstered Witchcraft’s legitimacy, by declaring that it is a religion worthy of respect, but it also presented drawbacks. If Witches argue that outsiders should avoid appropriating traditions that insiders deem sacred, then as critics note, Witches must also refrain from co-opting others’ traditions.

The commercialization of Modern Witchcraft, from popular books for beginners, fictional movies featuring witches, or the fragrance Kit under discussion here, represents an ongoing, complex debate among Witches. Pagan author Lucie DuFresne encapsulates the tension that frames this issue: “Does our embracing of popular culture really strengthen our movement and public acceptance…or does it eat away at the edges of our credibility and draw others to the community for the wrong reason?”⁵³ While acknowledging some benefits of Witchcraft becoming more popular and visible, DuFresne does not clarify what might be considered to be the “right” reasons to practice Witchcraft, or more importantly, who sets the rules. Sociologist Douglas Ezzy defines “consumerist Witches” as “those who are not feminist, do not question contemporary attitudes towards sexuality…[and] do not raise concerns about the environment,” implicitly outlining several “right” values of Witchcraft.⁵⁴ In this section, I analyze Twitter responses to the Kit that traversed a spectrum from “Witchcraft should never be sold” to “big companies can help our image.” Near the center of this spectrum, and significant for constructing orthodoxy and authenticity, are Witches who protested Sephora specifically as a vendor, claiming instead that “only these places” can/should sell Witchcraft.

Witchcraft has been described as a reaction to disenchantment, or the rise of science and rationalism in modernity, which eliminated appeals to magic or religion to explain phenomena.⁵⁵ Many Witches respond to disenchantment by rediscovering magic, seeking to make the world more meaningful and mystical, and by rejecting aspects of the mainstream world, such as commercialism. At one extreme, some Witches on Twitter declared Witchcraft as distinct from commercialism, such as, @Kendra_theSleepy, who accused Sephora of “using an ACTUAL RELIGION for profit,” calling this “outrageous & offensive.”⁵⁶ The distinction that this user and others draw between religion and profit intends to elevate Witchcraft as a “legitimate” or “real” religion, and therefore distinct from commercialism. Beyond the obvious reality that material goods must be purchased to facilitate certain religious practices (and that commercial activity may result in profit at various points in the supply chain), protests against Sephora highlight ongoing tension among Witches concerning appropriate relationships between religion and commercialism.

Many users argued that Sephora’s Kit, emblematic of commodified spirituality, represented a lack of respect for Witchcraft, especially as many Modern Witches are still “mocked, judged and threatened” based on their identities.⁵⁷ To accent Witchcraft’s marginalization, twenty-one tweets glibly noted that Sephora would never sell a Catholic, Muslim, or Buddhist Starter Kit, but readily commodified Witchcraft. These parody Kits referenced in several tweets represent “culture jamming,” or “strategically using satire…and reimagining dominant messages about consumption” to accentuate that Witchcraft was being unfairly disrespected.⁵⁸ In regards to other religions whose traditions are mass-marketed to outsiders, Ramachandran highlights several cases in which companies have co-opted Hindu imagery.⁵⁹ One also finds Buddha statues as decorative commodities at stores throughout North America.⁶⁰ Regarding postural yoga, religious studies scholar Andrea Jain notes that commercialized practices sometimes preserve connections to religion, but the two are often divorced entirely.⁶¹ Resembling these and other cases, Witches protested their religion being commodified and mass-marketed, arguing that this represented a lack of respect for Witchcraft as a religion.

Religion is shaped by complicated commercial processes, and the evaluations that communities make concerning consumption. Anthropologist Laurel Kendall observes that among East and Southeast Asian communities, factors like craftspersons’ training or quality of materials determine an object’s “subsequent career as an ensouled and agentive thing,” with higher-quality products having greater significance.⁶² Responses from Witches on Twitter to Sephora’s Kit reveal further interconnections (and tensions) between religion and commerce. Among Witches, some popular authors are celebrated for promoting Witchcraft’s public acceptance.⁶³ Other authors however, and in particular, one who targeted their books at a younger teen audience, have been criticized as greedy and inauthentic.⁶⁴ More broadly, some Witches are religious entrepreneurs who write books, offer classes, and profit by selling supplies.⁶⁵ However, not all such figures are judged equally. While market success can potentially increase one’s religious authority and influence, success occasionally decreases credibility. The Starter Witch Kit debate further demonstrates how commercialism intersects with presumed authenticity. Although Sephora—a large company with no connections to Witchcraft—was quite easily dismissed as inauthentic, the way that potential purchasers of the Witch Kit were delegitimized, or the way that alternative products/vendors were legitimized, reveals how authenticity and relationships to commercial consumption are negotiated among Witches.

Beyond complaints about Witchcraft being commodified, some Witches also used the Twitter debate to distinguish their identities as authentic. Sociologists Phillip Vannini and J. Patrick Williams describe authenticity as a set of qualities determined as ideal by people in particular times and spaces.⁶⁶ Witchcraft’s authentic features do not exist objectively but are constructed through intra-community debates. Anthropologist James S. Bielo calls authenticity “an organizing trope” among evangelical Christians, and it played a similar role in this episode.⁶⁷ Sephora’s Kit became an easy target to critique inauthentic Witches, thereby revealing the ongoing process of negotiating authenticity.

On Twitter, many Witches objected to the stereotypical perceptions that Sephora exploited, with twenty tweets highlighting the Kit’s release coinciding with Halloween.⁶⁸ One user, @Katerina wrote, “These are sacred tools, used for sacred practices. Not your fun Halloween entertainment.”⁶⁹ The dislike that some Witches already hold towards Halloween icons—like black cats or women riding broomsticks—was exacerbated by an out-group’s attempt to exploit a sacred holiday for marketing.

Another thread running through the debate was something known as the “fluffy bunny” stereotype, which describes practitioners considered juvenile, inauthentic, and only attracted to the “aesthetics” of Witchcraft. Witches often blame teens and commercial retailers “for reducing witchcraft to a sweet, bland, harmless ritual practice.”⁷⁰ Scholars Angela Coco and Ian Woodward, who study consumption and authenticity, recall a Pagan gathering in which “fluffies” were discussed, noting: “Implicit in the discussion was a sense of a ‘them’ who were seduced by media images…and a (serious, authentic) ‘us’ who presumably distanced themselves from such things.”⁷¹ The Kit became a marker of inauthenticity, separating “fluffy” from serious practitioners. Satirically characterizing the Kit’s targeted audience, @postmortem called them, “white girls…watching [American Horror Story: Coven] once before deciding theyre [sic] totally a witch now.”⁷² Similarly comparing the Kit to a popular show, @jaxlynp called Netflix’s Chilling Adventures of Sabrina “the netflix/tv equivalent of a…skinny white christian girl…thinking its [sic] cool to buy the Sephora witch kit.”⁷³ These comparisons mark a distinction between “real” Witches versus those fictional witches seen in popular media, or relatedly, those inauthentic practitioners who draw inspiration from such programs or purchase from improper sources. Many users deployed terms like “Becky” or “white girls” to insult anyone who would potentially consider purchasing a Starter Witch Kit.⁷⁴ Sephora’s Kit was thereby combined with other popular insults to demarcate between authentic and inauthentic practitioners of Witchcraft.

These reactions also point to larger issues of age, gender, and experience within Witchcraft. Critiques of “Beckys” and “white girls” are noteworthy considering that Modern Witches are predominantly female and white.⁷⁵ These critiques of the Kit weaponized Witchcraft’s dominant demographic (white women) to assert insincerity and inauthenticity. Comparing Paganism to New Age groups, sociologist Helen A. Berger notes that the latter are often associated with white, middle-class women “selfishly focusing on themselves.” In contrast, she emphasizes that “no money is required to learn [Pagan] techniques, rituals, and magical practices.”⁷⁶ Although demographically these communities are quite similar, Witches often distinguish their authenticity in contrast to New Age practitioners.⁷⁷ Ezzy and Berger find that when Witches recall their process of becoming Witches, they reflect upon commercialism dismissively. While Witches describe their current practice as serious and mature, they describe their introduction (through films, television, or what one informant called a “tacky” spell kit) as juvenile.⁷⁸ Although Ezzy and Berger argue that no central authority can deny one’s claim to be a Witch, this does not stop Witches from mocking others.

This reflects historian of religion Jonathan Z. Smith’s assertion that “near neighbors” most often require sharp distinctions.⁷⁹ Jason Ānanda Josephson similarly describes “exclusive similarity,” or “those acts of othering that work by excluding on the basis of reputed similarity.”⁸⁰ Among yoga practitioners, Jain notes that those who attend donation-based classes or ones that do not require mats construct these traditions as “better signifying” yoga’s authentic meaning.⁸¹ Authenticity is not just something that one inertly holds but rather something that can be held over others.⁸² For older, more experienced Witches, “fluffies” (described in this debate on Twitter as “white girls”) represent a “near-neighbor” against which to define one’s authenticity. In the context of religion in Japan, Josephson suggests that heresy “can be used to fix borders, to denigrate difference, and to produce otherness.”⁸³ Within the Sephora debate, Witches posting on Twitter critiqued commercial products to mark fluffies as heretical and assemble borders on a fluid religion. This Twitter debate enabled gatekeeping, by deeming certain products and consumers inauthentic. Through these reflective practices, Modern Witches dismissed newcomers to legitimize their own current identities. Mocking anyone who would buy the Kit on Twitter allowed critics to legitimize and elevate their own identities, practices, and chosen products.

Among the 1,145 negative tweets, sixty-six tweets also encouraged people to buy from different vendors instead of Sephora. Scholar of popular culture Jacqueline Botterill argues that consumer culture “is not bereft of the rhetorics of authenticity, but saturated with it.”⁸⁴ Indeed, Sephora’s Kit was intended to be a more genuine or authentic way to put on fragrances each day, compared to other products. Sephora’s attempt to appeal to consumers on a deeper, spiritually affirming, level backfired because Witches deemed the product inauthentic. By recommending other vendors in their tweets about Sephora’s Kit, Witches distinguished authentic from inauthentic products. The issue was not necessarily whether Witchcraft products can be sold, but rather who can serve as a vendor. Urging people to “buy tarot decks directly from artists,” @SamGuayArt tweeted links to his favorites.⁸⁵ Similarly, @crimsonwitch offered to promote other vendors by re-tweeting their products, adding, “I want people interested in witchcraft to buy from good sources.”⁸⁶ Another user, @mykaylah56, used the trending hashtag #sephorawitchkit as a platform for self-promotion, hoping to promote others also in the “non-commercialized witch community.”⁸⁷ In this instance, “non-commercialized” did not refer to businesses that eschew profit, but to demarcate certain companies (generally smaller ones) as more authentic. The alternatives to Sephora that Witches promoted on Twitter represented a rejection of mainstream commercial manipulation and instead demarcated and promoted “authentic” vendors for Witchcraft-related goods.

Many Witches posting on Twitter claimed that these alternatives were superior to Sephora, but there was little consensus over the precise reasons why certain businesses were superior.⁸⁸ Unlike the East and Southeast Asian traditions that Kendall explores, in which high-quality materials or a craftsperson’s skill contribute to shaping an object’s efficacy/value, Witches on Twitter did not present any clear criteria. One product made in response to Sephora’s Kit—The Ethical Starter Witch Kit from Canadian company TheWitchery—demonstrates this lack of clear criteria.⁸⁹ Although some cited Sephora’s price ($42 USD) as a reason for opposition—@DJCallohan called this “a massive rip-off!”⁹⁰—TheWitchery’s Ethical Starter Witch Kit (advertised as a $80 value “for only $65”) suggested this was a great price for roughly the same products.⁹¹ Some claimed that selling white sage was a reason to boycott Sephora, but TheWitchery simply stressed the ethically sourced nature of the white sage included in its own Kit.⁹² Pointing to another alternative vendor, @itsdolores wrote, “hit up Divine Intervention Collective! It literally has the best prices of any spiritual shop,” and added that “its staff is basically entirely queer.”⁹³ Offering further reasons to boycott Sephora, @postmortem posted that “small stores with ACTUAL witchcraft things are DYING because of shit like this!!!!” without clarifying how/why those products are “actual” Witchcraft things.⁹⁴ Religious studies scholar Robert Puckett raises an important detail regarding small-scale shops heralded as more authentic. “While the retailers of such merchandise are almost always fellow Wiccans…the manufacturers may or may not be, and thus may not ascribe any value to these objects other than their profit potential.”⁹⁵ In other words, not all shops harvest raw materials. Many buy goods from manufacturers and simply turn those materials into products that can be marketed to Witches, highlighting that even among “authentic” Witchcraft vendors, profit is a major factor at many points in the supply chain. A very small number of Witches (five tweets) took issue with the outpouring of self-promotion. Tweets proclaiming “if your response…is ‘don’t buy this, buy THIS instead’ you have completely missed the point”⁹⁶ were in the minority compared to tweets announcing other places where authentic goods could supposedly be bought.

By directing others away from Sephora and towards their preferred retailers, Witches on Twitter were gatekeeping Witchcraft’s authenticity. Most seized upon some reason to denounce the Starter Witch Kit, but beyond linking authenticity as inversely related to the size or economic success of a retailer, there was little clear substantiation for why Sephora’s Kit was inauthentic. Witch-owned businesses were classified as “non-commercialized.” Sephora’s “outrageous price” would be reasonable at an “actual” Witchcraft store. Witches could elevate the value of goods from small-scale retailers and affirm their own authenticity simply by calling Sephora’s Kit “fake” or inauthentic. Through this discourse, Witches protesting the Kit embodied the anti-capitalist typology of spirituality outlined by Carrette and King, namely, that the pursuit of profit can be combined with spiritual, religious, or ethical dimensions.⁹⁷ However, as Witches on Twitter demonstrated, there are perceived wrong ways to combine religion and commercialism (evidenced by Sephora) and right ways to do so (evidenced by smaller, Witch-owned companies).

In contrast to the many Witches opposing Sephora’s Starter Witch Kit, a small segment of Twitter users (fifty tweets) viewed it positively. One user suggested that mysticism in general is popular among millennials, and that Sephora was wisely targeting a growing market.⁹⁸ Sangeeta Singh-Kurtz began her 31 August 2018 article on the business news site Quartz by announcing: “In some good news for area witches, Sephora will soon emerge as a mainstream purveyor of witchy accouterments.”⁹⁹ For a community that protests its marginalization, a major company entering the Witchcraft market could suggest a positive shift. Balancing the competing tensions, @BlackGriffin wrote, “it’s shitty when a belief system gets merchandised. But that also presumes acceptance.”¹⁰⁰ Singh-Kurtz’s conclusion—“it’ll be a perfect stocking-stuffer for the aspiring witch in your life”—highlighted an important aspect of commercialized witchcraft.¹⁰¹ Since most Witchcraft practitioners are converts, Witches must begin their spiritual journey somewhere. In interviews with teenage Witches, Berger and Ezzy found that while few became Witches because of Charmed or similar television programs, many teen Witches knew about them and most had seen at least one episode.¹⁰² These admittedly inaccurate media depictions introduce and reinforce key concepts about Witchcraft upon which novices can build.¹⁰³ Recommending Sephora’s Starter Kit as a gift for aspiring Witches, Singh-Kurtz hints that the beauty and wellness industry could be added to movies, books, and television shows as things that introduce Witchcraft to larger audiences.

While many Witches attacked Sephora on Twitter because it is a multi-national corporation, others suggested that this Kit could have been beneficial specifically due to Sephora’s size. For example, @latishabev wrote, “witchcraft culture is hard to come by in the Bible Belt and suburbia so let these little witches get their start where they can.”¹⁰⁴ With over 2,500 locations and an online store, Sephora is far more accessible than grassroots occult shops.¹⁰⁵ Suggesting that the Kit could have improved the public perception of Witchcraft, Singh-Kurtz added that “witches have been having a moment” through the growing popularity of certain practices, objects, and a general beauty/fashion aesthetic.¹⁰⁶ A mainstream company (Sephora) marketing products to a marginal community (Witches)—and to some who may wish to join or emulate that community—may precipitate a shift in broader public acceptance. Some Witches even expressed that they enjoyed seeing their identity prominently displayed by a large company. Unbothered by the Kit, @iamkylie added, “I love that…witchcraft gets…extra time in the spotlight around Halloween.”¹⁰⁷ Although noteworthy, these positive sentiments were in the minority, indicating that Witches are still largely averse to mainstream commodification of Witchcraft.

Considering that many tweets complaining about the Starter Witch Kit were framed as calls to respect Witchcraft, some interpreted Sephora’s decision to cancel the Kit as a victory for Witchcraft. Some articles even attributed the product’s cancellation to the online protests from Witches.¹⁰⁸ One detail that went largely unaddressed was why this particular product elicited such a targeted response. Kat Von D’s “Fetish” makeup line (carried by Sephora) contains blush with titles like “Coven” and “Magick,” yet did not elicit any major protest. In 2018, Anthropologie carried a “Love Ritual Kit” and a “Spell Kit” (different varieties of which included rose quartz crystals, sage, and a ritual guide book), but again, received little to no outcry.¹⁰⁹ Expressing frustration with this reaction, @SpeaksAngie wrote, “It really bothers me that this community only gets riled up about capitalism when it directly effects [sic] their sense of identity.”¹¹⁰ Although this user expressed disappointment in debates surrounding the Kit, it is common for members of subcultures to protest transgressions against their own community but remain silent on other issues.¹¹¹ This self-interest would explain vitriolic reactions to Sephora’s Kit and silence on “Witchcraft-adjacent” products. Due to the Starter Witch Kit’s specific language, Witches felt targeted in a way that more vague references avoid. The term “Starter” in the Kit’s title also likely triggered controversy. This negative reaction reflects an age and experience divide in Witchcraft. Due to their presumed lack of sophistication, young and inexperienced practitioners offer a foil against which older, more experienced Witches can contrast their authenticity. Tweets in the debate mocking “white girls” seemed less concerned with “saving” them from buying this product than with legitimizing the poster’s own identity.

Coco and Woodward suggest that Pagans “reflexively create meaning-structures around the production and consumption” of popular Pagan goods.¹¹² That Witches embrace certain products while rejecting others indicates selective encounters with capitalist consumption. Religious studies scholar Nicole Karapanagiotis compares two International Society for Krishna Consciousness temples in the United States to highlight competing views regarding the use of digital technology to attract newcomers.¹¹³ While some ISKCON temples permit “diluted” means of introduction to foster mass appeal, in the Twitter debate about the Starter Witch Kit, Witches overwhelmingly suggested that mainstream attraction was entirely inappropriate and undesirable.¹¹⁴ Although Witches profess an open and malleable religion, the Witches posting on Twitter about the Kit demonstrated allegiance to a more rigid selection of permissible practices and vendors.

The Starter Witch Kit debate highlights how many young, predominantly female, practitioners position their religious identities relative to capitalist consumption. Lofton suggests that the success of Oprah Winfrey’s marketing is based on eschewing “religion” in favor of nondogmatic “spirituality.”¹¹⁵ Similarly, Sephora sought to capitalize on a market of spiritual seekers, marketing its Starter Witch Kit using such vague “spiritual” terms as ceremony, cleansing, and anointing. However, Witches tweeting in protest of Sephora’s attempt to profit from “real religion” demonstrated that this approach backfired, at least among one community, and revealed that some Witches value a more rigid adherence to religion (over spirituality). Demanding that Sephora and other outsiders respect their distinct religious tradition, Witches used Twitter to assert Witchcraft’s legitimacy. Sacredness operated as an effective, 280-character means to assert legitimacy and explain why their traditions should be respected.

Cultural studies scholar Galen Watts argues that self-spirituality is less individualistic and narcissistic than many scholars assert, and has an “ambivalent rather than congenial” relationship to capitalism.¹¹⁶ The uproar among Witches concerning this product reveals this community’s ambivalent relationship towards capitalism. Modern Witches used the Twitter debate about the Kit to define their authenticity, which was expressed through (selectively) rejecting commercialism, or rather, rejecting one large company while promoting many small ones.

The growth of self-spirituality suggests that more individuals will build their identities by borrowing from and blending diverse traditions. Similar to Witchcraft, Watts argues that “spiritual but not religious” millennials are defined by a belief that all religions are the same at their core, drawing on multiple traditions to construct a spiritual identity, and emphasizing personal intuition as a means of authority.¹¹⁷ As practitioners of new religions blend and borrow to construct practices and identities, members of those religions from which they borrow may protest this appropriation. The Starter Witch Kit debate reveals how practitioners may defend, or rather side-step, their practices of borrowing. Through their protests on Twitter, Witches staked a claim for tarot, sage, and other practices as belonging to Witchcraft. Any potential allegations of appropriation against Witches were avoided by declaring ownership over these practices, and positioning Witchcraft as a marginalized victim of oppressive forces—in this case, Sephora. There was little explicit reflection regarding Witchcraft’s roots as a spiritual path that promotes borrowing. Instead, Witches re-purposed the Kit as a marker of their marginality and a rallying cry to end this marginalization.

The Starter Witch Kit debate was also significant for allowing Witches on Twitter to assert their authentic selves. Matthew W. King, who specializes in Buddhism, proposes that scholars of religion and economics should center desire in their analyses.¹¹⁸ Witches reacted specifically because they did not desire the Kit. However, that the Kit was undesirable can be read inversely to understand what Witches do desire, such as authenticity, and local businesses owned by Witches. While Lofton highlights the community-building power of joining others “in their liking,” this episode demonstrated how community can equally be formed through shared disdain.¹¹⁹ In this Twitter debate, various targets (e.g., Sephora or “Beckys”) were denounced, and Witches asserted authenticity by stating what they were not. By denouncing certain products or identities, Witches legitimate their current practices and authenticity.

Media and cultural studies scholar Andrew Ventimiglia uses the analogy of religion as a binding agent to explain how intellectual property helps to form, solidify, and define a surrounding community.¹²⁰ Unlike the Urantia Book and community on which Ventimiglia’s comments are based, Witches lack formalized structures. Witchcraft may be persistently challenged by the fact that no single organization or author can claim to “own” the materials, practices, or ideas that the community values. However, the Starter Witch Kit protest on Twitter operated as a temporary binding agent. This debate was not long-lasting, evidenced by the initial high volume of tweets about the Kit, and a subsequent decline of interest after several weeks. Pagan studies scholar Wendy Griffin argues that public displays even in brief episodes provide “a form of legitimacy that comes from perceiving oneself to be part of an ongoing, productive, visible group.”¹²¹ Scholar of digital religion Heidi Campbell suggests that blogging is also a way to construct and perform identity through a process of self-identification.¹²² Posting tweets about an issue and engaging in discourse with other Witches helps to confirm identity and facilitates a process of solidifying a sense of belonging. In the span of about a week (and with no central institution directing traffic), Witches on Twitter largely decided that the Starter Witch Kit was problematic. Despite minor strands of discord in the debate (e.g., is Witchcraft a religion or just a practice, is it appropriate for Witches to use white sage, from where else should Witches buy their materials), Witches tended to agree that the Kit amounted to a disrespectful appropriation of Witchcraft. This discourse on Twitter provided a “trending topic” or focal point, allowing Witches to chime in, thereby asserting identity, belonging, and authenticity.

Discussing The Family International’s migration to digital spaces, Claire Borowik suggests that online community models place fewer demands on members and deconstruct traditional boundaries of membership. The lines between insider and outsider become blurred as digital spaces transform the degree to which people belong to and participate in new religions.¹²³ This blurred organizational model already partly describes Witchcraft’s decentralized nature. The suggestion that other religious communities will adopt this structure with the increase of digital connectedness highlights the importance of the Starter Witch Kit debate on Twitter in understanding community and identity in digital spaces. The Starter Witch Kit debate offers one example of how community is discursively formed online. Berger notes that despite a lack of centralized institutions, “through reading the same books, people come to share a life world in which the terms of discourse, the way covens are organized, and the way rituals are enacted…become increasingly similar.”¹²⁴ Social media provide additional platforms through which consensus-building can occur, as intra-community discourse constructs Witchcraft’s worldview regarding appropriation, commercialism, and identity.

The author wishes to thank the editors and anonymous reviewers of Nova Religio for their insightful comments on earlier versions of this paper.