My Grandma was A Witch
No, I don’t mean it in the sense of swap the W for a B – though that could be a viable argument too.
She never said this directly to me. She told my sister, who told me – so… that might be suspect, now that I think of it.
But I want to go down a little rabbit hole with you – and if you hang out with me long enough, this will happen often. One of my favorite topics these days is “the patriarchy.” I could go on for hours if you let me. I’ll be brief, but holla if you want to chat.
Brief history lesson:
The witch trials – most concentrated in Europe and colonial America from the 1400s–1700s – were not random eruptions of mass hysteria. They were deeply gendered events that disproportionately targeted women who existed outside the boundaries of male control. (Pause for contemplation.)
Widows who managed their own property, herbalists and midwives whose knowledge of the body gave them community authority, and women who were simply outspoken or socially nonconforming (ex: would not marry) were targeted and accused of being “witches”.
The dominant patriarchal institutions of the era — the Church, the courts, and the male-headed household — viewed female autonomy as inherently suspicious, and the accusation of witchcraft became a convenient tool for reasserting that control. This period coincided with broader efforts to suppress women's roles as healers, community leaders, and independent of men’s control.
In short, the witch trials functioned, at least in significant part, as a mechanism of social discipline — a way of controlling, dominating, and silencing women. (sound familiar?).
So whatever image that conjures (pun intended) in your mind of a witch – that is not what my grandma was. What she was a maverick: outspoken, bold, independent, and unwilling to be silenced, oppressed, or controlled.
It is not lost on me that I – a single woman in her 40s who owns a house and runs a successful law firm – am living the literal life of my grandmother’s dreams. She never quite got there, and but she laid the foundation for me to do it.
My grandma married and had three children – exactly three years apart – in the 1950s. Possibly this was a circumstance she found herself in as a product of her times and societal expectations. But here’s where it went sideways: she divorced. A rebel move for her time. It could not have been easy, and I don’t know the circumstances – but I do know that no-fault divorce was not law in Illinois until 2016 – repeat that: 2-0-1-6! (Let’s talk about no-fault divorce and its social impact later – I promise I will).
She divorced with three kids in tow in the 1960s. This was unheard of. She was unhappy – right, wrong, or indifferent, the verdict is out – and she made a bold choice to reclaim her life and do it on her own terms. She pursued a job in education because, at the time, that’s what was mostly available to a single divorcee with three kids – despite her multiple college degrees. At this point in history, it was quite rare for a woman with children to be working at all. She bought a house – a fun duplex in the suburbs of Chicago (she went on to buy many others in her life, on her own, with her own money – thank you very much). She argued with the bankers that she was allowed to open her own bank account without – shock and awe – a man. The list goes on. She was a bit nutty in many regards, but I think you have to be.
Statistics time out:
The Married Women's Property Act passed in New York in 1848 began to chip away at the doctrine of coverture — the legal principle by which a woman's identity was literally absorbed into her husband's upon marriage, stripping her of independent legal existence.
Women were not guaranteed the right to keep their own wages until various states passed earnings acts in the mid-to-late 1800s.
It was not until 1974, with the passage of the Equal Credit Opportunity Act, that women could open a bank account or apply for a credit card without a male co-signer.
In many states, a husband could legally rape his wife until 1993, when marital rape finally became a crime in all 50 states.
So, you can see – in these ways, in the ways that women were targeted 700 years ago as “witches” – my grandma was a witch. And I come from a line of witches, I guess: women who went against the grain and decided to honor themselves rather than bend to the whims of control, subjugation, and societal expectation. My grandma was a witch – and some other things.
So go ahead – call me a Witch. Or the one with the B. I wear it with honor.