No, I’m Not an Alchemist. I’m a Witch.

Practical Magick Doesn't Need a Rebrand

No pointy hats required.

The other day, my roommate had food poisoning.

I handed him a few charcoal tablets and, without missing a beat, he said, “Wow, you really know a lot."

I didn’t miss a beat either and responded, "Yeah, I'm a witch."

"You’re an alchemist,” he said.

“No,” I said. “I’m a witch. For real. Eat your charcoal and next time you have a problem, just ask.”

He laughed. I didn’t. Because I meant it.

And it got me thinking: why is it that when a woman does something grounded, wise, and powerful, people rush to rename it something else?

🧹Witchcraft Isn’t a Vibe. It’s a Practice.

Lately, it seems like everything is being rebranded as “alchemy.”

Tarot? Alchemy.

Journaling by candlelight? Alchemy.

Bath bomb and intention? Emotional alchemy.

For some reason, calling it witchcraft makes people nervous, but calling it alchemy makes it sound poetic and safe.

But what I’m doing isn’t poetic. It’s not symbolic. It’s not abstract.

It’s practical magick.

Witchcraft isn’t always aesthetic or mystical.

Sometimes it’s just knowing what to keep in your cabinet.

Sometimes it’s knowing when to speak up, when to shut up, and when to hand someone activated charcoal and walk away.

🧪Why “Alchemist” Doesn’t Fit Me (and That’s Okay)

I get the appeal. “Alchemist” sounds mysterious. Intellectual. Less threatening.

It conjures up robed scholars with arcane texts and candlelit laboratories (aka white men).

But here’s the problem with that: it turns real, lived magic into metaphor.

It pushes the power away from the person actually doing the work, and puts it on some pedestal where it feels safer, prettier, more distant.

And to be fair, he wouldn’t know I was a witch just by looking at me.

I don’t fit the Insta-template. I’m not walking around in flowy robes with 17 rings on each hand, a smoky eye, and an antique key hanging from my neck.

I haven’t bought into—or sold out to—the “witchy aesthetic.”

I’m not here to cosplay someone’s idea of a witch.

I’m here to wield what’s mine. To know what I know. To act when it matters.

I don’t want a rebrand.

I’m not an alchemist.

I’m not performing magic.

I’m living it.

Here's the part that should give people pause. They think they know who the witches are by how we look. They scan for smoke and sparkle. But the real ones? They'll never see us coming. We're in hoodies and blue jeans. Flip flops and messy buns. We carry magick in our bones, not on our sleeves. And when the storm hits, we're the ones with dry matches and a plan.

🔥 This Isn’t Wicca, and It’s Not for Show

Let’s be clear: I’m not here to hand out light and love.

I’m not here to heal every wound or soften every blow.

I’m not Wiccan. I don’t follow the Rule of Three like it’s gospel.

If you hurt me, or someone I love, don’t expect a sunflower and a song.

Given sufficient cause, I will curse.

And sometimes, I don’t even have to try.

I've seen people who wronged me unravel in ways I never technically intended... but I’m not losing sleep over it either.

Witchcraft isn’t all candles and healing circles.

Sometimes it’s boundaries made of thorns.

Sometimes it’s the quiet knowing that someone is about to experience exactly what they’ve earned... and you don’t need to lift a finger because the storm already heard you whisper.

🖤 So Yeah—Eat Your Charcoal

I didn’t need a grimoire to know what to give him.

Didn’t need a robe or a label like “alchemist.”

Just years of lived knowledge, a gut full of knowing, and the confidence to say,

“Here. Take this. You’ll feel better.”

That’s witchcraft.

Not a rebrand. Not a trend.

A lineage. A skillset. A lived truth.

So call it what you want. But if your life is turning, or your stomach is—I’ll still be here.

With the right remedy, the right words, and a very sharp sense of justice.

Just don’t call me an alchemist.