Color plays a significant role in Pagan wedding ceremonies, as it symbolizes various aspects of the couple's union and the nature-based spirituality they follow. Each color holds a specific meaning and is chosen carefully to create a harmonious and meaningful atmosphere during the ritual. White, the most common color used in Pagan weddings, represents purity, spirituality, and a new beginning. It symbolizes the couple's intention to start their married life off on a clean slate, free from negativity and past experiences. Green, which represents nature and growth, is often incorporated into Pagan wedding ceremonies. It symbolizes the fertility of the Earth and the couple's desire for a prosperous and fruitful life together.
It symbolizes the fertility of the Earth and the couple's desire for a prosperous and fruitful life together. Green is associated with abundance, harmony, and renewal. Blue, the color of water and the sky, holds a special place in Pagan wedding ceremonies.
Why Queer People Love Witchcraft
At 7:45 on a Thursday night, I light a candle and settle in for my Zoom meeting with Krysta Venora, aka “Pink Opal Magic” (who uses they/them pronouns). Earlier in the week, I’d signed up for one of Krysta’s spiritual readings. When I log into our video call for the reading, their room is dark green, and a menagerie of candles flickers in the background. The ambience is simultaneously comforting and delightfully spooky. Krysta, a beacon of positive energy despite the screen between us, radiates.
Located in Los Angeles, Krysta identifies as a queer witch. They’re one of many. Historically associated with power, seduction, old age, and otherness, witchcraft was traditionally a space reserved for women, but as the LGBTQIA+ movement continues to gain traction, more and more queer folks have publicly joined the ranks of witchcraft. According to a 2015 survey conducted by Pew Research Center, around twice as many queer adults as the general public say they identify as a member of a non-Christian faith group, including Wicca and paganism.
Advertisement ADVERTISEMENTGoogle #queerwitch and you’ll find thousands of Instagram posts, tweets, and even TikTok videos featuring LGBTQIA+ witches engaging in their crafts. But queer witchcraft isn’t just about donning a Stevie Nicks-esque wardrobe and lighting colored candles — the practice is a venture toward empowerment.
“[Witchcraft] gave me a sense of my personal power,” says Krysta, who is gender non-binary. “In this world, Black, indigenous, and queer people are told they have no power. So, to have something that gives me power and encourages me to use my voice and my will is invaluable.”
Krysta was raised in a multi-religious household. Krysta is part-Native American, and at first, their mother was passionate about honoring that part of the family’s heritage, taking Krysta to pow-wows and speaking with psychics. But when Krysta was about ten, they were baptised in the Mormon church, and entered an entirely different, and a far stricter, approach to spirituality.
“I was having all these profound spiritual experiences,” Krysta says. “But I didn’t buy what they were trying to sell me. [The church] saw all these facets of my identity — black, indigenous, queer, survivor of childhood assault — as major sins. And I knew [that] was wrong.”
Still, spirituality was a crucial part of Krysta’s identity, and not something they could easily dismiss. (“The Spirit will take any opportunity to speak to you,” Krysta notes.) In 2013, they were introduced to the actual reality of “witches” through a proud Wiccan coworker, who gave Krysta books on deities and invited them to Sabbat celebrations.
Advertisement ADVERTISEMENT“From there I borrowed every book remotely related that I could find at the library,” Krysta says. “When that wasn’t enough I went to the internet. Back then, YouTube had a close-knit collection of Wiccan and non-Wiccan witches practicing in many different ways.”
As they dove deeper into the myriad types of witchcraft practices, Krysta discovered that they could play with the rules of witchcraft, and develop a personalized practice outside of Wicca.
“That’s when I really blossomed into a full-on, spell-casting, goddex-worshipping witch,” Krysta says, humbly adding that though they saw truth in the practice, Wicca just wasn’t for them. “Being queer and specificially a person outside of the gender binary made their ideas and practices a little itchy for me.”
It took Krysta several years of channeling and ancestor work to develop a witchcraft practice that felt right. Now, Krysta says that reconnecting with and remembering their innate Indigenous wisdom is a crucial element of their witchcraft.
“It is the practice written in my DNA and passed down my ancestors, but it’s also something new,” Krysta says. “It’s the mixture of knowledge and practices that makes my work potent, and the personalization that makes it fulfilling.”
In this world, Black, indigenous, and queer people are told they have no power. So, to have something that gives me power and encourages me to use my voice and my will is invaluable.
Krysta VenoraA spiritual childhood is prevalent among modern-day witches. Bobbi* (she/her), a cisgender, queer witch in Chicago, tells me that she grew up a pastor’s kid. She spent nearly every summer at “Jesus Camp,” and every Sunday participating in the ritual of communion. For a while, she loved it.
“I was one of those people at the front of the church, hands up at the altar in supplication, singing along with those guitar-toting ‘Jesus rockers,’” Bobbi says. “Holiness, after all, is ‘otherness’. and what's more relatable to a teenage girl than a desperate need to connect to something special?”
Advertisement ADVERTISEMENTMat Auryn (he/him), a Bay Area queer and cisgendered male witch, grew up attending a church that was a mixture of Pentecoastal and Evangelical Christianity. (For those unfamiliar, these are typically regarded as some of the more “extreme” forms of Christianity.)
“I think part of [my religious background] exposed me to magick at an early age,” Mat says. “Because while [Christians] would never use that word for what they do, it absolutely is. They’re raising energy through music, through singing, through ecstatic states, then directing and unleashing that energy psychically in what they call prayer to see the results they desire in their lives and in the world.”
But similar to Krysta, Bobbi and Mat found that their Christian faith created conflict when they started to discover their queer identities. Though they appreciated aspects of their religious upbringings, they grew resentful of their church’s black-and-white attitude toward sin and sexuality. Especially for Bobbi, a place that had initially been a source of comfort was now a trigger for shame.
“As a child, I found myself attracted to my same-gendered friends, and confused about what to do with those feelings,” Bobbi explains. “According to my faith, it was wrong. What's worse, I was choosing the ‘wrong’ thing because I also liked people of the opposite gender.”
Witchcraft, on the other hand, offered a spiritual space where queer folks like Bobbi, Mat, and Krysta could step into their personal power and explore otherness without shame, guilt, or fear. Though all of the witches I spoke to investigated magic (or magick) in their childhood, their crafts began to really come to fruition in their young adulthood, as they were granted more exposure to the variety of rituals and practices. Bobbi notes that discovering moon rituals was a major turning point in her witchcraft journey.
Advertisement ADVERTISEMENTFurthermore, the idea of a coven — a group or gathering of witches — created space for community, another appealing aspect of mainstream religion. In addition to providing solace and support, Bobbi finds that her coven encourages her to be a better person.
“I've been fortunate to find community in overwhelmingly inclusive places where it's safe enough to be vulnerable, but also ‘woke’ enough for us to call each other out on our bullshit,” Bobbi says. “These spaces challenge me to hold a mirror to myself and consistently ask where I'm not supporting those with less privilege. They help me to heal so that my trauma doesn't hinder me from progress.”
Of course, part of practicing witchcraft means… practicing witchcraft. Depending on the witch, these practices might include tarot or oracle cards, crafting incense blends or spiritual waters, reading natal charts, communicating with spirit guides, praying, or casting spells. Bobbi describes herself as a “kitchen witch.”
“Ask anyone who's had my Breakup Recovery Brownies or a slice of my Heartwarming Apple Pie,” she says. “Taste and smell are so strongly tied to memory, it makes sense that using them in my craft leads to easier manifestation.” Most queer witches acknowledge that witchcraft is highly customizable, allowing each witch to build and change their specific practices depending on where they’re at in their lives.
“While I’m well-versed in spellcraft and operative magick, the tools of witchcraft are mostly just that — tools,” says Mat. “Tools are helpful and can make things easier, but the real magick, just like the real psychic ability, is within the soul of the witch.”
Advertisement ADVERTISEMENTRegardless of the specificities of their practices, all queer witches seem to have one major thing in common: a desire to feel empowered and the freedom to explore their identities. Perhaps this is what makes the intersection of the queer community and witchcraft so natural — they are both expressions of otherness.
Claire (they/them), a queer and gender non-binary witch and host of The Word Witch podcast, notes that their queerness and witchiness have always been intrinsically intertwined. In high school, Claire romanced theater girls by day and dabbled in witchcraft at night.
Like the other witches I spoke with, Claire had an intensely religious childhood, and entered adulthood extremely skeptical of any person or group who claims to know “the one truth.” This encouraged them to do a lot of self-education, seeking out books like The Spiral Dance by Starhawk and Drawing Down the Moon by Margot Adler. Now their version of witchcraft adheres to no specific tradition or authority — rather, they paved their own path.
“For me, witchcraft is inherently queer because it’s built upon empowering individuals to live according to their own truth,” says Claire. “Historically, ‘witch’ was a title leveled at outcasts, iconoclasts, rebels, and anyone who threatened the status quo or refused to conform to society’s rules. Witches are outsiders. Witches are ‘othered.’ But witches also hold power.”
In a world where queer people, particularly queer people of color, are told over and over that their otherness is wrong, it becomes a daily struggle to take one’s power back. It requires ritual, affirmation, and community, and witchcraft provides all of these things. The magic (or magick) explored and created in witchcraft is more than just casting spells and seeing results; it’s about stepping into one’s power, and celebrating identities that society deems too strange to be valid.
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It symbolizes trust, loyalty, and communication. Blue represents the depth of emotions and the infinite possibilities that lie ahead for the couple. Red, the color of passion and love, is used to ignite the flames of desire and commitment in Pagan wedding ceremonies. It symbolizes the couple's intense love for each other and their willingness to nurture and protect their relationship. Yellow, the color of sunshine and joy, is incorporated into Pagan wedding ceremonies to symbolize happiness, positivity, and optimism. Yellow represents the couple's commitment to bring joy and laughter into their union and to uplift each other throughout their journey. Purple, the color of spirituality and mysticism, is chosen in Pagan wedding ceremonies to symbolize the couple's connection with the divine and their desire for a sacred union. Purple also represents wisdom, intuition, and spiritual growth. In addition to these colors, Pagan wedding ceremonies may include other symbolic colors depending on the couple's personal beliefs and preferences. Some may choose to incorporate orange for creativity, pink for love and compassion, or silver for healing and protection. Overall, the use of colors in Pagan wedding ceremonies allows the couple to infuse deeper meaning and intention into their union. Each color represents an aspect of their relationship and serves as a visual representation of their commitment, values, and hopes for their future together..
Reviews for "Using Color Therapy in Pagan Wedding Ceremonies: A Holistic Approach"
1. Sarah - 2 stars
I found "Unveiling the meaning behind colors in pagan wedding ceremonies" to be rather underwhelming. The author's writing style was lacking in depth and failed to provide any real insights into the subject matter. Additionally, the content felt disorganized and scattered, with no clear structure or flow. Overall, I was quite disappointed with this book and would not recommend it to others looking for comprehensive information on pagan wedding ceremonies.
2. John - 1 star
I had high hopes for "Unveiling the meaning behind colors in pagan wedding ceremonies" but was sorely disappointed. The book seemed more like a shallow overview rather than a meaningful exploration into the topic. The author failed to convey any genuine understanding of pagan weddings and the significance of colors within their ceremonies. The information presented was repetitive and lacked any real depth or substance. I would strongly advise against wasting your time and money on this book.
3. Emma - 2 stars
"Unveiling the meaning behind colors in pagan wedding ceremonies" left much to be desired. The author's explanations of color symbolism in pagan weddings were overly simplistic and lacked cultural context. The book failed to delve into the rich history and traditions associated with paganism, offering only superficial insights. This shallow approach made it difficult to fully grasp the importance of colors in these ceremonies. I was disappointed by this book's lack of depth and would recommend seeking out more comprehensive resources for a better understanding of pagan wedding traditions.