“Witches”, by Elizabeth Sankey: a portrait of women on fire
“This resonated with me, because i have always been stalked by the shadow of madness.”
As the topic of mental health has become a central point of public debate, more and more people have shared their stories, more and more films and documentaries have tried to represent mental states of madness, depression, mental darkness. But, until this one, none had been raw and open enough to talk about an aspect that is often inherent to it: evilness. (or the social concept of evil). Since always, especially us women, we have been encouraged to hide this aspect. Repress this aspect. Keep him trapped in the darkness where he belongs. So much so that we end up entering this vicious cycle of trying to convince ourselves that it does not exist within us, that it is not part of our definition. But let me tell you: trying to deny its existence will not lead to its annihilation. At most, it will lead you to live a lie.
Approximately 4 years ago, i was drugged and raped at, what i used to think, one of the safest places i could be, my college bar. After that, i fell into the silent asphyxiation that defines the state of denial. I fell into the deep, labyrinthine black hole of depression. I’m not going to talk about what other factors led me to it, because, quite frankly, i’m still trying to decipher that part and it’s not the purpose of this text. The goal is to do what part of this documentary encourages you to do: speak your evil. Once you find yourself in this place, where the notion of space and time cease to exist, your conscious mind will expand and will lead you to have thoughts that, up until this point, you have only seen represented by the villains of the story. Thoughts you never thought you had because, up until this point, you’ve been fitting yourself into the social concept of good. Even at this very moment, i’m trying to disconnect myself from my own speech, not speaking in the first person, and that’s how afraid of being stigmatized i am. My thoughts began to almost entirely be reduced to fantasies that included not only hurting myself, but also hurting other people. People i love. People who, deep down, would never have the courage to intentionally harm. From the moment i found myself in this state, i began to feel a synesthesia of feelings: anger, hatred, sadness. Ultimately, i found myself lost. I had a need to direct these emotions towards something, so i started directing them at myself, self-inducing physical pain, hoping to make the anger, hate and sadness disappear. And it worked, but only temporarily. Then I started projecting these emotions onto the people around me, because the self started to be a vessel too smal. I felt anger and hatred towards my mother. I felt anger and hatred towards my father. And I wanted to unload these feelings on them. I wanted them to understand the madness i was living in and, moreover, i wanted them to experience it too, because behind these emotions was a deep feeling of injustice. Why me? Why just me? And with these questions arise others related to the origin of everything. Was it me who put myself in this position? Or was it others who led me to it?
Does believing in the second option make everything easier to deal with? Here’s the answer: no. The hatred i projected onto those i loved reflected directly back at me. I started to hate myself even more. And i started to hate them even more because i hated myself. I got stuck in this vicious cycle of projection and reflection. There were moments when i truly believed that i had managed to free myself from him, but now, looking back, it was nothing more than an illusion of freedom.
In the present moment, i feel like I’m still here. Stuck. And the paradoxical part, which i imagine is difficult for others to understand, is that i don’t know if i want to leave. I have always found comfort in what becomes familiar. I’ve always been afraid of change, of the unknown. I’m 24 years old now and all i have found is the same old fears i had as a child. Will i ever want to leave? Will I ever be able to get out? I don’t have the answer. What i do know is that the women in this documentary managed to free themselves, and so, i must. Centuries ago, they called us “witches” and they, quite literally, set us on fire. Reduced us to ashes and dust. Today, they continue to burn us, but not so literally; they do it metaphorically. The oppression took another form and shape, but it’s still here. And so are we, women. And so are the ashes of those who they burned. They remain, and we will still remain. Born from ashes, we will transform. Like dust, we’ll rise.
