Z Budapest: Feminist Witchcraft Warrior

Zsuzsanna Emese Mokcsay—known as Z Budapest—didn't just practice witchcraft. She weaponized it. In the 1970s, she fused feminism and witchcraft into a revolutionary spiritual-political movement that challenged patriarchy, reclaimed female power, and declared that the personal is magical is political. Z Budapest was born in Hungary in 1940 to a mother who practiced folk magic and fortune-telling. She grew up surrounded by women's wisdom traditions, seeing magic as practical skill, not exotic mysticism. After the 1956 Hungarian Revolution, she fled to Vienna, then Austria, eventually settling in the United States. In 1971, in Los Angeles, Z Budapest founded the Susan B. Anthony Coven Number One—the first feminist witchcraft coven. This wasn't Wicca as Gerald Gardner envisioned it. This was witchcraft explicitly for women, by women, about women's liberation. The Susan B. Anthony Coven practiced Dianic Wicca, which Budapest codified. Dianic Wicca centers the Goddess, de-emphasizes or excludes the God, and is exclusively women-only. For Budapest, this wasn't bigotry—it was necessary separatism. Women needed sacred space away from men, space to heal from patriarchal trauma, space to reclaim power stolen by millennia of oppression. Budapest's theology was radical: she claimed that witchcraft was the original women's religion, suppressed by patriarchal Christianity in the witch trials. She argued that nine million women (the inflated figure that was common belief at the time) were executed not for being witches, but for being women who refused male authority. Modern historians debate this narrative. The witch trials were more complex than pure misogyny, and the nine million figure is vastly inflated. But Budapest's point—that the trials targeted female power, knowledge, and autonomy—contains important truth. And her insistence that women reclaim 'witch' as an empowered identity was revolutionary. In 1975, Budapest published 'The Feminist Book of Lights and Shadows,' later revised as 'The Holy Book of Women's Mysteries.' This was the first book specifically about feminist witchcraft. It included rituals for menarche, menstruation, pregnancy, childbirth, and menopause—women's biological experiences treated as sacred, not shameful. Budapest's rituals were explicitly political. She wrote spells to hex rapists, bind abusers, and curse patriarchy. She led hexes against powerful men who harmed women. She saw magic as activism, spells as protests, rituals as resistance. In 1975, Budapest was arrested for fortune-telling (technically illegal in California). She'd read tarot for an undercover policewoman. Budapest turned the trial into political theater, arguing that laws against divination were religious persecution of witches. She was convicted but refused to stop practicing. The case galvanized pagans and civil libertarians. It brought attention to anti-divination laws across the United States. In 1985, partly due to Budapest's advocacy, California repealed its fortune-telling law. She'd made it legal to be a professional witch. Throughout the 1980s-90s, Budapest continued advocating for Dianic Wicca. She founded the Women's Spirituality Forum, taught classes, led rituals, and wrote prolifically. She mentored thousands of women in feminist witchcraft. But Budapest's feminism has been controversial—specifically regarding transgender women. She and many Dianic covens exclude trans women, arguing that women's mysteries require being born female. This has sparked intense debate within paganism about who counts as a woman, who deserves access to women's spaces, and whether biological essentialism is feminist or transphobic. Many contemporary witches, including many feminists, disagree strongly with Budapest's position on trans women. They argue that gender is more complex than biology, that trans women are women, and that exclusion replicates the gatekeeping and harm that witchcraft should resist. This controversy complicates Budapest's legacy. She opened doors for thousands of women, created space for feminist spirituality, and insisted that women's experiences were sacred. She also closed doors to trans women, perpetuating harm and exclusion. Study Z Budapest, young witch, with critical discernment. Learn from her fierce insistence that women's power matters, that patriarchy should be resisted, that magic can be activism. Learn from her courage in facing arrest and mockery to practice openly. But also learn from her mistakes. Learn that even revolutionaries can replicate the exclusions and prejudices they're fighting. That creating safe space for some doesn't require harming others. That feminism must evolve to include all women. Budapest teaches us that witchcraft can be political, that magic can challenge systems of oppression, that reclaiming our power is itself revolutionary. She teaches us that women's experiences—menstruation, birth, menopause—are sacred and deserve honoring. She also teaches us that everyone, even heroes, has harmful beliefs. That we can appreciate someone's contributions while rejecting their bigotries. That movements evolve beyond their founders. Feminist witchcraft today includes trans women, non-binary people, and acknowledges that gender is complex. It has grown beyond Budapest's vision, incorporating intersectionality that she resisted. That growth is good. Thank you, Z Budapest, for what you built. And thank you to those who've built beyond it, creating feminist witchcraft that's truly inclusive.