#witchy queer

Rainbow capitalism wants your money. Queer macabre wants your soul.

Let’s talk about the difference between a neon plastic Pride flag from Walmart and a lock of hair kept in a locket by a 19th-century ‘confirmed bachelor.’ One is a commodity. The other is a quiet rebellion, a language spoken in shadows.

Corporate Pride™ is a glass jar with a rainbow label—faceless, frictionless, safe. It’s a brand’s hollow apology for 11 months of silence. But Queer Macabre? It’s candle wax dripping like blood onto an altar. It’s Victorian mourning rings exchanged between “roommates.” It’s the witchy, wounded, wonderfully excessive art of surviving in a world that still flinches at our love.

At Spitewick, we don’t do performative glitter. Our IYKYK line is Pride for people who hex TERFs—black wax, gold sigils, and the scent of vengeance and vanilla. This isn’t allyship as a marketing strategy; it’s aesthetics as armor.

hi w.a.r!

i got a kind of strong yes!