I once met a woman named Sarah who, for the better part of a decade, had quietly embraced Wicca. She described her path as deeply spiritual and nature-centered, drawing strength from the cycles of the moon and the changing seasons. Despite living in a nation that vows to protect religious liberty, Sarah feared letting people know of her beliefs. She worried that if her coworkers discovered she identified as a Witch, they might ridicule her—or even worse, find a reason to jeopardize her employment. Her story, although personal, reflects a reality many Pagans and Wiccans share: practicing a minority faith in a country that touts its commitment to religious freedom but frequently applies that freedom unevenly.
The United States prides itself on its First Amendment and its supposed dedication to religious liberty. Yet many Americans view “religious freedom” through a predominantly Christian lens, overlooking Earth-based or nature-centered spiritualities like Paganism and Wicca. This oversight has tangible repercussions for civic life and mental health alike. Feeling as though one’s spiritual identity is suspect—or even “un-American”—creates a climate of anxiety, shame, and isolation. These emotions can compound, leading to more severe issues such as chronic stress or depression. Research published in the Journal of Religion and Health suggests that individuals who hide key aspects of their identity, such as their faith, report higher rates of loneliness and psychological distress.
For Pagans and Wiccans, the challenges rarely surface as major legal showdowns. Instead, they manifest in seemingly small but persistent obstacles: zoning roadblocks that prevent covens from purchasing land or buildings, office gossip that targets employees who wear a pentacle, and schools that fail to recognize Pagan holidays. Although legal protections exist on paper, social biases routinely undermine them. These microaggressions can foster a sense of hypervigilance that erodes self-esteem. People may hide their beliefs simply to avoid conflict, but this secrecy can intensify mental and emotional strain over time, leaving those in minority faiths uncertain of where, and with whom, they can truly be themselves.
All spiritual traditions—Christian, Pagan, or otherwise—often serve as frameworks for finding meaning and solace when life becomes difficult. In Wicca, for instance, there is a focus on harmony with natural cycles and personal responsibility for one’s own energy. Many practitioners find these beliefs to be a vital source of healing and self-empowerment. Studies by Harold G. Koenig and others have long demonstrated that a well-integrated religious or spiritual practice can bolster resilience against anxiety and depression. Yet when Pagans or Wiccans are ostracized or labeled “illegitimate,” they lose access to the communal rituals, fellowship, and mutual support that could otherwise protect them from despair.
The mental health profession itself struggles with this blind spot. Although many therapists follow the general guidelines of organizations like the American Psychological Association, few receive in-depth instruction on religious minority competence. A 2019 survey by the American Counseling Association indicated that only a small fraction of clinicians had studied Paganism, Wicca, or other Earth-based beliefs. Under the Trump administration, political conversations about “religious freedom” often centered on evangelical Christian concerns, leaving even less incentive to broaden clinical resources for alternative spiritual paths. As a result, mental health practitioners can unknowingly inject their own mainstream Christian assumptions into therapy sessions, causing Pagan or Wiccan clients to feel misjudged or pressured to defend perfectly normal aspects of their faith. If a client senses prejudice or ignorance from a counselor, the therapeutic relationship can collapse entirely, further isolating individuals who may already feel marginalized by society.
Another revealing example of this marginalization came with the creation of the White House Faith Office under President Trump. Though the initiative was purportedly designed to champion religious liberty, the appointment of televangelist Paula White—known for her prosperity gospel teachings linking donations to spiritual rewards—sparked controversy. Even many evangelicals criticized her as a “false teacher,” underscoring the fact that Christians themselves often disagree on doctrine. That disagreement makes it all the more evident why Pagans and Wiccans might feel excluded from the conversation. The White House defended White as a champion of religious freedom, but critics argue that the office operated under an inherently evangelical framework, leaving minority faiths on the fringes. Imagining the outcry if an imam or a Wiccan priestess had been placed in a similar position makes the double standard glaringly obvious: Christian-centric assumptions remain deeply rooted in American politics, and non-mainstream religions are often dismissed out of hand.
Despite America’s self-image as a global leader in individual liberties, Pagans and Wiccans routinely encounter day-to-day hurdles that chip away at their mental health. Parents attempting to raise children in Pagan traditions face intrusive questions from neighbors or suspicion from local authorities. Zoning boards sometimes reject applications to build or lease spaces for Pagan gatherings, forcing groups to meet in secluded locations. Employees who openly wear a pentacle may face ridicule, rumors, or even stunted career growth. While formal legal protections might nominally exist, they often fail to safeguard believers from cultural bias. The resulting stress accumulates, undermining the emotional stability of those who simply want to honor their faith in peace.
To remedy this disparity, education and empathy must become central priorities. Schools can incorporate balanced information on Pagan and Earth-based religions, dispelling the myths that have persisted for centuries. Community organizations can host interfaith dialogues, ensuring that Pagans, Wiccans, and other less familiar spiritual paths have a seat at the table. Training programs for therapists, social workers, and other mental health professionals can emphasize culturally competent care, bridging the knowledge gap around minority faiths. Policymakers, on the other hand, can demonstrate a genuine commitment to pluralism by consulting with a wide array of religious voices—not just the Christian majority—before shaping legislation that affects spiritual communities. If lawmakers genuinely wish to champion religious liberty, they must do so comprehensively, rather than using it as a talking point that caters primarily to evangelical agendas.
Yet any talk of reform inevitably collides with deeper concerns about the direction of education in America. Under the Trump administration, many educators and activists sounded the alarm about policies that threatened to weaken public education rather than strengthen it. With an emphasis on private and charter schools, fewer resources flowed into public institutions, potentially widening existing educational gaps and leaving even less room for culturally inclusive curricula that might address minority faiths. This approach exacerbates the isolation of marginalized groups, stifles the possibility of interfaith dialogue, and further cements a Christian-centric narrative as the default in American schools. Fighting against these trends requires a robust defense of inclusive education. Only by confronting old prejudices head-on and insisting on comprehensive, nuanced teaching can we ensure that no child is pressured to conform to a narrow religious mold.
Ultimately, the question of religious freedom for Pagans and Wiccans in the United States is inseparable from broader issues of civic inclusion, cultural sensitivity, and mental health. This is not simply a matter of constitutional law but a lived reality for individuals who may feel compelled to hide their beliefs to avoid scorn or risk losing community ties, employment opportunities, or even child custody. It touches the grandmother quietly praying to a Goddess at her kitchen table, the teenager who studies herbalism in secret, and the circle of friends who meet under the moon to observe the cycles of nature. Each of these stories represents a fundamental human need for acceptance, connection, and affirmation. Failing to extend true religious liberty to these groups exacts a toll not only on their emotional well-being but also on the collective ethical fabric of a nation that claims to embrace diversity.
Acknowledging the depth and validity of Earth-based spiritualities—and genuinely protecting the rights of Pagans and Wiccans—ultimately benefits society as a whole. It means embracing an inclusive definition of “religious freedom” that goes beyond majority voices, combating ignorance with education, and recognizing that spiritual identity, community support, and emotional resilience are profoundly intertwined. When Pagans and Wiccans can gather openly, celebrate their traditions without fear, and seek therapy without the threat of bias, everyone moves closer to the lofty ideals America was founded upon: liberty, justice, and the pursuit of happiness for all.
- American Counseling Association. (2019). 2019 Survey on Religious Minority Competence
- American Psychological Association. (n.d.). Home Page
- Circle Sanctuary. (n.d.). Official Website
- Journal of Religion and Health. (n.d.). Springer
- Koenig, H. G. (2001). Handbook of Religion and Health. Oxford University Press. Link to Book
- Pew Research Center. (n.d.). Religion & Public Life Project
