The Era of the Broke-Ass Pagan Is Over

Let’s get one thing straight—being broke is not a personality trait, and it damn sure isn’t a spiritual badge of honor.

Somewhere along the way, a narrative took root in pagan spaces that says: if you’re truly spiritual, you should be struggling. That money somehow taints the work. That abundance makes you less authentic. That if you’re not cobbling together tools from thrift stores and dollar bins, you’re doing it wrong.

That narrative is tired. And it’s wrong.

Paganism, at its core, is about power. Personal power. Agency. Sovereignty. And you don’t build sovereignty while constantly scrambling to survive. You don’t deepen your practice when your energy is spent stressing over bills, debt, and scarcity. You don’t honor the spirits, the land, or your own path by staying stuck in lack.

Let’s call it what it is: poverty isn’t sacred. It’s exhausting.

There is nothing inherently noble about being underpaid, underselling your work, or refusing to charge what your skill is worth. Especially in a community filled with people who have spent years—decades—learning, practicing, refining, and building something real. (I am NOT talking about shysters who sell hoodoo lessons at $5000 a shot and aren't trained by other practitioners)

If you’ve put in the time, the study, the lived experience, then your work has value. Period.

And value deserves compensation.

The old model, the one where witches quietly give everything away, undercharge, or feel guilty for asking to be paid, is dying. It needs to die. Because all it does is keep talented, knowledgeable practitioners stuck in cycles of burnout and resentment.

You are allowed to:

• Charge for your work

• Price your products to sustain your life

• Build a business around your craft

• Expect reciprocity for your time and energy

This isn’t selling out. This is structure. This is sustainability.

And let’s be honest—plenty of people have no problem spending money on nonsense. Fast fashion, overpriced coffee chains, impulse buys that mean nothing. But ask them to invest in something intentional, crafted, or spiritually grounded, and suddenly it’s “too expensive.”

That’s not your problem to solve.

Your responsibility is to stand in the worth of what you create.

The era of the broke-ass pagan is over because it has to be. The community doesn’t grow when its practitioners are depleted. The work doesn’t deepen when the people doing it are barely holding themselves together.

We are moving into something else now:

• Practitioners who know their value

• Creators who price with intention

• Businesses built on both integrity and skill

• Work that is respected because it is treated as worthy

You don’t have to be reckless. You don’t have to be greedy. But you do have to stop playing small.

Make better products. Charge accordingly. Show up like what you’re offering matters—because it does.

And if that makes some people uncomfortable?

Good.

Let them be uncomfortable.

You’ve got work to do.