The Power of Perception
As we swivel around in society, it’s no wonder we only catch glimpses of each other’s lives, while so much more hides in the shadows. The true inner workings of people remain a mystery, except for the slivers they choose to share. Yet, knowing this, we still make assumptions—piecing together the puzzle of someone’s story without even having all the pieces. People are undeniably complex, but we slap on simple labels every day. It’s a strange unraveling, one we’ve seen again and again in our history.
October feels like the perfect time for reflection. The days grow darker, and we’re reminded of the shadows that live not only in the changing seasons but in human behavior. History, after all, is usually told from one perception: the victor’s. But when I think about the witch trials, I realize those stories are still haunted by the pain and hatred carried by the families of the innocent women and men condemned—an entire tragedy driven by fear and misplaced beliefs.
Fear. It’s the thing that freezes the legs of compassion, stopping us from looking deeper into another person’s experience. What if understanding them better made more sense? What if it challenged everything we thought we knew?
For me, this year has been one of the hardest lessons in perception. I made the difficult choice to permanently separate from my family. It was a choice to honor my own perspective, to finally navigate life guided by my own values. It’s easy to take on the beliefs of those around you, especially when you’re trying to find direction. We rely on elders and teachers to show us the “right” way. But what if their way doesn’t align with your internal compass? What if their teachings are laced with generational pain that doesn’t serve you?
I was raised to be a people pleaser, taught to protect the reputations of others, even when their mistakes have left scars on victims forever. But my heart beats for my sisters—the ones who have fallen victim to the assumptions and judgment of others. The witch trials are a harsh reminder of how deeply those assumptions can cut. They were built on the belief that women were weak, vulnerable to the devil’s influence. And yet, beneath that story, I see the real power of perception: how people used fear to eliminate anyone who didn’t fit in.
That brings me to our modern world, where a different group is cast out and feared: people suffering from mental health issues and homelessness. Today’s “witches” don’t face the rope. They’re dying from substances that numb the pain of being rejected and ignored. Substances that people fear and misunderstand. Substances that turn bright souls into shadows of who they used to be.
I’ve seen how we treat people with mental health struggles, how society shuns them and labels them. It makes me wonder: What if we shifted our perception and actually supported them? What if we took the time to understand their pain and do something real? Community support could be something as simple as donating unused food from restaurants or hosting wellness fairs that offer resources and kindness. We have the power to give genuine support, to show them they’re not forgotten.
Because, in a way, witches are still among us. They don’t die from fear-fueled trials anymore; instead, they’re lost to the poisons they use to cope. My perception is just one slice of the whole story, but it leaves me asking: Who’s going to be brave enough to stand against the tide of popular belief? How do we want our names to read in history? Will we be remembered as the ones who helped or the ones who stayed silent?