Practical Magic and the Privilege of Alternative Ways of Life
“My darling girl, when are you going to realize that being normal is not necessarily a virtue? It rather denotes a lack of courage.” ~ Aunt Frances, Practical Magic
With Practical Magic 2 filling the theater screens, I feel drawn to turn toward a topic held very close to my heart. To set the stage, I share this quote from Alice Hoffman’s novel and its iconic film adaptation—words that have quietly walked beside me for many years.
Having traveled along alternative life paths for several decades myself, I have often reflected deeply on questions of authenticity and community. We are all born into a society shaped by rules—both implicit and explicit—that define what is considered "normal." Many of these offer helpful structure; others, far less so.
The problem? If we never learn to question these norms, we cannot find paths that truly suit us. This does not mean everyone must live an alternative life—for many, the conventional path brings genuine fulfillment, and that is completely fine. But it simply doesn't fit everyone. And that makes me wonder: How much of our conformity to norms is actually deep conviction, how much is the fear of exclusion—and how much is simply a lack of awareness that the world holds entirely different ways of being?
Contrary to how Aunt Frances puts it, holding on to the norm is not necessarily a lack of courage in my view (though that can certainly be the case). While we must first have the awareness that alternatives exist, we equally need the freedom to actually reach for them. This is precisely where privilege comes into play—privileges we are mostly unaware of when we possess them: access to alternative life models, to representation, and to spaces where thinking outside the norm is even visible and allowed. And, not least, the socioeconomic security that enables us to take the risk of an unconventional path in the first place.
When we sharpen our lens historically or mythologically—looking at the narrative of witches and healers who have always walked off the beaten track—a deeper pattern emerges: Outsiders often lived on the margins of society, but they rarely did so out of mere self-display. They had a vital purpose. They preserved wisdom, guided transitions and threshold moments, and held open spaces that had no place in structured village life. They used their independence not just for themselves, but for the community.
And that is precisely where our true responsibility lies when privilege is ours to carry: Being privileged is not a license for self-referentiality. Those who have the freedom, security, and resources to walk alternative paths also bear the responsibility to hold doors open. It is about making paths visible, dismantling barriers, and creating spaces where others gain the opportunity to make genuine choices for themselves.
Perhaps that is the true magic that figures like Aunt Frances can teach us when viewed through a modern, compassionate lens: It is not about elevating oneself above the norm or devaluing conformity. It is about courageously using our own agency—not to stand alone in the spotlight, but to hold the light high enough that others, too, can find their very own path through the dark. And in the end, perhaps that is the truest form of modern alchemy.
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