Researchers from the University of Cambridge have explored why England, during the early modern period, saw a disproportionate number of working women drawn into witchcraft accusations. Beyond superstition and personal antagonism, the study indicates that the kinds of jobs available to women at that time played a significant role. These findings appear in a scholarly article published in Gender and History.
Historical analysis shows that in 16th- and 17th-century England, accusations of malicious magic involved a larger share of women than men, though men were not entirely exempt. The balance ranged from roughly one tenth to nearly a third of cases, with a substantial female majority driving much of the public discourse around witchcraft during this era.
Modern researchers propose that women faced the witchcraft stigma partly because their work often centered on caregiving, food preparation, and animal care. Activities such as tending the sick and the young, cooking, producing dairy products, and managing livestock placed women in daily contact with processes of decay and infection. These natural, observable phenomena were culturally reframed as potential consequences of witchcraft, linking female labor to extraordinary harm in the eyes of neighbors and authorities.
In contrast, male labor tended to involve materials like stone, iron, and wood, which were less directly associated with decay or infection. This divergence helped shape a starkly gendered image of danger and male strength as opposed to female vulnerability. As one of the study’s authors, Dr. Philip Carter, notes, the perception of decay as deterioration and the visible signs of illness could be misread as evidence of occult influence. Contaminated blood burning in wounds and spoiled dairy products emitting foul odors became symbolic markers of female-associated mischief rather than natural misfortune.
Many women held multiple roles and moved between homes, bakeries, markets, and other busy workplaces. The frequency and variety of social interactions amplified the chances of falling into disputes or being caught in someone else’s misfortune. In numerous cases, the mere presence of a woman at the scene of a misfortune was enough to trigger accusations of witchcraft, regardless of any proof of wrongdoing. Social proximity, combined with economic vulnerability, created fertile ground for suspicion to flourish.
Infant mortality remained a grim backdrop to life in early modern England. The harsh reality of losing a child intensified the fear and blame cast on women, particularly those who performed roles seen as essential to family survival. In historical records, more than 13 percent of reported cases of women accused of black magic involved victims younger than twelve, underscoring the vulnerability and social stakes attached to motherhood and caregiving roles.
During the height of the witch trials in the mid-1600s, legal authorities treated witchcraft as a serious crime with severe penalties. Across a condensed period, hundreds of women faced execution in a span of just a few years, reflecting both the severity of the accusation and the cultural climate that equated women’s work with danger to the community.
Scholars point to a direct link between today’s widely recognized witch archetype and the historical tasks that required women to engage in care, provisioning, and household management. The popular stereotype of a witch as a caregiver who wields unseen power arises from the everyday realities of women’s labor in earlier centuries. The social supervision, moral expectations, and enforcement mechanisms surrounding female work helped crystallize a narrative where women were both necessary community members and potential threats.
The study also hints at broader implications for understanding how gendered labor shapes perceptions of danger in any era. When certain tasks become closely tied to illness, nourishment, or household risk, communities may misinterpret adverse outcomes as supernatural influence. Modern historians and psych specialists alike use these insights to examine how myths around mercury retrograde or other cultural phenomena affect mental health, suggesting that cultural storytelling can indirectly influence well-being and social dynamics. The Cambridge work thus contributes to a long-running conversation about the social cost of gendered work and the way fear is mobilized to police gender norms.
The research offers a nuanced view of a turbulent period when superstition, law, and daily life intersected. It reframes the witchcraft controversy not as a simple byproduct of fear but as a complex outcome of work division, social networks, and the vulnerable position of women within the economic system of early modern England. It also prompts readers to consider how historical patterns echo in contemporary discussions about gender, work, and social blame, reminding us that the past still informs the present in meaningful ways.
Scientists emphasize that ongoing inquiry into these dynamics helps illuminate why certain myths endure and how societies can better distinguish between actual harm and unfounded suspicion. In sum, the investigation from Cambridge offers a compelling lens through which to view a troubling chapter of history and its lasting impact on cultural perceptions of women and their labor.