Formed in the San Francisco Bay area in 1979, Reclaiming is a monotheistic sect within modern witchcraft that worships a female deity called the Goddess. It is matriarchal in structure, and since its inception, has been led by a curly haired witch of Jewish descent named Starhawk. Though the bulk of its acolytes live in California, there are Reclaiming communities elsewhere in the United States, as well as in Canada and Australia.

Put simply, Reclaimers are magical, “woke” hippies who don’t do drugs or drink alcohol. Instead, they cast spells, hold rituals, go to witch camps, and celebrate seasonal equinoxes. They also really care about the earth and make it a priority to be socially, politically, and environmentally active.

Reclaimers are not Trump supporters; they’re more likely to back movements such as Black Lives Matter and Occupy Wall Street. Reclaiming is also a family-friendly religion, comprised of a lot of young parents who know they can bring their screaming children to events and not be rebuked for the noise and commotion they cause.

But while the clamor of kids is normal at a Reclaiming party, there are some things that aren’t — namely cell phones and cameras. I learned that soon after entering the auditorium when a kind, but slightly stern announcement was made over the mic.

I was wearing all black, as I assumed one should when attending a pagan event, but I was wrong. The crowd of about 200 was sporting all sorts of colors, as well as subverting gender norms; I saw more than a few men wearing dresses.

In fact, overall, there were very few things that were actually witchy about the night.

There were no brooms or pointy hats. No cauldrons brimming with potions; no bats or black cats. Flames weren’t allowed, so the candles were battery-powered, and instead of cackling and screaming, the audience kept quiet, wiggled their fingers in the air, and refrained from clapping.

Everyone was gathered in the heart of the room, sitting in a circle on the floor, buttressed by pillows and blankets they’d brought from home. Those who weren’t sitting were milling about the booths, tents, and tables lining the perimeter of the auditorium.

They each represented a different social, environmental, or political cause, such as homelessness, the #MeToo campaign, and stopping police brutality. The Goddess had her own shrine — a sign on her table read, “Write your dream for the earth here and leave it in the black bowl.” — and the four cardinal directions each had altars. There was also a memorial, consisting of tiny toothpick crosses, for those who’d lost their lives during the 2017 Northern California wildfires.