In this day and age, you’d think witches and warlocks would share equal responsibility at home. But studies show that even now, witches still do 75% of all household spells and warlocks only 25%.

Twenty-five percent! As a witch, I am incensed.

But it’s true. I see it with my own warlock, Doug. Don’t get me wrong. Doug is an amazing warlock. He feeds my ravens and tends the herb garden and always squeegees the altar after a ritual sacrifice. But somehow, I still end up doing the brunt of the magic.

Here’s an example. I’ll order a recipe box from Black Apron, and Doug and I will cook it for dinner. I’ll suggest we wash the cauldron before we go to bed. And he’s all, no, no, leave it to soak. But then I’m up at the crack of midnight thirsty for a matcha latte, so who ends up casting the scrubbing spell? This witch.

Here’s another one. Doug leaves his hair all over the shower, which he knows drives me batty. And he’s like, I’m sorry, I don’t wear my glasses in the shower, so I never see the hair. And I’m all, you’re a warlock, Doug! When you step out of the tub, just conjure a filth-eating demon. Is that so much to ask?

Sometimes I’ll drop a hint that he should dust the amulets or sweep out the torture cage. And he’ll make a joke like “you’re the one with the broom.” And I have to remind him that the reason witches ride brooms in the first place, is because we’re subverting a symbol of conventional domesticity into a vehicle for female independence.

Then there’s the emotional labor of the household. I’m the one keeping the mental potions list in my head at all times. Eye of newt. Toe of frog. It’s like, we both use the dragon spit, Doug. Did you magically forget the password for our Apothecary Prime account?

It’s also tough because we both work from sundown to sun up. He’s out all night cursing virgins and hexing sluts. It’s an important job, no question, because the best way to keep human women from becoming too powerful is to force them into two sexual categories and punish them either way.

But cursing virgins and hexing sluts is equally as important as running my occult catering company, Coven in Your Oven. Do you know how hard it is to find free range children to roast? And you expect me to come home and roast some free range children for you? Come on, Doug! I just served three hundred guests at a vampire bat mitzvah. You can feed yourself.

Warlocks have it so much easier when it comes to beauty standards, too. Mortals expect me to look a certain way. So I spend hours pasting a fake wart on my nose and ratting my hair and discoloring my teeth.

Nobody cares how a warlock looks. Doug rolls out of bed and the maidens of the kingdom are all over him. Most people don’t even know what a warlock is supposed to look like. Go ahead, try to picture a warlock. You can’t do it, can you? Doug wears athleisure, if you can believe it. That’s true inequality.

This one time, a mob of angry villagers came to burn me at the stake. I fought them off by myself, because Doug was busy listening to an audio spellbook. Afterwards I was like, Doug, why didn’t you help me? And he was all, you should have asked! But I don’t want to have to ask. I want him to show some initiative.

I wonder, sometimes, if Doug would prefer a more traditional witch at home. You know, a pointy hat and a black cat, greeting him at the door with a chalice of goat blood—a real pentacle princess. But that’s just not me. I’m a modern witch. And I believe my domestic partnership should be more than just evil—it should be equal.