Category Archives: Magic

Ritual actions engaged in to effect changes in the outside world.

黄仙” (Huáng Xiān) Beijing weasel

AGE: 55
Date_of_performance: May 1, 2025
Language: Mandarin Chinese
Nationality: Canadian
Occupation: Editor
Primary Language: English
Residence: Toronto, Canada (formerly lived in Beijing, China for 20 years)

Folklore Explanation:
“When we were living in Beijing, we started hearing stories about something called ‘黄仙’—the weasel spirit. It wasn’t something you’d see in tourist guides or museums. It came up more when you talked to older locals or cab drivers, or if you spent time in the older hutongs. Apparently, weasels—especially yellow ones—were believed to have spiritual power. People said they could turn into humans or possess people, especially if you disturbed them or disrespected their territory.

There was this kind of unspoken rule about not messing with weasels. If one came into your house, you were supposed to leave it alone, maybe even light incense. It wasn’t fear, exactly—more like respect. A lot of people referred to them as one of the ‘Five Immortals,’ and they’d warn you that strange things might happen if you upset them. It was never presented as superstition so much as something you just knew not to challenge. Like, don’t risk it. It made the city feel layered—modern on the surface, but still holding onto these old beliefs right underneath.”

Analysis:
The legend of 黄仙 (Huáng Xiān), or the Yellow Weasel Spirit, is part of a broader category of animistic and transformation folklore rooted in Daoist cosmology and folk religious beliefs. In Northern China—especially in and around Beijing—黄仙 is one of the “Five Immortals” (五大仙), a group of animal spirits (fox, weasel, hedgehog, snake, and rat) believed to possess supernatural powers, often associated with both protection and trickery.

These spirits occupy a liminal role in Chinese folklore: part deity, part ghost, part moral enforcer. The belief in Huáng Xiān is a form of vernacular belief folklore, transmitted primarily through oral storytelling, neighborhood custom, and superstitious behavior rather than written texts or organized religion. It reflects a blend of animism, moral caution, and the uncanny, often surfacing in everyday life situations—someone’s illness, odd behavior, or even unexplained luck—providing a framework for interpreting the unknown. Though not officially recognized in modern state narratives, it continues to persist in urban folklore, especially in areas with a strong connection to traditional community life.

monkey king 孙悟空 (Sūn Wùkōng)

Title: 孙悟空 (Sūn Wùkōng / The Monkey King)

AGE: 54
Date_of_performance: May 1, 2025
Language: Mandarin Chinese
Nationality: Canadian
Occupation: Retail worker and teacher
Primary Language: English
Residence: Toronto, Canada (lived in Beijing, China for 20 years)

Folklore Explanation:
“The Monkey King was everywhere when you were growing up in Beijing. You couldn’t walk into a bookstore or turn on the TV without seeing some version of him. The classic Journey to the West was part of school curriculum, of course, but it wasn’t just that—there were cartoons, puppet shows, live-action remakes, even branded snacks with Sun Wukong on them. He’s clever, a bit of a troublemaker, but always brave. Kids loved him. You and your sister had picture books with him flying around on clouds, fighting demons, and transforming into animals.

One of the most surreal experiences was getting to visit the film set for one of the big-budget remakes. That was the 2015 version, the one with Fan Bingbing. My friend Li—she translated some of Ai Weiwei’s work—her husband, Cheang Pou-soi, directed it. She invited us out to the set one day. You probably don’t remember all the details, but it was massive. Elaborate costumes, green screens, big lighting rigs—it was a whole operation. Seeing this ancient story being brought to life with modern technology really showed how deeply rooted the Monkey King is in Chinese culture, but also how adaptable he is. He’s survived for centuries, and he keeps changing with the times.”

Analysis:
Sun Wukong, or the Monkey King, is a central figure in Chinese mythological and narrative folklore, best known from the 16th-century novel Journey to the West (西游记). His character draws from Daoist and Buddhist cosmology, embodying themes of rebellion, transformation, and eventual enlightenment. He is classified as a heroic trickster figure, blending moral lessons with comedic mischief, and has been used historically to explore tensions between individuality and authority.

The Monkey King’s story has been transmitted through oral storytelling, written epic, shadow puppetry, television, and cinema, making him one of the most recognized figures in Chinese folklore. His presence in modern media—especially through state-supported educational programming and commercial films like The Monkey King (2015)—shows the way traditional folklore evolves into mass-mediated folklore, reaching audiences across generations and geographies. In the context of childhood in early-2000s Beijing, Sun Wukong functioned both as a cultural icon and a moral exemplar—accessible through entertainment, but still rooted in complex spiritual and historical traditions.

Wearing Dots on New Years Eve – Holiday Ritual/Folk Magic

Nationality: Filipino
Age: 51
Occupation: IT Help Desk
Residence: Naperville, IL
Language: English

Text:

If you wear dots on your clothing (shirt, pants, underwear, socks, etc.), you will manifest wealth for the new year.

Context:

Since the performer can remember, her family always celebrated New Years together and everyone in her town (a small, rural town in the Philippines) would get together and all wear polkadots on New Years Eve. She brought the tradition to America and passed it on to her kids. The other Filipino-Americans she knows also wears dots on their clothes when they celebrate the new year.

“Prosperity for the whole year because the dots are like money. If you have money at the strike of midnight then the whole year you will have money.” “It’s Chinese, the circle is the symbol of something like wealth.” “We just know growing up. But it’s Chinese related but Filipino culture likes to mix cultures.”

Analysis:

Dots are circular shaped, and circles look like coin, and coins symbolize prosperity. Therefore, wearing dots is a form of homoeopathic magic. By wearing “dots,” it produces the like of “prosperity.” This new years tradition is often coupled with using movement, sound, and taste for good luck as well with many Filipinos also jumping at midnight to grow taller, shaking coins to ward off evil spirits, and opening doors and windows to “let in the good luck.” Many of these traditions are similar to Chinese values as in Chinese culture, round objects symbolize harmony, wholeness, and wealth. Therefore, for Chinese New Years, they also include many “round” items such as round fruits (ex: oranges) or giving out coins in red envelopes. The influence of this culture can be greatly attributed centuries of migration and trade from Southern China which is why there is even a sub-section of Filipino communities known as Tsinoy.

Basketball Magic Superstition

Text: “When I played basketball, I had this ritual that I had to do before each game. If I didn’t do it, I would be really anxious and play badly. At the end of warm ups, right before the game begins, my same teammate would have to make a right handed layup, then I would have to catch her rebound right from the net, then I would take a right handed layup, then dribble the ball to the ref/benches with exactly 5 crossover dribbles, then hold the ball for 3 seconds before giving/putting it away. I had to be the last one to take a shot before the game too. It was really obnoxious, but I had to do it. We did it before every game for all four years of high school.”

Context: The informant was a very strong basketball player throughout middle school and high school. Although she no longer plays at college, she coaches younger children and still feels that it is an important part of her identity. She says she is a very superstitious person in general, and has many little rituals that she must conduct before certain events (other ones she described included before math tests). This ritual was the most important to her though, as she needed to do it before every game, or she felt that she would not play well. She says she started the ritual in ninth grade. She does not remember the exact origin or why her and this specific teammate started it, but they had to do it before every game. She thinks that they just did it before one of the first games and they both played very well, so they had to continue. She says it was a necessity for her, and she got anxious even thinking about not being able to do the ritual before a game.

Interpretation: 

This “ritual” reflects a form of magic superstition. This is when symbolic, repeatable actions are believed to affect performance outcomes. Specifically, this is a manifestation of homeopathic magic, where an action can influence the event—“like produces like”). In this case, she believes that if she completes this ritual, she will play well in the game. Even though this method is not technically rational, and has no scientific reasoning behind it, it offers her mental control in a high-pressure environment. It is necessary for her to enter a mindset where she is ready to perform in the game. 

This superstition reminds me of how, generally, athletes can use and develop folk practices to cope with anxieties during games. Specifically, in North America, sports carry quasi-religious importance. Many players often have rituals and superstitions that they feel the need to complete in order to perform well in a game. They believe that if they do not perform this ritual, it can lead to negative outcomes, which is especially stressful in unpredictable situations, where they want to control the outcome of the game, but cannot. This also parallels how other cultural groups, in general, develop rituals to navigate liminal spaces. In this case, the liminal space is the time in between the warm up and the game, when players are most anxious. 

This ritual also functions as an identity performance. Her commitment to the ritual shows her dedication and commitment to the sport. It reflects the values of discipline, repetition, and hard work that are emphasized in sports. This shows how society creates its own forms of sacred performance.

A Bad Dress Rehearsal Means a Great Opening Night

Folk Belief / Superstition

Performance Ritual / Theatre Superstition

1. Text 

JP, a theatre major at American University, recounted a widely circulated superstition in theatre communities: the belief that a bad dress rehearsal portends a successful opening night. This saying, according to JP, functions as a near-ritualistic mantra invoked in the face of final-rehearsal failures.

JP shared a vivid example from her sophomore year, during a student production of 9 to 5. JP called the final dress “a total mess.” 

“People forgot lines, a quick change got botched, the curtain cue was late. Everyone was freaking out. But then the show went great. It’s one of those things that’s not logical, but people buy into it.” This account captures the performative dimension of folklore: belief is enacted even when its literal truth is uncertain or doubtful. The utterance of the phrase itself helps stabilize the group in a moment of heightened anxiety.

JP also highlighted the semi-ironic way the phrase circulates as if actors feel like it’s “cringey” or “corny.” Her reflection underscores how folk expressions often serve not just to encode cultural knowledge, but to offer psychological relief and narrative closure. In this case, the saying retroactively transforms mistakes and technical issues into signs of future triumph, effectively reversing the emotional tone of the moment.

The phrase becomes a kind of communal coping mechanism, offering reassurance and collective optimism at a time when performers may otherwise feel vulnerable or demoralized. It is also notable that the belief typically emerges in the liminal phase of production — the moment between preparation and performance — when emotional stakes are high and certainty is elusive. The ritualized repetition of this phrase in that transitional space suggests a shared desire to assert narrative control, to impose meaning on what might otherwise feel like chaos. Like many folk expressions, the value of “a bad dress rehearsal means a great opening night” lies not in its verifiability, but in its ability to provide symbolic structure to an unpredictable process.

2. Context

JP first heard the superstition “a bad dress rehearsal means a great opening night” during high school, and like other superstitions, it just stuck. Like many folk beliefs in performance communities, this one wasn’t taught formally but was picked up through informal repetition — from directors, upperclassmen, and fellow cast members reacting to chaotic final rehearsals. “It’s one of those things you hear and just kind of know how to use,” she told me.

JP’s earliest memory of it came from a community theatre production when she was 15. “We had this horrible dress run where a kid fell into the orchestra pit and then wailed like you couldn’t imagine,” she said. “And afterward, the director just nodded and said, ‘Perfect. That means we’re ready.’ And I remember thinking, How does that make sense? Why would you say that. I laughed, but everyone got it together and the show won a Bay Area Youth Theatre Award” —an appalling, yet humorous retelling.

This belief, for JP and other thespians, acts as a kind of collective coping mechanism. She emphasized that it doesn’t even have to be said earnestly to serve its purpose. Even if you don’t totally believe it, saying it out loud helps ease the panic as if it gives failure a reason. This notion  that an imperfect rehearsal balances out with a strong performance — turns a moment of instability into a ritualized expression of hope.

In theatre spaces, where energy and morale can shift quickly, JP sees this superstition as a social tool. “It lets you fail safely,” she said. “No one wants to go into opening night thinking they’re doomed. This gives you permission to believe that disaster is just a step on the way to success.”

3. Interpretation

This superstition reflects a common pattern in folk belief, the symbolic inversion of misfortune into fortune, similar to the logic behind phrases like “break a leg.” In this case, the belief that “a bad dress rehearsal leads to a good opening night” serves a psychological and communal function, especially in the liminal space between rehearsal and performance.

Theatrical productions are deeply vulnerable moments of live collaboration. The stakes are high, and performers rely on both precision and chemistry. When a dress rehearsal goes poorly — often the last chance to “get it right” before the public sees the work — the potential for panic or discouragement is immense. This superstition intervenes in that panic, reframing it as positive foreshadowing rather than failure.

The logic is symbolically satisfying: a chaotic rehearsal “uses up” the bad luck, clearing the way for the show to succeed. Whether or not performers believe this literally, the saying becomes a shared ritual, a kind of emotional triage, that helps a cast move forward with confidence.

The phrase also performs a social function: it affirms group solidarity by creating a shared narrative in the face of stress. Saying “Well, it’ll be a great opening night” acts almost like a spell invoking the desired outcome through repetition. It’s folklore that performs belief, even when belief is partial or performative.

JP’s experience with the phrase and her awareness that it’s more about comfort than causality is telling. The phrase isn’t valuable because it’s true, but because it’s helpful. It reflects a broader folkloric pattern: when people feel powerless (as performers often do in the final stages of rehearsal), they reach for ritual, repetition, and communal language to reassert agency.

Ultimately, the superstition captures a central paradox of folklore: something can be emotionally true even if it is logically suspect. A bad dress rehearsal may not guarantee a great show, but believing that it might helps actors cope, connect, and continue, which is, in itself, a kind of magic.