Over the past year, I have had the honor of interviewing several practitioners of the Brazilian spiritual art known as Quimbanda. Shortly after my interview with Daniel Ramos, I received a message from one of his students, a woman by the name of Ms. Sorcery. The letter read as follows:
Hello and good evening. My name is Ms. Sorcery. I am a student of Master Daniel Quimbandero Master. He wanted me to write a piece for you.
Reclaiming the Forgotten Woman
There are battles that leave scars on the body. Then there are the wars no one sees. The kind fought in silence, behind closed doors, inside the mind. My war began long before I ever discovered Brazilian Quimbanda.
One night, during a profound spiritual experience, I felt what I can only describe as the presence of my Pomba-Gira. She did not arrive as a judge. She did not accuse me. She simply stood there, as if walking through the ruins of a forgotten city, inviting me to remember what had been buried beneath years of fear, guilt, and survival.
Memory became the battlefield. Growing up in a deeply conservative Christian home, I learned very quickly that certain parts of myself were unacceptable. Makeup was discouraged. Eyeliner was considered dangerous. Painted nails, certain clothes, even expressing femininity too openly came with warnings that they would invite the wrong kind of attention. But the real lesson wasn’t about cosmetics. It was about disappearing. Hide your interests.
Hide your curiosity. Hide your personality. Hide yourself. While other children dreamed about ordinary things, I found myself irresistibly drawn toward the occult. Black magick. Demonology. Hidden traditions. The mysteries that existed beyond what I had been taught. I couldn’t explain why. I only knew something inside me recognized them. So, I became a soldier living undercover.
I hid books beneath furniture. I tucked handwritten notes into places no one would think to search. I filled notebooks with symbols, thoughts, and drawings that made sense only to me. It never lasted. While I was at school, my parents searched my room. Books vanished. Papers disappeared. Some were thrown away. Others were burned. Each time I came home, another piece of my inner world had been erased. Eventually I stopped expecting safety.
Instead, I learned camouflage. I learned how to become two different people. As a teenager, I secretly carried makeup, nail polish, and clothes that made me feel alive. Before school, I became the woman I wanted to be. Before walking back through my front door, I transformed into someone I barely recognized. The performance became survival.
Years passed. Motherhood changed me in beautiful ways, but somewhere inside that responsibility, another casualty emerged. Me. Not because motherhood was the enemy. Because I forgot that I existed outside of taking care of everyone else. The playful woman disappeared. The flirtatious woman disappeared. The sensual woman disappeared. The confident woman disappeared. She wasn’t dead. She had simply been left behind on the battlefield.
When my Pomba-Gira confronted me during that spiritual experience, she didn’t show me monsters. She showed me patterns. She showed me how much energy I had spent making myself smaller. How often I apologized for existing. How comfortable I had become inside a prison I didn’t even realize I was still living in. That realization changed everything.
I began questioning whether prosperity is only earned through work. Or whether abundance also flows toward people who fully inhabit themselves. Confidence. Creativity. Beauty. Vitality. Joy. Magnetism. Perhaps these aren’t distractions from the spiritual path. Perhaps they are expressions of life itself.
I stopped viewing sexuality as something shameful. Instead, I began seeing it as life-force. As creative power. As confidence. As feminine energy that doesn’t exist to please others but to awaken the woman carrying it. I also began examining my own fantasies, emotions, and desires without immediately condemning them. Not because every desire should be acted upon. But because every hidden part deserves to be understood. That is real shadow work. Not indulgence. Not repression. Understanding. Mastery. Truth.
Neither Pomba-Gira nor Astaroth, as I have experienced them, have taught me recklessness. Their lessons have consistently pointed toward discipline, honesty, responsibility, self-awareness, and personal sovereignty. They have challenged me to become whole rather than divided. And perhaps that was the greatest revelation of all. The woman I spent decades trying to silence was never the villain. She wasn’t evil. She wasn’t broken. She wasn’t something that needed to be burned away. She was simply abandoned. Now she walks beside me again.
My name is Ms. Sorcery, and I am a Brazilian Quimbanda Witch. I teach Brazilian Quimbanda for beginners, documenting my personal spiritual journey, studies, and experiences through my Patreon community. Join me at Patreon/MsSorocery, where I share educational content, beginner lessons, discussions, and insights into the living tradition of Brazilian Quimbanda.
I am also a Brazilian Quimbanda Witch for Hire, offering spiritual services rooted in my practice. If you’re interested in working with me or learning more, you can contact me through my social media. You can find me across all social media platforms as Pomba Gira Do Cabarè Sorceress. I hope that this finds you well. If you have any questions, please feel free to contact me.
Thank you for your time.
Reading Ms. Sorcery’s experience left me intrigued, as it seems that the literary series on Quimbanda continues to unfold. I hope that you find our conversation equally beneficial.
Interview With Ms Sorcery
Warlock Asylum: How did you find Quimbanda on the path of life?
Ms. Sorcery: It has been very interesting. I had a book about Pomba-Gira about 10 years ago. I read it, but I was a beginner on the left-hand path. I wasn’t sure if I was ready for her (Pomba-Gira). So, when I finished reading the book, I closed it and said, if I meant to work with you, then I will find my way back to you. And I did; through Daniel, I found him talking about Quimbanda with E.A. Koetting, and I bought his book and decided to call him halfway through the book.
Then Daniel read my head to find out who my crown spirits are. I walk with Pomba Gira Menina Do Cabare and Exu Tranca Rua Embare. Then I took a beginner mentorship under Daniel, and now I’m taking my second mentorship with Daniel, and I am working my way to being initiated in his House and becoming one of his godchildren.
As far as working with the spirits, they are loud. They come through very loud, very clear. They have no problem telling you about yourself in your dreams. Working with them, giving offerings, I’ve noticed they work very fast. I wanted to be featured on your blog ever since I read an article on the website a few years ago. I see the spirits have led me to be featured on your blog. I’m so excited about this. Thank you so much again. 🥰
Warlock Asylum: Do you work with other spiritual systems? Are you in the United States?
Ms. Sorcery: Yes! I also work with Yes, I’m in America 🇺🇸. I live in California. I find working with both systems to be simple because certain spirits overlap with each other, and they are the main spirits in Quimbanda.
In Quimbanda, there are spirits known as The Maioral. In each house, the spirits differ. But in Daniel’s house, they are Lucifer, Astaroth, Asmodeus, and Belzebu. This was very surprising to me because these are the governing spirits over all the Kingdoms of Quimbanda. They also command all the Pomba-Giras and Exus in the system. They work for the Maioral, and these spirits are found in Daemonolatry also. So, when it comes to them, I work these very same energies in Daemonolatry too, doing rituals and workings. I also wanted to say that the Daemons and Pomba-Giras and Exus all live in the inferno realm, just in different neighborhoods. Pomba Gira and Exu are ancestral spirits. They operate under the title Pomba Gira and Exu, but they’re ancestral spirits. My Pomba-Gira and Exu will not be another person’s Pomba-Gira and Exu because we have different ancestors.
Warlock Asylum: What does it mean to be initiated into Qumbanda?
Ms. Sorcery: When you are initiated, you get your knives of sacrifice. So, you get to sacrifice animals and perform blood sacrifice. I cannot do that. Nor can anyone else who isn’t initiated. You also get your asentimentals, which are your crown spirits. Each person has actually three, but you can only work with two until you are fully initiated. They come in either a clay pot or a cast iron pot, with different, I guess you would call them fetishes in them, representing each one. You also have to get marked on your body. So I say Daniel will cut your body, and certain herbs and other burnt things will be rubbed into that cut, connecting you with your crown spirits forever. It is a blood pact with them forever.
Warlock Asylum: How does being a mother affect your practice of Quimbanda?
Ms. Sorcery: Being a mom and practicing Quimbanda has taught me how to balance spirituality with real life. I’m not only a mother and spiritual practitioner—I also run my businesses, create content, teach, and provide spiritual services for clients. That means I have to be intentional with my time and disciplined with my practice.
When I work with a client, I take that responsibility seriously. I make sure I’m spiritually focused and prepared, even when life at home is busy. Motherhood hasn’t made me less of a practitioner. If anything, it has taught me patience, structure, boundaries, and responsibility.
I don’t practice Quimbanda to escape my everyday life. Quimbanda is part of how I move through it. Being Ms. Sorcery means balancing motherhood, business, spirituality, and serving my clients—all while continuing to grow into the woman and practitioner I’m becoming. Sometimes the crossroads aren’t somewhere far away. Sometimes, the crossroads are your everyday life.
Warlock Asylum: Very powerful words. Thank you for your time and wisdom. Wishing you much success on your journey through the worlds!
