Dancing with witches in the shadows
exploring complexity with wise women
The Karpman Drama Triangle is a psychotherapeutic model that describes dysfunctional social interactions and relationships. The three points of the triangle are victim, rescuer and persecutor. Most of us tend to occupy one point of this triangle in our relationships, although we can also shift between roles.
Victims operate from a position of powerlessness and feeling oppressed. They identify with their problems and resist solutions. Rescuers attempt to “save” the victim, often in the form of unsolicited advice, or trying to protect them from reality. They undermine the agency of the person they’re trying to help, thus enabling further dysfunction. Persecutors behave in a critical, controlling manner, and may attack or harm the victim or rescuer.
I have historically operated with the unconscious perspective that women are victims, undermining the power of the feminine in general. The corollary of this is seeing the masculine either as persecutors (think toxic masculinity) or rescuers (think hero archetype/savior complex). Personally, I’ve defaulted to being a rescuer, unconsciously undermining women’s agency in my fumbling attempts to avoid the potential accusation of being a persecutor.
The roots of this can be found in my Roman Catholic religious upbringing and early childhood experiences. The time spent in evangelical churches in my early twenties only exacerbated this perspective—fundamentalist, male-dominated environments where women’s voices did not hold equal share. Biblical teaching had an insidious way of permeating our collective psyche. The Ephesians 5, “Wives, be submissive to your own husbands as unto the Lord,” and 1 Corinthians 14, “the women should keep silent in the churches. For they are not permitted to speak, but should be in submission,” set the tone. Women were unconsciously relegated to being weaker vessels needing protection, rather than powerful, embodied beings with divine feminine energy.
Meeting witches
In the last few years, this perspective has begun to shift dramatically. Women have become the doorway to a richer spirituality in my life—through mystical encounters with goddess energy, and everyday interactions with witches.
And “witch” is a compliment, not a pejorative. These women embody what patriarchal systems have feared for centuries—the untamable wisdom and power of the divine feminine. They are the descendants of those who would have been burned at the stake in bygone eras, persecuted out of fear and the desire for control.
These women are grounded, and don’t take nonsense from any man. They’ve challenged my protective instincts and shown me that women are not only capable of handling the world’s complexity and pain—they often navigate it with greater wisdom than men.
The shift crystallized in a recent workshop I attended, where one of the exercises was exploring how we like to be touched. I was partnered with an older woman, and she confidently asked me to spank her. Despite my average build, I complied with surprising force. I immediately recoiled in anticipation of her reproval, horrified at what I had done.
Instead, she turned around and said, “Hit me like you mean it.” It was a profound moment of realization. The feminine isn’t fragile, and She can handle power. My protective instincts and my need to rescue suddenly seemed patronizing, rather than noble.
The dark side of the Drama Triangle
One of the interesting things that has happened is that I’ve finally felt comfortable to own my blind spots and have conversations with women who have the grace to handle my half-formed ideas and evolving perceptions. They see my heart and intent, as opposed to some previous environments where smart, woke women enjoyed a takedown.
In these conversations, I’ve heard heartbreaking stories of rape and molestation. The statistics say one-third of women have experienced sexual trauma. The women in my life say the number is higher, and most of the violations are perpetrated by men known to them: family members, parents’ friends.
The uncomfortable truth: you probably know a perpetrator; probably a few.
As an uncle to three beautiful nieces, I became hyper aware of the “dodgy uncle” trope. Even a cursory reading of the literature on the topic will make you aware of how predators begin to groom those that they eventually violate. I began to shy away physically and emotionally, afraid of my actions ever being misinterpreted.
Thankfully, I also have some wise male mentors in my life. Through conversations with them, I realized this fear-based withdrawal wasn’t helpful. In one particularly poignant interaction, an older man with teenage daughters told me how a father’s physical relationship with his daughters naturally changes as they reach puberty. As psychoanalyst Paul Joannides notes, “Growing breasts come between some dads and their teenage daughters. For instance, some of a daughter’s fondest childhood memories can be of wrestling and roughhousing with her dad. But suddenly, it all stops when her chest develops, and he becomes uncomfortable.”
This man spoke about how important it was for him to recognize the growing beauty in his daughters, but to compartmentalize it appropriately. To recognize that touch need not be sexual, and that the appreciation of beauty need not be eroticized.
Integrating the shadow
This dance between appropriate boundaries and authentic connection reveals another dimension of the drama triangle: the shadow aspects we all carry within us.
In early 2024, an hour deep into a plant medicine journey, I started wrestling with the image of someone who had violated one of my loved ones. When I initially found out, I felt murderous rage towards him.
But suddenly, deep in my psyche, I was confronted with the realization that this was not outside the realms of possibility for me; that there is a part of the masculine unconscious that is capable of acts of great harm, and that I am not above that part.
I connected with the persecutor and violator within. The fact that my life was not dissimilar in general structure, and that only through fate and sheer luck had I avoided the circumstances that had led him to perversion.
This is shadow work in its essence—acknowledging the parts of ourselves that we repress or deny. The work of becoming a mature, integrated male is to acknowledge that these impulses may arise, but that we have the choice to act from a place of love, and not harm. It’s the man who pretends to be above such impulses who causes destruction.
The horrific Gisele Pelichot case that made global news in early 2024 should be a warning for all men. Fifty men in France were convicted of various charges, including rape, attempted rape, and sexual assault. They were all aided by the primary perpetrator, her ex-husband Dominique Pelichot, who drugged his wife before inviting these men into their home to film them, whilst they abused her unconscious body.
I imagine few of these men would have started their journeys into the online world looking to commit violations of this sort. Many likely believed themselves incapable of such acts, until the moment they participated. This is the arrogance of letting the shadow operate unchecked. As men, we must recognize that cases like this aren’t necessarily aberrations committed by psychopaths, although it is tempting to believe so, but warnings about the power of the unconscious persecutor psyche within.
Moving beyond the triangle
The Karpman Drama Triangle doesn’t just describe dysfunctional relationships; it also highlights a path to transformation. It aims to recalibrate relationships to be supportive and uplifting, based on “power with”, rather than “power over.”
Victims transform into creators, focusing on problem solving, learning, and growth. They ask, “What can I do about the situation?” Persecutors become challengers. They encourage and hold others accountable in a supportive way, constructively pushing for learning and progress. They ask, “How can I inspire growth without blame?” Rescuers become coaches. Instead of taking over problems, they guide and support without enabling dependency. They ask, “How can I support you in solving this yourself?”
This shift from rigid, reactive roles to more constructive, growth-oriented ones, allows for deeper reconciliation and constructive conversations beyond individual relationships. One of the more difficult challenges we experience is reconciling and respecting the interplay between masculine and feminine energies, the yin and yang of our roles.
Conversations around these dynamics can be uncomfortable, and the triggers are close to the surface. The patriarchal systems that have shaped civilization since the advent of agriculture have left a lasting impact—not just on women, but on men as well. In suppressing certain expressions of power, such as the witch archetype, we have lost an essential force of transformation, wisdom, and intuitive leadership in our cultures.
But only through these conversations can we unlearn and relearn. It is a continual, collective dance, and I’m so grateful for those who have created the space for me to safely say the wrong things, and gently encourage an alterative perspective. I have learned so much by humbling myself and submitting to the teaching of these powerful, spiritual women.
Perhaps the most profound realization is that the witch and the shadow dance together. The feminine power I’ve come to respect doesn’t fear the masculine shadow or seek to suppress it—it recognizes it, calls it forth, and invites it to dance in the light. And in that dance lies the healing that both the masculine and feminine so desperately need, transforming victims, rescuers, and persecutors into creators, coaches, and challengers, engaged in a more conscious, uplifting choreography.