The Problem with Living
Have you ever spent hours down the rabbit hole, fixating on the intimate details of the life of a celebrity, historical figure or even a character from folklore? Like a car crash, it can be hard to look away! We want to know more: why are they the way they are? What perfect storm created this outcome? And could it have been different?
The Problem with Living podcast aims to explore these questions with you. We are all fascinated by the nature of ourselves and others. The burden of being human is a universal experience, and if it can happen to one of us - it could happen to any of us. Thus, is the problem with living.
Join us every Thursday as we deep dive into the lives of others & learn the truth - there are no unique experiences in this life; we all must come to terms with the shared problems of living.
The Problem with Living
Tituba - Quakers and Witch Cakes
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On today's episode, join us in learning about one of Salem's most important inhabitants - Tituba. Take a walk with us into the past to explore one of history's most interesting figures.
Resources:
https://famous-trials.com/salem/2045-asa-tit
https://academic.oup.com/jogss/article-abstract/7/1/ogab019/6321557
https://pmc.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/articles/PMC10169874/
https://ghostcitytours.com/salem/salem-witch-trials/salem-village-salem-town/
https://www.britannica.com/topic/Mayflower-Compact
https://www.sciencedaily.com/releases/2017/06/170623085238.htm#google_vignette
Music:
Intro by FSM Team & ESCP, and Outro by Alex productions. Transitional music by Scott Buckley.
Hey there folks, and welcome back to the Problem with Living Podcast, the podcast where I deep dive into the lives and psyches of historical figures so that you don't have to. I'm your host, Katie Reimer. Pull up a chair, grab a drink, and settle in. The show is about to begin. If you're interested in staying up to date on happenings within the TPWL universe, then hop on over to Facebook and follow us at the Problem with Living Podcast. Think Facebook's only for old people? Well good news, we're on Instagram too. Check us out on Insta at The Problem with Living Pod. Have an idea for one of our weekly topics? Send us a message. We'd love to hear what our listeners want to hear. Please note that all opinions and perspectives in this podcast are my own and do not reflect the opinions or values of any affiliates. All research has been conducted by me and all thoughts on today's subject matter are products of my own wonderings. Please note that while I do have a master's degree in clinical psychology and am a licensed therapist, none of what will be discussed today is meant as medical advice and therefore should not be taken as such. Salem, Massachusetts, 1662. An excellent time and place to be if you're a powerful nobleman, town magistrate, or Puritan religious fanatic. Less of an ideal place to call home if you're poor, mentally ill, a woman, or a person of color. And if you're any combination of these things, well then this is the last destination that you'd want to arrive at. We're all familiar with the tale of the infamous Salem witch trouts. Unless you've been hiding under a rock, you're at least familiar with the goings on of those dark times. But what you might not be familiar with is how the people of Salem ended up on the north shore of Massachusetts, where they came from, and why they chose their ultimate destination. To answer these questions, dear listener, we must travel back in time to the rule of King Henry VIII. England, 1534. The ruling king, Henry VIII, has failed to produce a male heir. In true sixteenth century kingly fashion, long before the science of genetics was even a thought, his wives are blamed. But alas, the king tires of beheading his wives. Surely there must be a simpler way to get unmarried. And so the Anglican religion is born. But the Brits, as we know, like their pomp and circumstance, and their traditions. Installing the king as the head of the church and declaring divorce legal was easy enough, sure. But what about the rest of the Catholic traditions? Henry didn't really care about cleansing the Catholicism out of his new religion. He just wanted to have control over the church. Now this was all fine and dandy until the Puritans came to call. Puritans, as their name would suggest, don't believe that Christianity should contain anything that's not explicitly stated in the Bible. Christmas? Well that's a human invention. Big hats and sparkly vests? Human invention. Infant baptism? John the Baptist would be rolling in his grave. Now, the Puritans wanted anything Catholic done away with and pronto. But the wheels of change are slow and the royal family stubborn. So the Puritans did what any group of people who aren't getting their way would do. They boarded a ship in 1630 and sailed off to find the Promised Land, where they could live their lives without the threat of government intervention, and thus America was born. Hopping aboard the Mayflower, the Puritans brought many time honored English traditions. Those pasky beliefs are hard to shake, no matter how hard you try to leave them behind. And two of those beliefs, friends, which we'll see collide head on in today's show, was the belief that witches are among us, and that a natural hierarchy based on the color of our skin exists and is sanctioned by God. Why New England? Well, because the Puritans were able to acquire charters here, which allowed them to build their own colonies, isolated from the rest of the country, and far from the control of the British crown. Now, the Puritans were not the only people on those ships bound for the New World. With them came a mix of company men sent to guide the ship and protect the interests of the shipping companies, families simply looking for new land, and the Quakers. The Quakers, much like the Puritans, were religious and political refugees, escaping to the New World to practice their beliefs in peace. But if you think this would make them great chums, you're very wrong. The Quakers of mid-1600s America would be much more at home in today's world than they were four centuries ago. They believed in such nonsense as forgiveness of sin, equality for all, and acceptance of diverse beliefs and religious freedom. The Puritans, of course, were appalled. Who did these people think they were? In order to understand the social and economic climate of sixteen ninety two Salem, we need to be clear that what we refer to today as Salem was not just one municipality at the time. No, Salem was made up of one of the smaller, more traditional and isolated villages, called Salem Village, and the larger, more robust and diverse Salem Town. The good people of Salem Village were having a mighty hard time with the fact that Salem Town, with its ever growing population of Quakers, was booming. Why would God allow this? I mean, we all know that throughout history, civilizations that refused to adapt are always the ones to survive and thrive, right? How could he not see that his righteous and humble servants were trying to keep the faith, well, pure? Closed religious systems, otherwise known as cults, serve a psychological purpose for those who belong to them. Cults give their members an identity and a purpose and make the uncontrollable seem less scary. Religious fanatics, by their nature, believe that they have the answers to life. This black and white thinking brings them solace in a world in which we actually have control over very precious little. But it also creates a feeling of us versus them. Because if I have the one and only answers to the questions of the universe, then I'm not going to be open to hearing alternatives. Opening your mind to other possibilities would bring uncertainty. And for the people in charge, the leaders of the cult, followers questioning and using their critical thinking skills would be a real problem. No, blind obedience is the real source of power in a cult. But ruling with fear, shame, and hostility has inevitable consequences. Consequences that we would see play out in Salem in the fateful spring of 1692. Cults lose power when members begin to become disenchanted with how things are going, when they start to have knowledge of what's really going on in the outside world, and when the leaders begin to lose face. For the village of Salem, people began to notice that Salem town was far more prosperous and that progress didn't really seem all that scary. Villagers started to dissent against the religious leaders and their stranglehold. But the politicians and clergymen of Salem couldn't just go hanging their opponents left, right, and center. No, this was America after all. Land of the free, home of the brave, and even at this time, a sham democracy. No, the leaders of Salem needed to get rid of their enemies by some other means. And if that meant that they struck fear into the hearts of others who might oppose them, then splendid. But in the midst of all this, in the village parsonage, lived a very important character in the witch trial history of New England. A slave girl, owned by the good Christian Reverend Samuel Paris. Because certainly, while the Bible says thou shalt not listen to organ music or put up a Christmas tree, owning another human is just dandy. I'm sensing a theme here, and it's feeling mighty hypocritical. Not much is known of Tichuba prior to her involvement in the Salem witch trials, but we can make some assumptions about her early life. We know that she was likely born in Venezuela and was part of an indigenous Arawak tribe. The tribes of this area largely believed in polytheistic religions, with a focus on animal spirits and the spirits of the dead. They often honored and communed with these spirits. Beliefs like this in seventeenth century New England would surely see you branded as a heretic. John Paris likely acquired Tichuba and brought her to New England with him after he inherited a sugar plantation in Barbados following the death of his father. Little did Samuel or Ticha or anyone know, but the Paris household would soon become the center of the deadliest case of witch hysteria in American history. Now, what exactly is hysteria? The ancient Greeks thought of hysteria as something only afflicting women. The term comes from the Greek word hystera for the womb. They believed that a woman's uterus would literally move around the body, causing loss of emotional control and panic. In 1692, a doctor might diagnose someone with hysteria if there was no other logical reason for their symptoms. Sudden psychological or neurological symptoms, such as blindness, paralysis, seizures, or amnesia were attributed to hysteria. And for the Puritans, with their limited understanding of the invisible world and their very finite and rigid beliefs, unknown ailments could easily be seen as God sending a message. How else was the divine creator supposed to communicate his displeasure? After all, Wi-Fi wouldn't be invented for another 300 years. Mass hysteria, like the type that we saw play out in Salem, is most common in closed groups. Social contagion theory tells us that humans are highly susceptible to suggestion. All it takes is one trusted source to validate a conspiracy and poof, the whole clan buys in. I mean, we see this all the time in today's world. All it takes is a bit of misinformation from a popular person or influencer, and society falls into turmoil. Tichiba had no power or celebrity. She was known simply as the Paris household's cook, domestic servant, and nanny. She may have had some knowledge of herbalism or folk remedies passed down from her childhood, but as far as we know, she was no witch. The trouble began when the Paris' daughter Elizabeth and her cousin Abigail began to have mysterious fits. Elizabeth showed the first sign of distress. During these fits, she would contort herself into seemingly impossible shapes, scream and make incoherent sounds, fall into catatonic-like trances, and would often be found hiding in small spaces. Historians generally agree that Elizabeth was actually very unwell. In today's terms, one of the disorders that could explain Elizabeth's symptoms is known as functional neurological disorder or FND. FND is caused by a disruption of the brain's messaging service. The signals get mixed up or never arrive at their destination. Now, much like in 1692, we don't actually know what causes FND. But we do know that it usually shows up after periods of great stress, emotional trauma, or sometimes severe infection or injury. We can certainly guess that being the Reverend's daughter in an ultra religious small rural village was not always a picnic. And we know that all manner of infection could befall a young girl at this time. But in 1692, long before psychiatry and psychology were invented, FND looks scary. And anything scary, as we know, was attributed to the devil. No, young Elizabeth Parris was not given a prescription of antipsychotics and mood stabilizers and shuttled off for psychotherapy. She was diagnosed with the only thing that made sense to the town's doctor at the time demonic possession. Now, friends, you're probably wondering in all of this, where does Tichuba fit? We know today that she likely had nothing to do with whatever was afflicting poor Elizabeth, but in seventeenth century New England, the easiest scapegoat was often the outsider, and Tichuba, with her dark skin and unfamiliar ways, was an easy target for the fear of the townsfolk. Tichuba first came under suspicion after she baked a witch cake, a cake made of Elizabeth and Abigail's urine and rye, which was then fed to the family dog. I know, not exactly appetizing, but it was meant to reveal who had cursed the girls. Tichuba, of course, was only trying to help. But from the viewpoint of the good reverend, this was witchcraft and sorcery. She was communing with the devil. The irony of this, of course, is that witchcakes were an English superstition. Tichuba would not have had knowledge of them, and was likely instructed to bake it by a neighbor, Mary Sibley. It's interesting to note that, aside from being temporarily banned from church, Mrs. Sibley was never punished nor indicated of witchcraft. This was likely due to her husband's status in the village. This left Tichuba to take the devil's share of the blame, no pun intended. Soon after the pea, I mean witchcake incident, Elizabeth and Abigail saw their chance and made false claims against Tichuba. They claimed that Tichuba had been haunting their dreams, which was apparently enough evidence to declare her a suspect. And just like that, the lies of two preteen girls began the most deadly witch hunt in American history. Tichuba supposedly confessed, although the fact that the confession came directly after being beaten by her master throws some shade at its validity. Today we know that confessions that come after physical violence or torture are wildly unreliable. Our brain is hardwired for survival and will do almost anything that improves our chance of living. This includes confessing to things that we haven't done if it'll make the pain stop. What is interesting is the detail of Tichuba's confabulated confession. She claimed that several devilish creatures visited her and forced her to sign the devil's book. From the standpoint of her own cultural and religious beliefs, which would have encouraged communing with the spirits of animals, this makes sense. It was likely easy for the people of New England to brand her a witch and to believe she practiced voodoo. The Arawak people practice rituals that induce a trans like state through hallucinations. It's not a great leap to understand why the good people of Salem Village would be pointing their finger at Tichuba. Tichuba further claimed that the devil appeared to her as a white haired man from Boston, and that she rode broomsticks with the two afflicted girls. During this time, Tichuba named several other women in the village as witches, likely to appease her jailers and maybe to draw the attention away from her. The Man from Boston narrative would have helped to ease the minds of the Puritans, as the threat came from away and wasn't local to their divine and precious village. We know that Elizabeth and Abigail feared the wrath of their parents after they had performed a fortune-telling ritual days before falling ill. Like many girls their age, they tried to divine the names of their future husbands. Much like those of us from the eighties and nineties would have used cootie catchers to reveal our futures. They may have been deflecting guilt onto Tichuba in hopes that they would be forgiven. I can't imagine that being the daughter and niece of the local hard ass fire and brimstone preacher was a picnic. And we know from research that, given the chance, most people would sell their own mama down the river if it means escaping a threatening situation. There's a biological and evolutionary reason for this. During disasters, in situations where people try to save themselves first, the overall group survival rate is much, much higher. When the strongest members make it out of danger, they're able to work together and go back for the weaker members. During the trials, other children in the village began having the fits as well, just like young Elizabeth and Abigail. The question, of course, is whether the fits were a result of mass hysteria, manipulation, or if there really was some physical ailment spreading like wildfire. Either way, the villagers used these fits as a sort of barometer, evidence of the validity or guilt of a person's testimony. And the results were deadly. In the end, we know that twenty five people died as a result of the Salem witch trials. But Tichuba was not one of them. It seems unusual that she was spared, being one of the few non white folks in the village at the time. This odd turn of events was likely due to the Puritan law of repentance. Those who confessed and repented were spared the death penalty. Ironically, those who maintained their innocence were the ones to pay the ultimate price. What a system. You couldn't even win for losing. During the trial, Tichuba attempted to recant her story, but it was too late. All this did was draw the ire of Samuel Paris, who subsequently refused to pay her bail. Both petty and cheap. After seventeen long months of sitting in a jail cell, Tichuba's freedom was eventually bought by an unknown investor. As a result of this, she became indebted to a new master and left the Paris household for good. No one knows what came of Tichuba after this. Supposedly her husband, John, was sold along with her. There are rumors of a daughter Violet, although it is unclear if she remained with the Paris household or got to go with Tichuba. Unfortunately, at that time splitting up families was common in the slaving industry. It can often feel like Tichuba's story is too far past for us to identify with. That the days of the Salem witch trials are from long ago and far away. But the emotional and psychological atmosphere of the 1600s was not so different than it is today. Humans aren't as complicated as we like to think. Our nervous systems have not advanced in well, ever. We still feel anxious, uncertain, and on edge today. We still search for meaning, for identity, and for answers to the questions of life. We still look for others to blame, for ways to save ourselves, for scapegoats when things go wrong. No, when we really think about it, we aren't all that different today than we were in the time of Tichuba. Well, maybe minus the witchcakes. Tune in next week to find out whose life we will be dissecting and discussing. All research and show content was developed by me, Katie Reimer. All sources for this research are available in the show notes. Intro by FSM Teams and ESCP, and outro by Alex Productions. Transitional Music by Scott Buckley. Until next time, dear listeners, stay safe and hold on to your whimsy.