Witches Brouhaha

Some neighbors think Lady Sintana is a devil worshiper. Others just think she’s weird.

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If there’s anything Lady Sintana can’t abide, it’s an amateur witch. For Goddess’ sake, don’t read one little book, twitch your nose, have a witch epiphany, and then show up on her doorstep expecting to be welcomed.

She herself is a veteran of a long apprenticeship and years of turmoil—First Amendment battles, neighborhood zoning misunderstandings, and outright prejudice. She has been threatened, scorned, feared, arrested, ridiculed, and relegated to fraternity prank target. But she has paid her dues and kept the faith.

It’s fair to say that Lady Sintana, also known as the Rev. Candy Lehrman, is Georgia’s best-known witch. She is the spiritual leader and “High Mother” of Ravenwood, a coven of witches who follow the ancient Wiccan religion, a polytheistic faith that honors a strong female goddess equal to a male god.

As thoroughly modern and politically correct as that might sound, few days pass without Sintana facing suspicion or apprehension about who she is and what she believes.

She has been a colorful and outspoken figure in Atlanta for nearly 20 years—10 of them spent at Ravenwood’s headquarters in Little Five Points. In recent years, she has sought solitude in a neat brick house in a quiet, mostly Black south DeKalb neighborhood. There she enjoys her backyard, nurses injured birds back to health, and hosts Ravenwood’s monthly public meetings.

A Different Kind of Witch

Whatever you expect, Lady Sintana is a surprise. Warm, witty, and gracious, she fits neither the Hallmark greeting-card version of a witch nor the sinister characters of B movies. No warts, broomsticks, or evil eyes. The scariest thing about her might be her chain-smoking.

Neighbors, however, were not so charmed. Costumes, celebrations, and cars parked on her lawn alarmed some and perturbed others. Concerns about traffic and zoning violations sparked disputes with DeKalb authorities.

Sintana insists that being a witch is not about theatrics or dabbling. “Calling yourself a witch will separate you from the rest of humankind. But being a witch without roots, training, or responsibility is just playacting,” she says.

Anthropologist Tanya Luhrmann, author of Persuasions of the Witch’s Craft, describes Wicca as a pre-Christian fertility religion that draws on Greek, Egyptian, Celtic, and Norse traditions. “It’s a gentle tradition,” Luhrmann notes. “There’s no reason to be alarmed. Wiccans tend to be moralistic—they use the philosophy that you can do whatever spells you like, so long as you don’t interfere with anyone else’s free will. Wiccans practice white magic. Usually nothing they do is dangerous.”

From Striptease to Witchcraft

Before she became Lady Sintana, she was The Fabulous Flame Sintana, a burlesque performer who shared stages with Ann Corio, Gypsy Rose Lee, and Sally Rand. A black-and-white photo in her home shows her, sequined and smiling, alongside columnist Earl Wilson at a birthday party at New York’s “21” Club.

Her path to witchcraft was less glamorous. “I never found any valid teachers at first,” she recalls. “I found charlatans and people who were diabolical.” Eventually, in Chicago, she met a reluctant mentor who started her journey. She later moved to Atlanta, where in 1975 she helped open The House of Wicca in Little Five Points—a boutique and coven space.

She describes her years there as continual turmoil: legal battles over fortune-telling, zoning fights, appeals, even death threats. Ultimately, she became the leader of Ravenwood, running the coven for a decade until retreating to DeKalb.

The Neighborhood Clash

Neighbors in her new community were not reassured. Some worried about “public worship ceremonies” in a residential area. Rumors swirled about a circle of stones in her backyard, which some believed were graves. Others whispered about animal sacrifice.

“I love animals. I don’t kill them,” Sintana says firmly. “In traditional Wicca, animal sacrifice is forbidden.”

Civic associations banded together, and state Sen. John Parrish advised them to pursue zoning issues rather than religious ones. The case went before the Zoning Appeals Board and later the County Commission. Sintana withdrew her variance request, arguing that Ravenwood’s meetings were private, not public worship.

Attorney John Sweet, who represented her, calls her “a woman who always cut her own path.”

Parrish is blunter: “Yes, she’s weird. I don’t think she’d hurt anybody. But some of those people in her neighborhood are old, and it scares them. If it were younger folks, it might not matter.”

The Witch Next Door

Through it all, Lady Sintana has remained unapologetic. She views herself as both spiritual leader and lightning rod—willing to fight prejudice while demystifying Wicca.

As she puts it, “People think witchcraft is about the devil, or black magic, or evil. But it’s not. It’s about responsibility, balance, and belief in the Goddess. We’re not out to hurt anyone. We’re here to live our truth.”

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