The temperature here in Colorado has dropped.  Cool mornings no longer feel like respites from the heat to come, but carry the cold tang of drying foliage turning to autumnal hues.  It’s early October, and in every store the usual Halloween décor can be found: carved pumpkins, bats, cats, witches, zombies, ghosts and ghouls of all sorts, and—of course—skeletons. I myself have had a skeleton on my mind for several months, though this one is not generic remains of a dead human.  The Bony Lady, Skinny Lady, clad in a shroud-robe and carrying a scythe, I have been thinking about Holy Death: Santa Muerta.

If it weren’t October, it’s probable that my recent interest in La Huesuda would raise a few eyebrows. Yet for this one month out of the year, the average Anglo-American is allowed to indulge in all things macabre, and so for right now, I’d be humored.  Any other time of the year, I could expect more push-back and disinterest leading any talk about the Pretty Lady to fizzle, but for right now, there is a thinning of the walls people have around their hearts to skeletons and other “creepy” things.  So right now, as Americans settle in for their acceptable period of acknowledging death, I want to talk a little about a controversial figure that, maybe, you’ve seen around, but of whom you’ve never really thought. 

Not to be confused with La Calavera Catrina, nor the Spanish Grim Reapress La Parca – though both figure into her history— Santa Muerta is the syncretic folk-saint/goddess playing an important role in the spiritual practice of many people throughout the ages. The Bony Lady’s story begins in the indigenous pre-Columbian Aztec religion where one Mictecacihuatl—a goddess—ruled with her husband Mictlantecuhtli over the realm of the dead, Mictlan.  This Lady of the Dead’s realm was the afterlife location for those who died from natural causes, and she and her husband were given offerings both to expedite the acceptance of relatives into Mictlan, as well as to invoke their godly powers for earthly effect.  To the Aztecs, the deathly couple were said to look like skeletons, or as partially carnal-bodied and partially skeletal; often, this took the form of a skeletal skull atop a normal, fleshed body, which is imagery consistent with the modern Santa Muerta.

With the Spanish conquest and subsequent Catholic conversion, indigenous practices were driven underground or altered.  During this time, when there was forced religious education of the native and slave populations, it is probable that a Grim Reapress figure, such as Spain’s La Parca, was used in the priests’ homilies, leading to the understanding that a skeleton saint was not contradictory to Catholic teaching. Later, in the 18th century, “inquisitorial documents describe separate cases of ‘Indian idolatry’ revolving around skeletal figures of death petitioned by indigenous citizens for political favors and justice” (WRSP, 2012). This practice clearly hearkens back to some of the core beliefs and practices around Mictecacihuatl, and one that is still a facet of the modern Santa Muerta. No further recorded reports of the Bony Lady were made until the 20th century, when four anthropologists found that a skeleton saint was prayed to in some Mexican states; here, Saint Death was reported as a supernatural love specialist, petitioned by betrayed women through the lighting of a red candle and exhorted to use her magic to help them.

Of course, as a folk saint—that is, a non-canonized spirit of the dead who works miracles—Santa Muerta has been condemned by the Catholic Church, which considers worship of her to be both against the foundational teaching of life-everlasting, as well as for being a continuation of pagan worship.  Interestingly, devotees often see their reverence for her as being a part of or, at a minimum, complementary to their Catholic faith.  Stateside, the Skinny Lady has something of a PR problem in addition to condemnation by the Church. The most widespread recognition of her, and her devoted followers, hails from border towns, wherein the media has been sensationalizing her as a kind of “guardian angel of narcos”, but completely ignoring her role as the patroness of others on the front lines of the drug war: police officers, soldiers, and prison guards.

Modern worship of Santa Muerta has many forms, depending on the practitioner, ranging from the heavily Catholic to a variety of syncretic faiths and even ones dedicated to her in her own right.  One relatively common aspect among these devotional differences is the use of color to denote specific facets or dominions of Santa Muerta.  Generally, there are three: red, white, and black.  Red is the Santa Muerta of the heart with her abilities in passions and will, love and romance.  White is the Santa Muerta of protection and consecration, peace and healing.  Black is for the Santa Muerta of vengeance and harm, but also for reversing malevolence from another.

As it stands in modern America, any memento mori or grim reaper-like figure is automatically assumed to be grisly, potentially outright evil, and shunned.  And so it is with Holy Death: even though she has a following among soccer moms, students and other upstanding, life-affirming people; even though her devotees find solace and aide in dealing with the travails of life through their worship of her; Santa Muerta stands, for the most part, vilified. Sometimes, though, I think she stands—in all her complexity—as one of the most potent symbols of our existential fear. To accept and respect the Bony Lady is to try to accept our own end, whenever and however it arrives. Yet death is thought of as so unjust and unfair, regardless of circumstances, that one aspect Holy Death conveys is what pushes her past “acceptability” in modern society.  No matter the form of worship, the Pretty Lady stands for equality and justice: an aspect that can be traced back to her very roots and that she still promises in her very visage.  Death, after all, does not discriminate. She comes for all.

Note: For the most part, I’ve been most interested in the beliefs of those in Mexico and the Southwestern United States, and have focuesed my post accordingly, even though by many names, Santa Muerta figures into many Hispanic and Latinx communities and religious traditions. The final image is of a more Santeria-based devotee's work.

Select Sources:

World Religions and Spirituality; Virginia Commonwealth University

Brujo Negro's Mexican Brujeria Website