Voodoo Dolls have a rich and often misunderstood multifaceted history that branches off into different cultures. Rarely does this history intersect with western therapeutic strategies. This group sought to change that.

​Németh (2018) reports that "The earliest extant reference to magic dolls is made in the foundation oath of the settlers of Cyrene [Libya]" (179). These dolls, in fact, show up in fragments of text throughout the classical Greco-Roman world. But these dolls, while similar in purpose and effect, at least on first glance, to the "Voodoo Doll" of African and Afro-Caribbean figures, are in fact quite different. When we approach the topic of magic dolls and the Voodoo religious practices, we run into difficult territory. David Frankfurter (2020) explores these difficulties at length. He argues that term often applied to hand-sized, human-like dolls made of fabric or straw, and used for the purposes of inflicting harm on a human identified by the miniature effigy, is "fundamentally misleading in its history of applications and especially egregious in the current debate over the openness of classics to people of color."

His argument is worth citing in some detail because the primary points of contention are all valid. First, he shows how "the term Voodoo Doll implies that it is the law of sympathy (“like affects like”) that is the prevailing assumption of the artifact’s users. But these laws of sympathy belong not to the various worlds in which people have used ritual figurines and curse-poppets but rather to the “armchair” synthetic theories of Frazer’s Golden Bough, which strove to comprehend primitive religion in a general, if uninformed, way" (53–54). Second, citing the work of Joan Dyan (1995), he acknowledges how “anything diabolical, irrational, or superstitious became materialized [starting in the 18th century] as the spirit of blackness" (cit. 54). Ultimately, Frankfurter's claim is clear and simple understand: "The term Voodoo Doll should be abandoned, as many more precise ones have long been available to scholars" (54).

​I don't disagree, but I also chose to use the oft-misused, sometimes offensive word for the title of this group. I had two primary reasons for this choice. First, the milieu of group therapy in substance use treatment facilities is populated by many types of people. The effort to find a "common language" while also teaching and doing valid therapeutic work is substantial. I gravitate toward scholarly sources such as Frankfurter's essay, but I have learned through thousands of hours of experience that most of my clients do not. Since I am well-trained in the art of teaching and have the ability to translate scholarly concepts into different modes of discourse, I frequently lead groups on heady and challenging topics. But, I always pepper those groups with copious pop culture terms and references in order to speak to as many people as possible all at once. In the case of this group, "Voodoo Doll" is accessible as a concept, and so I used its accessibility as a rhetorical gambit to entice clients (aged 19–61) into the hard emotional work that I'll explain below. 

Second, if and when matters of race, gender, sexuality, stigma, offensiveness, political discord, religious trauma, etc., come up, which they do quite frequently, then whatever gets initially branded as "offensive," regardless of who says it, becomes an invitation to a therapeutic discussion about the emotions that arise around the particular brand of offense one experiences. Nothing occurs in the treatment environment that is devoid of therapeutic value. All problems, especially racism and similarly charged -isms, have the power to reveal something that was previously invisible to one or more clients, even to the clinician(s). So, having hazarded the use of "Voodoo Doll," I was prepared to drop my plan for the group and pivot to a processing group on racism and cultural appropriation. As it turned out, that need did not arise.

Clients were at first hesitant about the prompt to construct Voodoo Dolls, but the hesitance dropped away as I provided the set-up and rationale for the group. I began by talking about the difference between self-defeat and self-destruction. Clients were quick to point out the main difference. Self-defeat is a thought-based, self-talk problem. Self-destruction is a behavior that causes harm. For example, self-defeating thoughts take the form of core beliefs such as "I'm not worthy of love." One self-destructive behavior that could follow from that belief is the self-imposed prohibition on making any attempt to connect meaningfully with other people. The harm caused by this behavior is the harm of isolation. Without meaningful connection, the self fails to grow. Another self-destructive behavior, however, could be much more severe. To prove to oneself that one is not worthy of love, a person could inject fentanyl into their neck with the hope of numbing the pain caused the lack of meaningful interpersonal love. In either case, the self-destruction hurts. What's more, self-defeat and self-destruction work together like tag-team wrestling partners. The behavior often doubles as proof that the core belief is correct, when in actuality the "proof" is made for the purpose of reifying the belief. My plan was to use Voodoo Dolls to address this problem, a problem with which all clients were very familiar.

I proposed that anger is the primary emotion that accompanies self-defeat and self-destruction. The problem with anger, in this case, is often that it gets directed toward the self instead of directed towards the actual instigating object. With this possibility in play, I asked clients to make a Voodoo Doll that represented a person or a specific situation toward which they had unresolved anger and rage. Once they made the doll, the clients were to use thumb-tacks, scissors, and markers to make surgical wounds on the dolls. Each mark or stab had to relate to a specific instance of anger. I asked clients not to hold back. And they didn't. A few minutes into the creation process and the clients were expressing their anger.

But then I introduced a twist. I reminded them that the name of this group is "You will suffer." Offered as a fact, not a threat, the group, as the clients know by now, derives its name from Buddhist approaches to wellness and recovery. Suffering exists. It only causes more suffering to pretend that isn't the case. What would it look like to operate from the certainty that suffering will happen instead of avoiding suffering or refusing to admit that we all suffer? In accordance with Buddhist principles, however, each act of violence we direct toward others is an act of violence committed against ourselves (since there is no real self-other/subject-object divide). With that thought in mind (treating it as true), I invited clients to take another look at their dolls. I asked them to watch as the identity of the doll transforms from someone else or some outer situation and becomes a representation of themselves. I asked them to notice: You are already dinged up. Your anger has hurt you. Following from that, I asked them to add more marks to the doll. I asked them to add a new mark/cut/tear for each self-defeating belief and self-destructive behavior they’ve enacted in the past 6 months.

Each person in the room groaned and audible sighed. The weight of the idea landed in their bodies. Perhaps reluctantly, each client took up the invitation and made their marks.

Another twist. Buddhist approaches to recovery also invite us to meet suffering with compassion. We suffer more when we fail to accept that we cause harm, that we defeat ourselves, that our self-defeat leaks out onto others. As such, I instructed the clients to take a look at their dolls and slowly, with great care, attempt to return the doll to its starting shape as one (or more) plain piece of paper. I asked them to smooth out the wrinkles the best they could. I asked them to do this with the same sensitivity that you might use to wash a baby. In a metaphorical sense, that's exactly what they are doing. They are caring for their dinged-up and disheveled selves, and they are offering the care because they are deserving of it. 

Next, we observed the wrinkled paper. We imagined ourselves as the wrinkled paper. I said, take a look at that paper. It’s you. You are wrinkled and torn. And since we can never untoast the toast, so to speak, we will never return to a state of pristine paper. But the clean sheet is an illusion anyway. Nobody ever attains it (addict or otherwise). Unless we start from where we are, meaning in this wrinkled and torn state, we cannot truly accept ourselves. I then asked them to keep looking at the paper while I asked some questions. I invited them to feel what comes up when I asked: Do you think anyone wants this wrinkled piece of paper? Do you want to be the paper in this shape? What allows or prevents you from accepting that this is it?

If you'd like to see what kinds of responses arise after a session of this sort, I invite you to try out the group in your own environment. This was the second time I conducted this group, and the pleasant surprise that hit me this time came at the very end as I pondered what to do with all the paper and related material. It felt charged. I didn't want to throw it away. To preserve the memory, I gathered it all together and invited clients to think about the pile as our collective pain. When most people think of anger, they think of the color red, of punching and kicking, and of steam coming out of cartoons' ears. But nobody thinks about this tattered stack of paper. And yet, in under 60 minutes, our group had created a beautiful representation of collective suffering.

References:
Dayan, Joan. 1995. Haiti, History, and the Gods. Berkeley: University of California Press.
Frankfurter, David. "" Voodoo Doll": Implications and Offense of a Taxonomic Category." Arethusa 53.1 (2020): 43-58.
​Németh, György. "Voodoo dolls in the classical world." Violence in Prehistory and Antiquity (2018): 179-94.

Therapeutic references:
Feen-Calligan, H., McIntyre, B., & Sands-Goldstein, M. (2009). "Art therapy with substance abuse clients: Evidence-based support for a model program." Art Therapy: Journal of the American Art Therapy Association, 26(3), 104–110.
Kabat-Zinn, J. (2003). "Mindfulness-based interventions in context: Past, present, and future." Clinical Psychology: Science and Practice, 10(2), 144–156.
Malchiodi, C. A. (2005). Expressive Therapies. Guilford Press.

Client's don't often come into treatment with any knowledge of (or interest in) art history, so I try to find as many opportunities as I can to introduce them to visual art. Today's art therapy group drew inspiration from the Impressionist Berthe Morisot and the Expressionist Erich Heckel. I showed them Morisot's Psyché and Heckel's Männerbildnis because I wanted them to use Impressionist and/or Expressionist visual language to produce self-portraits. There was, however, a catch. The two self portraits had to be conceived from the perspective of two people: a stranger and someone who knows you well. This constraint, in addition to the artistic mode of expression, produced the therapeutic effect of the group; namely, creating self-portraits through others' eyes helps to make visible how we see ourselves, how we hide parts of our emotions from view, and how we yearn for others to see the parts of ourselves that we hide. 

Research supports the use of art therapy as a means of fostering emotional regulation, enhancing insight, and promoting psychological flexibility (Kimport & Robbins, 2012; Gussak, 2007; Slayton et al., 2010). The dual self-portrait exercise specifically encourages clients to explore the discrepancy between internal and external perceptions of self, which can be particularly valuable for individuals in recovery who may struggle with shame, self-stigma, and identity confusion (Mezo & Short, 2012; Kim et al., 2017).

Since most clients are highly judgmental, especially when it comes to their own perceived lack of artistic skill, I provided a few extra words of guidance:

• Use of Color: Participants should represent affective states and emotional intensity through color choice (Moon, 2010).
• Use of Line: Use lines to show your measure of self-cohesion and mindfulness regarding present-moment awareness.
• Background Setting: Let the background image or texture act as a metaphorical tool for exploring underlying values, personality traits, and environmental influences on identity.

Here are some of the results:

If you've ever tried to throw a ball with your non-dominant hand, then you remember the feeling. Awkward, alien, confusing. Use your "off" or "wrong" hand to brush your teeth, put your contacts in, or write a few sentences on paper, and the experience is similar. Even someone with five decades of life experience can feel new to their body simply by altering daily tasks in this one simple way. 

Building from that experience, I designed an art-therapy group called "wrong-handed hope" in which I asked clients to draw two different images. One image, drawn with the "wrong" hand, would represent hopefulness. The other image, drawn with the dominant hand, would represent hopelessness. After completing both images, clients placed them in a group that I arranged in a salon-like manner. The group perused the artworks and had to determine which images depicted hopefulness and which ones depicted the opposite. Check out the three gallery images for the results. 

You've heard the factoid about how it takes more muscles to frown than it does to smile, which infers a connection between the (greater) effort it takes to sustain a negative affect compared to the (lesser) effort it takes to tilt toward the positive. Well, the same principle is in effect here. When we produce hopelessness, we tend to do so with the same surety as we bring to drawing a "Cool S" with our dominant hand. By distinction, when, or if, we produce hopefulness, it usually ends up looking like a child's drawing of hope: innocent, naive, shaky, but brilliant, inspiring, beautiful. 
​
The relationship between these ideas and the work of recovery will likely be clear to you by now. For addicts, the future can't help but appear bleak. If they base their image of the future on the experiences of the recent past, then the road ahead is daunting. The work of recovery, however, is essentially the work of honoring your "wrong" hand. You are producing a reality with the fine motor skills of a child. This is not a bad thing. Instead, it's a reminder that the fine motor skills of children are what produce the most imaginative artworks of humankind. After all, Picasso is famous for having said, "It took me four years to paint like Raphael, but a lifetime to paint like a child." Such a beautiful reminder for people in early recovery: your aim is not to produce a masterwork like those of the Renaissance elite; rather, it is to play with the aplomb of a child learning what it means to live. 

I. Indigenous Cultures Institute
For the 2024 Performance Philosophy conference in Austin, Texas, members of the Miakan-Garza Band informed our group about their ongoing struggle with various educational institutions. The members who spoke to us were:
· Dr. Mario Garza currently serves as board of elder’s chair and is the principal founder of the Institute.
· Maria F. Rocha, Secretary
· Ruben A. Arellano, Ph.D., Consultant

Here is a summary of what they told us:
​"The Native American Graves Protection and Repatriation Act (NAGPRA) databases list more than 7 million Culturally Unidentifiable Inventoried (CUI) Native American remains of our ancestors that have been unearthed over the years and are kept in “collections” by universities, museums, and federal and state departments.  This has happened in a country where it is against the law to disturb a human grave.

As of 2015, the remains of 3,454 ancestors were removed from our Texas sacred grounds.  Over 2,400 of those ancestors are at UT-Austin. The Miakan-Garza tribe is seeking three of those remains for reburial. “Our obligation, as native people, as Texas Indians, is to obtain possession of these ancestral remains and rebury them as close as possible to where they were unearthed.” — Dr. Mario Garza

UT ISSUED DENIAL OF REQUEST TO REBURY ANCESTORS:
On June 3, 2020, UT denied the tribe’s request to rebury their ancestors.  The Miakan-Garza appealed to President Jay Harzell to overturn this decision and gave him until August 17th to respond. No response was received. On August 20th the tribe issued a press release targeting the university’s unwillingness to turn over the ancestors for reburial. September 7th, the community gathered and united with the UT students to launch a campaign for the ancestors’ release."

Put simply, the University of Texas has transformed ancestors into objects. 

II. The Texas Archaeological Research Laboratory
During the same talk, I learned that TARL made it possible for scientific researchers to rent the remains. That is to say, the Miakan-Garza band cannot repatriate their ancestors because they have been turned into objects, but others who are interested in the objects can pay money to spend time with them. 

III. Alchemical Research Coalition, a division of the Invisible College

Let us imagine that there is a revivification of the Invisible College.
 
Founded by the natural scientist Robert Boyle in the 17th Century, the Invisible College convened around a distrust for knowledge received through inherited institutional frameworks. This ensemble, which included the likes of Christopher Wren, took as its motto Nullius in Verba (‘on the word of no one’), a phrase in which resides a distant echo of the founding Performance Philosophy proposition that we ought to think without knowing what thinking is. The Invisible College’s mission was to think anew by refusing the keywords and presumed certainties that pretended to vouchsafe the bedrock beliefs of the sciences. Engaging in experiment and active observation of the physical world around them, Boyle and his colleagues built their own theories and inspired a new generation of non-conformist intellectuals.
 
As non-philosopher Francois Laruelle sees the discipline of Philosophy as a machine that endlessly produces problems suited perfectly to the answers that the discipline itself produces, I understand the University as an institution that, more and more, seeks to commodify education and produce the language that would legitimate and sanction such an education, all the while blocking students’ paths to forms of learning that would cultivate not workers but life-artists, or, better, performance philosophers. This is something to grieve. The University has not irrevocably ceded ground to the forces of ignorance. But the battle is underway. The question: what is to be done? I have been imagining ways to supplement traditional University offerings with experimentation within the Invisible College. The Invisible College has no defined curriculum but operates within the field of research mapped by Performance Philosophy, and as such it would have two guiding principles: 1.) To think such that we do not know what thinking is. 2.) Doing life is that which we must think.
 
So imagine that this Invisible College is alive. And imagine further a group called the Alchemical Research Coalition. Within this coalition, 4 researchers have formed a multidisciplinary humanities research cluster to function as a node of the Invisible College dedicated to completing the work of the great alchemists of the past. Let us imagine that the names of the researchers are Ahmed Adel Awni Al-Dous, Mays Hossam Jamil Al-Zaanin, Ayla Ahmed Ali Obeid, and Niveen Khaled Saleh Hassouna. They partnered with the Miakan-Garza Band and submitted a fellowship application to the American Council of Learned Societies. The stated goal of the proposed research project was to enact an alchemical transformation of objects into ancestors through a fusion of Occult Philosophy, such as that used by Henry Cornelius Agrippa, and song, such as that produced by members of the Garza band.
 
The project proceeded in this fashion. First, the team used ACLS funding to rent the remains of the Miakan-Garza ancestors from the Texas Archaeological Research Laboratory. Second, once in their possession, the remains were buried on the Sacred Ground of the tribe. Third, the researchers and the tribe members performed alchemy that transformed objects—remains held by the university—into ancestors—participating members in the daily lives of the Miakan-Garza people.

The University sued the researchers and found themselves in the position once occupied by the tribe. No longer the ones in possession of anything, they had to request the return of the ancestors in order to transform them back into objects. The tribe denied the request. Thus, a second alchemical transformation had taken place. The University became those who are denied.

IV. What can imagining do?
It is perhaps an understatement to say that imaginative and creative thinking are needed in the present moment. Is there a way to intervene creatively, perhaps through fiction, in our daily reality so as to produce a kind of change that seems magical upon initial inspection but turns out to be fully material? Might grief be the affective source material upon which we can draw to produce cracks in the smooth façade of daily life?
 

A large part of group therapy in a substance use treatment center is “psychoeducation,” which typically covers topics like the science of addiction, medication information, and models of addiction. Absent from these typical topics are those that students would find in a college or university environment. That absence has been made on purpose. Social scientists tend to disqualify certain topics from the treatment programs in substance abuse facilities because they (appear to) have no bearing on the problem of addiction and the practice of recovery. One example of an excluded topic is epistemology, the study of how we know or come to know anything at all. I have not encountered any research discussing this specific topic within the realm of substance abuse treatment, but I would not be surprised to find comments suggesting that clients either aren’t able to fully “get” epistemological issues (because of withdrawal symptoms, assumed levels of intelligence, or lack of formal educational experience), or, if they “get it,” then the topic itself is too boring and/or disconnected from the real world of substance abuse. People who know me will anticipate that both possible objections hold no water with me, and they may even be able to hear me thinking, “Let me give it a shot. Let me see if I can make this interesting.” 
​
And that’s what I recently did in a group therapy session titled, “On not liking asparagus.” I was not going entirely rogue with my decision. The National Philosophical Counseling Association stakes its theory of change on the value of shifting epistemological frameworks in order to see oneself and the world anew. To interest clients in the task at hand, which, admittedly, has nothing to do with addiction, I introduced them to this imaginary child-like statement I first encountered in Slavoj Žižek’s The Sublime Object of Ideology (1989):

I’m so glad I don’t like asparagus because if I did then I’d eat a lot of asparagus, and that would be terrible because I hate asparagus.

And then I transposed the same logic to a more familiar topic:

I’m so glad I don’t go to NA/AA meetings because if I did, and if I started liking the meetings, then I’d be at meetings all the time.