When people ask what Hecate looks like, the short answer is: it depends. The ancient sources don’t give us one clean image. She's been called a towering woman, a Titan bearing torches and swords, protector of the crossroads, the howling figure in the dark with dog heads and fiery eyes. Some sources describe her hair and feet as made of snakes.

The Orphic Argonautica describes her with three heads, one of a horse, one of a dog, and one of a lion. Each has a long history of symbolic meaning: the dog as guardian of the underworld and companion at thresholds, the horse as a symbol of noble strength and movement between realms, and the lion for power, protection, and ferocity.

In the Greek Magical Papyri, she is invoked with fearsome imagery. Serpents in her hair, scales across her body, thunder and howling accompanying her steps. These weren’t just poetic images. The ancients believed what they wrote. Those performing magic saw her as liminal, powerful, and terrifying.

Animal-headed depictions of Hecate, horse, dog, lion, show up across magical texts and ancient art. Triple-bodied statues from Asia Minor and carved gemstones from the Greco-Roman period show her holding torches and knives, sometimes accompanied by cords, whips, or snakes. One of the first descriptions I ever read said, “her hair was like snakes.” That line stuck with me.

For six years, I wore my hair in dreadlocks as a devotional act. Snake-like hair wasn’t symbolic for me. It was lived daily as a way to remind myself of the image I wanted to present. Dreadlocks resemble and move like snakes. They sway with energy. They hold memory. And they change how people look at you.

Some folks, especially within the Black community, were warmer and more open. In other places, I felt side-eyed or dismissed. Electronics stores, car dealerships, you get the picture. But this practice wasn’t about anyone else’s comfort. It was about embodiment. Wearing my devotion made Hecate’s presence feel immediate, grounding me in her power with every step I took. When people asked about my hair, I told them. I told them it was for Hecate.

The documentation we do have is scattered across sources:

She's also been called the Black Dog, Black Bitch, and Brimo, which means “the Angry One.” These are titles for a deity who lives in graveyards and shadows. She walks between the worlds, torch in hand, sword at her side.

Some sources describe her as “black,” both literally and symbolically. She is tied to the underworld, night, death, ghosts, and decay. In ancient art, deities of the underworld were often drawn with darker skin. That could reflect the realm they ruled or the fear they inspired.

So was Hecate Black (POC) in a racial sense? 

Her earliest worship came from Caria, in southwestern Anatolia, modern-day Turkey. People from that region would have had olive or darker skin, curly or wavy hair, and features that reflect the Mediterranean and Anatolian world.

Her father Perses, a Titan of destruction, and her mother Asteria, “the Starry One,” are not described in terms of appearance. We know that even though she was of the Titans, she was depicted as human sized and often with knee length dresses and boots leaning towards the maiden vs. any other triple or lunar goddess construct. But if their myths are tied to that region, we can assume they looked more like Anatolian locals than Greek marble. This region was also very high in genetic diversity, leading us more towards an olive skinned wavy/curly haired people.

A few years back I created several images of the Goddess with darker skin and the feedback was not surprising. Lots of pearl clutching and warnings of how I was appropriating cultures not my own. 

For me, it’s more likely that she was a woman of color, with textured hair and broad olive skinned features rather than the Hellenized versions we often see today.

My journey on this path has always been about being present in your body, your story, your truth. This involves how I speak, how I appear, and how I represent Hecate in the world. If I don't embody what I aim to emulate, how can I ever reach the space I'm striving for?

She isn't always comforting. She's the one who meets you in the darkness when everyone else leaves. She's the one who brings the sword, the torch, and the key, challenging you to use them.

What do you think? 

We are aware that art and history are written by the victors. Do you believe this influences the images we have of Gods and Goddesses today? How does this affect your worship? Do you seek someone like yourself or culturally similar to who you are? I'm eager to hear some of the responses. 

Share your thoughts with me.

Here's your reading for Feb 1, 2026