Maria da Conceição: The Brazilian Witch History Almost Forgot

There is something particularly disturbing about the idea of a woman being condemned for knowing how to heal. Not for killing or harming another human being, but for understanding plants, preparing remedies and possessing knowledge that others did not. Imagine living in a world where the woman you visited when your child was ill could become the same woman publicly accused of witchcraft.

We tend to associate witch hunts with Europe, particularly the infamous trials of Salem or the persecutions that spread across the continent. Brazil rarely enters the conversation, despite its complicated history of religious persecution, traditional healing and accusations of forbidden spiritual practices. Yet one name continues to surface whenever the country’s forgotten witches are mentioned: Maria da Conceição.

According to a story repeated in Brazilian publications, she was burned alive in São Paulo in 1798, following accusations of witchcraft made by a Catholic priest. Her supposed crime was practising traditional medicine. It is a horrifying account, but the more closely we examine the historical evidence, the harder it becomes to separate the woman from the legend.

Maria da Conceição: The healer of São Paulo

Conceição is described in popular historical accounts as a woman with extensive knowledge of medicinal plants who lived in eighteenth-century São Paulo. She reportedly prepared herbal remedies and cared for the sick, drawing upon traditional practices at a time when access to formally trained physicians was limited.

Her knowledge made her valuable to her community, but according to the most frequently repeated version of the story, it also attracted the hostility of a Catholic priest identified as Father Luís. In October 2023, ELLE Brasil published an article by Marcus Lopes discussing women allegedly executed for witchcraft in São Paulo. Conceição appeared alongside Mima Renard and Ursulina de Jesus, with her supposed execution described as taking place near Largo de São Bento in 1798.

It is a remarkably specific account, complete with a date, a location and an accusation. What remains considerably harder to establish is a contemporary judicial record confirming that this particular execution occurred. That uncertainty does not make the story unworthy of attention. It makes the investigation more interesting.

When healing became a dangerous accusation

Colonial Brazil was shaped by Portuguese Catholic institutions, Indigenous knowledge, African spiritual traditions and European folk practices. These different systems of belief existed alongside one another, sometimes influencing each other and sometimes coming into direct conflict. Traditional healers played an important role in everyday life, while plants, prayers, ceremonies and remedies formed part of complex understandings of health and the supernatural.

The danger often lay in how these practices were interpreted. A ceremony understood by one community as healing might be regarded by religious authorities as superstition or forbidden spiritual activity. Practices associated with African religions could be judged through European theological ideas about demonic influence, while local disputes could bring individuals to the attention of ecclesiastical authorities.

The Portuguese Inquisition exercised jurisdiction over colonial Brazil, although the colony never had a permanent tribunal of the Holy Office. Investigations were conducted through representatives and inquisitorial visits, and some accused people were sent to Portugal. Religious persecution was a documented reality, but punishments varied. Popular depictions of public witch burnings in Brazil do not always correspond to the surviving records.

One particularly revealing case is Luzia Pinta. Born in Angola and later living as a freedwoman in Sabará, Minas Gerais, Luzia practised calundus, ceremonies associated with Central African religious traditions that could involve healing and divination. Her activities attracted inquisitorial attention, and she was eventually sent to Portugal to face trial and punishment. Unlike Conceição’s disputed execution, Luzia’s persecution can be investigated through surviving historical documentation. Her experience also reveals how race, enslavement, social standing and competing spiritual traditions influenced colonial religious policing.

The historical mystery behind the flames

In 2025, the XV International Book Biennial of Ceará adopted the theme Das fogueiras ao fogo das palavras: mulheres, resistência e literatura, or From the Bonfires to the Fire of Words: Women, Resistance and Literature. Its official presentation invoked Maria da Conceição, Mima Renard and Ursulina de Jesus in its discussion of women’s persecution and resistance. Conceição’s story had entered the framing of a major Brazilian literary event.

That is fascinating, but it also illustrates how an account acquires authority through repetition. A story appears in several publications, other writers quote it, and eventually its details begin to feel indisputable. Publication and historical verification, however, are not the same thing.

In December 2025, historian and podcaster Tupá Guerra welcomed historian and researcher Inês Barreto to Uma Tupá no Tempo for an investigation of the familiar narratives surrounding Conceição, Mima Renard and Ursulina de Jesus. Their discussion asked what historians can establish from surviving evidence and which claims may belong to later legend. A narrative full of dates, names and locations can sound convincing, but we must still ask where those details came from.

For Conceição, the sources consulted for this article have not established a verifiable contemporary judicial record confirming the execution attributed to her in 1798. Further archival research could clarify the origins of the story, but it would be irresponsible to describe the disputed execution as an independently verified fact.

Daya Alves and the woman who became literature

History and literature have always had a complicated relationship. Writers borrow from historical events, reimagine forgotten lives and give characters voices that surviving records may never preserve. Brazilian author Daya Alves approaches Conceição through fiction, imagining the life of the healer behind the familiar account.

According to the synopsis of Conceição: Uma Bruxa Brasileira, Conceição learns traditional healing and midwifery from Indigenous and African people, as well as her friend Portira. She uses her knowledge to care for poorer members of her community, but jealousy and betrayal threaten everything she has built. The audiobook, narrated by Vinícius Léscio and published by Public Play, was released on 25 October 2023 and runs approximately 38 minutes.

The cover used in this article bears the title Conceição: Bruxa ou Injustiçada?. I am preserving the title visible on the supplied cover while linking readers to the verified audiobook listing under Conceição: Uma Bruxa Brasileira; I have not independently established the publishing relationship between the differently titled presentations.

I first encountered Conceição’s story through Daya Alves’s book, which I read in Portuguese and rated five stars on 3 August 2025. Later, after watching Tupá Guerra’s podcast investigation with Inês Barreto, I returned to that story with a new set of questions. Reading a compelling fictional account and examining the historical evidence are different experiences, and both have shaped my curiosity about Conceição. A novel can imagine relationships, conflicts and private thoughts that historical documentation cannot provide. Fiction does not have to function as a history textbook, but it should not quietly be mistaken for one either.

As a dark fantasy author, I also understand the appeal of the witch as a contemporary symbol of independence and forbidden knowledge. Yet I wonder whether we sometimes impose that modern image upon women who might never have called themselves witches. Some were healers or religious practitioners; others were ordinary people caught in conflicts they could not control. Their lives deserve to be understood in their own contexts rather than turned into convenient symbols.

Tupá Guerra: The real woman behind Ksenia

Researching Conceição led me back to someone whose work had an enormous influence on my writing. I discovered Tupá Guerra while exploring demonology, religious history and spiritual traditions connected to my dark fantasy series, The Chosen. I watched her interviews, listened to her podcasts and became fascinated by the seriousness with which she approached demonology.

What captured my imagination was the intellectual curiosity behind her research. Demonology is frequently reduced to frightening images and sensational stories, while its history involves centuries of theology, philosophy, religious conflict and changing interpretations of evil. Tupá treated these subjects as something worth investigating rather than simply fearing, and that perspective stayed with me.

Somewhere between her interviews, her podcasts and my own research, a fictional woman began to take shape. Ksenia exists because of Tupá Guerra. Readers of The Chosen know Ksenia as one of the central characters, but until now I had never properly explained where she came from. She has her own fictional identity and journey, not a biography of Tupá or a representation of Tupá’s personal beliefs, but my fascination with Tupá’s work laid the foundation for her creation.

Discovering Tupá’s investigation into Conceição brought together two worlds that matter to me: the historical questions I explore as a reader and the fictional universe I am building as a writer. There is something rather wonderful about someone influencing an author’s imagination without even knowing that a character exists because of them.

The woman behind the flames

Perhaps further research will establish that Maria da Conceição was a real woman whose life and death became obscured by time. Perhaps the familiar narrative developed from fragments, misunderstandings or legends that gradually acquired the appearance of fact. I cannot determine which explanation is correct from the evidence currently available, and I would rather acknowledge that uncertainty than turn it into another historical certainty.

What fascinates me is the way we remember women associated with witchcraft. We preserve the accusations, describe the punishments and repeat the most dramatic details of their supposed deaths, yet often know remarkably little about their lives before anyone called them witches. We remember the spectacle of persecution more readily than the person who supposedly endured it.

I would rather know the woman than memorise the flames.

Continue reading

Explore more research and fiction from Lupe Farkas.

• Chaos Lab: research, references and the stories behind the stories
• The Chosen: the main story page and chapter index
• The Chosen, Chapter Thirty-Five: The Voices of the Forgotten

Sources, people and further reading

• ELLE Brasil: witches allegedly burned in São Paulo
• XV Ceará International Book Biennial: official presentation
• Tupá Guerra: Instagram
• Uma Tupá no Tempo: podcast on Apple Podcasts
• Uma Tupá no Tempo: podcast on Amazon Music
• Daya Alves: Conceição audiobook on Storytel
• Daya Alves: audiobook purchase or listening on Audiobooks.com
• Lupe Farkas: The Chosen on Amazon

Research note: The alleged execution of Maria da Conceição is described as a reported narrative, not as a verified judicial event. The fiction of Daya Alves and the historical claims about colonial Brazil are distinguished throughout this article. No unverified personal social media accounts have been attributed to Daya Alves or Inês Barreto.