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Dominican Bruja Representation in Fiction Explained

Let’s get one thing straight: The Ordinary Bruja isn’t just a story about magic.
It’s about Dominican magic.

And yes—there’s a difference.

Not the kind of magic that shows up in viral TikTok spells or aesthetic alter setups (though no shade if that’s your jam). I’m talking about the kind that’s handed down in whispers, in superstition, in the way your tías clutch their chest and say “ay, eso no era normal.”

That’s the magic I grew up seeing. That’s the magic I gave to Marisol.

Because The Ordinary Bruja isn’t a fantasy story with a sprinkle of culture. It’s a cultural story where the magic rises from the land, the language, and the legacy we carry in our bones.

Where This Magic Comes From

I didn’t invent the kind of magic in this book. I recognized it.

I saw it in my paternal grandmother—how she’d talk to plants, to photos, to things she wouldn’t name out loud. I saw it in how the women in my family used their intuition like a compass, even when they didn’t call it that. I saw it in how silence was used to protect, how herbs were used to heal, how dreams were used to warn.

That kind of brujería isn’t loud or performative. It’s integrated. It’s not “set aside” to be practiced—it’s lived. And when you’re Dominican, you know: everything has meaning. Every ache, every dream, every visitor at your door.

We don’t always call it magic. But it is.

Why It Was Important for Marisol to Be Dominican

Marisol’s brujería had to be Dominican because her fear, her guilt, her longing for identity—all of it is tangled up in the cultural weight she carries.

She’s not just scared of magic. She’s scared of what it means to claim it:

Will it make her more other than she already feels?
Will it mean accepting a family legacy she never asked for?
Will it confirm everything she was taught to hide?

Dominican culture is full of reverence and repression. Faith and fear. And for Marisol, navigating that duality is part of the journey. She’s not just learning spells—she’s unlearning shame.

Preorder The Ordinary Bruja

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The Ordinary Bruja: Book One of Las Cerradoras Series – Johanny Ortega

$4.99 – $23.99Price range: $4.99 through $23.99

When grief pulls Marisol Espinal back to Willowshade, she uncovers a legacy buried in shadows, silence, and ancestral magic. The Ordinary Bruja is a haunting coming-of-age story that blends psychological horror with Dominican folklore and magical realism. For fans of Silvia Moreno-Garcia and Isabel Cañas.

If you love what you read, I’d be honored to hear your thoughts. Please leave a review on your preferred platform and let other readers find the magic in The Ordinary Bruja.

SKU:ORDINARYBRUJAPAPERBACK Category: Books, Books for Adults, Fantasy, Fiction Books, Horror, Literary Fiction, Magical Realism, Women’s Fiction Tags: ancestral magic, atmospheric fiction, books about brujas, dark fantasy, Dominican folklore, haunted inheritance, Isabel Cañas fans, Latine fantasy, magical realism, psychological horror, Silvia Moreno-Garcia fans, spooky reads, supernatural mystery, The Ordinary Bruja, witchy books

Real Brujería Isn’t Always Pretty

The magic in The Ordinary Bruja isn’t about incantations or potions. It’s about relationship.

Marisol talks to altars. To wind. To soil. To her dead grandmother.
She doesn’t know that’s what she’s doing at first. But she feels it. And that’s what ancestral magic is—feeling something you weren’t taught to explain.

One of my beta readers told me, “I’ve never seen this kind of magic in a book before.”
And I laughed, because same. That’s why I had to write it.

This isn’t Hollywood magic. It’s Dominican quiet <– I know an oxymoron 🙂
It’s shaking off a bad dream and throwing water out the window just in case.
It’s wearing red thread around your wrist because your abuela said so.
It’s songs that sound like lullabies but are actually coded warnings.
It’s silence that holds more power than any spoken spell.

Brujería as Inheritance

In the book, Marisol doesn’t just stumble upon power. She’s called by it.
She inherits it.
She resists it.
And slowly, painfully, she remembers it.

This mirrors how many of us come into our own spirituality—especially if we’re first-gen, diaspora-born, or disconnected from homeland roots.

We feel the pull but don’t have the language.
We dream the dreams but don’t trust them.
We sense the energy but second-guess it.

Marisol does all of that. And through her, I got to write about what it means to be Dominican and magical without needing permission.
Without needing to prove anything.
Without needing to look like anyone else’s idea of what a bruja should be.

For Every Dominican Who Feels the Pull

If you’ve ever been told “eso no se dice”…
If you’ve ever lit a candle and didn’t know why…
If you’ve ever felt like your body knew something before your mind did…

This book is for you.

It’s for every Dominican girl who didn’t grow up seeing herself in fantasy books.
For every bruja who learned her power in pieces.
For every child of silence who found her way back to truth through whispers and wind.

Because yes, Marisol is a bruja.

But she’s a Dominican one.
And that means everything.