Debunking The Black Cat Stigma
There’s a lot to unpack here, and we’re going to help you through this challenging time with a healthy dose of myth-busting and some therapy in the form of historical context. Rest assured, there’s a happy ending.
The Pope didn’t target all cats
Pope Gregory IX was a thirteenth-century pontiff who issued a bull (i.e., papal edict) in 1233 that is often cited today as the primary source of slander against cats’ modern reputations. But it wasn’t actually that bad, or as impactful as modern trivia buffs portray. In this document, the Pope did not claim that cats were Satanic, but he did describe a cult ritual in which a statue of a black cat comes to life as an incarnation of Satan. We admit that’s not great PR for our furry friends, but he didn’t actually say that natural cats themselves were Satanic, and he only referenced black cats, specifically. This very well may be the impetus for the pitiful reputation black cats have long held, but it certainly did not condemn all cats to disfavor.
And this document is almost definitely not responsible for the spread of the Plague
If you’re unfamiliar with this flimsy connection, you probably have no idea why we’re bringing this up, so let’s back up. Semi-modern armchair historians have claimed that Pope Gregory IX once ordered the expulsion of all cats from Europe after deeming them Satanic, and this lack of mouse hunters led to increased vermin across the continent, spreading the fleas that carried the Bubonic Plague. It’s a cute story, but it’s almost certainly untrue. To begin with, this Papal bull said nothing about exterminating cats or any other creatures, so the story’s very foundation is nonexistent. Beyond that, the Plague, um…plagued… Europe for nearly 500 years and there’s zero chance the continent managed to remain feline-free this long, considering how successfully cats reproduce if given the slightest opportunity. Further, each recurrence of the Black Death in Europe likely originated in Asia, where cats were plentiful and not subject to any Papal bulls (real, or imaginary). And if that weren’t enough to disabuse you of this silly notion, the BBC reports that the Black Death wasn’t even spread by rats, as long believed. It was human fleas and body lice that appeared to have been the actual culprits. In other words, we did it, even if we didn’t take the blame until 2018. While this story actually would have served to benefit cats, showing that they could have prevented the rapid spread of the Plague in medieval Europe, it just isn’t true. Pope Gregory IX didn’t order a cat genocide.
But their reputations were certainly damaged
While the Pope may have tied black cats to Satanism in his fantastic retelling of magical rituals in an effort to quash the influence of the Luciferian cult, cats were already linked to witchcraft in medieval Europe by the nature of their association with single, older women. You know . . . those social outcasts who were deemed dangerous because they never landed a husband. While many “witches” of the time were not far off from the crystal-wearing, positive-vibe-affirming, herbal remedy queens of social media today (and were fairly well tolerated in early European history), their social standing hit a downward spiral in the 15th century when the Catholic Church kicked off its alarming witch hunts, which would last centuries and spread to the so-called “New World,” most famously in Salem. Combine cats’ associations with now-hated witches along with a Pope’s centuries-old statement that a black cat appeared in a Satanic ritual, and you have a pretty damning formula for instilling fear at the sight of a random cat. Especially a black one, which could be out doing a witch’s work or could even be Satan himself.
This isn’t the case everywhere, though
As we briefly noted earlier, the Pope’s reach didn’t extend far beyond Europe for most of history, so neither the threat of Satanic rituals nor the misguided fear of witches spread too far beyond its borders, with the exception of Europe’s colonial impact on what’s now the United States. As such, black cats don’t have nearly the bad rap worldwide as they do in Europe or North America, though Hollywood’s global pop culture chokehold has spread the negative notion a bit in the past century. Regardless, many Asian countries, including China and Japan, still consider it good luck to encounter a stray cat, and some global traditions specifically praise black cats as the luckiest. Even Scotland, though a European locale, holds a cultural superstition that finding a black cat at your home will bring good fortune. It’s worth noting that Scotland outlawed Catholicism in the 16th century, so cats have had more than 500 years to distance themselves from Popes and rebuild their reputations there.
Bottom line?
Like most symbols used as political weapons, cats themselves had little to do with their misfortune of being negatively associated by Pope Gregory IX. Still, he’s not exactly to blame for the persistent reputation that black cats are unlucky (let alone all cats). That appears to be more a case of modern audiences looking back into the past for an early reference and dumping an entire superstition on the first case they could find. Therefore, we can’t exactly say that the Pope was wrong for branding cats as Satanic or unlucky because . . . he didn’t. Even if this single Papal bull was the spark that ignited 800 years of ill-will, it was the general population who took a tidbit from a tale and spun it into a cultural phenomenon, and it stemmed from simple ignorance of fact versus fiction.
Are cats actually unlucky? Of course not.
Are they sometimes confusing and inexplicable creatures that baffle us with their mysterious ways? Absolutely.
And is that possibly why the notion persists that they’re unlucky or bad? Because we historically shun groups we don’t understand, and try to “other” them to feel better about ourselves? Probably. So stop spreading ideas like this, and go hug a cat (and anyone else you’ve othered).