Why Gen Z Is Turning to Tarot: Inside the Mystical Economy of Modern Ritual
- Maheshwari Raj
- Jul 13
- 4 min read
Updated: Jul 14
Beyond mindfulness and mysticism, tarot has become a staged ritual of beauty and belief but what happens when spirituality becomes spectacle?
On a Tuesday night in Beijing, 23‑year‑old Kai sits in her dorm room, livestreaming to hundreds of strangers. Her phone rests on a cracked plastic mat printed with moons and swords. Cards slide into frame: The Tower, The Lovers, The Moon. In the chat, emojis cascade crescent moons, broken stars, digital blessings bought for $5. Outside her window, neon bleeds in from a convenience store, painting her hands pink as she shuffles.
Here, tarot is no longer just ritual. It is theatre, lit by ring lights, scented with candle wax and pixel dust, staged for strangers and self alike.
The rise of the mystical economy and why tarot is rising among Gen Z?
In Shanghai apartments, Berlin cafés, New York bookstores, and Instagram feeds, tarot has become Gen Z’s chosen language of ritual — part spirituality, part performance, part design.
Searches for tarot decks on Etsy rose over 50% during the pandemic (Vogue), and the global market is projected to hit $93 million by 2027. On TikTok, #tarotreading has surpassed 12 billion views. YouTube “pick‑a‑card” videos draw millions of plays, while Instagram feeds double as curated altars of symbolism and product placements.
In China, a billion‑yuan spiritual economy thrives on livestreams, with readers in Beijing and Guangzhou earning over 30,000 yuan a month. And in cities like London, Berlin, and Toronto, tarot decks are sold alongside art books and candles as much collectible object as metaphysical tool.
What is tarot, reimagined?
A 78‑card narrative, tarot speaks in archetypes. The Major Arcana (The Fool, The Tower, The World) tell of universal lessons. The Minor Arcana reflects everyday dramas — Cups, Pentacles, Swords, Wands.
Originally a 15th‑century European card game, tarot evolved into divination centuries later. In Gen Z’s hands, it has become less prophecy than poetry, a tactile mirror in a digital world, a way to hold the present in beautiful metaphor.
Why do people seek readers?
Because the cards don’t shout; they murmur offering something gentler than advice, yet more personal than an algorithm.
For many, tarot answers what the job market, therapy waitlists, and self‑help books can’t: What now?
Gen Z, shaped by economic precarity, burnout, and a fraying social contract, comes to the cards during life’s hinge moments, a layoff, a breakup, a quiet grief, a decision no one else can make for them.
According to Springtide Research Institute (2023), over 50% of Gen Z report feeling anxious about their future, with career uncertainty a top concern. Many respondents explicitly cited “needing reassurance about my next step” professionally or personally, as a reason they turned to tarot or spiritual services.
In a world where the path forward feels unstable and institutions unreliable, a reader can offer something rare: a symbolic, story‑shaped way to see oneself.
As Jerico Mandybur, author of Neo Tarot and former editorial director of Girlboss, explains:
“The beauty of tarot is not just in the meaning of the cards. It’s in the moment you create — the lighting, the deck, the quiet. That’s the spell.”
Where ritual becomes platform
Neon‑lit livestreams, plastic mats, and luxury decks are no longer the only stages for ritual. The rise of platforms like Nebula, a spiritual guidance app offering tarot, astrology, and “daily guidance” subscriptions has institutionalised spirituality into a service.
Wrapped in pastel UX and push notifications, Nebula lets users book a reader, scroll ratings, and pay for everything from a quick card pull to an hour‑long session without leaving their bed.
It’s the next act in tarot’s theatre: ritual delivered on‑demand, blending belief and commerce, intimacy and convenience.
When ritual becomes theatre
Decks like Neo Tarot (inclusive, queer‑affirming, pastel) and The Wild Unknown (stark, minimalist, Instagram‑famous) have become design objects more at home on coffee tables than altars.
Taobao‑bought mats cradle gold‑foil cards. Digital apps swipe in place of shuffles. Livestreams replace candlelight.
As Sarah Faith Gottesdiener,artist, feminist author of The Moon Book, and founder of Modern Women, cautions:
“Your ritual doesn’t have to look sacred to be sacred — but it shouldn’t just look sacred either.”
Perhaps Gen Z has kept tarot alive by turning it into theatre, even if it risks emptying its faith into aesthetic.
How to choose a reader and make the ritual yours
Not all that glimmers is guidance. If you’re seeking a reader:
Transparency over theatrics. They should explain their methods and centre your agency.
Tone over tropes. Avoid fear‑based language or grandiose predictions.
Presence over props. A ritual is about what it feels like — not how it photographs.
If you read for yourself, choose a deck that feels alive — Neo Tarot or The Wild Unknown are good starting points. Light a candle if you like, or don’t. What matters is that it feels yours.
Where Ritual Meets Reality
The cards still whisper but now they do so in livestreams and hashtags, on cracked plastic mats and glowing screens.
Gen Z has turned tarot into theatre, and in doing so, kept it alive even as it risks becoming more aesthetic than sacred.
That, perhaps, is the point: ritual evolves. And whether it’s on a neon‑lit bedroom floor, through an app like Nebula, or in your own quiet corner, the question remains the same.
What do you see when the card turns over?
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