My kindred, my community, my chosen family...
Today marks the beginning of Hoodoo Heritage Month, and as the veil thins and the air settles with the wisdom of those who walked before us, I find myself deeply and profoundly home.
For too long, many of us, especially women of color, were taught to seek our spiritual nourishment in spaces that demanded we abandon our truest selves. We were told our birthright was sin, and our power was something to be feared or suppressed. I walked that road too, carrying the heavy cloak of a faith that was never truly mine, until the Ancestors themselves called my name and guided me back to the crossroads.
Leaving the comfortable, familiar structure of Christianity was not just a choice—it was a spiritual necessity. It was a shedding of foreign skin and a reclamation of my divine inheritance. There is a deep, abiding joy in knowing that the magic, the resilience, and the healing power I sought externally were always planted within the soil of my own heritage.
Now, as an active practitioner, every root I work, every altar I tend, and every prayer I offer is a conversation with the very blood that flows through my veins. This path of Hoodoo is not just a practice; it is my birthright, my shield, and my crown. It is in the whisper of the Carolina Spanish moss, the woven strength of the Lowcountry sweetgrass, and the deep, rich earth of North and South Carolina—the soil that truly knows my name.
This month, I celebrate not just the tradition, but the transformation. I celebrate the courage it took to stand up and say, "I am a woman of color, and this is my power. This is my ancestral mandate."
To all my brothers and sisters on this journey: May your altars be lit, may your hands be blessed, and may the power of your Ancestors walk with you every step of the way. Happy Hoodoo Heritage Month!
Rooted, Reclaimed, and Ready,
Queen Tiyi El
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