I’m going to live to 200
And I’m going to have long, silver hair like my Bigmomma and the women on my dad’s side.
And part of why, outside of sheer stubbornness to die, will be because of indigenous practices that called me home. These previous conversations we were having post CEO shooting were interesting because if you know and love a Black woman, you know our relationship to the US healthcare system. So that has me thinking about our form of “radical” responses: leaving the Black church, travel, education, and entrepreneurship.
Our Black churches are 90% women, tithing faithfully, showing up for morning/afternoon service, Wednesday night Bible study, choir practice on Tuesday, community outreach on Saturday mornings, LITERALLY ETC., while being told we can’t have leadership positions as women. We’ll also hold all these positions while praying endlessly for what we’ve been conditioned to think are miracles (surprise, being able to pay your rent on time or afford life-saving care should be the BARE MINIMUM of what your god can do for you).
My favorite radical response is the return to our ancestors’ practices bc it’s saving our lives. Like, actually, physically, truly lol, not some hypothetical soul saving that we ‘might’ see when we die.
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African and Indigenous practices aren’t just reclaiming the title of witch, posting our aesthetically pleasing altars on social media, or getting one introductory/annual reading and calling it hogwash because of its general diagnosis.
It’s learning herbs, the land, and its cycles for optimized bodies and understanding of self.
It’s creating actual relationship, ritual & reciprocity with god/spirits/energies because it’s not a freaking genie in a bottle here to grant you long life, riches, partnership. It’s then learning how to treat our neighbor and others with this same reverence!
It’s dancing symbiotically to the drums to move energetic gunk up out of our bodies before they have a chance to crystallize into illness and disease. It’s possession, so spirit can come down and do its assessment! And not just messages about what’s going on in my body baby, but yours too, and just so whoever happens to be in the room - errybody can catch these healing hands.
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It’s having evergreen ritual around crying, wailing, and moaning bc the grief be so heavy sometimes, but in community. Someone to catch you when you fall tf out lol. Someone grabbing water to pour on your feet to cool your spirit after the heat comes on the back of ya neck and whispers “nah you have to keep moving, your purpose has been honored, go in peace” to those heavy emotions.
I love the word radical, because it’s such a deeply personal word. What may be radical to me, won’t necessarily be radical to you because our options to choose “different” from what we were taught to be true will look different. But I hope we continue doing radical things, at a quicker cadence, and out loud - the current cosmic energy is so ripe for it. The more we dream, do and archive these different radical things, the sooner we’ll understand that the end goal is the same.
Take Luigi off the pedestal, and start working on your radical actions, like yesterday.
I need you babe, we all need you.
My Bigmomma just turned 91, walking without a cane, in her right mind, and answers my FaceTime calls while washing and pressing her own hair. Mad I didn’t make an appointment to call. But still answering the phone mid rinse, smiling and asking what I’m doing, just happy to see my face.
Yeah, that audacity to keep living? Double that. I’ve studied her joy, what’s aged her, her wellness habits - ain’t no way I ain’t gon see 200, at minimum.