But this conversation reminds us—it’s about listening.

In this episode of The Practice of a Hoodoo Baptist, I sit down with Tatianna Tarot, diviner, intuitive tarot therapist, and Iyalorisa priestess, for a grounded and expansive conversation on what it really means to trust your intuition.

With over two decades of experience, Tatianna speaks about tarot not as a crutch, but as a mirror—a tool that reflects what’s already present, already known, already felt. We talk about how divination becomes a pathway back to self, rather than something we depend on to make decisions for us.

We also explore the role of ancestral guidance in her practice. For Tatianna, tarot isn’t separate from spirit—it’s in conversation with it. The cards become a language, a way of hearing what the ancestors have been trying to say all along.

And then we get into money.

Because spirituality doesn’t live outside of our material lives. Tatianna shares insight from her work around the energetics of opulence—how our beliefs about money are often inherited, shaped by survival, scarcity, and what we were taught to believe we deserve. Real abundance, she reminds us, requires more than manifestation—it requires unlearning.

This episode is about discernment, self-trust, and the courage to listen inwardly instead of outsourcing your knowing.

Because the truth is—

the cards don’t hold your power.

You do.

It is I, Chelsea VonChaz.

For your reading discretion: vulnerable words of expression in the form of content will be all up and through out this issue. Menärchē will return to its usual format and style next issue.

I truly did not think that I would take this long of a pause. Away from my Substack community. But, baaaaybeeee time was flying and life was showing up! Weeks turned into months of releasing episodes of my podcasts, but no newsletter drops. I know, I know. But, I have been writing though. Maybe not in the way I usually present, which may come as a surprise for some. So this is my vulnerable issue, then the newsletter will get back to regular business hours. You know I have to live life and move organically. There was an unfortunate and tragic death in my family, which caused me to retreat and support some loved ones in need. I had to grieve too. I’m still grieving, and I believe I will grieve until my own last breath. To honor them, and to soothe my grief, I’m dedicating this newsletter issue to them.

Light, peace, and progress to the spirit of Vickie Yvette Presley Ibae.

She was a mother figure and friend to me. I miss her and grieve with my best friend, who gained an angel through her Mother’s passing. Grief is a homegirl at this point. Seriously, I put my guard down and made friends with that natural process of life. Wasn’t shit I could do about it showing up in my life. I’ve been practicing submission lowkey. Well, more so surrendering. Whether it’s to a lesson, loss, or love. Then came my career changes. I submitted to a pivot and dived into a hobby or two.

While most know my work as a charity executive and a doula, I have other endeavors that bring me joy. Oh, yes! I dedicated some precious time to pour into my friend’s career and it paid off in full, not in money but in happiness! For anyone that may be creating and/or building with friends, and centering platonic relationships, let me speak to you real quick. If you believe in someone, tell them that you believe in them. They need to hear it if you haven’t told them that before. Especially if you are friends. Support your friends. I know sometimes social media tricks us into supporting folks we don’t know. So if you feel moved and have the capacity, consider the friend(s) that you believe in. Support their business, their music, or whatever their dream is. If that’s means providing a couch to crash on, becoming roomies, buying them a new mic, giving them gas money so they can drive uber, or pretending to be their publicist. Just show them you believe in them. They could become a Grammy winner.

I took some time to play. For the longest time I’ve been holding space to heal, to work, to hustle, and even to love. I needed to make more time to play. And by play I mean traveling and dabbling in whatever I feel like doing. While I mask as a wild introvert sometimes, I use spontaneity to heal my inner child that felt that she had to maintain a level of decorum for others. So I am that friend that will randomly say “let’s get on a plane and go to Mexico City” or “How many exhibits can we check out today?” After I returned to LA from my travels (including 4 cities in less than two weeks), I launched season 2 of my podcast! Whew, y’all got 25 episodes out of me last year! I was having fun, clearly! Feel free to dive into any episodes you may have missed. I’m so grateful for every single guest. And I ain’t done yet.

Also, the podcast gave me space to write and tap in as a spoken word artist. In between my guest episodes, my solo episodes are filled with poetry. I get a chance to play in words. Now I’m embracing myself as an artist, in a way that I haven’t done so since I was a kid. So you’ll see more poetry and hear my voice more often. I’m really excited about that. In fact, I’m blessing you with my first published poem below. It’s only right that my first one mirrors my work as a menstrual activist. I hope you appreciate it as I’m truly coming out of my shell. I owe it to myself. I use it to honor my family. I create to serve my people. I do it to thank my creator.

Covered by spirit. Guided by blood.

The Jellyfish

When I got my first period nobody told me about the jellyfish.
Not my Mama, Grandma, Auntie — nobody told me what I was to feel.
I had hands to hold, voices that said it's okay, it's normal, it's real.
But normal didn't have a shape yet, and natural didn't have a name.
I stood up bleeding in the knowing, feeling nothing and everything the same.

Nobody told me about the jellyfish.
The heaviness, slow and secret tide.
The way you learn to carry something
you were never taught to carry with pride.

No tea spilling on the color, texture, consistency or size.
Not even a positive scripture
that praises the magic of your insides.

Nobody told me about the jellyfish.
You know when the clot passes
like you're giving birth
to soft and strange sea jelly — man, this shit gotta be a curse.

For years I lived in the space between
is this normal and nobody told me.
Maybe it's the silence that lives inside of the same arms that held me.

Nobody told me about the jellyfish.
Their lips barely saying it's alright, 'cause nobody told them either.
Imagine a rites of passage where we can all take a breather.

Instead we're living muddled about the in-between,
while our bodies are doing ancient things
in ways that can't be seen — shamed into the dark like a dream.

The jellyfish put me on.
Told me exactly what my body wanted to say.
All the gems and messages nobody told me — the jellyfish passed on that day.

The Practice of a Hoodoo Baptist is a storytelling podcast exploring the intersections of faith, folklore, and freedom through a Southern born, Black Woman’s lens. Each episode features a conversation with a scholar, spiritualist, or storyteller unpacking the sacred technologies that have carried us—from the church pew to the juke joint to the altar. It is my personal series where I share my journey of deconstruction, Hoodoo, and ancestral wisdom. Guests also get to dive into their stories of spiritual development. Check out the latest episodes below.

Are you an author, scholar, wellness expert, or hoodoo practitioner seeking to be a guest on my podcast? Interested in sponsorship or advertising opportunities to reach my community? Simply reply to this email with full details of your inquiry or any questions you may have.

Everybody’s selling something. Everybody’s claiming authority. But Hoodoo was never meant to be flashy or performative—it’s a practice rooted in relationship, responsibility, and reverence.

In this episode of The Practice of a Hoodoo Baptist, I sit down with Brooke “Bee” Sanders, founder of Amethyst Corner, for a grounded conversation about ethics in Hoodoo and why discernment matters more than ever. Bee reminds us that before the tarot spreads, the spells, or the spiritual aesthetics, the work begins with our ancestors.

Bee’s work through Amethyst Corner creates space for people to reconnect with their higher selves and ancestral wisdom through practices like dream work, mediumship, tarot, and Hoodoo. At its core, her message is simple: if you don’t know where to begin, start with the ones who came before you.

One thing that stayed with me from our conversation is this: discernment is a spiritual skill.

Sometimes the most powerful spiritual practice is slowing down, listening closely, and remembering who’s been walking with you all along.

Your ancestors.

Consider supporting Bee by joining Amethyst Corner via IG and even purchasing her prayer book here.

I’m joined by Charlotte Duerr James—educator, therapeutic coach, and initiated Medicine Woman—for a conversation that moves slowly, intentionally, and with reverence. Together, we explore what it means to return to ourselves without rushing, without bypassing, and without treating healing as another performance.

Charlotte’s work reminds us that transformation isn’t always about becoming something new. Sometimes, it’s about shedding what never belonged to us in the first place.

We talk about ancestral memory—not as metaphor, but as lived experience. About how the body holds stories that colonial systems worked hard to erase. About ceremony as a practice of listening rather than control. About the difference between medicine that liberates and spirituality that simply soothes.

This episode also invites a deeper reflection on collective healing. Charlotte challenges the idea that healing is private, isolated, or individualistic. Instead, she names remembrance as a communal act—one that reconnects us to lineage, land, and responsibility to one another.

Her work through New Old Ways and the Remembrance Program centers this truth: that healing without context can become extraction, and that liberation requires integrity, humility, and community. You can explore more of her work and offerings at newoldways.co, where remembrance is treated not as nostalgia, but as a living practice.

What I appreciate most about this conversation is its refusal to rush. There’s no promise of quick fixes. No shortcuts to wholeness. Just an honest invitation to sit with what the body knows, to honor the pace of healing, and to trust that the road home is walked step by step.

If you’ve been feeling disconnected—spiritually, ancestrally, or even from yourself—this episode meets you gently. It doesn’t demand answers. It simply asks you to listen.

Explore Charlotte’s work at newoldways.co

and spirituality that changes you.

This episode of The Practice of a Hoodoo Baptist sits right in that tension.

I’m joined by Aycee Brown — psychic medium, astrologer, and truth-teller — for a conversation about what it really means to trust your intuition in a world that rewards performance more than presence. Aycee has built her work around helping people move beyond surface-level healing and into embodied truth, where self-trust becomes the foundation instead of an afterthought.

From the very beginning of our conversation, it’s clear: this isn’t about “love and light.”

It’s about honesty. Integration. And the courage to listen when spirit speaks plainly.

We talk about the difference between knowing something intellectually and actually living it in your body. About how spiritual tools — astrology, Human Design, mediumship — can either become a crutch or a catalyst, depending on how deeply we’re willing to engage them. And we talk about the patterns we inherit, repeat, and eventually have to decide whether we’re ready to release.

Aycee’s work centers a simple but challenging idea: that intuition isn’t a gift reserved for a few — it’s a muscle we all have to learn how to trust again.

This conversation also arrives alongside the release of her forthcoming book, Embody Your Magic, a guide to stepping out of spiritual performance and into lived alignment. The book invites readers to stop outsourcing their authority and start building a relationship with their own inner knowing — not as a concept, but as a daily practice. It’s equal parts mirror and roadmap, asking us to notice where we’re shrinking, bypassing, or waiting for permission to live truthfully.

What I appreciate most about this episode is how grounded it feels. There’s no pressure to be perfect. No illusion that healing is linear. Just an honest exploration of what happens when we stop trying to curate our spiritual lives and start actually living them.

If you’ve ever felt the pull to trust yourself more — or felt the discomfort of realizing you already know what you need to do — this conversation will meet you right there. Take your time with this one. Let it land. Sometimes truth doesn’t shout. It simply waits for you to be quiet enough to hear it.

Learn more about Aycee Brown and her book Embody Your Magic here.

On front porches. In whispers between women who survived something and decided survival wasn’t enough.

This episode of The Practice of a Hoodoo Baptist sits inside that lineage.

I’m joined by Jenn M. Jackson (they/them) — abolitionist, writer, organizer, and author of Black Women Taught Us — for a conversation that reframes how we understand political thought, resistance, and care. Because what Jenn makes clear is this: Black women were never just participants in freedom movements. We were theorists. Architects. Strategists. Teachers.

And we still are.

We talk about abolition not just as policy, but as practice. As relationship. As an ongoing spiritual discipline that asks us to imagine safety without cages and care without punishment.

Jenn invites us to consider what it means to take Black women seriously — not symbolically, not sentimentally — but intellectually and politically. What would shift if we actually lived what Black women have been teaching for generations?

We explore racial trauma and the body. The cost of respectability. The necessity of queer and gender-expansive voices in shaping liberation. The role of love — not as softness, but as accountability and clarity.

There’s a moment in this conversation where it becomes clear: abolition is not only about dismantling systems. It’s about building worlds where Black life is not constantly negotiating its own survival.

Jenn’s work insists that Black women’s wisdom is not supplementary — it is foundational. And if we are serious about freedom, we have to move beyond quoting Black women to practicing what they’ve already mapped out.

This episode is layered. Tender. Unapologetically political. And deeply human.

If you’ve ever wondered what it means to love Black people enough to change the world — this conversation will sit with you.

Listen to the full episode of The Practice of a Hoodoo Baptist via Menärchē on Substack, YouTube, or listen on Apple.

Be sure to explore more of Jenn’s work at jennmjackson.com

Are you deconstructing from the church or Christianity? Are you craving a deeper understanding of spirituality beyond traditional boundaries? Wondering how faith intersects with liberation, cultural critique, and Black lived experience? In this post, we explore profound insights from a compelling conversation with Dr. Danyelle Thomas — a public theologian, writer, and founder of Unfit Christian — who challenges us to think beyond the dogma and envision a faith rooted in liberation, community, and ancestral wisdom.

Her debut book, The Day God Saw Me as Black, meets cultural critique with spiritual reclamation and invites listeners into a spirituality that honors the mess, the joy, and the mystery. It’s one of my favorite books, and I’m not just saying that because she’s my homegirl.

Just get into this episode to learn more about her and her work. I highly recommend listening to her book on audible if you haven’t tapped into it already.

First of all thank you to everyone that has subscribed, liked, commented and streamed on Apple, YouTube, or any of the listening platforms. I’m unable to fully expressed how much I appreciate the support. Listen, this podcast idea came from the experience of taking my Mother to go see Sinners.

I wanted to create a platform that would be educational, thought provoking, and stand as impactful content that could bring my community together, or help people dive into their culture, and find their faith community. I have some amazing guests lined up for this round. I’m so excited!

So I’m dedicating this episode to all of the supporters. Thank you for subscribing, not just on Substack, but also on Apple, YouTube, and Spotify. I read every comment, DM, and email about the podcast. Foreal, I didn’t expect anyone to love it or hate it, I was just seeking to create. My goal was to create and connect with my guests, and make connections for any listeners.

In this season 2 premiere episode of The Practice of a Hoodoo Baptist, I speak to the ones who were chosen to wake up first — not because they were stronger, but because they were sensitive enough to hear the call. I’m talking about those that have deconstructed from the church and/or from christianity. Those that no longer see their culture as shame or a disgrace. Those that no longer view anything Black or African as demonic.

Whatever the reason or however you got here, I’m glad you made it. You’re here and that is beautiful in my eyes. Deconstruction ain’t easy, but just know you are not alone. There is a weight of being the first to march to the beat of your own drum. There is a major weight of being the first to think and believe differently. This isn’t about ego. It’s about responsibility.

This episode is a mirror for those who’ve always known something—but didn’t always have language, support, or safety to say it out loud. If you’ve ever felt like you were carrying something no one else could see, this one is for you. This is a reflection for anyone who has ever felt out of place not because they were wrong — but because they were ahead.

Your new community awaits you. Your ancestors got you.

You are covered by spirit. You are guided by blood.

Thank you — truly — to each of you who’ve chosen to support The Practice of a Hoodoo Baptist / Menärchē as paid subscribers. You’re helping me keep this work alive: the stories, the knowledge, and connecting community. In the coming weeks, you’ll receive exclusive posts that go deeper into the spiritual practices behind each episode — things like ancestral rituals for clarity, dreamwork prompts, reflections on Womanist theology, and behind-the-scenes notes from the guests.

This post and accompanying podcast episode is for the ones who’ve been labeled dramatic, unstable, or “deep” when all you were doing was hearing spirit clearly. For those who felt the ache of awakening and didn’t have language for it yet. You’re not losing your mind — you’re finding your purpose.

Read more

Especially as Black women.Especially in the church. Especially when we were never given space to grieve what was taken.

But here’s the truth: I didn’t forgive you for you. I did it for my spirit.

Forgiveness doesn’t always mean calling them back. It means cutting the cord. Releasing the weight. Clearing the attachment and boundaries. That’s spiritual work too. That’s a “no” prayed over. That’s protection spelled out in silence. That’s clarity with a backbone.

I’ve learned to stop equating maturity with suffering. I’ve learned that walking away is sometimes the holiest thing you can do. And I’ve learned that peace feels like stillness — not approval.

If you’re still holding on to something you know you need to release… If you’ve been taught that forgiveness means forgetting who hurt you…If you’re afraid that saying “no” will make you look bitter…

Take a breath. You’re not bitter….. You’re boundaried. You’re not broken….. You’re becoming.

Covered by spirit. Guided by blood.

🎙 Listen to this full reflection now on The Practice of a Hoodoo Baptist.

This week on The Practice of a Hoodoo Baptist, I sit down with EbonyJanice, Hip Hop Womanist scholar and author of All the Black Girls Are Activists.

For those that may not know, EbonyJanice is a dynamic lecturer, transformational speaker, and Womanist scholar committed to decolonizing authority and centering Black women’s freedom dreams. Her latest book, All The Black Girls Are Activists, explores Black girlhood, ancestral reverence, and radical wholeness as pathways to liberation.

Our conversation is a love letter to the sacred, intellectual, and spiritual work that Black women carry — often unseen, often unpaid, yet always world-shaping.

Together, we talk about:

• How the spiritual labor of liberation shows up in our bodies, relationships, and creative work.

• Black girlhood as sacred text — joy, play, and memory as theology.

• What ancestral reverence looks like as a living, breathing theology.

• Why softness, pleasure, and wholeness are revolutionary acts.

EbonyJanice reminds us that the revolution isn’t just in the streets — it’s in our healing, our art, our prayers, and our rest. Her voice carries the rhythm of revival, the fire of truth, and the joy of remembrance.

Grab her book All the Black Girls Are Activists wherever books are sold and check out more of her work on her website.

A New Orleans native, award-winning playwright, priestess of OYA, and 8th-generation witch, Mawiyah carries both fire and tenderness in her voice. She joins me on The Practice of a Hoodoo Baptist to talk about what it means to live as OYA’s child—standing at the crossroads, creating art from the storm, and conjuring liberation through story.

In this episode, we explore:

• The sacred chaos of OYA and the spiritual lessons in change.

• How Hoodoo and writing act as portals for ancestral wisdom.

• Her books Conjuring the Calabash and the upcoming Hoodoo Saints and Root Warriors, and the power of magick made for women’s freedom.

• What it means to carry an 8-generation legacy of witches, healers, and storytellers.

• The purpose behind her podcast FishHeads in Red Gravy and her mission to center marginalized voices in the esoteric world.

Mawiyah reminds us that the work of spirit is not always soft—it’s movement, transformation, and truth-telling. Her words are both a spell and a sermon for anyone learning to live inside their own storm.

In Hoodoo, plants are not props. They’re not ingredients. They’re not trendy.

They’re elders. They’re teachers. They’re spiritual collaborators.

When I work with basil, I’m calling in peace. When I steep hyssop, I’m clearing something heavy. When I keep red clover near, I’m remembering my bloodline.

And before I ask anything from these plants, I speak to them. I give thanks. I listen.

You don’t need a yard. You don’t need the perfect setup. You just need to remember that you’re not separate from nature — you are nature. And nature recognizes her own.

Start with what’s near. Start with what feels right. Let the land teach you what Google can’t. You don’t have to know every ritual — just move with respect.

Covered by spirit. Guided by blood.

🎙 Listen to this full reflection now on The Practice of a Hoodoo Baptist on YouTube, Spotify, and of course Substack.

October is sacred to me. It’s the month I was born — and the month we honor the legacy of Hoodoo.

Today, I’m celebrating my birth and my birthright. The Hoodoo that raised me. The spirits that keep me. The traditions that refused to die. I come from Alabama Creole women and Native kin who lived by discernment, prayer, and knowing.

I call it what it is: Hoodoo. And I’m not hiding it, watering it down, or masking it under anything else.

Hoodoo Heritage Month isn’t just about preservation — it’s about reclamation. It’s about acknowledging that what once had to be hidden, shamed, or called something else to survive, was always ours.

We are the descendants of people who conjured liberation out of impossible circumstances. Who prayed and called down healing in the middle of harm. Who knew how to make a way when none was offered. And somehow, those same people are still guiding us.

So here’s to us — the ones who remember. The rootworkers, scholars, conjurers, diviners, and doulas who carry this sacred technology forward.

Happy Hoodoo Heritage Month. Happy Solar Return to me.

Covered by spirit. Guided by blood.

I’ve been supporting this brand ever since I discovered them back in 2021 after coming across their crowdfunding campaign!

Meet Rif Care — a Black and Latina-founded period care brand making pads from hemp fiber (yes, hemp!) that are gentle on your body and the planet.

By now you should know that most mainstream pads on shelves in stores are full of synthetic materials that can throw off your pH and irritate your skin. Rif’s pads are plant-based, biodegradable, and made without harsh chemicals — because our cycles deserve better. It’s the kind of innovation we love to see from women changing the industry from the inside out. I’m including them again to promote their prime day sale on Amazon. Check out the sale here!

It’s our new space for real-time connection, womb wisdom, and community care. If you haven’t already, download the Substack app so you can pop in and out with ease. Think of it as our group text for cycle wellness, sisterhood, and sacred rest.

• Real-time convos about spiritual technologies, womb health, & reproductive care

• Thoughts on recent newsletter articles

• Product reviews, discounts & community tips

• A safe space to ask questions & be seen

The Practice of a Hoodoo Baptist — my personal podcast series where I share my journey of rootwork, faith, and ancestral wisdom.

This is where doula work, spirituality, and cultural healing intersect. Episodes will live right here on Menärchē — for the culture, from the altar.

What happens when you study Hoodoo not as superstition, but as sacred practice — a living, breathing tradition of survival, healing, and power?

This week on The Practice of a Hoodoo Baptist, I’m joined by Dr. Yvonne P. Chireau, historian, author of Black Magic: Religion and the African American Conjuring Tradition, and one of the first scholars to put Black folk healing and conjure at the center of American religious studies.

Together, we talk about:

• How enslaved and free Black communities used conjure as medicine, protection, and resistance.

• The importance of oral tradition, memory, and everyday practice in keeping these traditions alive.

• What therapeutic pluralism teaches us about the blending of Hoodoo, Christianity, and other healing systems.

• The impact of her mentor Albert Raboteau, and what it means to build on that legacy.

• Her own reflections on identity, faith, and how scholarship and spirit meet in her life.

Dr. Chireau reminds us that Hoodoo is not just history on a page — it’s a sacred technology of resilience, rooted in the lives of Black people who refused to be erased.

Listen now right here on Substack or consider following the podcast on Youtube! Follow Dr. Chireau’s work on her website, AcademicHoodoo.com.

Paid subscribers get access to extended notes from this conversation, plus reflections on how Dr. Chireau’s scholarship shaped my own practice and work.

This week on The Practice of a Hoodoo Baptist, I sit down with Kristian A. Smith — pastor, public theologian, and the voice behind Holy Smokes: Cigars and Spirituality. Kristian is a thought leader who challenges us to rethink the boundaries of belief, asking how faith can serve as a tool for healing, justice, and radical imagination. He’s also the founder of The Faith Community, an intersectional inclusive space, rooted in the Greatest Commandment.

Together, we talk about:

• Breaking up with fear-based theology and moving into a spirituality rooted in freedom.

• How cigars, conversation, and community can become a liturgy of their own.

• The role of storytelling in reshaping our understanding of God, church, and ourselves.

• What it means to build faith practices that honor both tradition and personal truth.

I truly enjoyed talking to my homie. We even talked about capitalism, and how too many Black christians view poverty as a virtue. Lawd knows I don’t condone slavery. Neither does pastor Smith. So we gotta get paid. Okay!

Kristian reminds us that faith isn’t about blind allegiance — it’s about crafting practices that serve our wholeness and liberation. His voice is one that many of us have been waiting to hear: equal parts pastoral, prophetic, and practical.ads

Check out the full episode here or on Youtube and all other podcast platforms. Also please connect with Pastor Smith and tap into The Faith Community here.

This conversation is about more than mourning — it’s about remembering. We talk about how practices of ancestor veneration can soften grief, create space for laughter alongside tears, and remind us that our people have never left us.

From altars to prayer, to calling names out loud, to the simple act of living in their joy — we break down what it means to build a daily practice that keeps the dead present in our lives. Nore shares how comedy, storytelling, and memory work are his forms of spiritual care. Together, we explore how grief can become not just a wound, but a doorway.

In this episode, we explore:

• What ancestor veneration looks like in everyday life

• How grief can connect us deeper to spirit and lineage

• The role of ritual, prayer, and creativity in healing

• Why comedy and joy are sacred practices in times of mourning

• How to live with grief in a way that honors both the pain and the beauty

This one is tender. It’s a reminder that grief is not something to “get over” — it’s something we learn to walk with, guided by those who came before us.

Grief is not the absence of our ancestors. It is the proof of their presence. Each tear is an offering. Each memory, a prayer.

Let me know if you appreciate anything from this episode.

They taught us to hide it. To be ashamed of it. To treat it like something dirty, something to pray away. We don’t talk about this enough. About how spiritual menstruation really is.

How the body sheds what’s no longer needed—and how that’s likely a holy act.

How the womb speaks in cramps and cravings, in silence and blood.

But the truth is — blood is sacred. Menstruation is a monthly initiation. A reminder that your body is a temple, and your cycle is a ceremony.

This episode is a love letter to the flow.

A reclamation of power that’s been hidden, hushed, and misunderstood for too long.

🎧 In this episode:

• I reflect on the spiritual significance of menstruation

• What church never taught us about the sacredness of the womb

• How I use rootwork and ritual to support my cycle

• And why our blood holds memory, medicine, and mojo

💭 Reflection Prompt:

How do you tend to your body during your cycle?

What would it feel like to treat your period like a spiritual practice?

🙌🏾 Join

The Anointed Few

As a paid subscriber, you’ll get access to exclusive altar notes, bonus episodes, and spiritual tools to help you stay in alignment with your body, your blood, and your purpose.

In this conversation with Omisade Burney-Scott, I have the opportunity to explore the intersections of ancestral wisdom, spirituality, and the experiences of Black women, Black bodies navigating menopause. Omisade shares her ancestral led journey into advocacy for reproductive justice and the importance of community support in understanding and normalizing menopause.

Just in case you don’t know, Omisade Burney-Scott (she/her) is a seventh-generation Black Southern feminist, storyteller, and reproductive justice advocate. She is also the Founder and Chief Menopause Steward of The Black Girls’ Guide to Surviving Menopause (BGG2SM), a multidisciplinary narrative and culture shift project focused on normalizing menopause by centering the stories of Black women, transgender, gender-expansive people, and other marginalized groups of the Global Majority.

Established in 2019, BGG2SM's core program offerings include a podcast, curated intergenerational storytelling gatherings, and a digital zine titled "Messages from the Menopausal Multiverse." She has been featured in multiple prominent media outlets, such as Oprah Daily, Forbes, VOGUE, WebMD, NPR, The Washington Post, and The New York Times. I stress to listeners during the interview that Omisade has BEEN doing this work! Long before it was trendy! Long before my favorite actress, Halle Berry was hollering MENOPAUSE on Capitol Hill.

I’m so grateful for this intimate conversation. We discuss the impact of loss, the significance of rites of passage, and the role of ancestors in shaping contemporary practices. We both emphasize the need for inclusivity in reproductive health discussions and the growing movement around menopause awareness, as we’ve both have contributed more than a decade to the menstrual equity and reproductive justice space.

This Queen takes me and listeners on a ride through the complexities of navigating life transitions, particularly menopause, through the lens of community, storytelling, and cultural identity. We also tap in on the importance of witnessing, creating safe spaces for dialogue, and the power of shared experiences in fostering resilience and understanding. Emphasizing the need for inclusivity in reproductive health discussions and the growing movement around menopause awareness, as we’ve both have contributed more than a decade to reproductive justice. In sharing the journey of her initiation to the Ifá religion, Omisade highlights the significance of ancestral memory, diasporic connections, and the need for inclusive gatherings that honor diverse narratives and experiences.

Omisade and her team are preparing to offer the first intergenerational menopause conference for the Global Majority, Queer community and formerly incarcerated people called Iranti Eje: Remembering Blood, this October 9th-12th in Durham, NC. Do yourself a solid and check out the beautiful website for more details on this community offering.

I will also be present at the gathering, offering my doula services at the Red Tent on the grounds. The Red Tent will serve as a restorative space inspired by ancient traditions where people who bleed can gather to rest and reconnect.

You can register for everything here. It’s going to be so beautiful. See you there!