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.

Black girls raised in the Bible Belt know what it means to carry shame before we even understand our own bodies.

I used to think questioning the church meant betraying God. But I’ve come to understand that curiosity is sacred. That liberation is holy. That my body, my voice, my knowing—they were never the problem.

The real sin was being asked to abandon myself in the name of salvation. This episode is a return—to my own altar, my own theology, and my own freedom.

We were taught to be nice — not discerning. To be obedient — not intuitive. To be godly — but never powerful.

This episode is for the Black girls who were raised in the pews and are still unlearning the pain that came with the praise.

For the ones who still love God—but on their own terms now.

🎧 In this episode:

• I unpack the purity politics and pressures of growing up in Southern church culture

• I reflect on my own religious unlearning and spiritual re-centering

• I speak on the joy of finding God in places I was warned to avoid

• And I offer space for anyone untangling shame from their sense of the sacred

💭 Reflection Prompt:

What beliefs did you inherit that no longer serve you?

Where are you learning to meet God in your full self?

What parts of your faith journey were shaped by fear or shame, and what would it look like to release them with compassion?

Where do you feel God (or Spirit) most clearly—now that you’re listening with your own ears?

A Prayer for Reclamation

Dear Spirit,

Take away me the silence that was never mine. Strip away every layer of shame I mistook for salvation.

Let me hear you in the sound of my own voice. Let me feel you in the freedom of my full self.

I return—not to the altar they built for me, but to the sacred ground I was born with.

Covered by truth. Guided by love. Amen and Ase.

Spiritual hygiene isn’t a trend—it’s maintenance. It’s how I stay aligned, clear, and covered. Especially as a Black woman moving through a world that constantly tries to cling to me.

Spiritual hygiene keeps you from carrying what isn’t yours.It helps you hear yourself clearly. It protects your purpose. And it honors your ancestors by keeping the altar that is you—clean.

Start with what feels good. Ask Spirit what needs to be removed. And know this: you deserve to feel light in your body and in your soul.

Per someone’s request in the live, I will provide a list of resources for those that are intentional about their spiritual hygiene. In this post, I’ll start with a list of botanical and apothecaries that I love and the services or items I purchase only from them. Would you like to receive altar notes, rituals, and bonus content like this? Become a paid subscriber and join The Anointed Few.

Now let me put you on to some of my favorite and most trusted botanicas and apothecary shops, and must have herbs!

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One of my great-grandmothers was an Alabama Creole woman. A descendant of enslaved Black Americans and Native Americans, who practiced what the world tried to demonize: Hoodoo.

She lived it with discernment. Quiet power. Protection. Spirit and blood guided her hands. And now, it guides mine.

I am an Afro Indigenous woman, because I am both of African descent and Creek descent. I am a Hoodoo Baptist — simply because I am both.

The church didn’t cancel the root. The root never erased the cross.

I was raised where Bible verses sit beside glass jars, where prayers sound like both hymns and chants, where the Holy Spirit and ancestral spirit hold hands. I never separated them. I never needed to. For years, hoodoo has been silenced, misnamed, feared, or flattened into something it’s not. It’s not evil. It’s not entertainment. It’s not a costume. It’s survival. It’s sacred. It’s my inheritance.

The Practice of a Hoodoo Baptist is where I will share my story, my rituals, my reflections, and my remembrance.

Some of it you’ll read. Some of it you’ll hear — because this practice was always oral first. It’s how I learned. I’m still learning.

With this series, I’m introducing an audio element — intimate, spoken, personal — so you can experience this tradition not only through my words, but through my voice. As my great-grandmothers passed it down, so I will pass it on.

This isn’t a grimoire. This isn’t a class. This is my practice.

Covered by spirit. Guided by blood.