Sojourner Truth, "I Have Only One Text I Preaches From..."

 Wanda Sabir

Dr. Anna Corwin

PARW 6548, Women and World Religions

December 29, 2024

Final Essay 2

“I only have one text I preaches from, When I found Jesus.” 

Introduction

          During 19th century New York, the Christian church shaped state policies.  It is a time of political and social upheaval. Slavery, a legal system, is challenged along with civil rights for the formerly enslaved. Perhaps for the first time structural racism, patriarchy and the economy are put in uneasy conversation as white women demand their rights too. It is indeed a time of a Great Awakening in more ways than one. The sublimated underclass in this tumultuous America were speaking up and speaking out. Yet for the African, freed and enslaved, the ground remained unequal, especially for the African woman.

          When Isabella Van Wagener showed up in New York in 1828, no one knew her. Van Wagener's reputation did not proceed her. When she relocated from rural Ulster County to cosmopolitan New York City she would have been lost with other rural Africans in this big unfamiliar place, but Van Wagener carried letters of introduction to perspective employers. These letters of recommendation failed to mention her triumphs in court in a custody battle between the state of New York and her former master. All the letters state is that she's a good and honest housekeeper. 

          So she settles into her work as housekeeper for white people sympathetic to the cause of freedom.  She enrolls her son in school. In the evenings she goes out into Five Points or the red-light district where her sisters are selling their flesh for subsistence.  Van Wagener gives the women spiritual food and encouragement. She has nothing else as she is nearly as destitute as they. 

          Unhappy with the inhospitable treatment from African parishioners at Mother Bethel AME Zion Church, Isabella also continued to fellowship with the Primitive Methodists where she found encouragement in her ministry and call to preach. Van Wagener standing six feet tall, with skin a dark unfashionable hue, was hard to miss.  The Black middle-class wanted to distance themselves from slavery. It was an embarrassment they would rather forget. However, this was not possible given its legality or Isabella’s presence.          

        Isabella Van Wagener, as Truth called herself then, did not believe that book learning made a person more righteous or pious than another. "She critiqued the [B]lack church for its inattention to [human] rights and [political and social] reforms. Isabella closely linked personal righteousness, even individual perfection, with her conception of reform," Kyle T. Bulthuis states in Four Steeples Over the City Streets, Religion and Society in New York's Early Republic Congregations. 

          Margaret Washington, Truth scholar, describes this time as, “Isabella’s New York misadventures.”  Just two years away (in 1828) from captivity, Van Wagener’s raw eloquence impressed her friends in Kingston, Ulster County, so much, they suggested she leave for New York. There they introduced her “into the fold of James LaTourette, the leader of Gotham’s Methodist splinter group”.   He was a lay Methodist preacher who was dismissed from New York City’s influential John Street Church because he preached Perfection, which became,” according to Washington, “the basis for Isabella’s faith.”  

          One of those Kingston Methodist letters explicating her Christian experience secured Isabella’s membership with the John Street Church rebels, as well as a position in the LaTourette home as a domestic. LaTourette’s wife, Cornelia, who taught African Americans in a racially separate “colored school,” became Isabella’s friend. As the observant Isabella socialized with Cornelia’s circle of Methodist-Perfection women, her faith deepened and her preaching became more polished as her English improved. She also began to dress like her mentors. 

        The statuesque African Dutch woman’s reputation grew as a preacher and a singer. Within two years of her arrival, Van Wagener was recognized for her abilities and encouraged to preach at a time when outside her Methodist Perfectionist circle, women were silent in the public sphere. LaTourette called Van Wagener, “‘a child of God and eminently gifted and favored by God.’”  Out of town believers conferred with him before traveling so Isabella met a who’s who in this religious movement. Perhaps this is why, later on, when she left New York that she was comfortable speaking in male, specifically, white male, company as an equal. Isabella who was endowed with “spiritual mysteries” had an advantageous situation. The African Dutch woman attracted a following and at camp meetings drew a significant crowd away from more famous speakers.    

      The Perfectionists believed that through suffering some people achieved a higher spiritual level of consciousness. These people had a “special holiness—a sort of earthly sainthood—through traumatic, soul-grappling encounters with the Holy Ghost. Perfectionists also [embraced an] expressive [liturgy].”  Its attractiveness as a vehicle for Van Wagener’s spiritual expression honored all her experiences as an enslaved African-Dutch woman who had suffered in ways words could not express. The experience of slavery  Van Wagener survived, whose body articulated, had no peers among those she called fellow travelers. None of the Methodist Perfectionists knew her pain.

Issues or Questions Explored

          This short paper does not pretend to document the extraordinary life of a woman who was an abolitionist, suffragist, and temperance advocate. As a formerly enslaved woman who walked away from the plantation into freedom, a woman who sued the state of New York more than once and won—the first time for custody of her son, sold down South at five; later for libel. 

         She was accused of murdering Elijah Pierson, former Presbyterian elder, her friend and employer,  with an accomplice, Robert Matthews, known as Prophet or Father Matthias. It took a while for Van Wagener to straighten out the negative press. She successfully sued those who slandered her, and was awarded a settlement.  Her livelihood depended on her trustworthiness. 

         Van Wagener chastised Black clergy for its elitism, yet remained silent when Matthias acted similarly. He was misogynous and patriarchal. He also took advantage of Van Wagener naiveté, yet she remained silent and stood by him when everyone else had retreated. 

       “Her dissatisfaction with [African American] male leadership [in the church],” Bulthuis notes, “only grew over time. Her words to Black men were strident: 'You have been having our rights so long, that you think, like a slaveholder, that you own us.'"  

          Slavery was a system of dominance and as such those who survived like Isabella were more susceptible, it seems, to such subterfuge. Her lord came in the person of a white man. Even when she changed her name to Truth, this woman who was strong in so many ways, was weak when faced with this kind of emotional challenge.  The Maafa or residual psychological effects of enslavement  are too numerous to count, yet these effects operate below consciousness and last generational lifetimes. Dr. Joy DeGruy calls it post-traumatic slave syndrome. It shows up in behavior as cognitive dissonance.  This is why Isabella, while enslaved, would beat her hungry children rather than steal food from her master. Yes, it is crazy, but terror lay at its roots.  The slave mother wanted her children to live long enough to be free, even if she never saw it.

          Truth knew she and her people had to learn to love themselves and other Black people. That self-hatred was “brainwashing.” “She used to ask, ‘Why was I born [B]lack?’ If born white, ‘I could have plenty of food and clothes.’ [Later], she said, she ‘gloried her color’ and ‘was well satisfied’ with the ‘color that God had been pleased to give her,’” Margaret Washington states in “I Go in for Agitatin’.”  

       Isabella’s faith and belief are unwavering once she discovers Jesus. She is a child of God. Her suffering, though unwelcome, is unavoidable for those clothed in a Black woman’s body. Jesus suffered and unfortunately, so do his African children despite his love. 

Background 

          This paper focuses on Isabella Van Wagener’s twelve years in New York which were pivotal for her establishment of her ministry and mission. When she leaves New York as Sojourner Truth, she is a mature woman who is grieving many losses, the more recent that of Peter, her son. However, she also grieves the sister she met at Mother Bethel AME Zion Church. Isabella says she recognized Mau Mau Bett’s hands on the stranger, yet didn’t get to introduce herself to her older sibling, who was sold away when she was a baby. Her sister dies before they can acknowledge their severed bond. Truth’s life seems to be one of goodbyes. Yet, her faith sustains her. She knows from her indigenous practice as well as spiritualism that those who have died live. It is something her mother taught her too. 

Review of Literature

          In Iain MacRobert’s “The Black Roots of Pentecostalism,” he writes, "'Shaped and modified by a new environment, elements of African folklore, music, language, and religion were transplanted to the New World by the African Diaspora. . . . One of the most durable and adaptable constituents of the slaves’ culture, linking African past with American present, was [h]er religion'" (Albert J. Raboteau qtd. in MacRobert 191).

          These African belief systems were transformed in the New World, but they did not disappear. Black people grasped the similarities between their belief system and the belief system of their captors and adapted the principles of this approved Christian institution (in America, Islam elsewhere) to serve their spiritual needs. God traveled on those ships too. Multivalent, the God of our enemy was our God too (191).

         I never thought about the Black roots of Pentecostalism. Possession, speaking in tongues, what scholars call glossolalia, dancing for the lord, falling out in trance. . . . I just assumed everyone knew that it had Black roots, rather African roots. These were the people I knew as a child in church. I also had not known of the various white American Pentecostal leaders and historians' silence around the role of African Americans in the formation of this particular church and movement.  

         William J. Seymour kept this history alive at a church he established in Los Angeles. #sayhisname Ase!  Similar to Father Divine in his theology (see Primiano in New Black Gods 91), Seymour also envisioned interracial reconciliation through ecumenical design (MacRobert 193). Both men saw the human voice as divine instrument.  Seymour convened the historic revival at 312 Azusa Street in Los Angeles, April 1906. From this meeting, what Synan (qtd. in MacRobert) calls the Azusa Mission grew initially thirty-eight missionaries. In only two years [the message of engaged worship with Spirit] had spread to over fifty nations worldwide" (197).

          The church split along racial lines afterwards, a division that continues today. At that time Parham, "who propagated the Anglo-Saxon is real teaching a white supremacy And wrote for the notoriously racist Klu Klux Klan, was horrified at the desegregation and the adoption of black liturgy by whites which had taken place and castigated Azusa for having 'blacks and whites' mingling and 'lying across one another's like hogs'" (195).

"[M]any white Pentecostals who in the denial of their Movement's roots perpetuate the racial air against and support for an oppressive sociopolitical and economic status quo that makes the enemies of the Gospel to the poor" (197).

         All the elements deemed "primitive" or African are key to knowing God. What irony. Of course, the white folks like Charles F. Parham, avowed segregationist and KKK leader, deny African origins of his spiritual practice, but recognized or not, when one looks to origin stories it wasn't until Africans arrived on these shores that Christianity morphed into a tool for liberation. Slaves are made not born, so the Bible and its stories of struggle and liberation, bondage and freedom, spoke to Africans of hope, a hope Sojourner Truth recalls in her Narrative often.

          In her chapter in  Down by the Riverside: Readings in African American Religions, “Black Women in Religious Institutions, A Historical Summary from Slavery to the 1960,” Dolores C. Carpenter, notes recent scholarship on nineteenth century American women, specifically African American women and their important role in the Black Church. Here she highlights some of the lesser well-known Black women who nonetheless are remembered, however briefly, for their service.

          Sojourner Truth is one of the women mentioned, as well as Harriet Tubman. Women highlighted are Maria Stewart, Mrs. Jarena Lee, Mrs. Cook (Reverend Richard Allen told Lee to talk to her regarding holding prayer meetings etc., when he refused to ordain her). Francis Burns (1834), Lavinia Johnson (1845), Sarah Simpson (1860), Susan Collins (1902), Martha Drummer (1906) were missionaries to Angola and Liberia) (99).

          As she tells the stories of these unlettered women we acquire language like evangelism and stories of conversion and sanctification. These are important creation stories (99). Amanda Smith was born enslaved. In 1870 she is called into God's service. As a free woman she visited the British Isles, Calcutta and Africa, especially Liberia. When she retired and returned to the United States she opened an orphanage near Chicago. I wonder if it continued after her death in 1915.

          As documented in Kyle T. Bulthuis's Four Steeples over City Streets, these women experienced institutional gendered bias and sexism when trying to do their lord's work, but given this extensive list and their accomplishments, they were not deterred. These women started schools or academies for girls that still exist, traditions like Woman's Day now Women's Day in the Baptist church that has continued. It is a day led by women. 100 years ago, it was the only time Black women were allowed to preach. All the monies raised went to church projects. It raised more money than all the fundraising during the rest of the year.

            Margaret Washington's "Race, Religion and Sojourner Truth's Early Interracial Reform" chronicles then Isabella Van Wagener's relocation to New York City from rural Ulster County. In New York, the 31-year-old woman quickly immersed herself in church activities, both white and Black. Up to this point, her religious education was given by her mother. Now she was a student of the Bible and allowed in primitive Methodist church to preach. Her ministry took her (and middle-class white women) into the seamy side of town called Four Points. Belle, as she was called then, worked all day as a domestic before she was able to go out at night and preach the word to these women and male solicitors. It was dangerous, yet Belle felt important work. These neighborhoods were mixed race and income. Middle class Black people and white business owners too shared public and private space.

          A huge fire destroyed Black businesses and the Black Presbyterian church in Four Points. It was set by white migrants who feared emancipated Blacks would take their jobs and offer unfair competition. Mother Bethel AME Zion Church was also in this community, yet not targeted. Its membership did not challenge the white status quo. Yet, the unspoken classicism and bigotry among Black church members made it difficult for Belle to feel welcome. She felt it was important that she had ties to a Black community, something she did not have in Ulster County. It was at a Black church that she was reunited with two older siblings sold when she was a baby.

          Belle continued her relationship with white Perfectionists and became a pastor and teacher. Later, she became involved in a scandal with a false prophet, Mathias, that almost ruined her reputation. However, her white women friends supported her and validated her sterling character. Belle hadn't learned yet that God was not a white man.

          It was also while in New York, June 1, 1843, at 46, that she had a spiritual rebirth, changed her name and stepped into her ministry as Sojourner Truth.

          In Jean M. Humez's "Reading The Narrative of Sojourner Truth as Collaborative Text,"  the author notes how Olive Gilbert's editorial voice and presence in Truth's document shapes its outcome or what she calls "its authenticity" (29).  Even when the writer was literate, as was the case in Harriet Jacobs's Incidents in the Life of a Slave Girl, Lydia Marie Child, her editor, edited Jacobs worked in isolation. There was no conversation between the two women about the work, to the dismay of its author. Jacobs felt intimidated and less knowledgeable, so she said nothing about this editorial process. She allowed herself to be shut out. 

          Humez shows how Gilbert and Truth negotiated power in this narrative space which is an interpretive transcription of an interview. Truth did not give Gilbert freedom to change or project her sensibilities onto her Narrative text. Gilbert's attitude was one of peer support, even if her language reflected her cultural biases. Gilbert was a white woman of her time and affected by race and gender despite her abolitionist leanings.

          Literacy or its absence did not mean Truth could not tell her story to another person with authority. The author states Truth had a particular audience in mind and Gilbert's standard diction and respectful transmission translated cross race and class. The book sold well. Truth was able to “sell the shadow to support the substance.”

          In Jami L. Carlacio's "Aren't I a Woman(ist)?: The Spiritual Epistemology of Sojourner Truth," the scholar juxtaposes "womanist theology and Black feminist standpoint epistemology" (5). Using Truth's Narrative coauthored with Olive Gilbert (expanded by Frances W. Titus) Carlacio in her introduction focuses on African American women's absence from historic and literary discourse. Sojourner Truth was a lone voice in the wilderness. In her Black woman body, she "performed her words; that is, she lived out the principles of the freedom and rights for which she advocated" (6). The author also uses rhetorical analysis to show how Truth is such a powerful speaker and the ways in which she captivates and sways her audience.

         Truth's topic is singular. She says, “I am a woman's rights." Carlacio says Truth's "spiritual authority and her epistemology are situated in her mind and body" (7). She is a holy scripture or text.  Truth's biographic history is reviewed from her walk to freedom, to her suit to get her son returned, to her ecclesiastic mistakes when she follows a false prophet, to her single minded focus on Black woman's rights located in a Christ body, her body.

          Standpoint theory the author states is “a socially produced place from which women experience their lives and can therefore articulate their reality apart from dominant categories of analysis--that is, by the standards set by those in power in a white, capitalist, patriarchal system (67)" (7).

          What I like about this article is how Truth is self-actualized. Outside the realm of the dominate narrative she is literally free to invent herself, and she does. She also writes man out of her theology. It is she and her God, Jesus. Jesus suffered, so did she.  Truth's knowledge is a lived reality guided by spirit and activism (8). In the statement attributed to Truth: Aren't I a Woman (Akron 1851), an entire movement grows. Her tangible existence as an embodied spirit soul that moved and was moved even now, makes her into a God.

          The author cites Truth’s various incarnations, yet despite what one might call setbacks, Truth remained “a strong, self-determined woman whose conscience was dictated by God [not man]” (14).

          The writer gives an overview of Truth as Isabella Van Wagener's spiritual conversion and practice. She becomes Methodist after attending church with her friends. I hadn't known she helped found the Kingston Methodist Church in 1827 (Painter 27). I also hadn't known Truth was familiar with Perfectionism then too. It makes sense that such beliefs in a human being's ability to be holy or sanctified on earth, especially a person who has survived trauma, as Truth had (Washington "Going" 50).

          Inner light is mentioned. When Truth is visited by God on the Pentecost in 1827, she says there was light everywhere and she was afraid (Narrative 75). It is interesting it is during another Pentecost in 1853, that Isabella Van Wagenen takes a new name, “Sojourner Truth.”  It is a holy time she favors. In the past, Pinkster or the African-flavored Pentecost enjoyed by enslaved, was a time to revel in pleasures of the flesh. Belle loved Pinkster. It took a powerful visitation to get her attention. God knew his girl. She knew him too.

          In Truth scholar, Nell Irvin Painter's "Representing Truth: Sojourner Truth's Knowing and Becoming Known," she examines the Truths we know to be true. In an intentional play on words Painter shows how the woman who became known as Sojourner Truth, born into slavery as Isabella or Belle, later named Isabella Van Wagener, masterfully crafted a public persona that is still relevant today. She has help, namely "four educated white women: Olive Gilbert, Harriet Beecher Stowe, Frances Dana Gage, and Frances Titus" (471). These women from Gilbert who wrote Truth's book, Stowe who created a caricature called in her article the "Ethiopia Sybil" to Gage whose fictive version of the Akron, Ohio (1851), speech published twelve years after it was given (1863), elevated Truth from preacher to a women's rights rock star. Finally, there is Titus who republished Truth's Narrative with letters, articles, news clippings and her collection of autographs: Truth's Book of Life.

          This Truth is the one in the State Building in Washington, D.C. Her bust, the first one of an African American, was initiated by First Lady Michelle Obama. This is the Truth on the postage stamp, the Mars Rover named Sojourner after her, the icon monuments are still being erected to.

          God is not as sexy as women's rights. However, if we look at Truth's embodiment of scripture, then perhaps these accolades show that indeed, this Black woman, representative of all Black women, is God.

          Painter spends considerable time explaining portraitures rise in popularity as the technology improved and became affordable. When photo images were less expensive to produce more people had them made.  Truth used sales from these note cards and her book for her livelihood when she traveled. To protect her rights, Truth also copyrighted her images. Men were the subjects of portraits more than women, and Truth's persona was carefully crafted. 

          Truth had a particular image she wanted to project, Middle class, educated, cultured. Nowhere indicated in these stylized portraits was that former slave who suffered. Truth appeared with head covered in a neat bonnet, an elegant dress, a ball of yarn and knitting needles in her lap, sometimes a book or a photograph of her son Peter. She was seated with a shawl across her shoulders, eyes looking into the distance. She also posed standing with a cane. She exuded dignity and self-respect. Later, Gage would have Truth's speech she revised printed on the cards. These cards are for sale today. I saw them at the Women's Rights Museum in Seneca Falls, New York, where the Declaration of Sentiments was drafted and ratified in 1848. Frederick Douglass was there, and he signed the document.

          Black women were not included in this document which privileged white middle class women. I wonder what women's rights organizations today benefit from Truth swag?

         The spirit that was Truth was lost in the packaging and repackaging. The light dimmed when God left the conversation. These women who with Truth's approval reinvented her didn't grasp the spiritual importance of her vision and so God was edited out. Truth never forgot her mission, I think she was just maximizing her power to sway public opinion in her people's favor, especially the Black women. It backfired. White women took her initiative and ran with it away from rather than towards Black women's rights. It took 100 years for Black women to get the vote. It is the same with MeToo. Is it safer for Black women at work, at school, on the streets? No. White women historically and presently are not reliable allies.

          What does it mean to have a relationship with God as co-creator? That is powerful stuff. This is what Truth is saying in “Aren't I a Woman.” She is saying she is physically powerful and spiritually powerful because God walks with her.

          In “Sojourner Truth: Bringing Order Out of Chaos,” Miriam Ma'at-Ka -Re Mon ges, says Sojourner Truth is archetype, Goddess Ma'at. Ma'at is the Kemetic deity who represents balance, order, harmony and most importantly truth, justice and righteousness. (Karenga qtd. in Mon ges (682). Truth was a self-correcting freethinker. Taught by her mother to pray and to know her human, yet cosmic connection, Truth prevailed over discouraging situations and circumstances with self-assurance and grace. Once Truth, then Isabella Van Wagener, realized her God was all powerful and capable of providing all she asked whether it was safety, money or shelter, she fearlessly walked the lit path. She says she was not keeping anything from bondage: name or birth date. She discarded it all.

          That Pentecost Day, time stood still, and when the whirlwind settled, June 1, 1843, 46 year old Isabella was reborn Sojourner Truth.  Ma'at, the African Goddess who wears a feather at her crown, whose 42 Laws affirm and activate core principles, were a philosophical staff Truth used to part water. No, was not a word she knew. If God put an idea into her mind, it was already done. Truth did not walk alone. Her path was one traveled by other righteous 19th century African American women, God's warriors.

          At a time when white women, some of whom were Truth's allies, were finding their voices, Truth’s presentation was hard to ignore-- her voice or her Black woman body, already transformed public spaces previously denied. Anointed with truth, she walked with authority.

          She traveled light. She dressed simply. She knew her weakness for fine clothes, so she gave away her money except for a few coins. If she trusted God, she knew she'd be provided for. She didn't need to know anything beyond that moment. Truth also knew she had to forgive those who harmed her-- the Dumonts, her slave family. She had hated them, but as Truth, she had to clear the road. Hate was a obstacle in her path. She used her voice and her strong Black woman body to heal herself as she walked the path. As housekeeper, cook, nurse maid, she with her Black woman hands, healed others.

          "Sankofa" was the balm. She didn't make the road she walked. Man, white men and women, Black men too— a structured racism paved the road, she, Truth, Ma'at was destroying. It was a dialectic imperative she could not resist. Her God, Truth’s God was everywhere. She says when she could see that Pentecost Day, there was nowhere God was not. Truly, all she could do, Truth says when she stopped trembling, was submit.

          Time stood still in that moment. She had not realized she had been in absolute darkness, now that she was in absolute light. We make our way blindly sometimes until someone or in this case, something brings us into the light and the shadows disappear.

          Truth needed a new name, and God gave her Sojourner because she was to be a Road Warrior. Later she asked for a second name, it was Truth. Ma'at guided her.  Joy filled her soul. God's word mapped her journey. God's truth is love, Truth said. Love is home. Love is sojourning—love is the process. Truth was a “Woman's Rights.”   She was a Black Woman's Right to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. She was a womanist before the term gained parlance. Her preaching incorporated intersectionality. Thematically her discourse included Black woman's suffrage and her right to political and economic security. Sojourner Truth checked patriarchy with a reminder of her divine sovereignty: Ma'at.

Conclusion

          Isabella’s life was a process. She was on a quest and sometimes she made mistakes. That she was able to regroup and start over again, is testament to her faith and belief in a personal savior and the ancestors who lived in the sky. She knew she could call on these beings whenever she needed guidance. Her God seemed to just show up without petition whenever his girl was straying from the path, like the day she was thinking how lovely it would be to attend Pinkster with Dumont even if this meant being enslaved again. She was immediately blinded by light— Another time, God told her to walk to freedom. Whenever she wasn’t clear, she would ask clarifying questions. Once free in body, God told her to stay focused and do not look back on her life with regret. She did, but not for long— the consequences were discouraging.  Lastly, while in New York, after her dear son was lost at sea, God gave Isabella Van Wagener a new name, Sojourner Truth, and a goal: to travel and speak God’s truth.

         Margaret Washington's comprehensive narrative, Sojourner Truth's America concludes what she calls "a spiritual autobiography" (383)  with a reflection on Truth's expanded Narrative, Truth's Book of Life. Truth's life is bigger than her modest chapbook, even greater than the lofty signatures of presidents and statesmen. Despite all this, she is still Black and female in patriarchal America.  This new land is parceled or settled by a white people not always in agreement. At times the only idea these white "founding nationals" could agree on was their supremacy to Black Indigenous People of Color, and the rightful righteousness of their rule.

          These arrogant men took an occupied land as their home, then developed a system of human bondage to build their kingdom. This vision of greatness is stamped on every coin, bill, and contract to date. This was the land Truth was born into: white, male, Dutch America, one of multiple colonial Americas. This is the land we still reside.

          It took most of her life to get free from male dominance and such thinking. Walking was how Truth freed herself, yet her circuitous route had her walking herself back into bondage multiple times.

          Truth walked away from Dumont's plantation; she walked away from the Van Wagener's to New York; then after the false prophet, Matthias was acquitted and he stole Truth's savings and furniture she left New York traveling East. When her daughters looked for their mother, joined by worried friends, Truth's reputation as a preacher followed her and so they heard of her work and found her new location.

          Walking was her practice. Physical distance from a dilemma gave Dumont's Belle (at 29 in 1826) instructions to boldly take her freedom. Walking freed Isabella Van Wagener (at 31 in 1828) from spiritual darkness. Later walking gave Sojourner Truth (at 47 in 1843), an embodied purpose. Her ordination as Sojourner Truth, Pentecost Sunday, June 1, 1843, sealed her fate or prophetic mission in way she could finally articulate.

          Nonetheless, Truth pauses more than once as shackled thought patterns gain momentum, yet do not proceed. She is a product of her time and as survivor of unbelievable harm, bears invisible scars. It is interesting that before she died (at 86, November 26, 1883) she stopped walking. An infection made it impossible for her to walk far. Gangrene in one of her legs even today would have meant amputation. I cannot even imagine Truth sitting still. Can you? 

      She said don’t weep for me. When I die, “I am going home like a shooting star”!

                                                 

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Koester, Nancy. We Will Be Free, The Life and Faith of Sojourner Truth. Grand Rapids: Wm. B. Eerdmans Publishing Co., 2023.

MacRobert, Iain. “The Black Roots of Pentecostalism,” In Down By the Riverside: Readings in African American Religion, edited by Larry G. Murphy, 189-199. New York: New York University Press, 2000.

Monges, Miriam Ma'at-Ka-Re. "Sojourner Truth: Bringing Order out of Chaos." The Western Journal of Black Studies 29, no. 4 (2005): 682-687.

Smiet, Katrine. "Post/secular Truths: Sojourner Truth and the Intersections of Gender, Race and Religion." European Journal of Women's Studies 22, no. 1 (2015): 7-21.

Truth, Sojourner. Narrative of Sojourner Truth: A Bondswoman of Olden Time, Emancipated by the New York Legislature in the Early Part of the Present Century. Review and Herald Office, 1875.

Washington, Margaret. "GOING “WHERE THEY DARE NOT FOLLOW”: RACE, RELIGION, AND SOJOURNER TRUTH'S EARLY INTERRACIAL REFORM." The Journal of African American History 98, no. 1 (2013): 48-71. 

Washington, Margaret. “Epilogue: Well Done, Good and Faithful Servant.” In Sojourner Truth’s America, 377-379. Urbana, Chicago, Springfield: University of Illinois Press, 2009. 

Washington, Margaret. “I Go in for Agitatin.” In Sojourner Truth’s America, 248-271. Urbana, Chicago, Springfield: University of Illinois Press, 2009. 

Washington, Margaret. “’Isabella Van Wagenen: A Preaching Woman’: Sanctification and Perfection, Becoming a Religious Rebel.” In Sojourner Truth’s America, 81-126. Urbana, Chicago, Springfield: University of Illinois Press, 2009.

Hattie E. Wilson: We Are More than What We Survive

Wanda Sabir

Professor Anna Corwin

Women and World Religions, PARW 6548

December 23, 2024

Final Essay 1

Title: Hattie E. Wilson: We Are More Than What We Survived
Inscription: “Those Who Are Gone Have Never Really Left…the Dead Have a Pack with the Living” 

          Quirky Harriet Wilson is known for the excavation of her semi-autobiographical novel Our Nig (1859). Rescued from relative obscurity by scholars 150 years after its publication in 1982,  this first novel published by an African American woman troubled the abolitionist New England landscape. Rather than bring into discussion important themes Wilson raises, like child labor and indentured servitude or slavery by another name, New England abolitionists ignored topical variations and conveniently turned the dial.

          Hattie Wilson's story fictionalized in her novel, Our Nig, complicates things. Written at the height of the Anti-Slavery movement, her story centers an orphaned free Black child in Milford, Connecticut, a stronghold for the abolitionist movement and a stop on the Underground Railroad. Our Nig not only complicated things, it also introduced a narrative that highlights a state's child neglect. The free child was captive in a legal system without oversight. Connecticut had laws  which protected the rights of Black children and adults from abduction and involuntary servitude. Like our current foster care system, child welfare authorities had oversight of these homes and were to make routine checks on the children, to see they were safe, healthy and being treated well.  Wilson like her “Frado” was beaten, starved, went without proper clothing and shoes, was not sent to school regularly, and was given tasks beyond her physical capacity. She was just six when consigned to this bigoted white family and was not freed until she was eighteen. 

“[In Connecticut, where Harriet E. Wilson was born,] the earliest state law protecting children in employment was enacted in 1672. It authorized the state to terminate indenture or apprentice agreements if it found that a master was cruel or abused the servant or failed to properly clothe, feed or instruct him in business or trade. In 1821, the state prohibited children under 14 from binding themselves as apprentices or by indenture,” writes Laura Jordan, attorney, in “Development of Certain Employee Protections Report,” United Nations Association of the U.S.A., November 20, 1998. 

Wilson was born in 1825. These laws would have applied to her circumstances. When her mother abandoned her to the Hayward family, it was against the law for the family to employ her. 

         Another complication was the antislavery rhetoric that there was only one type of captivity, yet Hattie had survived a fate as bad or worse. Indentured servitude did not build wealth. Girls went from this situation into marriage or the poor house. Single females had no legal way to take care of themselves. They were employed as nurses or housekeepers. 

         Frado, the protagonist, had no allies. When she leaves she is weakened and ill. She marries and is abandoned after she gives birth. She writes a book to raise funds to take care of her son, but the child dies before it is published.  There were no book tours, reviews or readings. And then the book disappeared for 150 years until scholar Henry Louis Gates Jr. found it and was intrigued enough to investigate its claims to have been written by a Black woman. The novel had been attributed to white male writers. A Black woman couldn't have written the tale.

  

        Sexual Healing. Hum

        Is Hattie Wilson's triumph one of sexual healing? She is the product of a white mother and an African father. Though recent scholarship questions her mother's heritage, Mag (Margaret Adams or Smith)  could have been a light-complexioned Black woman passing.  Hard on luck she traded her whiteness for legal room and board. Respectability was its cost. Then when her breadwinner died, she rids herself of the girl, her daughter, who was pretty, lighter brown, and smart her mother’s boyfriend stated.

          Mag left the child, promising to return, with a known “she-devil,” Mrs. Bellmont (real name Hayward), who can’t keep help.  Mag was killed a month later in a domestic row with her African boyfriend, though the official report was she died from alcohol poisoning.  

          Harriet E. Wilson's Our Nig is such a historic contradiction. What we know about slavery in the north, and the subsequent abolitionist stronghold there is first challenged by Sojourner Truth's 1850 Narrative (Ulster County, New York) followed in 1859 by Wilson's novel (Milford, Connecticut). The hypocrisy exposed in Frado's little girl life is undeniably tragic. "[She] remarks wistfully to Jane Bellmont (Lucretia Hayward), "Even a white invalid has more value than a black supergirl.”  This hypocrisy is further validated by family clergy who abhor slavery as the worse evil yet look away from such evils by another name.

Methodology

Black Woman as God

          We start with the biographical history of the writer Harriet E. Wilson which includes the story of her parents and her indentured servitude, the topic of her semi-autobiographical novel. Included also are the politics of the day, slavery, abolition, racism and spirituality. In this paper, I will argue that one’s life does not always determine one’s options.  Even though Wilson’s body is centered in the discourse—its exploitation, lingering harm, and grief, she does not lose her agency. Wilson’s spirit is never trampled. Her little-girl-self practiced impermanence. She had to hold on to get through. 

            In Cynthia J. Davis’s "Speaking the Body's Pain: Harriet Wilson's Our Nig" (1993), the author explores how the trope “pain” is used to free Nig from bondage. Pain is a force that validates Nig’s life. The child’s survival verifies and validates her humanity. None of what happens to her is her fault. She was wronged. Wilson tells the antagonists about themselves in Our Nig.

        To read Our Nig, is to reread the Black woman body as an object or thing. I wonder if suffering is necessary for enlightenment. I can’t say I have found an answer.

          Black women know “Their Nig.” Perhaps God wanted to “identify with that segment of society that suffered the most, and is still suffering. . . . It is my feeling, [William Eichelberger says,] that God is manifesting Himself. . . in the form of a Black American Woman, as mother, as wife, as nourisher, sustainer and preserver of life, the Suffering Servant who is despised and rejected by men. . .”.    
           Even so, is it enough? Is the pain worth it--divinity, life after this life?

Standpoint

          Wilson asks in her public lectures that her people, African Americans be recognized as citizens with equal rights.  I am here as a witness.  I say—"I see you, sister. I hear you. I got you! In the parlance that is Black English, I’d say, “Hattie, Gurrrl. You are not alone. I am walking with you too!” 

            Now, she is walking with me. 

            Hattie pulls herself together. She is after all, a Black woman who has learned to be self-reliant, yet flexible—she knows how to ask for help and use available, though limited, resources like the poor farm, modern equivalent to homeless shelters. Connecticut would also supplement private citizens who cared for the indigent, with a stipend. Wilson was able to find a family to take care of her son George for a little while where he thrived. 

            Later Hattie finds hope in Spiritualism, a belief in ancestral wisdom, spiritual healing and activism.  Hattie's father and son were not gone. Their spirit beings visited her. Her father tells her kind stories about a mother who abandoned her. These loving, honored ancestors who appeared unbidden in her room soothed her grief.  Hattie then began sharing her spiritual medicine with other women, especially women, who'd lost their children, as she advocated for children's rights and against indentured servitude. She advised parents to not turn their children over to the state.  

          Through her work as a national speaker and healer, Hattie writes herself into the dominant conversation while she lives. She lives a long, full, rich, happy, adventurous life. Her lectures, speeches at conferences, trance readings, and participation in the Spiritualism organization as delegate,  secretary, and even critic, are widely covered by the Banner of Light, a popular Spiritualist newspaper.   Hattie threw large birthday parties, sang in a quartet, married a younger man, and then lived apart in what we'd call today, an open relationship—Spiritualists did not believe marriage was fair to women. It is as if Hattie restarts her life: post-Our Nig. She gave unresolved issues to the ancestors to take care of while she handled what her human resources allowed.

          150 years later, Hattie has her say. As we reread her work and learn of her life after bondage, we find encouragement. Frado lived. Though powerless, Wilson does not let her protagonist die, nor does her Frado expect anyone to come save her. After twelve years of wishful thinking, she knows she is her only hope.  Jesus . . . His dad, mother, Mary, no one is coming to save her. In Our Nig, Frado considers a heaven where she will see her tormentor, She-Devil, and decides to skip the (up)lift.  Wilson embodies a scripture she walks, breathes, and sings. Her ancestors live in her. The Black Woman is God!

Literature Review

           In P. Gabrielle Foreman's article, "The Spoken and the Silenced in Incidents in the Life of a Slave Girl and Our Nig,” the nineteenth-century African American women's literature scholar, looks at the slave narrative and sentimental fiction through the narratives of Harriet Wilson and Harriet Jacobs. Published in 1859 and 1861, both share themes of abandonment, self-preservation, poverty, captivity, exploitation and maternity. Both use writing as material spaciousness within hostile geography. Given the powerlessness these authors experience as economic captives whether this is chattel slavery or indentured servitude, the two women have limited choices when planning escape. Foreman says, "[I]f the word has a transparent relation to the soul only when it is not disrupted by the slave economy (read: when slavery as figured in both Jacobs and Wilson does not exist), it can function as the means through which to reveal a soul revived. The word, then, also holds a valorized position in the black female literary tradition, both in relation to spiritual and physical freedom". 

          Wilson wrote her novel to raise funds to take care of herself and her son. All the men in her life from her deceased father "Jim" to the fictional John Bellmont, father figure in the house she labored for twelve years to her son's father Thomas, do not support or protect her. They are silent.  Foreman says, "Even as Wilson invokes the sentimental convention of the abandonment of her protagonist, she inverts the gendered categories of silence and death in sentimental fiction— abandonment in Our Nig is achieved through death and silence of its male characters. 

         Nor do the abolitionists who oppose slavery in the South, yet allow it to flourish unchallenged in the North among their neighbors and peers acknowledge Wilson's plight.  However, unlike the genre fiction she crafts her life, Frado nor Wilson die. Instead, she "asserts her agency by choosing to tell her story.” 

          Both authors, Jacobs and Wilson refuse "romantic" conclusions. Wilson's novel restates her premise for support through book sales. Both authors are mothers who love(d) their children and "insist on the right to support their children and themselves within their own domestic and woman-centered economy." 

          Their texts: read: lives, remain inconclusive because such economic autonomy does not exist for nineteenth-century free Black women (nor do autonomous spaces.)

          Scholar, Jill Jones's "The Disappearing 'I' in Our Nig" shows how Harriet E. Wilson's narrative voice and shifting POV undermines her protagonist's agency, autonomy, and freedom.  Wilson's use of the conventional formulas: slave narrative, sentimental and Gothic fiction allow her Frado to endure unbelievable suffering yet fail in her ability to change the situation that traps her.  

Wilson's use of multiple perspectives in her tale, that allows its dissolution in the end, is not entirely unexpected. The fictive and actual collide.

       The reason Wilson's Frado is unable to dismantle the circumstances that bind her, is because these, what Jones calls "traditional structures" are inadequate to resolve issues as complex as race in America.  This construct is attached to a politics that denies Frado's personhood, human rights and power. 

          Her mistress was not singular, she was a legal system. Even sympathetic members of the household, read: nation, would not help the Black girl. All of them benefitted from the girl's labor. None of the fictionalized Bellmont family, no matter how sympathetic, wanted Frado freed.  Frado was a distraction, a convenient whipping post for She-Devil’s unaddressed childhood trauma. Her father beat her.  Wilson's act of writing, was a way to leave the past behind as she created a new wealth stream. It failed as her resistance to attempts to extinguish her soul threatened to overwhelm her human resources. 

          Jones writes that a protagonist's role is one of conflict-struggle to victory, yet Frado gets no reward. Nothing changes, so is this a novel?

"Freedom of choice and the ability to grow, socially and personally, are prerequisites for a novel's protagonist. For this reason, [Myra] Jehlan states, a slave cannot be a protagonist. Politically, the slave 'is deprived of his birthright to become himself; in novelist terms, he is denied his own plot' (387)". 

         Emotionally, psychologically and physically spent, there is an urgency written into Our Nig's conclusion. The "I" voice, P. Gabrielle Foreman says "again asserts itself . . . as [Wilson] establishes her explicit relation to her own story. Our Nig can be read as an autobiography." 

          Wilson's protagonist, weak and unable to care for herself, relies on care from others. Survival takes a lot of energy.  The six-year-old might have had ideas of rebellion, but to actually do something was not feasible if at all possible. What child can resist adult abuse? After twelve years what once felt hard to endure is less so. Human beings can adapt to anything.

       Frado possessed an animate interior that struggled with her often unbearable circumstances. Frado does eventually want to know God. However, what kind of God is it that would allow her tormentor access to its kingdom? She wants none of that.

          Barbara A. White’s “Our Nig and the She-Devil: New Information about Harriet Wilson and the “Belmont” Family” (1993) reveals background on the fictional Belmont family, whose real surname is Hayward. White also gives more information on the protagonist Frado’s parentage and place of birth, as well as information on her son and his father. What is most interesting is the abolitionist ties to the Hayward (fictional Belmont) family. Evidence here supports Wilson’s scathing critique of abolitionist response to her circumstances. 

          In Lois Leveen's "Dwelling in the House of Oppression: The Spatial, Racial, and Textual Dynamics of Harriet Wilson's Our Nig" (2001), the author personifies Frado's physical space within the "two story white house, north" where she lives as indentured servant (read slave) until she escapes. Wilson's autobiographical novel is 19th century Afro-futurism meets Gothic slave narrative and sentimental fiction genres. Nothing could be darker than an attic so cramped a bed fit only in its center, a space so tiny its occupant would soon be unfit long before her usefulness expired (outgrow the space if not her usefulness). When Jack, Mrs. Bellmont's son tells his mother Frado will outgrow the attic, she replies when the girl does, it will mark the end of her service. This pending expulsion as the child grows older is one that Leveen states, "constructs the house as something that [Frado] must earn not solely through her labor but also by embodying physical confinement, by denying herself full adulthood and restricting herself enough to fit within the racially and class-constructed spatial limitations imposed upon her."  

          As a free born child, Frado challenges her position. Wilson challenged her position too by becoming a published writer. Our Nig is the result. Leveen says for free Black people the only jobs available were unskilled menial labor. Conveniently forgotten was the skilled labor enslaved Africans performed. Africans created and mastered so many technologies in the New World.

          However, all the work available to a child, later adult Black woman was domestic service.   Leveen writes, "Wilson's authorial strategy in depicting the house of oppression contests the very assumptions that serve as the foundation for the racial and spatial practices in that house"   House is metaphorically this nation, a nation at war over the legality of slavery. Wilson's Our Nig is Leveen states, "a critique of the hypocrisy of abolitionist racism.”  Most Northern whites believed Africans an inferior race. Mrs. Bellmont's daughter Mary does not want the child near her which is why Frado is housed above the kitchen in a separate wing of the house.” 

          This separation is philosophical because the mixed-race child could be Mary's sister or playmate. Instead, violence is the temperament inside the storied house until Fardo resists (567). Abandoned by her assumed white mother, Frado cultivates allies within and without the storied white house.

          How her Black body navigates such terrain is why Our Nig is such an important counternarrative. When Wilson leaves indentured servitude, marries, has a child, becomes a doctor or spirit medium . . . her early formative experience – abandonment, indentured servitude, and its emotional and physical violence shape Wilson's (Frado's) resolve to discard a belief system that denied her agency and rights based on her racial presentation, gender, class and lineage.

          Laveen suggests Wilson's literary return to the scene of distress, suffering and subjugation to "ensure she will not have to occupy such houses again, is an attempt to find [economic] means for the free [B]lack woman to be at home in nineteenth-century America. Like classic slave narratives of this same period, Our Nig expands the genre as fiction. It is an important heroine's journey (578).

Conclusion 

          Hattie Wilson, Harriet Jacobs, Sojourner Truth and other nineteenth-century African women free born or formerly enslaved writers had to use pseudonyms, change character names, places and alter facts just enough so the guilty could parenthetically hide in their documents (P. Gabrielle Foreman). The astute authors left enough clues or markers so that researchers could use decoys to find the truth (White). Wilson used sentimental fiction, the slave narrative and Gothic literary forms to craft her story. The guilty parties were respected members of the antebellum movement. In fact, Wilson is born in Milford, Connecticut, a stop on the Underground Railroad.  There were major abolitionist conferences there too. Her publisher was an abolitionist. Wilson's father and his child were of a part of a literal handful of African Americans in the segregated town. It wouldn't have been hard to locate the white family that tormented the orphaned child as Barbara A. White has done (1993).

          Rebecca Hayward or she-devil as Frado calls her, has "strong abolitionist connections." Not only does her pastor, Reverend Humphrey Moore, perform her marriage in 1806. He was elected into the House of Representatives in 1840 and to the New Hampshire Senate in 1841 on an antislavery ticket.  She-Devil is also related to the Hutchinson Family Singers who "gained international recognition in the late 1840s and 1859s as a group of folksingers who supported progressive causes, most notably abolition, women's rights and temperance; they were the nineteenth-century equivalent of a Pete Seeger or an Odetta". 

        She-Devil’s son, Jonas, a Baltimore entrepreneur and abolitionist, hosted the singing group on a tour in New England in January and February in 1844.  Jonas wasn't the only hypocritical racist Wilson accuses in her Our Nig. White asks if Hayward's insistence that Frado not attend church because she might be influenced by antislavery teachings. Wilson is not blind to the hypocrisy that surrounded her.

        The young writer, desperate to make a living to support herself and her baby boy, found little to no support for her publication. It was too embarrassing, even fictionalized to acknowledge Wilson's claims, so both the writer and her brave treatise were buried along with her seven-year-old son, George, who does not survive. Scholar, P. Gabrielle Foreman says, Wilson's is the only record of African indentured servitude from that era. Hers is also the first novel published by an African American in the nation. 

          Wilson wrote herself into existence after her body, broken and feeble at eighteen, survived the tortures she recounts in her thinly veiled autobiographical novel, Our Nig (1859). 

          150 years later the text is rediscovered, and Wilson shakes off accumulated dust, free at last! She proclaims. Henry Louis Gates, Jr. authenticates his discovery, at a time when twentieth-century Black women writers are popular. The two eras meet.  Alice Walker says, "'She sat up all night reading and pondering the enormous significance of Harriet Wilson's [work]. It is as if we'd just discovered Phillis Wheatley--or Langston Hughes.'" 

         It is as if Wilson, a Spiritualist, planned this precise moment. And why not? It is entirely possible. In Our Nig, Mrs. Bellmont tells her husband that Frado should not be reading the bible. That the scripture will make her unfit for work. This is what many slaveholders thought too. Mr. Bellmont tells his wife to let the child read the scripture if it brings her comfort. She-Devil says to her husband that the girl might get ideas in her head that she might “turn pious nigger and preach to white folks”.  The irony is Wilson did preach to white folks in the thousands and was well-loved and respected for her piety and graciousness then and now. 

Bibliography

Braude, Ann. Radical Spirits: Spiritualism and Women's Rights in Nineteenth-century America. Indiana University Press, 2001.

Bulthuis, Kyle T. Four Steeples over the City Streets: Religion and Society in New York’s Early Republic Congregations. New York University Press, 2014.

Campbell, James T. Songs of Zion: the African Methodist Episcopal Church In the United States and South Africa. New York: Oxford University Press, 1995. https://hdl-handle-net.ciis.idm.oclc.org/2027/heb00589.0001.001. PDF. 

Curtis, Edward E., IV, and Sigler, Danielle Brune, eds. The New Black Gods : Arthur Huff Fauset and the Study of African American Religions. Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 2009. Accessed October 6, 2024. ProQuest Ebook Central. 

Davis, Cynthia J. “Speaking the Body’s Pain: Harriet Wilson’s Our Nig.” African American Review 27, no. 3 (1993): 391–404. https://doi.org/10.2307/3041930. 

Dowling, David. “‘Other and More Terrible Evils’: Anticapitalist Rhetoric in Harriet Wilson’s ‘Our Nig’ and Proslavery Propaganda.” College Literature 36, no. 3 (2009): 116–36. http://www.jstor.org/stable/20642040. 

Foreman, P. Gabrielle and Reginald H. Pitts. “Introduction” In Our Nig: or Sketches from the Life of a Free Black. New York: Penguin Books, 2005.

Foreman, P. Gabrielle. "The Spoken and the Silenced in Incidents in the Life of a Slave Girl and Our Nig." Callaloo 13, no. 2 (1990): 313-324.

Grant, Jacquelyn. “White Women’s Christ and Black Women’s Jesus,” In Women’s Studies in Religion: A Multicultural Reader, edited by Kate Bagley, Kathleen McIntosh 48-55. Upper Saddle River: Pearson Prentice Hall, 2007.

Guillory, Margarita Simon. Spiritual and Social Transformation in African American Spiritual Churches : More than Conjurers. New York: Routledge, 2018. http://search.ebscohost.com/login.aspx?direct=true&scope=site&db=nlebk&db=nlabk&AN=1690619. 

Jones, Jill. “The Disappearing “I” in Our Nig.” Legacy 13, no. 1 (1996): 38–53. 

Kucich, John J. Ghostly Communion: Cross-cultural Spiritualism in Nineteenth-century American Literature. Dartmouth College Press, 2004.

Leveen, Lois. "Dwelling in the House of Oppression: The Spatial, Racial, and Textual Dynamics of Harriet Wilson's Our Nig." African American Review 35, no. 4 (2001): 561-580.

Lowry, Elizabeth Schleber. Invisible Hosts: Performing the Nineteenth-Century Spirit Medium's Autobiography. SUNY Press, 2017.

White, Barbara A. ““Our Nig” and the She-Devil: New Information About Harriet Wilson and the “Bellmont” Family.” American Literature, 65, no. 1: 19.

Wilson, Harriet E. Our Nig: or, Sketches from the Life of a Free Black, In a Two-Story White House, North. Showing that Slavery's Shadows Fall Even There. Preface and Revised Notes, Henry Louis Gates, Jr. 1983, 2002. Penguin Classics. Penguin Publishing Group. Kindle Edition.

Oakland Symphony Let Us Break Bread Concert, Kedrick Armstrong, director

"Let Us Break Bread Together, A Tribute to the Legends of Disco!" at the Paramount Theatre, downtown Oakland, is a seasonal favorite in the Bay Area. This tradition is one founded by the late Maestro, Michael Morgan, and is just one of his multiple legacies that changed the face of classical music not just here, but throughout the country and world. Oakland Symphony has partnered with DJ Spooky to revisit "Birth of a Nation," poet devorah major, Oaktown Jazz Workshop for side-by-side concerts, musicians in Central Africa, and special guest curators who would create a Playlist for the evening. Oakland Symphony, to borrow language from the Black Panther Party, is music for the people. 

It's not surprising that what used to be a celebration of Negro Spirituals is now a big holiday party. Though things evolve, I enjoyed those sing-a-longs. Lots of older Black people would attend. One of my friends who is 101 in February used to attend with me. We were at the first concert when Morgan's parents were in the audience. 

It was cool listening to the harmonies echoing in the hall then. Those hands could or perhaps did touch circumstances articulated in these stories set to music. The current programming is for a different audience. I don't see as many of those elders in the audience anymore.

Last year's tribute was to Tina Turner. This year was to Disco Legends, The Pointer Sisters, Kool & The Gang, Loeatta Holloway, Sylvester, Gloria Gaynor, concluding of course, with Donna Summer's "Last Dance." What's also nice is that many of the artists' work featured today have Oakland or Bay Area roots like The Point Sisters and Sylvester. 

Oakland Interfaith Gospel Choir, Oakland Symphony Chorus, Best Intentions, East Bay Singers, and Napa High School Chamber Choir sang. There weren't that many Black singers on stage. Castlemont High School's Castleers, or even Oakland School for the Arts present in the past, were absent. 

This was Armstrong's first Break Bread concert. We could tell he was loving it too even before he stopped to tell us so. 

Ash Walker, conductor, SoulBeatz, East Bay Singers, Napa High School Chamber Choir, and Oakland Symphony Chorus, performed an amazing "African Noel" with a gong and guest African percussionists. There was syncopated clapping, the singers ever had moves. . . . It was really entertaining. 

Another highlight was Terrence Kelly's solo, especially when he went falsetto, and Best Intentions' "Silent Night." The quartet is always a show stopper--their vocal range, tenor to sexy bass.

Soloists Maiya Sykes, Tiffany Austin and PHER with rock band artists were swinging, but then again so were the Oakland Symphony string, reeds, brass and percussion sections. The orchestra is no stranger to popular music which is why its audience continues to grow. 

Folks were dancing in the aisles drink in one hand, the other waving in the air. In the lobby there was a lovely tree, souvenirs and an opportunity to support this Oakland institution. 

With city funding cuts to the arts, Oakland Symphony board members asked patrons to dig a little deeper and support this organization. For more information visit oaklandsymphony.org

Sacred Sound or Sound Healing

I am wrapping up a full fall semester at the California Institute for Integral Study, Women's Spirituality Program, and beginning my second year in a doctoral degree program. This semester, I took a Sacred Music course with the phenomenal Jennifer Berezan. My final project or paper is on Sound Healing: Its Practitioners, Tools, Efficacy and Meanings. I invited four sound alchemists to join me in a conversation on their work. I composed a series of questions and then forgot them. 

This is what I sent them as a way of introduction to the project: 

I am writing because you are all sound healers whose practice I value. My paper will be an ethnography pulling from indigenous traditions. I am really interested in African, Indigenous, non-Western traditions.

The questions I'd like you to think about are:

1. What is sound?

2. How do you describe what you do with sound? Does it have a name?

3.  How did you come to the work?

4. Please share your practice lineage, that is, your knowledge base and the tradition you follow. 

5. When I think about sound medicine, I think about energy-meridians, movement, core or Sacral Chakra work and mind-body-centeredness. What are your tools?

6. Who do you serve and why? 

Demonstrations are welcome. I do not mind participating. 

I have attached a meditation I created for this class. I often set my poetry to music. I don't always have a particular accompaniment in mind, I just know it when I hear it. It is a mutual attraction. Most of you know me, for two of you who don't, here is a short bio:

Ms. Wanda Sabir, a recently retired college professor, is now pursuing a doctorate in Women’s Spirituality. She is also a poet, essayist, journalist and depth psychologist with an interest in historic trauma and memory – the MAAFA. Initiatives Include: Wombfulness Gatherings (2021-present), Souljourning for Truth Project (2022-present). Her goal is to establish an intentional community for Black wom(b)en (60+). See wandaspicks.com

A Poetic Meditation

My teacher, Jennifer Berezen's song, written last year, before I met her, spoke to me. A visitor to our class this semester, Agu, who plays singing bowls and chimes--a song she composed spoke to me too. However, I do not have the copyright to either piece :-( 

"Blessings,"

By Wanda Sabir

In the first draft, I sang it (smile). You have the draft with a singing bowl and a tiny bit of vocals at the very end. It is 6 minutes. Thank you for your time. I look forward to hearing from those whom I have not already spoken to.

Sacred Music Paper Introduction

Working title: Heart Space, A Vanishing Frontier

          This ethnography looks at sound as medicine. How do such frequencies extend and expand life and well-being? What was once intuitive, a mother's soothing lullaby is now hertz waves one can create on a computer. Is one's well-being just a knob or a click away?

          We are birthed in rhythm. Heartbeats syncopated within a chamber just big enough, just big enough. Sound all around like a hug. It squeezes us awake.

          Yes, we are rhythmic. Our conception is divinity choreographed, a dance we learn then expand into a life.

           I asked friends who are sound healers to talk about what they do. This research I share is as much in the moment as it is eternal. Sound has always been here. We actively sort through and analyze and discard or ignore the troubled waves that disturb our collective and personal peace.

          Everything is not worthy of attention, yet for the hearing among us, it is easier said than done. Filtering is a skill we can learn.

          The human voice when not singing is the hardest, I find, to ignore. I keep my phone on silent intentionally as speech is often a disruption I cannot easily recover. I spare myself whenever possible. What's admitted passes through portals blessed ancestrally. I do none of this alone.

          I have survived a lot, death twice. Endings or near misses have a sound too. I remember the voices as I went into a simulated death. I remember the colors in my veins, the look of the room, the surrender to fate.

          The first time I encountered death was a surprise. All I remember is a loud metal crushing sound as my car was hit and the back seat met the front and my baby screamed.

Healing sounds

          Terence Elliott, "Doc. T," certified sound therapist, Kemetic reiki practitioner, says he wished he’d known in 2007 how to help his father who suffered from dementia/Alzheimer’s disease what he knows now about sound therapy's ability to slow the disease's progression.  Doc Is HiM (Healing in Music) – doctishim.com. 

          Damu Sudi Alii's creative work keeps him going. His cancer has metastasized and is incurable, yet he is still here composing melodies, writing poetry and between visits to the emergency room working on a tribute concert next month for his friends Kenneth Byrd and Kamau Seitu, who are ancestors. The concert is at Oaktown Jazz Workshop.

          Racquel McNeil Washington, MA, a birth doula, is a friend and former student of a friend. I thought about the babies we carry. Racquel is a mother whose baby died before its birth.  The Queen's Collective Birthing honors the mothers and their babies who are just beyond reach. I thought about the sound healing she practices to honor sanctuary and the journey forward into a world where mothers cannot always protect or shield their young ones.

          How is sound not just medicine but a protection shield, a buffer, a reminder, a place of spiritual return?

          The womb is a place of return too. We can restart whenever there is a soul need. Grief is a place of rest. It's the bench by the water.

Loss.

          There is no hurrying past or through human experience. Beginnings and endings and all the life stuff in the middle have its own soundtrack.

Listen.

          I met Curtis Robertson Jr. at a ritual healing from slavery retreat a few years ago. I was preparing for a gratitude pilgrimage and my Iya told me this retreat which she had participated in earlier, would help me center. I went. I am now a part of the Deep Time Liberation community. We have a cohort that meets quarterly. Curtis hosted our last meeting.

        Curtis is a musician (acoustic bass), composer, nurse, death doula, yoga teacher and meditation leader. I was so honored when he agreed to speak with me.

Let the journey begin.

Kindness is my religion.

God is change.

Good lives above me, it follows me, it papers my path, it seeds my soul. It is all that I need to live well. It is my nourishment. It is what I plant and water.

Aṣe.

Meeting summary for Sound Healing Interview with Racquel McNeil Washington (11/25/2024)

Quick recap

Ms. Wanda and Racquel discussed their spiritual practices, including meditation, prayer, and the use of sound healing instruments for emotional release and chakra balancing. They also explored the potential of sound healing in their respective practices, with Racquel sharing her experiences as a reproductive justice birth worker and medicine woman. The conversation concluded with discussions on Racquel's upcoming book project, her plans for an album with her son, and the use of her YouTube channel for sound healing videos.

Summary

Collective Prayer and Ancestor Invocation

Ms. Wanda and Racquel discussed their early morning meditation and prayer sessions, focusing on the ascension of a significant figure. They decided to record their conversation for future reference. They then led a collective prayer, inviting their ancestors, particularly their grandmothers and great-grandmothers, into the space. They acknowledged the sacredness of the space and sought to envelop it with protection. Racquel also called in her own ancestors, including her great-grandmother, Annie Bell, and those she did not know by name.

Healing Journeys and Ancestral Practices

Ms. Wanda and Racquel discussed their journeys as healers and medicine women. Racquel shared her experiences as a reproductive justice birth worker, emphasizing her role in supporting individuals through various phases of parenthood. She also discussed her journey with plant medicine, which has strengthened her ancestral practices. Racquel introduced sound healing to her life, incorporating it into her daily routine with her son. She shared a recent experience where a client had a profound journey during a sound bath, which led to a deeper

understanding of the healing power of sound.

Sound Healing Instruments and Techniques

Racquel showcased her collection of sound healing instruments, including sound bowls, tuning forks, and various drums. She explained how she uses these instruments to facilitate sound baths and healing sessions, both in her home and when she takes her orchestra to different locations. Racquel also shared her techniques for using the instruments to elicit different emotional responses, such as using the tuning forks to activate pressure points and the drums to mimic the heartbeat. She emphasized the importance of creating space for emotional release and inviting participants to receive the healing energy.

Sound Healing and Chakra Balancing

Racquel and Ms. Wanda discussed the use of sound healing in their practices. Racquel explained how she uses sound bowls to identify and balance chakras in the body, with loud sounds indicating a strong, balanced chakra and muted sounds indicating a blockage. She also shared her experiences with using sound healing for postpartum women, focusing on the throat, heart, root, and sacral chakras. Racquel emphasized the importance of honoring connections between different chakras and using sound healing to help people tune into their intuition. The conversation also touched on Racquel's personal experiences with sound healing, including a moment when a friend's drumming helped her realize her sacral chakra was blocked.

Racquel's Affirmations and Chakra Work

Racquel discussed her approach to affirmations and chakra work, emphasizing the importance of personal experience and guidance from ancestors and spirit. She explained how she uses affirmations to connect with different chakras, such as "I am divine" for the crown chakra and "I am worthy of love" for the heart chakra. Racquel also shared her use of herbs and movement in her practice, noting that certain herbs like yarrow can be beneficial for specific chakras due to their color and properties. She mentioned that her knowledge is a combination of her training, personal study, and lived experience.

Sound Healing and Virtual Challenges

Racquel and Ms. Wanda discussed Racquel's upcoming book project, which will focus on sound healing, movement, and other healing modalities. Racquel also mentioned her plans to create an album with her son, featuring sound healing and affirmations for children and parents. They also discussed the challenges of recording sound baths and healing events virtually, with Racquel expressing her intention to improve the technology side to offer these services to a wider audience. Racquel also shared her belief in the exponential impact of her work, as she feels that her teachings are often passed on to others, extending her reach beyond the individuals she directly works with.

Sound Bowls for Meditation and Healing

In the meeting, Racquel and Ms. Wanda discussed the use of sound bowls for meditation and healing. Racquel explained how she uses the bowls, including the addition of rose petals and yarrow, and how they can be used to invite different energies. She also guided Ms. Wanda through a short sound bath, encouraging her to observe her breath and find comfort in her body. Racquel emphasized the importance of exploring pleasure and saying 'yes' and 'no' to things in life. The conversation ended with Racquel suggesting that Ms. Wanda take her time to slowly come out of the meditation.

Sound Healing and Indigenous Practices

Racquel and Ms. Wanda discussed Racquel's YouTube channel, which features sound healing videos. Racquel mentioned she sometimes shares pre-recorded videos instead of bringing her crystal bowls to events. They talked about connecting with Dr. Fulami, an expert on Indigenous healing practices. Racquel explains she tries to maintain balance and not overcommit. They end by wishing each other well.  Edited AI-generated content.

Meeting summary for Sound Healing Interview with Curtis Robertson, Jr. (11/26/2024)

Quick recap

Curtis and Ms. Wanda had a casual conversation about their personal experiences, with Curtis leading a meditation session and sharing his passion for music. They also discussed the power of sound, the interconnectedness of all living beings, and the role of music in healing and transcending difficulties. The conversation concluded with Curtis sharing his personal practices, his journey into nursing, and his commitment to serving the black community.

Summary

Meditation Session on Healing and Love

Curtis led a meditation session, guiding participants to ground themselves and let go of their worries. He emphasized the importance of self-care and healing, drawing from his experiences as a musician, nurse, and meditation teacher. Curtis also shared his personal journey of resilience and his quest to bring greater wisdom and understanding to himself and others. The session concluded with a discussion on the path of healing and the role of love in this process.

Curtis' Passion for Music and Sound

Curtis shared his passion for music, highlighting the joy and inspiration he's experienced playing with various musicians over the years. He emphasized the importance of a shared vocabulary and repertoire in creating a unified sound, drawing on his experiences with jazz music. Curtis also expressed a sense of loss for the older musicians he's worked with, who have passed away. He concluded by reflecting on the concept of sound, both in terms of the instruments used and the anticipation of what's to come in a musical performance.

Exploring Silent Sound and Interconnectedness

Curtis discussed the concept of silent sound, which he defined as vibrations that humans cannot sense but still feel. He made a connection between this idea and the interconnectedness of all things, citing examples from science and indigenous knowledge. He also emphasized the role of sound in regulating the nervous system and its ability to evoke emotions and create a sense of grounding. Curtis expressed his appreciation for a meditation session that incorporated sound and breathing techniques.

Sound, Emotions, and Universal Connections

In the meeting, Curtis and Ms. Wanda discussed the power of sound and its connection to emotions and the universe. They talked about the importance of intuition and the ability to communicate through energy. They both appreciated the beauty of music and its ability to regulate the nervous system. 

Musical Journeys and Influences Discussed

Curtis shared how he started playing the bass at 14, initially as a way to keep the peace among his friends who all wanted to play guitar. He mentioned his early influences, including Gary Bartz, and how he eventually became a professional musician, working with notable musicians like Roy Haynes, Jean Carr, Norman Connors, and Charlie Mingus. Curtis also recounted a memorable encounter with Charlie Mingus, where he was pleasantly surprised by the musician's kindness. The conversation ended with Curtis reflecting on the unique "sound" of the air when surrounded by great musicians.

Curtis' Journey in Music and Legacy

Curtis, who is from Chicago, shared his experiences and reflections on his journey in music, particularly his time working with Lou Rawls. He emphasized the power of storytelling and the collective energy of live performances, describing them as a palpable vibration. Curtis also spoke about the connection he felt with Lou, who was from the same generation as his father, and the sense of lineage and legacy he felt while working with him. He expressed gratitude for the opportunity to be part of this lineage and to absorb the vibrations of the ancestors and the people who influenced Lou.

Reflective Conversation on Growth and Music

Curtis and Ms. Wanda engaged in a deep and reflective conversation, drawing from their personal experiences and the wisdom of various cultural and spiritual traditions. They discussed the importance of growth, the interconnectedness of all living beings, and the role of music in lifting spirits and transcending difficult topics. They also shared personal anecdotes, such as Ms. Wanda's encounter with Nancy Wilson and her thoughts on Oliver Mtukudzi's music. The conversation ended with Ms. Wanda seeking Curtis's insights on healing on different levels and the concept of ancestors living within us.

Exploring Curtis's Meditation and Practices

Ms. and Curtis discussed their personal practices and beliefs. Curtis shared his daily practice, which includes the "5 Remembrances" to create more spaciousness and mindfulness. He also mentioned his meditation practice, which sometimes involves guided meditations from the Plum Village App, and his appreciation for nature, often spending time in his garden and watching birds. Ms. Wanda expressed her interest in learning more about Curtis's meditation and other modalities he uses in his practice.

Exploring Sound and Meditation Practices

Curtis and Ms. Wanda discussed the use of sound in their daily practices. Curtis shared his personal experiences with humming, singing, and drumming, emphasizing the therapeutic and meditative effects of these activities. He also mentioned his mother's influence on his understanding of sound and vibration, and how she used singing as a way to transition to the afterlife. Curtis also mentioned his ongoing meditation group for black folks, which meets on Saturdays at 8:30 in the morning. 

Nature Sounds and Medical Transition

Curtis and Ms. Wanda discussed their shared appreciation for nature sounds, particularly the sounds of leaves and trees. Curtis mentioned his ability to hear these sounds more clearly in his quiet neighborhood and how they contribute to his calm state. He also shared his enjoyment of playing different kinds of music, including blues, jazz, and Latin music, and how he now has the freedom to play whatever he wants. Ms. Wanda asked about Curtis's transition into the medical field, to which he responded that he wanted to work in a field that would allow him to help people.

Curtis' Journey to Nursing and Doula

Curtis shared his journey of pursuing higher education and eventually becoming a nurse. He started taking classes 30 years ago and eventually enrolled in nursing school at the age of 56. Curtis brought his passion for music and meditation into his nursing practice, using them as healing modalities for his patients. He recently graduated from Alua Arthur's "Going with Grace" death doula course, expressing his interest in this field and his desire to be of service.

Personal Experiences and Shared Interests

Curtis shared his personal experiences of losing his parents and how it has shaped his life. He also discussed his journey into nursing and his interest in music and dance as a means of expressing deep emotions. Ms. Wanda discussed her online classes during Covid and her interest in the musician who produced an album at Grace Cathedral. She also mentioned Jamal Ali, a mutual friend, and shared her experience of helping him transition. Both participants expressed their interest in learning more about each other's interests and experiences.

Roles, Journeys, and Support Exchange

Curtis and Ms. Wanda had a conversation about their respective roles and journeys. Curtis expressed his role as a healer and his commitment to serving all living beings, particularly the Black community. He also mentioned his support for Ms. Wanda's doctoral journey. Ms. expressed her gratitude for Curtis's meditation and the introduction of the ancestors. They both wished each other well and agreed to continue their support for each other's journeys.

Meeting summary for Sound Healing Interview with Terence Elliott "Doc T" (11/26/2024)

Quick recap

Doc T and Ms. Wanda engaged in a wide-ranging conversation covering topics such as sound healing, African spirituality, and personal experiences. They discussed Doc T's journey as a sound healer, his musical background, and his current focus on using sound therapy for healing purposes. The conversation also touched on their shared interests in African culture, their plans for future projects, and the importance of rhythm and tone in their lives.

Summary

Art, Experiences, and Grounding Moment

In the meeting, Ms. Wanda and Doc T discussed various topics including art, personal experiences, and a grounding moment. Doc T led a meditation session, expressing gratitude for the new day and the blessings in their lives. The conversation then shifted to discussing Sekhmet, whose day it was, with Terence mentioning that Sekhmet is the goddess of war and peace and her color is red.

Terence's Sound Healing Journey Discussed

Terence shared his journey as a sound healer, highlighting his African cultural and spiritual connections. He discussed his training at the Globe Institute and his studies with Sister Kajara from Atlanta. Terence also mentioned his work with the Amen (?) organization, taking trips with mentees to the African continent. He expressed his desire to create an ebook on his sound therapy work and potentially teach it online. The conversation also touched on Terence's personal life, including his birth in Okinawa, his father's military career, and his connections to various cultural institutions.

Terence's Musical Journey and Sound Healing

Ms. Wanda and Terence discussed his musical journey, which began with his passion for music and teaching. Despite not being accepted into San Francisco State's music program, Terence pursued his passion and eventually became a dean at Contra Costa Community College.  However; he stepped down from this position due to personal issues and started writing a book about music and sound healing. Terence then found a new calling in sound therapy and obtained a certificate from the Global Institute. He also learned about Kemetic reiki from Kajira and continued to develop his skills as a musician and sound healer. Terence now plays music in senior centers and leads a drumming group called Brothers of the Drum.

Terence's Journey in Sound Therapy

Terence shared his journey of self-discovery and his current focus on sound therapy and healing. He explained that sound healing involves connecting with the vibrations and frequencies of sound, and he practices both prayer and meditation. Terence uses instruments like Himalayan bowls and crystal bowls to create tones and rhythms that can help unblock and heal. He emphasized the importance of breath and how it connects us to life and energy. Terence also discussed his connection to the rhythm of 6/8, which he finds particularly moving. The conversation ended with Terence reflecting on how his understanding of music and culture has evolved over time. He and Ms. Wanda also spoke about the work of playwright, August Wilson. 

Exploring Rhythm, Tone, and Chakras

Terence and Ms. Wanda discussed the importance of rhythm and tone in their lives, drawing parallels between music, breathing, and African rhythms. They explored how these rhythms can influence their daily lives and how they can be used to connect with their inner selves. They also touched on the concept of chakras and the idea of clearing stuck energy through sound baths. The conversation ended with a discussion about the crown chakra and the idea of writing a book about these concepts.

Exploring African Spirituality and Culture

Terence and Ms. Wanda discussed their shared interest in African spirituality and culture. Terence shared his journey of learning about African practices and how it has influenced his life. He mentioned his work on a book compiling his research on Sound Healing and his plans to create a movie about his experiences. Ms. Wanda shared her own experiences of translating African concepts into her work and the importance of understanding one's own cultural identity. They both acknowledged the influence of their peers and mentors on their personal growth and development. The conversation ended with Terence expressing his interest in featuring Ms. Wanda's work in his upcoming movie.

Shared Connections and Upcoming Events

Terence and Ms. Wanda discussed their shared connections and experiences. They reminisced about Denise, a mutual friend, and her passing. Terence mentioned his upcoming movie and expressed interest in Ms. Wanda sharing her insights on African spirituality for women in the film. They also discussed the upcoming 30th anniversary of the Maafa Commemoration and Terence's plans to attend. The conversation ended with Terence sharing a song about breathing and connecting with others, which Ms. Wanda found beautiful. They agreed to stay in touch and for Ms. Wanda to send Terence a copy of their conversation.  (The summaries are Edited AI-generated content.)

The Essay, Part 1

Ms. Wanda Sabir 

Professor Jennifer Berezan

Sacred Music Class, PARW 7020

14 December 2024

Heart Space, A Vanishing Frontier

An Ethnography: Sound Healers: 4 Stories, 4 Experiences 

          This ethnography looks at sound as medicine. How do such frequencies extend and expand life and well-being? What was once intuitive, a mother's soothing lullaby is now hertz waves one can create on a computer. Is one's well-being just a knob or click away?

          We are birthed in rhythm. Heartbeats syncopated within a chamber are just big enough, just big enough. Sound all around like a hug, squeeze us awake.

          Yes, we are rhythmic. Our conception is divinity choreographed, a dance we learn then expand into a life.

           I asked friends who are sound healers to talk about what they do. This research I share is as much in the moment as it is eternal. Sound has always been here. We actively sort through and analyze and discard or ignore the troubled waves that disturb our collective and personal peace.

          Everything is not worthy of attention, yet for the hearing among us, it is easier said than done. Filtering is a skill we can learn.

          The human voice when not singing is the hardest, I find, to ignore. I keep my phone silent intentionally as speech is often a disruption I cannot easily recover. I spare myself whenever possible. What's admitted passes through portals blessed ancestrally. I do none of this alone.

          I have survived a lot, death twice. Endings or near misses have a sound too. I remember the voices as I went into a simulated death. I remember the colors in my veins, the look of the room, the surrender to fate.

          The first time I encountered death was a surprise. All I remember is a loud metal crushing sound as my car was hit and the back seat met the front and my baby screamed.

Healing sounds

          Terence Elliott, "Doc. T," certified sound therapist, Kemetic reiki practitioner, says he wished he’d known in 2007 how to help his father who suffered from dementia/Alzheimer’s disease what he knows now about sound therapy's ability to slow the disease's progression.  Doc Is HiM (Healing in Music) – doctishim.com. 

          Damu Sudi Alii's creative work keeps him going. His cancer has metastasized and is incurable, yet he is still here composing melodies, writing poetry and between visits to the emergency room working on a tribute concert in December for his friends Kenneth Byrd and Kamau Seitu, who are ancestors. The concert is at Oaktown Jazz Workshop.

          Racquel McNeill Washington, MA, a birth doula, is a friend and former student of a friend. I thought about the babies we carry. Racquel is a mother who experienced pregnancy loss twice after her son’s birth.  The Queen's Collective Birthing honors the mothers and their babies who are just beyond reach. I thought about the sound healing she practices to honor sanctuary and the journey forward into a world mothers cannot always protect or shield their young ones.

          How is sound not just medicine but a protection shield, a buffer, a reminder, a place of spiritual return?

          The womb is a place of return too. We can restart whenever there is a soul need. Grief is a place of rest. 

          It's the bench by the water.

          Loss.

          There is no hurrying past or through human experience. Beginnings and endings and all the life stuff in the middle have its own soundtrack.

           Listen.

          I met Curtis Robertson Jr. at a ritual healing from slavery retreat a few years ago. I was preparing for a gratitude pilgrimage and my Iya Arisika Razak told me this retreat which she had participated in earlier, would help me center. I went. I am now a part of the Deep Time Liberation community. We have a cohort that meets quarterly. Curtis hosted our last meeting.

        Curtis is a musician (acoustic bass), composer, nurse, death doula, yoga teacher and meditation leader. I was so honored when he agreed to speak with me.

         Let the journey begin.

          Kindness is my religion.

          God is change.

           Good lives above me, it follows me, it papers my path, it seeds my soul. It is all that I need to live well. It is my nourishment. It is what I plant and water.

            Aṣe.

Literature Review
          This research is specifically for an audience interested in African-centered healers and healing practices. These four African Americans are experts in the field of sound healing. I could not find a lot of books or articles referencing African-centered sound healing. Even newer books did not reference African healing arts. Drumming books did not reference African healers. Only one book focused on African sound healing, Kusamira Music in Uganda: Spirit Mediumship and Ritual Healing by Peter J. Hoesing (2021). In Michell L. Gaynor's The Healing Power of Sound, there was no specific mention of African-centered sound healing. I might have missed it. If I did, please point it out to me. What I appreciated about Elena Avila's Woman Who Glows in the Dark: A Curandera Reveals Traditional Aztec Secrets of Physical and Spiritual Health was the way traditional cultures see health as mind, body and spirit alignment. Health is also communal. When someone in the community is sick, the entire community is imbalanced.  When I was in Rufisque, a city near Dakar, Senegal, West Africa, I stayed with a family of healers who healed mental illnesses through song and drumming and dance. The entire community knew the songs. Everyone would meet at the house where the ceremony was to take place and the person who was ill would lie down on the floor and the women would dance around her as the drummers played. The person would then be moved to a sheltered place to take medicine, rest and get better. Later, when the person was cured, an animal would be sacrificed and a feast would be held as a thank-you to the community. 
          When we traveled to Gambia, we met a woman from Rufisque and she and my friend sang these healing songs with a smile. It is a similar thing that happens when Black church women get together and start singing hymns. They all know these songs passed along through the generations. Curtis Robertson, Jr. says he heard Wynton Marsalis say on the Ken Burns' jazz series when you get 4, 5, 6 musicians together and they have a common vocabulary, they can travel anywhere in the world and play the blues in F.  

Research Questions:

What brought these people to their work? What are their tools? How is the medicine received?

Damu Sudi Alii Interview

          Damu Sudi Alii, a pianist, composer, and poet, says music was a philosophical station he was tuned to most of his life. Damu calls what he plays, Black Spiritual Music. It's improvisational and in the moment. Right now, there is an urgency, yet no one is rushing. Time moves at the same pace regardless, so why hurry? Yet, I feel sad because my friend is departing. I can't stop him; I can't follow him. It is out of these human hands or perhaps human hands hold mortality, especially Damu’s, whose hands are magical. His fingers sing.

          When I spoke to Damu he was two weeks away from his big reunion concert, Sunday, December 8, 2024, at Oaktown Jazz Workshop at Jack London Square in Oakland. He said his rehearsals were prayers. Damu hadn’t been feeling well, so he had Spencer Allen (pianist and drummer) standing by just in case he wasn’t able to perform. That lovely Sunday afternoon, Damu was as we say, “striding in high cotton,” the room filled to capacity.  He’d only expected about forty friends. He said, but those friends also brought other friends.  The concert was as much a tribute to his dear friends, Kamau Seitu (drummer) and Kenneth Byrd (flutist) as it was for Damu (pianist).          

          It was a good thing. 

          We sit outside tomorrow which eventually arrives. Is it as we expected? We can only hope. His latest album is entitled: Serenity (2023). 

In it he writes:

“Serenity" --My destiny, among the sun, and moon and stars—I'll fly away.

On that great day, don't cry for me--my soul will be free, we'll meet again. It's not the end.

Oh, the agony, sometimes pure ecstasy, bound up in this Black body God made especially for me.

400 years-- blood, sweat and tears, fighting to be free--

That's been my reality.

But when my time is over on the battlefield of life, I'll fly away to glory to contemplate the toil and strife.

Look down on my brave people pressing on and fighting still 

'Til God gives us the victory. 

I know my God will.

Oh, the victory when we all find serenity;

And all the joy and peace and love we feel within our hearts extend to all humanity.

Then truth will light the way, and love will save the day.

And all people will be free. That's the way God meant the world to be.

When the vocalist stops, Damu performs a beautiful piano solo.”

Sunday, Damu sang the song. What a treat, not that the vocalist on the CD is not excellent. His voice lent special meaning to the words. 

Listen to the interview on Wanda's Picks Radio
https://www.blogtalkradio.com/wandas-picks/2024/12/06/wandas-picks-radio-show

Spirit Calling

    The spirit world led Damu to art, what he calls, “the pathos and ethos of a people.” He needed to express himself. His worldview was segregated south, all Black schools, censorship. His family, who worried about their precocious, angry, young person, didn't realize the boy's desire to play piano was an inarticulate cry for help. He got his wish in school where he was mentored by the school band teacher. Damu stayed busy composing and playing music, then when he enlisted in the military after high school graduation, he was able to continue to play music.

      Damu said he was surprised at how prolific he still is in his 70s. He says he likes the insight music gives him.  It keeps him informed and helps him fulfill his purpose. Sudi, his second name, means one who fulfills his purpose.  “Art,” he feels is really " his purpose. “I have a message for the people.” He says.

       Damu, who is a great fan of Prophet (my word) James Baldwin quoted him as saying “’Our creations are not only our glory. They are also our only hope.’”  In “The Creative Process,” another Baldwin essay which speaks to the immediacy of life and love and truth, the writer says that often the price of artistic production is solitude. Creativity lives in the silence. 

          “[T]he conquest of the physical world is not man’s only duty. He is also enjoined to conquer the great wilderness of himself. The precise role of the artist, then, is to illuminate that darkness, blaze roads through that vast forest, so that we will not, in all our doing, lose sight of its purpose, which is, after all, to make the world a more human dwelling place.” 

         Damu’s artistic life is certainly a reflection of this. 

         Another person Damu cited who also defined the artist’s role in society, Marshall McLuhan, states, “‘Artists are like the antenna of the human race.’ We are the lookout." Actually, Ezra Pound said this, cited by McLuhan in his Second Edition of Understanding Media: The Extensions of Man. The complete quote is: “The power of the arts to anticipate future social and technological developments, by a generation and more, has long been recognized. In this century Ezra Pound called the artists ‘the antenna of the race.’ Art as radar acts as ‘an early alarm system,’ as it were, enabling us to discover social and psychic targets in lots of time to prepare to cope with them. The concept of the arts as prophetic contrasts with the popular idea of them as mere self-expression. If art is an ‘early warning system,’ to use the phrase from World War II, when radar was new, art has the utmost relevance. . . .”  

          The end of the Pound citation is “but the bullet-headed many will never learn to trust their great artists.’” What a shame, right? The artists’ struggle for his integrity is to become more human. It's a gift, Damu says and a charge. We receive inspiration from spirits. He tells me I helped him name water spirits: Orishas, Oṣun and Yemenja.

         Damu says, “when he washes his hands it's like a conversation with spirit. While he's washing his hands, he'll hear words, lyrics, poetry.” He mentions in the “Metu Neter ‘The Tree of Life,’ Geb is the material world.” He says, “Water, fire, air, earth, four elements are not as dense as our bodies, especially water and air.” 

         “I really feel the spirit of water, fire and air.” He says.

           The Tree of Life, Damu references, is the Metu Neter, Ancient Kemetic scripture. It is a philosophical tradition or way of thinking about life or spirituality that originated in the Nile Valley Civilization.  I found the Tree of Life really fascinating, especially given the topic, healing sounds and sound as sacred. In Tai Chi Chuh there are six healing sounds corresponding to a posture and movement. In the Metu Neter, we are told in the process of creating “physical reality sound vibrations are projected into primordial matter”  There are “Nine Emanations that shape all Physical reality from Atoms to Galaxies. . .”. 

         So what does this mean? It means that one, creation is ongoing and two, there are sounds that produce aspects of the divine such as “Omnipresence, ‘Au” sound; “Omniscience, ‘Hu” sound; “Omnipotence, ‘Kri” sound; One-ness, ‘Shri” sound; “Duality. . .”. There are nine sounds.  Within the same Tree of Life there are descriptions of the “eleven spheres which make up the Spiritual Anatomy of Man.”  

          I mention this because Damu mentions “Heru” and “Geb”, both Neteru or spirit beings, also called angels, ancestors, or Orisha, depending on the tradition. “Neter Geb, Sphere 10 is the manifestation of the earth in the universe as locus of man’s consciousness. Neter Heru, Sphere 6, is the manifestation of the individual will in the universe”  Neter Heru is important because the free will expressed here to either obey or disobey divine law which is “the basis of Human Divinity” is a choice to live according to one’s highest good or bind oneself to the lower spheres.  

          The preferred spheres are enumerated (0-5): Amen-the Source of All Life and Consciousness, Neter Ausar, Neter Tehuti, Neter Seker, Neter Maat, Neter Herukhuti. These Neter that are elevated are not connected to the earth. With Heru (6) midway between 0-5, Neter Geb, Earth, is tenth. Geb is the son of “Shu (Air) and Tefnut (Moisture). Geb is also the twin brother and husband of the sky goddess, Nut. I digress. 

Water Spirits Call Damu

          Motherly love and nurturing are represented by Neter Auset who is translated as Yemonja in the West African Ifa tradition. Neter Het Heru is Oṣun in the Ifa tradition.  Damu is called to water spirits. Once he has names, Oṣun and Yemonja, he says he used Google speaker to do research which led him to Heru, a fire spirit.  Damu said, “Art helps put our minds in a higher dimension.” Perhaps the dimension Damu references here is the “Tree of Life”? It is fascinating that consciousness has a sound. Spirit beings can be literally in tune.  

          “When I hear Donnie Hathaway's 'Music for My Soul,' my soul gets happy,” Damu says. He compares this happiness to his experience in a holiness church. When congregants start dancing in the aisles and speaking in tongues—this too is called “happiness.” W.E.B. Du Bois and other western scholars saw this ecstatic worship as something unique to African people. For these people, spirit walked in sanctified spaces. 

           In these churches ushers stood by to catch people, pick people up, hold people who might swing their arms wildly, guide people running up and down aisles to keep them safe. 

           Damu and I agreed, once a person has an encounter with spirit the person is changed. Music conjures spirit. Artists have a responsibility to not abuse their gifts at conjuring. Damu says, “Two souls dwell within my breast, the one tries to defeat the other. There is a battle for the human soul. Recruitment is ongoing.”

Music is transformative

     “I was destined to play music. I am a music spirit.” Damu reflects. Lots of obstacles kept him from being able to play music. He asked for piano lessons. His dad told him the family could barely feed him and his sister. Yet, setbacks didn't deter him, poverty as a child or ill health as an adult.  Damu has a contingency plan even now as he prepares for a concert he might not feel well enough to perform. 

         Damu celebrates his creativity and new insight. He marvels over his recent ability to hear music in his mind and compose in notation. He calls it "pitch memory." Damu had admired this skill in others and now it is his own.  He says this is the best transcription of music in his life at a time when things like his health are declining. He wrote the song “Serenity” three years ago. “It is a worthy composition.” He admits modestly.  As he sits at piano “the vibration, the spirit takes over like the woman shouting in the church.” Damu shares. “I play music and the spirit takes over.” It is otherworldly.  

          He says, “I hope there will be moments like that Dec. 8.” 

          There were lots of moments like this Sunday, December 8, from the first note to the last. 

          John Coltrane’s “Naima” was on the set list. Damu dedicated it to his younger daughter who shares the same name. In our conversation, Damu spoke of the spiritual intensity in John Coltrane's “A Love Supreme” and Pharaoh Sanders's “The Creator Has a Master Plan”. His concert evoked the divine as the Damu Sudi Alii Quintet+ opened the tap with a credit card. It was all good.  

Black Spiritual Music

         Damu’s sister didn't like his choice of music on their shared radio. We also talked about a person who told Damu he didn't like any kind of music.  He couldn’t comprehend the sentiment.  “Music is healing...soothes the savage beast,” he says. Even so, sometimes trauma can be associated with a song.

          Damu answers when asked if his music has helped a person through a rough time, “yes.” Barbara, widow, co-teacher with Damu told him when she listened to Serenity, that she enjoyed the music and it helped in her grieving process. Barbara, a flutist, performed at the concert too.

          Damu shared he was writing out charts for the horns, for Kamau's music. The song is “No More Exploitation.” He’d had the charts, but since he lost his vision he could not find the charts once his family moved him to a new apartment a couple years ago. Erich Hunt, bassist and member of the ensemble, checked the charts for Damu then picked up music and delivered it to Barbara along with a Serenity CD. She said, “Oh Damu, that's such a beautiful CD.” Damu said it’s important to get such validation from peers. 

       Another person who told Damu how much Serenity meant to her was Mama Oyin, who is one of the founders of the Ile Omede childcare. Damu and Barbara taught music at the school there for a number of years. Mama Oyin ran the preschool out of her house initially, and took care of Damu's son, Jabari, then four. She helped Damu when he was a single father. She lives in Atlanta now.  Everyone who knows Damu in this community knows Jabari. On Sunday, at the concert, the temperature rose a little higher as Jabari, now in his 40s played, Jade Sunset, an original composition on the Serenity CD, he also produced. Damu got up and danced as Jabari played. It was a moment when spirit and sound met in embodied oneness: father and son. 

     Mama Oyin said Serenity brought tears of joy to her eyes. She then shared the music with a mutual friend who lives near her—the response was similar. 

Shape Shifting

        One's circumstances can certainly shape one's destiny as Damu Sudi Alii's life does from childhood to now. His spiritual throughline is expressed through Black Spiritual Music his preferred renaming of jazz or Black Classical Music.

Racquel McNeil Washington Interview

          Racquel McNeil Washington says each time she reflects on her journey it is renewed: her birth, death, rebirth story feels new.  She says her reproductive justice work began in high school. She was the person who gave her friends information about contraceptives and safer sex. She also held girls' hands at abortion clinics. As a young woman she knew these Black girls had a right to control and make decisions about what happened to their bodies and that "they deserved support in all of these phases."

        Later when she had her experience with pregnancy loss and needed support, she could not find it. Her therapist told her she did not know how to help her patient who experienced two consecutive pregnancy losses in 2017, 2018. It was tending to the needs of the son she had that helped restore Racquel as she reached out to her community to locate resources to help her recover, to heal from this grief. In 2023 she published Embracing Light After Loss: Guided Journal for Healing After Pregnancy Loss and started the Queen’s Collective Birthing Support Group.     

        Racquel says in a recent interview, she wanted to provide support for women through their grieving process. She says in retrospect, she didn't immediately see the connection between abortion and pregnancy loss. However, they are the same. Women who are mothers experience “different ways of moving across the spectrum of parenthood that ends with you not holding a baby in your arms. Folks make these decisions for a variety of reasons.”  Proper information and support make the consequences a bit easier (my words) to handle.

Grief is grief. Loss is loss.

         In her healing journey, Racquel immediately started to look at food as medicine: why and what her family cooked. After her son was born, she deepened her herbal practice. She was searching for natural products for his skin. She was also looking for natural products to help with her postpartum journey, to support both mother and child's nervous systems. It's an ever-evolving process, Racquel says. "My journey with plant medicine practice has strengthened my ancestral practice. And my journey as a parent has also strengthened my ancestral practice."

          Her son made her aware of ancestral presence. He can both see and hear spirit beings. Racquel’s grandfather died when her father was seven, so she never met him, but her son sees and speaks with his great-grandfather. "He calls my grandfather, 'Grandpa Ghost.' And when he started seeing him and talking about him, I knew he was able to tap into that world. I didn't get to meet him, so it was profound to hear him say, 'he here. He in my room. He coming with us.'"

          This Racquel says, tangibly deepened her ancestral connection. She put up an ancestral altar, began to make offerings and spend intentional time with them. She said she began to "acknowledge they were walking with her." She also began to ask for help with situations she couldn't handle. She’d say, "Look, I know you guys got this!"  Just this assertion helped ease her anxiety.  It was what Mary Watkins, scholar, calls “accompaniment.”  Racquel’s accompaniment was a spiritual witnessing, rather than support from her therapist or a professional in pregnancy loss, but it worked. Racquel says that her friend offered sound healing through her yoga services and that she liked it, and then three or four years ago she was offered a scholarship to train with Dr. Fulami Devoe, Holistic Alchemy, Self-Care Ritualist.  Always in her thoughts when such opportunities arise is how this training will expand her business and extend her service offerings to her community.

          She and her son attended the training, so he is also a sound alchemist as well. Not only are folks from the invisible realm present these guides have placed an ambassador in her world in the form of this little being, her son. He is also a medicine person, a spirit being too. When she goes out, and again because he is always with her, her son is picking up instruments and giving the sound bath as well. Once they got these new tools they incorporated the tools into their own lives. Racquel wakes her son with sacred sound.

         Racquel started with tuning forks and a small Tibetan singing bowl. She already had the singing bowl. She and her son would sit together and do their meditation. Sometimes the mother and son alternate on whose giving and receiving a sound bath. Racquel has recorded videos on her website and is working on a recording or audio CD.

        We talk about a recent appointment with a client who was postpartum. Racquel says sound healing is a "gateway drug to rest."

        "I have yet to meet a well-rested mother."

        “Last week my client and I spent time talking and processing her childbirth before the treatment.” Time got away from the two of them, so Racquel said, "she performed the shortest sound bath ever."

        “Her initial instructions to the person are to check their breath, get comfortable in their body, and lastly to take a journey with the sound.”

          Racquel says she made the recommendations spiritually. Sometimes she says prayers aloud.  Afterwards, for the first time in her practice, her client freely shared her journey. "I know people go places,” Racquel said. She can see the movement in their bodies, “but [she] doesn’t know where they are going." 

          This time though she got the story! Racquel says, “As I played I could see her going and coming back, opening her eyes...but I didn't know what was going on.  She says, “I called the ancestors in to give her what she needed and to remind her they were there and to support her in all the ways she needed.  When the sound bath was over, [the woman] sat up. She was crying before she sat up. She then told me the places she'd been.

        “She described each instrument and what it brought out: 

She said one reminded her of the music box with a ballerina she played with as a girl.

She got messages about her parenting and current parenting and healing that needed to happen.

When she was transported, she got to see her grandmother holding her baby. Her baby transitioned in October. That was hard, but it was also comforting to see [the baby with its great-grandmother] together.

          “I thought this was beautiful and ironic and timely, because I was going to be talking to you this morning.  I was playing the sound bowls for all seven chakras, Koshi chimes. I have a lot of instruments.” Racquel then showed me all the different instruments she uses with a story. She has Frogs in three sizes. They are hollow inside. The crystal bowls are delicate, so she doesn't take them out all the time. Ocean drum can be a gentle sound like rain or water.  Racquel said she sometimes shakes it vigorously to bring something up in a person to release, move through and wash away. She has a tongue drum for babies. It has slots and a mallet. Playing the tongue drum helps babies learn how to regulate their emotions. She has a hanging chime set and another chime she uses to signal the end and to bring people back into the room, a rain stick, a shell shaker, four Koshi chimes, a set of tuning forks. The om fork is good for balancing and cleansing. She says they are all tuned to a Hertz frequency (528 Hz is good for trauma healing; 963 Hz is the God frequency; 432 Hz reduces stress, promotes relaxation). She also has Universal tuning forks for sweeping and clearing energy at start of session. 

         As this interview was in Zoom, Racquel also showed me how when she hits on the body. It vibrates. You can see it vibrating. It also makes a slight ringing sound. I have experienced tuning forks before in body work sessions. 

          Racquel says, “She can also use the fork to activate different parts of the body. For individual sound baths she uses the fork to sweep and clear energy, to make space for what's about to happen. She also puts on pressure points, chakra...the head opens intuition and clears the mind.”  She puts the fork on the “throat Chakra to open the throat and say the same affirmations you would say for these Chakra.” Most importantly, she puts the fork in people's palms before she starts the treatment to invite them to receive the medicine, so they are not blocking the treatment. 

          There are also different points for stress and anxiety, and relaxation and things like that. She starts at the head and moves down to the person's feet. Once she finishes with tuning forks she moves into the instruments.  Her sessions are one hour. So, with the young woman who she saw who shared her journey, she prepared her quickly: swept her energy and then Racquel asked her client’s ancestors to receive the healing and [hers] to help her do it really quickly.

          We laugh.

          Racquel then shared another drum. Her Tibetan sound bowl is on her altar. She also has a Moroccan shaker.  Some instruments on her altar don't move with the set that she has upstairs. These are for personal use and ancestor practice.  The drum that she shares last, “mimics the sound of the heartbeat. She uses it to bring people back to their body.” 

          She says, “With its cadence or rhythm, she's able to change up the energy within the person for a variety of reasons. You could make a person excited if you beat the drum fast, and then you could use the same rhythm to help them calm down.”

          This is something that she pays attention to in her practice. She said, "I know people are coming to me with some level of trauma, so I play the instrument to bring it up so that we can move through it if that makes sense?

          I answer yes.

          When asked how she reads the person’s energy she said she really can’t explain it. It is not clinical like taking a pulse. It is an energetic conversation between herself and the person’s body and spirit. 

         “She says, “It's spiritual, energetic and ancestral. I engage in conversation. I pick up on verbal and nonverbal cues, and honestly, I sometimes get messages, from spirit and from the ancestors. It is taking me a while in all these practices, to get really comfortable because I've engaged in traditional learning. The original learning I've gotten through lived experience. This learning through lived experience is through spirit. I have not gotten this training through traditional methods.

        “I did have the sound healing training, But I'm working against this whole impostor syndrome. Is it that Black people can't have impostor syndrome? I will go through I don't know what I'm doing why am I here. Then I'm reminded that it's in me.” 

         I agree, it really is.

         “Yes because I cannot explain the rationale to somebody else in a way that they can understand, it doesn't mean that it isn't real. Does this make sense?”

          Yes, I respond. I know exactly what you are talking about. Considering how she calls the ancestors into the room with her and the patient or the person who is getting the treatment she's probably getting messages from a variety of spiritual sources. I'm thinking the tuning into the spiritual frequencies that are within the person and around the person also helps her in in deciding how to approach a particular healing session.  If you're moving through spirit there's no need for words. You pick up an instrument, pick a tool and it works. You get immediate feedback.

         Racquel said, “right.”  “I have tuned into the way the instruments give me immediate feedback. The bowls are each tuned to a particular frequency and I feel they are a window to help me understand where there are blockages in different parts of your spirit, your chakras. For me when the bowls sing really loud, that's an indication that that chakra is functioning strongly and is in balance. If the bowl is not making any sound or making very little sound, then to me that is an indication that the chakra needs work. Sometimes I can play the bowl long enough, that the chakra will get tuned and back in balance.”

          “Sometimes I make a prescription for practices a patient needs to do to get the chakra in balance. It may include giving a person affirmations to say, a recommendation for teas and herbs to support that chakra. My first recommendation is always foods and affirmations to engage those chakras.”

         After that she prescribes herbal remedies, food, physical movement—yoga and dance, plus other activities.

         She gives an example.  “My sacral chakra was blocked for a long time. I thought my bowl was broken. I was like, I'm going to send this bowl back because it's not playing. One day a friend came by and played the bowl and it was loud, and Racquel said, "it wasn’t the bowl, it was me."  Racquel then used the sacral chakra bowl in treating others sometimes it would play and sometimes it would sing really loud.

          My friend who shook the ocean drum came over and was playing the instruments. I was lying down. It's not often I get a sound bath, because I do it. People are not offering as much.  Racquel said that when she lay down and her friend was playing the sacral chakra bowl and she started getting aroused, it was her, not the bowl that needed tuning.

         “That baby was singing” and she hadn't sang like that for Racquel. She says. So, the healer would play the bowl and see how much louder she would get or was she muted again.  

          The healing can be specific. In the postpartum period, Racquel focuses on all the chakras, but the ones that come up for her are the throat, heart, root and sacral chakras.

           “The throat is people needing to speak up and ask for what they need or say what is on their mind.  As women, many of us, hold back, suppress refuse to act. I tend to lean into the throat Chakra.” She said. The technician activates this chakra and makes sure the throat chakra is wide open for us.

The Heart

          Racquel said, “When we're experiencing grief we tend to want to close our heart. I play the heart chakra bowl to help people open up to receive in a variety of ways.  The sacral chakra is the place our womb was housed, specifically during the perinatal period focus here helps with [perhaps emotional] balance. The sacral chakra is also the seat of creativity, power and all of that, she says.” She wants to help women stand in that.  The root chakra is connected to family, home, life and balance.

          “I do like to bring in crown chakra and third eye specifically for mothers, to tune into their intuition and honoring that and learning to honor that.”

          She plays bowls in combination to honor such connections like the throat and the womb or sacral chakra. Honoring the connection between the heart and the womb. Honoring the connection between one's intuition and the throat. She plays different bowls in combination with one another. She also recites affirmations aloud or in her head. She is also praying in her head and talking to ancestors. The direction a healing takes depends on how she is being lead in that treatment moment. Sometimes she feels like the instruments are enough. Other times people need more encouragement to get what she is trying to give.

          Sometimes she lets the instruments and spirit speak. Racquel is working on an album. We spoke about herbs and their colors and how the colors activate the chakras with similar colors yellow and yarrow a protection plant, good for enforcing boundaries, and solar plexus, the third Chakra, just above the navel is the center of energy in the body. 

          Racquel is healing the body in front of her and the energies that accompany the person. She speaks of her generational healing focus. If we are our ancestors, as Professor James Small and Thich Nhat Hahn state, then healing the one is potentially healing the all.

To be continued.

                                              Bibliography

Alii, Damu Sudi. “Serenity” on Serenity, 2023, compact disc. 

Amen, Ra Un Nefer. Metu Neter Vol.1: The Great Oracle of Tehuti and the Egyptian System of Spiritual Cultivation. Brooklyn: Khamit Media Trans Visions, Inc., 1990.

Avila, Elena, with Joy Parker. Women Who Glow in the Dark: A Curandera Reveal Traditional Aztec Secrets of Physical and Spiritual Health. New York: Jeremy P. Tarcher/Penguin, 2000. 

Baldwin, James.  “The Creative Process,” In Creative America. Ridge Press, 1962.

Elliott, Terence. Spirit, Rhythm, and Story: Community Building and Healing through Song. Murrells Inlet: Covenant Books, 2019, digital edition. 

Gaynor, Mitchell L. The Healing Power of Sound: Recovery from Life-Threatening Illness Using Sound, Voice, and Music. Boulder: Shambala, 1999. 

Hoesing, Peter J. Kusamira Music in Uganda: Spirit Mediumship and Ritual Healing. Champaign: University of Illinois Press, 2021. http://jstor.org/

McLuhan, Marshall. Understanding Media: The Extensions of Man, Second Edition. MIT Press, 1994

Small, James. “Honoring Our Ancestors” in “Caravan to the Ancestors” at Houston National Black United Front, 12:00, https://www.facebook.com/nbufhouston/videos/professor-james-small-speaks-on-honoring-our-ancestors/1100436720603367/

“The Tree of Life & The Emanations of Physical Reality” in Afrikan History, Kemet, February 1, 2022, afrikaiswoke.com

Hanh, Thich Nhat. “How to love and understand your ancestors when you don’t know them?, Plum Village, 12:29, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pdodGeRNjt0

 

Washington, Racquel. Embracing Light After Loss: Guided Journal for Healing After Pregnancy Loss. Coppell: The Queen’s Circle, 2023.

Watkins, Mary.  “Psychosocial Accompaniment,” in Journal of Social and Political Psychology, 2015, Vol. 3(1), 324–341, doi:10.5964/jspp.v3i1.103