My Answer To Violencefeatured

Recently, I’ve experienced an extremely cruel and severe instance of harassment. 

 

This person made libelous claims about me, used racial slurs towards me, and most heinously, attempted to harm my 3 year old through defamation and the weaponization of child welfare systems. 

 

I was doxxed, aggressively harassed on social media, and had to cooperate with multiple components of the current US “justice” system as a result of this person weaponizing this system against me, an ascribed Black Woman, and my child. 

 

To say this experience was painful is an understatement. 

 

Upon learning that my child was being publicly defamed and that his name was being publicly shared alongside some horrific and shocking false claims, I broke down before my altar until emotional exhaustion numbed me.

 

Being threatened with and receiving contact from child welfare services as an ascribed Black mother, who carries the trauma of forceful family separation in my DNA, and has witnessed the repercussions of needless child welfare involvement in racialized families, was triggering in a way that I struggle to describe. 

 

Here I was, a more than good-enough mother who had raised a happy, healthy child. And yet, because someone decided I was a worthy target, they felt justified in attempts to cause lasting harm to my family—fully aware of the fact that me being an ascribed Black Woman and solo mother would make us even more vulnerable to systemic violence.

 

Through all of this, I documented and shared my experience publicly. 

 

I was incredibly fortunate to have a strong support system. I leaned heavily on my family and friends. I received an outpouring of support, affirmation, and encouragement, even from people I did not know. 

 

Unfortunately and expectedly, the system did not help me. It was never designed to.

 

A protection order was granted, a police report was made for subsequent harassment, and the violence continued. The heinous claims made about my child and I along with the sharing of our identifying information was deemed “freedom of speech”.

 

Unfortunately and less expectedly, community could not do much for my situation either. 

 

For all of the talk I hear about abolition, and “we keep us safe“, I received little to no communication or resources from local organizers or leaders. 

 

At the same time, my decision to involve law enforcement was frowned upon.

 

It was both hurtful and eye-opening.

 

Ultimately, what led me back to my peace and sense of safety was not the system, a weapon, or other beings outside of myself.

 

It was my spiritual practice;

 

wailing at my altar, conversing with my Ancestors, praying to Santa Muerte, and using Conjure to solidify my lived reality of my family’s safety. 

 

Before this experience, I had been in a period of inconsistency with my spiritual practice.

 

I still gave thanks, still acknowledged my ancestors and Santa Muerte. However, quality time became infrequent and anxiety was more present as I grew distant from my family on the other side. I became largely based in the physical and neglected my spiritual hygiene. 

 

It wasn’t until this infliction of violence upon my family that I truly returned Home. 

 

To rediscover my peace, I had to experience the full intensity of the hurt, rage, and powerlessness this situation left me with. I poured my heart and soul onto my altar and begged for help. 

 

It was in this moment that I remembered; through all my life, none has been more impactful than my connection to Spirit. 

 

I needed no written law, no system, no weapon, no being outside of myself to save me—only my relationship with the Source from which I came.

 

My Ancestors gave words that soothed my heart, and guided me to petition them in a way that was aligned with restorative justice—with complete disregard for systems based on profit and retribution. 

 

As I sat in the feeling of my Ancestors coming alive through me, washing the wounds of my heart with their Love, I was led back to clarity. 

 

I wrote my petition, placed it upon my altar beneath one of many Santa Muerte figures, and knew I did the most effective thing I could’ve done to ensure the safety of my family. 

 

Since then, I’ve had an unshakable peace in my heart. 

 

No other course of action was able to give that to me.

 

Conjure is a gift from my Ancestors who survived enslavement and the very extremes of systemic brutality long before I came to life in this body. 

 

Conjure helped them survive, gave them hope, gave them freedom. 

 

Conjure has taught me that if it is real in my heart, I will see it before my eyes. 

 

Conjure is the only thing that truly makes me feel safe.

 

I don’t fully understand why systems and community orgs were unable or unwilling to intervene in this occurrence of violence upon me and my child. 

 

However, as painful and frustrating as this experience was, I am grateful.

 

Without the failure of other forces to intervene and protect us, it likely would’ve taken me much longer to return to my Home, to my Ancestors, and our sacred practice. 

 

This experience has reignited my belief that we need some kind of anchor within ourselves to help us navigate the many stresses of life on earth. 

 

Ultimately, we cannot control the actions or in-action of others. The only thing within our control is our state of mind. 

 

As someone who has experienced firsthand, many times, how my state of mind can inspire change in my life and the world around me, I believe it is the only thing worth having control over.

 

Whether it’s an overtly spiritual practice such as Conjure or Christianity, or a subtly spiritual practice, such as daily expressions of creativity or moments of connection with our environment, we need habits that allow us to maintain a bond with our Innermost Self. 

 

It is the only part of us that can grant the peace we need to take action that will lead us—and all around us—in the direction of growth.