"Blood is thicker than water" was never the full story. This is about the covenant bonds forged in spirit, not womb—how some strangers come carrying the medicine your family never could. It’s about the holy weight of choosing yourself, the grief of walking away, and the miracle of being held by those who were never asked to but did anyway. This is family, reborn.

A personal, spiritual coming out told through memory, mirror, and fire. This piece reclaims queerness as sacred, sensual, and sovereign—not deviation, but destiny. Published with love, pride, and provocation. Happy Pride 🏳️‍🌈

Some journeys don’t start with a map. They begin with a feeling—an urgency, a hunger, a pull. This is about honoring the detour, trusting the timing, and letting the unknown shape you. It’s about the beauty of walking roads that twist, double back, and still somehow lead exactly where you’re meant to be. A reflection on movement, memory, and the quiet power of becoming.

She was sacrificed. She was crowned. She was dismissed. She was Divine. The memory reassembled itself—precise, unrelenting, and impossible to ignore.

What we were taught to fear in each other—and in ourselves—was never ours to carry. This piece explores how honoring the full, sacred spectrum of Black identity becomes an act of ancestral fidelity, spiritual liberation, and collective healing.

An uncompromising revelation on orgasm as prophecy, power, and presence. Rooted in ancestral wisdom, spiritual eroticism, and personal resurrection, these words unravel the politics of pleasure and reframe ecstasy as sacred memory. A manifesto for those ready to feel on purpose—and come home to themselves.

An exploration of the afterlife of ancestral sound, Redemption Song explores the spiritual legacy encoded in music, memory, and resistance. It’s instruction. A portal through which song becomes strategy, and remembering becomes action.

Where Are You Landing traces the intelligence of movement, memory, and return. It speaks to those who navigate by ancestral instruction—who move with timing shaped by memory and arrive where recognition meets readiness.

This is presence as power.
This is motion as method.
This is home as alignment.

When the body opens, it doesn’t just invite touch—it initiates transformation. This piece traces the spiritual, psychological, and ancestral impact of sex, cutting through shame, and disconnection to ask: What are you really letting in? An excavation of erotic memory, energetic residue, and sacred discernment.

A meditation on purpose, power, and becoming. Through sharp prose and intimate truths, this piece explores what it means to live intentionally, especially when your path doesn’t look like anyone else’s. From unlearning survival scripts to reclaiming sacred callings, it’s a love letter to those who are still becoming—and doing it on purpose.

This editorial interrogates the racial, spiritual, and economic double standards that make it acceptable to fund pulpits but shame priestesses. It explores why Black women spiritualists are feared, underpaid, and often erased, while religious and wellness institutions thrive. Drawing on ancestral memory, historical scholarship, and lived experience, it dismantles the myth that healing should be free—and reframes sacred work as worthy of compensation, reverence, and recognition.

This editorial is a love letter for the displaced, the gifted, and the spiritually dislocated. Buried in Our Blood explores the psychic and cellular memories carried by the African diaspora—how past lives, ancestral trauma, and spiritual technologies shape who we are and the futures we’re building. It is a reclamation of power through embodied truth.

A manifesto exploring what happens when sacred Black and Indigenous traditions are filtered through digital algorithms. It makes the case for ESSOESS—not as content, but as cultural memory and spiritual architecture.

An editorial on the rise of self-ordained spiritual leaders and the commodification of sacred work. It unpacks the dangers of spiritual bypassing, the beauty of slow mastery, and the responsibility that comes with being truly called.

“Before queerness was politicized, it was priesthood.
Before it was punished, it was power.”

The Holy Ghost Is Trans journeys through ancient gender roles, suppressed spiritual truths, and the emergence of sacred digital sanctuaries. This essay honors the wisdom of those who live in-between—and reveals why their light is essential to the future of the sacred.

White Sage, White Spaces is a personal essay examining the silencing of Black voices in spiritual communities that profit from Black and Indigenous traditions. It reflects on what it means to carry memory in your blood while being treated as a guest of your own ancestry—and why true healing must include truth, accountability, and representation.

What happens when a child with psychic sensitivity is exposed to adult energies too soon? This essay explores the psychic–sexual connection, Black girlhood, trauma memory, and the slow, embodied process of returning to truth on one’s own terms.

At five years old, I watched a voodoo priestess enter my kitchen and awaken something in me I’d never forget. My mother called it imagination. But my body knew better. There Was a Dead Chicken in the Middle of the Kitchen Floor is a visceral, poetic remembrance of ancestral power, psychic inheritance, and the kind of truth that can’t be silenced—even when it’s denied.