Rochelle McFee /// At The Root Of Our Roots

We wander and then plod toward practices of wholeness, grounded by the roots that spring forth from the restless remains of our ancestors.

We are watered by kinfolk not just skin folk who see ourselves always in relation.

We are parties, not a bacchanal, not the partisan shit.  Our movements are disruption, ultimate destruction, with cyclones collecting air/ear of ethical philosophies, socio-economic ideologies that take account of all of us.

We create together, not driven by celebrity, rethinking relationships with self and plant allies.

Esteeming life and rebirth and justice we get together constructing this map: a place that calls you to sit in ceremony with amethyst crystals and fruit. We recommend Epsom salt and tea tree and honey, incense as necessarily part of this journey. 

Even as we narrate the ills and the chills overcoming our body - the warmth of words like "I love you"..."I see you" produce alchemy. Magical transformation is what we do with the rosehips, ginger and sage, clearing our throats to allow our voice to be heard in this here sacred space. 

But my tribe understands quiet isn’t stasis, the violence of silence but also how it is productive: 

Shadow self

Divine darkness 

We emerge sattvic. Emerge with a plan, for the healing of ourselves for the preservation of our lands. 

We emerge…

still with vulnerability but willingness and capacity to trust - what we offer up energetically, build collectively, do creatively, think critically, write deliberately and speak without apology. 

My tribe is fearless, seeing me in the irrational, the illogical; I am not the white man’s version of sane. 

See me in my pieces,  holding myself together through this pain. 

See me in my sacrifice, knowing they have tried hard to empty our stock. 

See me in hybridity even as I affirm that I am Black. See me in my hybridity even as I affirm that I am Black.

Image: Provided by the artist