Back to My Roots
Reconnecting with my Black and Indigenous Ancestry
i·den·ti·ty
noun
the fact of being who or what a person or thing is.
a close similarity or affinity.
I struggle with identity. As a person of mixed race, defining myself has always been much harder than I would like. Until now, I had never found the willingness to spend energy in the discovery. Explaining that I am part Black, part Indigenous, and part Portuguese seemed too complicated, so I defaulted to “I’m Brazilian, very mixed” to explain my origins.
School was another challenge. I was very fortunate to attend to a very prestigious private school. My mom worked there for several years as a receptionist, so I got the chance to receive great education tuition free. But like everything else in life, free also comes at a price.
Even though Brazil’s population is 52% from African descent, the elite is still white - primarily from Portuguese, Italian and German descent. Only about 5% of CEO’s of the top 500 companies in Brazil are Black. Thus, it’s easy to assume that the student body of an elite school is almost entirely white. I wanted to fit in - like any other kid does - so I allowed myself to be “white washed.”
High School Graduation Picture - I was happy to get out of there.
It wasn’t until after college when I had the opportunity to think more about who I was. When you’re struggling to leave poverty and to succeed, who you are becomes secondary to what you do. Survival mode doesn’t allow for thinking, reflection, and inner growth - it’s all action and reaction. Luckily, one day my reactions took me to the right place.
Even though I was raised Catholic and almost became a priest, I never fell in love with the church. I never fell in love with the idea of sin, Heaven and Hell, judgements, and all the buttload of hypocrisy that came with it. When I was old enough to decide for myself, I got out. That didn’t mean, however, that I wasn’t in need of spiritual experiences. Faith is therapeutical, and I sure wanted to heal.
That’s when one of my friends invited me to visit her religious practice with her. At the time, I had heard of it - mostly in a negative connotation because of the Christian demonization - but had never had any interactions with it. I decided to give it a chance, and that was when I met Umbanda. In short, and copied from Wikipedia, Umbanda is “a syncretic Afro-Brazilian religion that blends African traditions with Roman Catholicism, Spiritism, and Indigenous American beliefs.”
Guides (collars) are meant for spiritual protection, and are “given” by your spiritual guides.
I was hooked. Things were making sense to me, and I truly felt a sense of belonging. I felt rooted, embraced. For over a year, I was there every week. My mom wasn’t - and still isn’t - a big fan of it (sorry, mom) since she’s very Catholic, but with time she learned to respect. The ironic part of it all is that my Black and Indigenous ancestors are my mom’s ancestors.
Grandma and Grandpa - He was black, from a lineage of slaves. She was from an Indigenous family.
If I have one regret when it comes to my grandparents is the fact that I never asked them many questions. I never showed interest in our past. I compartmentalized it because that was the part of me that I was trying to hide. I don’t know much about my family’s history on either side. What I do know is that my great grandma was Indigenous. According to my mom’s cousins and older relatives, she not only had the “cunning” but was also a healer. I had the opportunity to meet her when I was really young. Her blind, white eyes are most of what I remember - and also the fact that she pretty much could guess who entered her room because she could feel the “energy.”
My grandma inherited some of those gifts. At some point in time, all of my visits were shared with strangers who sought her prayers. She would use plants - common rue, samambaias or whatever was available - to brush the infirmity and negative energy away. She was quite popular, and did it free of charge to anyone until her own health debilitated her.
I stayed in that kick for a while. In 2016, however, I was professionally burned out and needed a break. I decided it was time for an adventure, and I boarded a plane to the US. I never fully intended to stay, but that’s a story for another day. What matters is that I did. If memory doesn’t fail you, 2016 was also the year that The President Who Shall Not be Named was elected, and anti-immigrant rhetoric was at an all time high - especially against brown immigrants. Once again, I needed to fit in. I worked as hard as I could to get rid of (most of) my accent. I avoided sunbathing because my skin gets color too fast. I even stopped listening to Brazilian music. I was obsessed with being white-passing. I didn’t want to stand out. I didn’t want to have a voice, I wanted to flow through the adversity in hopes of getting to a safer harbor. My identity, in my mind, is what made me vulnerable, so I hid it again.
- -
Hiding is safe, but I am not sure if there’s anything more uncomfortable. We owe it to ourselves the courage to be who we are, and sooner or later the truth that comes from the soul bursts out. As I approach a new cycle in my life, I realize that safety is overrated, if not an illusion. People will love you if they want to, hate you if they must, and our control over either of these feelings is negligible. We do not, and can not control how others feel about us. Nor should we try to control it. We own our actions, our feelings, and our truth. Will Smith said that no one can give you an opinion on how you should live your life, because no one but you knows you. No one lives in your skin.
The more I experience life, the more real this becomes to me.
I am now ready to live authentically. I want to give life to my full self. I want to embrace my beauty - my Black, Indigenous, White beauty. That’s who I am. Enslaved and enslaver.
To fully blossom, I am going back to my roots.
I'm goin' back to the South
I'm goin' back, back, back, back
Where my roots ain't watered down
Growin', growin' like a Baobab tree
Of life on fertile ground, ancestors put me on game
Ankh charm on gold chains, with my Oshun energy, oh
- Black Parade, Beyoncé