I was raised in the church. Not just on Sundays — but in the culture.
In the clothes. In the fear. In the expectations stitched into every sermon and skirt hem. Black girls raised in the Bible Belt know what it means to carry shame before we even understand our own bodies.
We were taught to be nice — not discerning. To be obedient — not intuitive. To be godly — but never powerful.
The rules were loud: Don’t feel too much.Don’t ask too many questions. Don’t trust your gut. Don’t ever speak spirit unless it comes from the pulpit.
But what if your calling doesn’t entail wearing white on first Sundays? What if your altar has herbs instead of hymnals?
They taught us to fear ourselves. Our menstruation, emotions, desires, and visions. And yet — even with all the shame and surveillance — the Spirit still found a way to speak.
Hoodoo gave me back my voice. My body. My rhythm. My right to pray in a way that didn’t require permission. And the truth is — I still carry Baptist love in my heart. But now, I carry myself too.
If you were told you were “too much” to be holy, or “not enough” to be loved, or “too worldly” to be safe — let this be your reminder:
You are divine. You are whole. You are not confused — you are becoming.
Covered by spirit. Guided by blood.
🎙 Listen to this full reflection now on The Practice of a Hoodoo Baptist.
