Before there was a candle lit or an oil blended. Before the roots were gathered. There was discernment.
That was my great-grandmother Madear’s greatest spiritual gift. She didn’t trust everybody. She didn’t speak on everything. She moved when Spirit told her to move — not a moment sooner.
And that’s how she kept herself, her children, and her family covered.
In Hoodoo, discernment is rootwork. It’s knowing who to pray for and who to pray against. It’s reading energy before words are even spoken. It’s knowing which rooms you don’t belong in, which conversations you don’t need to have, and which hands you shouldn’t shake.
Hoodoo isn’t just jars, candles, or floor washes — it’s protection that starts in the spirit before it ever hits the altar. As Black women, discernment has always been part of our spiritual technology. Passed down in bloodlines, strengthened by survival, sharpened by the world we move through.
And every time I trust that nudge — the one that says “not this time,” or “watch this one,” — I hear Cleopatra’s voice right behind it. Her discernment lives in me. And I honor that work every day.
Discernment doesn’t make you paranoid — it makes you prepared. It’s the reason some things never touch you. It’s the reason you can walk through this world protected.
Covered by spirit. Guided by blood.
🎙 Listen to this full reflection now on The Practice of a Hoodoo Baptist.
