Rooted in Spirit. Guided by Ancestors. Free to Live My Truth.

I needed to speak this aloud — not in a whisper, not tucked quietly into the corners of my journals — but in my clearest, most unapologetic voice. And I’m speaking it not only for myself, but for the woman reading this who has felt like she needed to stay silent too.

Here it is:
I am not a Christian.
And I do not follow organized religion.

For most of my life, people have assumed that because I am a Black woman, my beliefs must fit neatly inside a box they recognize. And when they discover I live outside of those boxes, they project judgment, suspicion, or outright disrespect.

I am naming this today because I want that story — that reflex — to stop.

Please stop assuming everyone with Black or Brown skin shares the same faith tradition. Please stop treating people poorly when they walk a different spiritual path. We all deserve the freedom to live our truth without fear of rejection, shame, or erasure.

I speak this with love — because I happen to love love. It is the current that guides everything I do. And love, to me, is far bigger than any doctrine or institution. Love is what Spirit feels like when it breathes through us. Love is what our ancestors hand down through the marrow of our bones. Love is the invitation beneath everything sacred.

My path has always been one of direct connection with Spirit and my ancestors. I don’t need anyone or anything to stand between us. The divine is not a place I visit on Sunday or something I access through a book. The divine is woven through the fabric of my everyday life.

I meet it in the way I breathe deeply before I rise in the morning.
I meet it in the way I oil and honor my skin.
I meet it in the way I choose my clothes, adorn my body, and season my food.
I meet it in the way I speak to the land, tend to herbs, and light incense as an offering.
I meet it in the way I rest, love, and create.

I don’t need an institution to reach what already lives within and around me. The sacred is here — in my breath and my bones, in nature and nourishment, in the rituals and choices that keep me rooted and alive.

The divine meets me in the softness and truth of my daily rhythm.
It moves through my lineage and lives in my blood.
It rises in my remembering and in the way I return home to myself over and over again.

This is my freedom — to walk with Spirit and my ancestors, to live my truth fully, and to honor the sacred in the everyday without needing anyone else to validate it.

If these words stir something inside you — if you too have felt out of place in spaces that wanted you to be smaller, quieter, more acceptable — know this: you are not alone. Your truth is worthy. Your path is valid. And your relationship with the sacred does not require anyone’s permission.

Here’s to living free.
Here’s to loving deeply.
Here’s to remembering that the sacred was never separate from us — it’s always been right here, waiting for us to notice.