#sorry we have a complicated relationship to the land that has been stolen from indigenous peoples

[aahsoka]

cant quite figure out words for this but calling critique of the white supremacist tendencies of like cottagecore tradwives ‘america centric’ is like. what the fuck. idk

[theglassbell]

Being mixed is honestly an experience I find hard to talk about, but I’m feeling some type of way so I’m going to try and talk about it now. Sorry if this isn’t the content some of y’all want to see, but it is my blog (and also I have a #personal tag if y’all wanna blacklist)

My father is black and my mother is white.

When someone asks me which “side” I identify with more, my entire brain literally has a tug of war contest. (Btw don’t ask mixed kids this, it’s isn’t funny). On the one hand, I would say white. My father was an only child and he never saw his extended family often, ergo I never saw his extended family pretty much at all. The only family I saw often was on my mother’s side, all of whom were white. I also don’t see them often anymore, but that’s because my parents moved the family from New Jersey all the way to Georgia when I was young, not because I never knew them. In Georgia, I grew up in a small, conservative, not-very-diverse town. Every friend group I’ve ever had was all white except for me (there was one girl in one group who was Mexican but that’s it). I was more influenced culturally and socially by my mother. My dad is a very “manly man” and I used to be super girly, so that’s why most of my social upbringing was from my mother who was also into girly things. My mom even had to help me with my hair. She definitely did not do 100% on that front but I give her an A for effort. And before anyone asks, yes, we could have gone to my dad’s mother - my grandmother - for help, and we did once, but she wasn’t really helpful (and that’s a whole nother story lol) and I’m not very close with her anyway. I grew up one the blandest most boring chicken, frozen veggies, and instant rice dinners known to man. I still eat those now when I come home from college. My own cooking skills are solidly in the yt people column. So basically, culturally I feel like a white person. My answer to the question above might have been “white.”

However, everything is always more complicated than that. Everyone around me saw me as black. And there was definitely that undercurrent of “you’re not one of them, you’re a cool black person” but I was still clearly in the “black” category. I used to get looks from my friends when I mentioned that I had a crush on a white dude because they subconsciously expected me to date within my race. (I should mention that these friends - the ones I keep in contact with at least - have grown and expanded their beliefs and are no longer like this) And when I looked in the mirror, I saw black. I looked at my tan skin, and my bushy eyebrows, and my thick kinky-curly hair and I saw a black girl. (And honestly I used to have a lot of internal anti blackness and tried to make myself fit Eurocentric beauty standards by getting my hair treated and straightened, but at the end of the day I still considered myself black). I still look in the mirror and see a black girl, but now I’m finally comfortable with embracing that identity.

So I had this issue where i was seen as black by myself and others, but culturally I was raised very white.

It’s such a hard line to balance. Truthfully, I’m almost 50/50 down the middle when it comes to the genetics I got from my parents. My mom is super pale, my dad is pretty dark, and I’m like.. caramel. Or like, mocha? Idk I’ve never really been into using food to reference skin color. I have features from both of their faces and my hair has my fathers texture (hence the kinky curly) but my mother’s coloring (brown with some red occasionally thrown in for fun). I’m also 100% uniquely myself. But in a society where everything and everyone has a label, idk what to do with that.

Like I said before, my white friends see me as black. All white people I come into contact with see me as black. Yes, it’s sometimes the whole “oh but you’re not like other black people” that I know comes from the lightness of my skin, which I believe is a form of colorism?(I’m sorry if I did not use that term correctly) But, picking one or the other, to them I am black.

Black people tend to see me as white. This makes sense on the basis of my cultural upbringing, but not knowing AAVE well and the different social cues just makes it harder for me to connect with black folks and engage with the culture that’s in my blood.

In an attempt to feel connected to my dads side of the family and my blackness, I got into hoodoo and ancestral veneration.

It’s still really hard though. The only family members I could talk to about hoodoo and folk traditions and such would be my dad or my grandmother. Both of them are verryyy Christian (and like I said before, I don’t have a good relationship with my grams anyway, nor do I have a good relationship with Christianity. Hello, queer here!!). But honestly, that’s how I feel about magic traditions in general. I live on stolen land. My ancestors from one side of the family were kidnapped and forced to work said stolen land (though after the civil war ended I know of an ancestor who kicked ass and owned his own farm. He’s a real g). My ancestors from the other side of the family were either immigrants that came to America in hope of a better life or slave owners. Yikes.

I feel untethered from any culture, socially and spiritually. I thought about looking into italian and Irish witchcraft, since those are the strongest lineages on my white family’s side, but I got discouraged before I even started. I’ve never been to Ireland or Italy. I don’t know either language, I barely know of any meals from those countries. Who was I kidding? And then of course I don’t know any ancestry past the end of the civil war on my black side, because they were torn from their homeland. I still feel that urge to learn about hoodoo, which was specifically created in the americas, but it’s such an intimate practice with emphasis on the handing down of knowledge, and I don’t have anyone to do that for me. I want to connect to the local land, but then I think.. it’s not my homeland. It was the homeland of indigenous peoples and my country stole it from them. Would the land even be willing to work with me? Top this all off with having no “extra” senses to converse with any spirits (including my own ancestors) that could possibly teach me something. Add a sprinkle of depression and anxiety (and it’s genetic!! Yay!!) and you get me. An idiot sandwich.

I feel so deeply for witchcraft and hoodoo and for learning about them and practicing them, but I also feel like I have no right to. I mean, hell, the deities I worship are from lands and times I have no connection to. I love them so much, but sometimes I just wonder if I should worship deities from my own cultures. And then I remember that I don’t feel enough of a connection to any culture anyway, and... it’s a vicious cycle. I don’t know what to do with myself.

- signed, a depressed mixed witch + beginner rootworker who is so fucking lost