I am my ancestors' wildest dreams

Whenever I see this phrase: I am my ancestors’ wildest dreams, It’s usually in reference to Black people becoming doctors and lawyers.

Today I had a realization that it depends on which ancestors. I defintitely do believe that some of our ancestors wanted to see Black Americans become doctors, lawyers, etc., because that would mean that we overcame so much, that all their suffering was worth it, and that we were able to find happiness in this country. Black people tend to talk about how our ancestors were kings and queens, because capitalism and Western culture has told us that that is how we find our worth, by ruling and wealth. But the reality is that we can’t possibly all be from royalty. I personally never felt that I came from royalty, maybe, but doubtful.

I imagine that as our ancestors on the continent continued to see us getting kidnapped and smuggled, that they held tight to their wishes and dreams. That they hoped their children would be safe and protected. That they’d be able to hold on to the culture, faith, and traditons that they had passed down for generations. And I imagine the heartbreak as they passed to glory and saw what had become of those of us that are descendants of those that were held in captive during slavery. Their hearts were broken when they saw that we no longer knew where home was, or were unable to recognize our native tongues. As they watched us grow further and further from the earth and all the magic that she carries, only to chase after an American dream that, in reality, we can’t actually achieve.

I recently, as in this week, had the opportunity to take an indigo and a mud dye workshop, virtually, with Aboubakar Fofana. As I’ve been reclaiming my ancestral roots, through food, herbalism, birthwork, and my craft, I’ve been seeking out Black people and Africans to teach me the skills and knowledge that I’m trying to receive. The problem is I’m in Arizona. We’re not exactly brimming with Black and African elders to teach me the things I want to learn. Since we’re in a pandemic, lots of organizations and individuals have made their educational programs available virtually. One day a Black herbalist I follow posted about the workshops with Aboubakar. I immediately went to see when they were, because I knew I couldn’t afford it, but I might be able to save. I had a couple weeks to enroll, and thought I’d try doing a fundraiser. The next day I posted about the fundraiser. The day after that I was paying for both classes in full, and purchasing the remaining supplies I needed.

While I was pursuing my bachelor’s degree in Fibers I had learned a little about indigo, but over the years I’ve been looking for different ways to reconnect with my ancestors. I reflected a lot on the fact that it’s very likely that my ancestors slaved over cotton plantations. And it’s also probable that some were placed on indigo plantations. I felt that connection to them, but sought out ways to reclaim the time they toiled away, hoping for a better day. Hoping for me. So when I saw the opportunity to learn West African tradtional indigo techniques AND mud dye techniques I knew I had to do it. Originally I thought I’d have to go all the way to Mali to learn it, and I was willing, but I knew it’d would be a long time before I could. But when the ancestors want you to do something they make the way.

We were sent materials, organic indigo, and the supplies needed for an organic indigo vat, and then mud, cloth, and leaves directly from Mali. The mud coming directly from the Niger River.

As soon as I saw where the mud came from I immediately thought of the fact that some of my ancestors are from Mali. (According to my DNA test, which, well you know how those things are.) Touching that mud and cloth was like touching a piece of my soul I thought I’d never reach. It wasn’t until that moment that I realized that my African ancestors, and living distant relatives, were probably textile creators. And that I’m touching the same mud, that centuries ago, they already touched, prayed over, and placed their wishes into. And in that moment I realized, I was fulfilling their wildest dreams. That somehow despite the distance, despite the forceful acts that stripped my ancestors of their heritage, despite the fact that my grandparents were unable to receive any of the tradtions that were smuggled in those ships during the TransAtlantic Slave trade, that somehow I found a way to reach them again. I heard their call from the other side, and what was once a whisper has grown louder and louder. Words can’t express the importance of this past week for me. But all I know is that I am exactly where I’m supposed to be and when. And this was the confirmation that I am on the right path. And now, hundreds of years later, I’m doing exactly what they did, with the exact materials they used. And while I learned, my children watched. And I know that my ancestors are pleased to see that all was not lost forever.

Also, I just want to add, that this is the kind of stuff that Black Americans should never have to pay for. We shouldn’t have to pay, or in my case fundraise, so that we can learn the things that would’ve been passed down had our history not been erased from us. Reparations isn’t just about not having land or generational wealth. It’s about restoring AAAAAAALL the stuff that was taken from us. Our cultures, our languages, our customs, our traditions, our faith. If we had those things, it wouldn’t matter which land our feet were on, because we’d always have a home. But most of us have no idea, and are forced to take DNA tests (that we have to pay for) to get an ESTIMATE of where we MIGHT come from.

One thing I made sure to do this week, was to create a scarf for myself that used both the tannin and the mud from Mali. That will be a scarf I can wear while I do the work of my ancestors. A way for me to feel their presence while I work. And it was interesting, because today, the last day, after I had already made the scarf, Aboubakar was discussing the healing properties of being wrapped in cloths made from different natural dyes/ colors. This is a practice that I will DEFINITELY be incorporating into my doula work.