Healing ourself is the greatest come up. @lii.zka captured me back in March, the month of my birth and the same month the world paused. Giving thanks for countless opportunities to gain and grieve. Becoming someone longer lasting is requiring me to return to my source, to heal and rebirth my self over and over. To lean on the patience of ancestors even when it feels like I’m making no strides at all.
—TheeAmazingGrace ♥️
Working on making friends with my fears. Alchemising a really core, foundational-vibration of myself. Those underdeveloped. Scars no longer bleeding. Those vulnerable spaces. I’m learning that so much of it is familial. From my past. In my lineage. —Breaking generational curses
-TheeAmazingGrace ♥️
#afrikanface #ascending #breakinggenerationalcurses #girlrillavintage #healingblack #healthierhabits #lifework #locslove #rooted #roothealer #theeamazinggrace
Obatala female incarnation in the future. Created by Gracie Berry, circa 2019.
Peace Beautiful People
I’m Gracie Berry, the creative force behind Shadowkeepers & Roothealers: The Original OG’s, a public altar series honoring ancestral guidance, Orisha, and the Ifa spiritual lineage that shapes my work. I was born and raised in North Philadelphia, moving between North and West Philly, and I grew up surrounded by a firehouse of local roothealers—quiet practitioners of Hoodoo, or rootwork, as I call it. My great grema Freda, mothers mother, grema Grace, and a few others, including one of my great uncles, guided me in witnessing rituals, ancestral veneration, and spiritual practices that honored life, nature, and the unseen forces around us.
I learned early how powerful this work could be. I remember my great grema Freda healing a man who rented a room in my grema’s boarding home from gout. She, grema Grace, and a few others, humming as they worked, used potatoes, corn liquor, grease, and intentional prayers to ease his suffering. By morning, the swelling that had once deformed his legs and feet had miraculously reduced. The potatoes that had encased his legs and hung above the doorway shrank into small prune-sized balls. My uncle swept them into paper bags and buried them as instructed. Witnessing this, crouched in the corner through the dim candlelight, shaped my understanding of what it meant to work with roots and ancestral power.
In my family, there were those who could speak with the departed and those who could foretell what was coming long before it arrived. Many carried ancient wisdom in their bones—knowledge of herbs as medicine, of conjuring and channeling the elements, of how to move with nature instead of against it. Some still carry these gifts quietly, waiting for the right season to remember. These practices, both whispered and embodied, live within me and guide my work as an artist and spiritual vessel.
While Hoodoo and Pentecostal Christianity shaped my early sense of spiritual practice and ancestral guidance, Christianity often felt confusing and alienating to my authentic self growing up. Everything seemed imposed, almost coercive, never fully my choice. I moved through it by force, going along as if swept along by something bigger than me, disconnected from my own will. It never felt aligned with my deepest wishes or with the rhythm of my life, as if I had been away from home too long.
Ifa, in contrast, feels like breath, will, and power. It feels like home. It is where I believe my ancestors reside in their truest form. My journey through Hoodoo eventually led me back to Ifa, a path I sense my ancestors acknowledged—or even practiced—in their time. Through this lineage, I feel connected to generations of ancestral wisdom and guidance.
The strength, resilience, and beauty of Black women courses through my DNA, carrying wisdom that shapes how I move, create, and bear witness in the world. This living inheritance guides my work, inspiring me to center Blackness and womanhood unapologetically—not as abstract ideas, but as embodied truth.
For me, centering Blackness feels like mindfulness meditation for Black folks—it’s become as natural as breathing. In a world where living while Black can literally cost us our lives, where capitalism, patriarchy, and racial microaggressions plague every facet of our existence with or without our consent, centering myself as a Black woman first and foremost helps me choose what’s best for me, always.
My time at Lincoln University of Pennsylvania—the first degree-granting HBCU—further rooted me in pride, community, and ancestral knowing. There, I deepened my understanding of my mother’s Afrikan roots, learned the language of self-determination, and began healing generational traumas that had been carried too long. My family of origin and my wider community continue to be sources of growth, pride, and self-discovery.
My deepest wish is for any art created from my experience to be steeped in truth. To inspire. To evoke feeling. To energize. To challenge. To interrogate systems of oppression and to reimagine narratives surrounding Black bodies, Black spaces, and Black divinity. My public altars invite viewers to engage with ancestral and spiritual presence in ways that are rarely visible in the West—offering reflection, reclamation, and restoration. Where traditional Christianity calls people inward to a private altar, my work creates a public altar call—for everyone to see, contemplate, and connect with their own truths.
My great-grema Freda May Tyler Stewart in her younger years, pictured with an unknown gentleman.
From Ancestors to Altar: The Works of Shadowkeepers & Roothealers
An homage and Afro-futurist altar to Obatala, Olokun, and Orunmila — three of the eldest Orisha gods and the ancestors that radically nourished, transformed, and sustained the lives of those in the Afrikan Diaspora throughout the world. The title, “The Original OG’s,” is a deliberate play on words, honoring both the Orisha and how Black communities revere OG’s — those whose wisdom, power, and guidance shape generations.
Drawing from this foundation of ancestral guidance and spiritual practice, Shadowkeepers & Roothealers: The Original OG’s manifests as a public altar series honoring the eldest Orisha and the unseen forces that shaped our world. Each piece embodies the energy, wisdom, and protection of the Ifa lineage, highlighting Orisha who oversee creation, divination, and the elements. These are not abstract representations—they are living, breathing, Afro-futurist depictions meant to awaken ancestral memory and spiritual reflection.
This series is a homage and altar to Obatala, Olokun, and Orunmila, the divine triad said to have birthed the foundations of life and wisdom. Within the work, these Orisha coexist with figures like Oshun, Mama Ubuntu, Oya, Zina, and Niyaha, each holding a portal to lineage and legacy:
Oshun and Mama Ubuntu embody the sweetness of healing, sensuality, and humaneness — invoking care, abundance, and feminine power.
Oya and Ausa Uhsa represent transformation and the fierce winds of change, ushering in renewal and clarity.
Zina connects to Egungun, embodying ancestral presence and collective memory.
Biyaha honors Olokun, the deep, vast, and knowing waters where the stories of the Middle Passage still echo.
Each altar is layered with cowrie shells, sacred to both Ifa and the Afrikan diaspora. To me, they represent the ocean’s voice, ancestral currency, and a form of living memory — each shell a whisper from the deep.
This body of work also honors the Pullman Porters, whose dignity, labor, and resilience moved across the Keystone lines that now connect my work to the Keystone Amtrak station where it is exhibited. Ogun, Orisha of iron, labor, and protection, flows through their work — their hands, their tools, and their commitment embody both ancestral endurance and the transformative power of creative and physical labor. By centering Ogun alongside the Porters, the altars recognize how ancestral force, human effort, and spiritual protection intersect in the everyday work that sustains communities and builds legacies. Their service represents a bridge between ancestral endurance and modern movement — a rhythm of survival, reclamation, and generative power.
In the public art phase of this project, my research led me deep into the stories of both Orisha and human ancestors — those who toiled, healed, built, and imagined worlds beyond the violence of their time. This process was profoundly collective. Each altar became a vessel for voices that wanted to be heard again, a conversation between the living and the dead, the seen and unseen.
In the words of Bayo Akomolafe, “We are like water — are homeless, seeking shape only through what we touch.” That truth moves through this work. Each altar seeks not to fix spirit in one form, but to let it flow — to honor the shifting, fluid nature of Black life, divinity, and imagination.
Through Shadowkeepers & Roothealers, I hope to make visible the power, grace, and depth of our lineages — ancestral, cultural, and spiritual. These altars are living spaces of reflection and connection. They ask us to remember who we are and who we come from.
This exhibition is both a homecoming and a call to action:
To honor the wisdom of the past.
To embody it fully in the present.
And to imagine futures where our histories, our bodies, and our spirits are celebrated without apology.
Afrofuturism and Spirituality While Reimagining Technology
Shadowkeepers & Roothealers exists at the intersection of ancestral wisdom, lived spirituality, and Afrofuturist imagination. While the term “Afrofuturism” was coined by Mark Dery in 1993 in his essay “Black to the Future” to describe Black speculative thought and artistic practice, its roots extend much deeper. Long before the term existed, Afrikan ancestors in Kemet (modern-day Egypt) built the pyramids of Giza and developed systems of knowledge, architecture, and science that have never been fully replicated. This is ancestral intelligence that looks both backward and forward—a kind of “back to the future” brilliance that informs everything I do. The concept was later expanded by visionaries such as Sun Ra, Octavia E. Butler, and Kodwo Eshun, and today it continues to shape how I approach spiritual, creative, and communal work.
Through this lens, my altars become portals: spaces where the sacred and the speculative meet. Drawing from Ifa, Orisha, and roothealer lineages, these works activate ancestral memory, evoke spiritual presence, and expand perception beyond the limitations of time and material reality. They imagine a form of public technology—not digital, but spiritual and communal—that allows anyone who encounters the work to interface with the invisible, the historical, and the future simultaneously.
Cowrie shells, mixed media, textiles, and sculptural forms function as conduits for this “technology of the spirit,” creating portals that connect viewers to collective memory, ancestral power, and imaginative possibility. Each altar is layered with elements honoring Obatala, Olokun, and Orunmila, the eldest Orisha gods, as well as Oshun, Mama Ubuntu, Oya, Zina, and Biyaha, each carrying ancestral energy and lineage. In this way, the altars themselves become instruments of Afrofuturist practice: activating reflection, reconnection, and reimagination for all who engage with them.
By blending the metaphysical with the material, the ancestral with the futuristic, Shadowkeepers & Roothealers demonstrates that technology and innovation are not only mechanical or digital—they can also be spiritual, embodied, and deeply relational. This is a technology of care, of memory, of imagination—a system built not to control, but to liberate consciousness and honor the continuum of Afrikan life, lineage, and cosmic intelligence.
West Afrikan Mythology
My exhibit centers on Afrikan mythology because it offers one of the most sophisticated spiritual frameworks for understanding creation, humanity, and the forces that govern life. Its influence spans Cameroon, Benin, Gambia, Ghana, Niger, Nigeria, and Sierra Leone, and it has journeyed through the Afrikan Holocaust (Maafa) to Brazil, Cuba, Guyana, Haiti, Barbados, Trinidad, South America, and other Caribbean nations.
Yoruba traditions are particularly rich in artistic fables and creation truths, offering a pantheon of Orishas—divine beings who guide, protect, and teach. Orisha operate in ways similar to angels in Christianity, Islam, and Judaism. Olodumare, for example, is the highest Orisha, the God of all creation, whose breath gives life to living beings. He crafted the universe inside a calabash, and his role is as revered as Brahma in Hinduism or Elohim in Christianity. As Dr. Jacob Olupona, Nigerian professor and scholar, reminds us, “Afrikan spirituality simply acknowledges that beliefs and practices touch on and inform every facet of human life, and therefore cannot be separated from the everyday or mundane.”
Within this mythological framework, my work also foregrounds roothealer figures—Zina, Biyaha, Ausa Uhsa, and Mama Ubuntu—who are distinct from Orisha but no less vital to ancestral practice and spiritual memory. These figures embody lived, accessible power: they speak with the dead, foretell events, channel the elements, conjure, heal, and transform. They guide the human connection to Orisha while remaining rooted in daily practice, bridging ancestral wisdom with the material world.
By positioning both Orisha and roothealers together, the altars in this exhibition demonstrate how myth and lineage, cosmic power and lived practice, co-exist and inform each other. Roothealers ground the abstract wisdom of the Orisha in tangible, experiential ways, creating a space where the sacred, the speculative, and the historical converge.
The Shadowkeepers: Our Divine Orisha
As I explored Afrofuturism, I was drawn to the eldest Orisha, imagining a world where gender is fluid, power is collective, and the ancestral past guides the present. This journey led me to focus on Obatala, Olokun, and Orunmila, whose energies form the foundation of life, wisdom, and spiritual authority.
OBATALA
Obatala, the king of the white cloth and creator of humankind, is represented here in their female path, though they can also be male or possess both male and female pathways. They embody justice, peace, truth, and purity, and are married to Yemonja, goddess of life and godmother of Orishas. Obatala’s compassion stems from their own experience with imperfection, modeling a divine form that transcends gender while nurturing humanity. On the altars, Obatala is accompanied by eggs, almond flower, taw coconut, white and silver cloths, carved figurines, candles, palm nuts, sandalwood incense, and the Nguni cowtail, each reflecting their authority, guidance, and protective energy.
OLOKUN
Olokun, owner of the deep ocean, is represented here in the female path, though they can also be male depending on region or spiritual interpretation. Guardian of the mysteries of the ocean and of ancestors lost during the Maafa, Olokun governs wealth, prosperity, meditation, dreams, and the healing of past, present, and future. On the altars, Olokun is accompanied by cowrie shells, deep-blue and black fabrics, a fruit, a peacock glass vase, sunflowers, reflective water vessels, and the Nguni cowtail, each evoking ancestral power, oceanic mystery, and diasporic resilience. Blue candles and incense honor Olokun’s essence.
ORUNMILA
Orunmila, eldest son of Olorun and master diviner, is the prophet and keeper of wisdom. Through Odu Ifa, Orunmila imparts spiritual knowledge and ethical guidance, both in physical form and through disciples. He represents foresight, miracles, and the enduring voice of ancestral counsel in the Diaspora. On the altars, Orunmila is recognized through his opele necklace, divination plate, a slice of cake, green, yellow, and brown fabrics, candles, and incense, which signal his insight, protection, and guidance.
These eldest Orisha interact with figures I call roothealers—Zina, Biyaha, Ausa Uhsa, and Mama Ubuntu—who are not Orisha themselves but channel ancestral power through conjuring, herbal medicine, veneration of the departed, and attunement to elemental forces in nature. Their practices mirror, honor, and extend the energies of Obatala, Olokun, and Orunmila, creating a bridge between living memory and spiritual lineage.
See gallery of Orisha below
Obatala as Female Pathway, created by Gracie Berry, circa 2019. Photo by Shelby Wormley.
Olokun as female pathway, created by Gracie Berry, circa 2019. Photo by Shelby Wormley.
Orunmila, created by Gracie Berry, circa 2019. Photo by Shelby Wormley.
Roothealers: Our Beloved Ancestors
Mama Ubuntu is the first of four dream-inspired pieces from my series AfrikanFace: Autochthonous Blood & Bone. She embodies the resilience and enduring spirit of those who fought for liberation, justice, and the survival of Afrikan peoples—Winnie Mandela in South Africa, Afeni Shakur in Harlem, Thomas Sankara in Burkina Faso, and Steve Biko under apartheid. She holds space for countless others whose lives shaped our world: Kwame Ture, Patrice Lumumba, Marsha “Pay It No Mind” Johnson, Zora Neale Hurston, Ntozake Shange, Amiri Baraka, Sun Ra, and Toni Morrison.
Adorning her belt are symbolic representations of these ancestors, literally surrounding her and rooting her to the ground. They serve as a visible reminder of how ancestral wisdom, courage, and collective memory support and sustain life across generations. Mama Ubuntu is both a vessel and a witness—honoring the unseen, keeping the fight alive, and connecting the past to the present through creativity, resistance, and care.
Biyaha, 2015 — “Deep Water”
This bust honors Olokun, the Orisha of deep, dark ocean waters, wealth, and mystery. The poem on her face by TheeAmazingGrace speaks of surrender to the sea during the Middle Passage, embodying ancestral sacrifice, resilience, and the enduring flow of diasporic memory.
Zina, 2014 — “Secret Spirit”
Zina honors Egungun, the ancestral keeper bridging past and present. Reflecting my mother’s family journey from Sierra Leone, West Afrika, to Barbados, Norway, South Carolina, and Philadelphia, she embodies the living legacy of ancestors reimagined through an Afrofuturist lens. Her hair, crafted from my first set of locs, carries memory, transformation, and self-possession across time.
Ausa Uhsa, 2014 — “It’s Raining”
This bust channels Oya, Orisha of storms, change, and rebirth. A poem, paper-mâché’d onto her face, reveals her truth: where she lives, it rains and storms constantly, and she loves it that way. Ausa Uhsa celebrates beauty in transformation and softness within the storm.
Mama Ubuntu, 2014 — “Humanity Towards Others”
Created to honor the human likeness of Oshun, this piece celebrates generosity, grace, and interconnectedness. Adorned with photos of ancestors and their quotes, she is grounded in lineage and community. Gold accents shimmer across her body, while her fan-shaped headpiece evokes wisdom. African Ankara fabric and my quote, “We Come from Someplace,” adorn the back.
Egungun, 2019
Created for my ancestors to come through, this Egungun honors lineage, memory, and ancestral guidance. It serves as a vessel for the presence of those who came before, embodying their protection, wisdom, and enduring spirit.
REFERENCES
Books
Afrofuturism: The World of Black Sci-Fi And Fantasy Culture by Ytasha L. Womack
Obatala: The Greatest and Oldest Divinity by Olayinka Adewuyi
Olokun of the Galaxy by Esther Iverem
On the Orishas’ Roads and Pathways: Obatalá, Odúa, Oduduwá by Miguel W. Ramos
Powers of the Orishas: Santeria & The Worship of Saints by Migene Gonzalez Wippler
The Handbook of Yoruba Religious Concepts by Baba If a Karade
The Way of the Orisa : Empowering Your Life Through the Ancient African Religion of Ifa by Philip Neimark and Philip J. Neimark
Yoruba-Speaking People’s of the Slave Coast of West Africa: Their Religion, Manners, Customs, Lawd, Etc. (Forgotten Books) by A.B. Ellis
Videos
Bayo Akomolafe-https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xIr2hOMVhIc&t=5s
Joseph Baba Ifa-https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=I2-mheArnwk
Ogunda Meji 9-https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OOg14RZe50g&t=21s
Orunmila: Witness to All Choice of Destiny-https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=F2cgfWZnAa8
Who is Obatala-https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7EcNe0i1Vcs
Who is Olokun-https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jGokjxjFgVY
Websites
http://www.aawiccan.org/site/Obatala.htl
https://ancientamerica.com/kusheshiobatala-the-inventor-of-ogam/
https://www.huffpost.com/entry/obatala-the-sweetest-god-_b_9817068
https://kwekudee-tripdownmemorylane.blogspot.com/2013/09/obatala-festival-honoring-orisha-deity.html
https://www.originalbotanica.com/blog/orisha-orula-orunmila-santeria/
https://www.originalbotanica.com/blog/the-orishas-olokun/
https://oshunschild.com/2018/08/01/reporting-from-cuba-review-on-the-orishas
https://risdmuseum.org/manual/445_cloth_as_metaphor_in_egungun_costumes
http://www.scielo.org.za/scielo.php?script=sci_arttext&pid=S0041-476X2017000200008
https://www.utpjournals.press/doi/abs/10.3138/uram.11.3.233
“It’s a hell of an honor supporting self reliant, little black girls and boys. Those who love themselves, or need extra support, but allowing them to love themselves nonetheless. Building self-confident, self-assured, aware, #blackchildren without fear, without burdening them with the worlds problems, or with our own needs and problems, without expecting them to fulfill all the things we didn’t, is a feat, that we’re working through. Shout out to all of the beautiful, black mamas and papas (to include loved ones of my own, doing it right now), raising RAD ASS, capable ass, black humans! It can be a difficult road, yet it’s not an impossible journey. Keep up the fantastic work. You got support! We got this!”
Had the privilege of spending a few hours with my 7-year old goddaughter, this afternoon. Her mother went on a job interview (that she scored, on the spot, by the way 🙌🏾)! I was asked to spend time with her until mama finished. We went to my goddaughter’s favorite store, or perhaps, favorite for most children her age, Toys-R-Us. As we walked through the maze of toys, she kept asking for things that I didn’t have the money to buy lol! Its a thing convincing a 7-year old that you’re not rich and barely have money to pay your rent, but knowing she’s still a child I decided to contribute to her experience the best way I could. I snappped photos of all of the items that me, I mean, she wanted, so we could show them to her mother (a big kid like me can dream right 😜 lol?!) She told me that I could show her mama the pictures, but that Santa 🎅🏾 was really the one to tell, since he did all the hard work on Christmas. I didn’t want to burst her bubble about Santa not being real, plus she was at a vibratory frequency, so elevated that I didn’t want to destroy a moment so pure.
I listened instead of talking at her. It seemed therapeutic for us both, the experience of walking through what I call a real live toy jungle #toysrus. We used the time to catch on previous weeks. She was rambunctious, yet mildly subdued while showing me her favorite toys, behaving almost well enough, so that I might buy her something (wishful thinking kid lol)! At any rate, she especially liked the #shopkins, some grocery store item toys and other funny things like that. She told me about doing well in school. I asked, what her favorite part was. She replied, “I loooooooooove reading #chapterbooks!” I asked, why? She told me a story about being able to read them really fast and that she likes all the big words. She went on to tell me that she wants a hundred chapter books to read. Talk about AMBITIOUS, you go girl 🙌🏾🤓🤪!
We walked around most of the store before my feet started to hurt lol! Before leaving, she suggested that we go over to the dolls section. Part of me was nervous because from my view, there was little representation of any dolls that looked like us. I had to trust her though. It’s something about trusting our children in their ability to lead, at least in that moment. Immediately, she gravitated to the few dolls that looked like us #blackandbrown. I was like, I’ll be damned lol! Not that I was surprised-it was more a refreshing feeling, if that makes since? I was beyond happy to know that she was intuitively paying attention! She asked me to take a picture of the first doll she liked. Talk about honored, I was! Photo below
I captured the brief moment on video, perhaps two seconds too late because she raved on and on about this particular doll, or maybe I was right on time because she still got the point. The moment she chose a doll that had the same hair texture and complexion as her. She didn’t shy away from the familiar. She didn’t shy away from how she really felt. She was in awe of this inanimate objects reflection of herself! It was so much bigger than that. She exclaimed, she’s so pretty!” Here is the short video link from my Instagram page @girlrillavintage ⬇️
She went on to choose, several more dolls of color that she liked. She payed a compliment to her mother by showing me a doll that she said, “looked pretty like her mama”! She asked me to take more photos of dolls that she wanted for Christmas. Here are some of the photos I captured in those moments. I’m so pleased at how at age seven, she hasn’t yet been damaged by our society’s anti-black messages in that way. How inspiring it is to witness her mother, my best friend, raising, three, thriving black daughters. And to witness how the women in her family encouraged her sense of self (from her Nana, to aunties, to her older sister) all who wear their hair #natural and funky other styles!
What an awesome experience to have had with her! How, I used the opportunity to empower the power within her. How, she sought a reflection of herself in that store. How, I watched her #fallinlove with her beautiful #afrikanface, despite, us being underrepresented in that moment. How AWESOME, witnessing her compliment the black girls in her life. How, she recognized the beautiful familiar in those dolls, and embraced the same within herself. God-mommy win of the year lol! Safe return to the little black girl inside me, living vicariously through her, and all those cool #toys lol! And although I never got to be a playful, little #blackgirl like her, look at how beautiful it is that she gets to be. Sweet honey, glistening! 🍯 ⭐️ 💫 🌟
Oh yes and after I showed her mother all the photos and video, she urged me to share this with the world on social-media because it made her proud too, so here we are with permission lol!
Warmest,
#TAG AKA #THEEAMAZINGGRACE AKA #GRACEBERRY #DJBOODESTANK AKA #SLEEPY AKA #MIKE AKA #BROWNSKINSKINNYKID
Yarn braid. The voyage of my hair. Nappyply. No lye. #selfportrait #blacknapknits #november2017 #tag #theeamazinggrace #girlrillavintage #afrikanface #art #afrikanfaceautochthonousbloodandbone
Woolywovennaps
Catnaps
Greasing or oiling the scalp has historical roots for black Afrikans born in America. In fact as we’ve become more knowledgeable about the benefits of natural oils, scalp oiling has become common practice among people of all ethnicities to maintain healthy hair and scalp. This entry will highlight how it relates directly to the women in the #afrikanface show and to people of Afrikan descent. During enslavement, we no longer had access to #palmoil that we used in #afrika to care for our hair, so we used other oil-based products like #lard #butter #crisco to condition and soften our hair. Scalp greasing is a ritual.
Dr. Kari explains perfectly, “The days of washing our hair at the kitchen sink, detangling in the bathroom, perhaps blow drying, and spending time on your mom’s living room floor on a pillow, nestled between her legs for that routine scalp greasing. It was a ritual that, no matter how busy life got, was NOT forgone. Part by part, inch by inch, your scalp was doused in a “miracle” grease”…
Scalp time was our love time (I wrote a poem about this). It was a time to bond, for mama to lay open her hands souls to literally groom you. It seemed almost therapeutic for both of us (even when my hair was tangled, still a tender headed ass), the way she would place a dollop of grease on the back of her hand, comb, then grease, then part, then grease some more, then plat or braid. The jewel was how she managed to have full fledged conversations, sip beer, and brushed my baby hair all fancy, adding her finishing touch. Those were the days, nights, afternoons I still long for today. Come to the show to see how the hair ritual unfolds!
Warmest,
Thee Amazing Grace B
when people of color say that “natural hair” isn’t sexy, you’re right, it’s so much more! get yo self together. being of melanin is divine. get into falling in love with yo self to be your endless possibility. #theeamazinggrace #girlrillavintage #gracieberry
I can appreciate honesty, but honesty don’t always mean right. My loved one posted a status about their detest of natural hair and how they won’t date a woman whose natural and furthermore when they see it they want to relax it. As I mentioned to them, when you see a woman with natural hair now a days believe me it’s one of the deepest acts of self love out here, so while you hate it, it does no good to hate on the love she got going on for herself. Women of color have suffered self hate of their own skin far too long and now we are falling in love with ourselves all over again simply by wearing our hair the way it was gifted to us at birth. This is our revolution, our birth right! I loooooove my nappy and all things nappy. heart emoticon #naps #loveyourhair #naturalisbeautiful
-Gracie Berry
No! My hair is not a fad. It is nothing less than a natural phenomenon. My birth right. Meh dreds, rasta, shiva, locs, jata. Yea…I Loc’d, following a sinfully addictive relationship. Rebelled the loss of my lover, so I Loc’d for healing. The rebellion sort of rid me of a sickness in mind, yet severed my vocal folds-silenced me whole. My spirit needed the calm centering from a weighted blanket, or to be doused with glitter to make pretty what was left and loathing. And that black magik woman didn’t allow me to stop feeling. In fact despondent inside from sad currents washing on and off the shores of my heart that had been kind. Maddening smiles of suicide ached me so like hamstrings after running. BENEATH my scalp was vulnerable, and those damn fingers gnawing beneath my scalp were RAMBUNCIOUS LIKE CHILDREN playing and teasing too much. Fingernails etched unmet needs into the fabric of my temples both sardonic and harsh. Oh but these locs made breathing natural again! They circulated everything CHANGED! Scars healed over. Replenished supplies of worthy and strong and pretty. And I can hear the GOT DAMN sound of my own voice again! IT’S Loud, raspy, rumbling! Meh jata, keeper of MY brown secrets, a visual poem, cascading downward, elegant, black, triumphant, CHANGED.
And my new growth stands for everything RADICAL! YET This NEW GROWTH ain’t always been treated kind. Been outcast while sitting peacefully at my local coffee shop, been molested while standing in lines at the grocery store, and protested by dead white eyes while PRACTICING Nadi Shodhana in the park. And their privilege always stalks me with their eyes-then averts when mine stare back. They glare-hate and curiosity-an immanently dangerous combination. And they have the unmitigated gull to blame all things considered on my pigment? Well I move to fucking strike and blame all things considered on their privilege! Check my locs! This shit is beyond skin deep! THIS SHIT IS INHERITED “bad behavior”, stitched into the framework of the universe-light moons-old of bullying and shaming the dark, causing trauma to those of us born from the dark before we even arrive on the planet.
And ENTITLEMENT makes them kick and break things while wearing rose colored glasses to combat every painful truth from US bloodied and trailing ALONG THE WAY. And they never consider our journeys-victims indeed. That have survived to tell our stories of hair more alive than dead! In fact umbilical cord commitments between US and the CREATIVE. And instead of owning these facts-they blame us for what they see, project onto us what they feel or cannot understand as if we have no understanding of such things. Or they are offended when we turn stone or jarring to protect what liberties their curiosities told them to take from our bodies. Shit! This dred right here just might be that little bit of curiosity that sets you free. Cause Meh jata will not cower for you! No! You can NOT touch! Meh jata will not apologize for what you see! Step aside-Stop taking up the whole got damn pavement! Meh jata is Afrikan and lives on American soil! Recognize us with more than Lincon’s copper pennies. Meh jata holds secrets for the universe-adorns our temples with love, and cowrie shells and copper elephants. Cause my hair is as historically significant to black culture as black skin. Know this. Believe this. Respect my locs! -Thee Amazing Grace #girlrillavintage #tag #theeamazinggrace
My black pinup collectible series is the art I’m most proud. I first discovered that our legacy surpassed the obvious like Josephine Baker and Dorothy Dandridge about 5-years ago. I attended an event at the Art Scape festival in Baltimore Maryland. My best friend and I went to a “fetish” themed, interactive art performance. There was so much going on that it took us nearly all night to get around to everything. Towards the end of the performance there was a scene on pinup queens and burlesque. All of the pinup performers were white. The film they showed starred a white woman. The magazines, calendars, jewelry, tees, and art they sold were plastered with white women. My best friend and I shared a brief glance, a glance filled with unspoken sorrow and disappointment that we didn’t exist there, how black women in history could literally be glossed over in the 21st century without a thought. There was a void that only black women can understand.
I asked the curator and one of the artists of the show where the black pinup models like Josephine Baker were. I assumed that there was more to the performance. She told me that she had never heard of any black pinup models before and that she really wouldn’t put Josephine Baker in the category of a “real” pinup model. I was hurt-it was written all over my expression. I couldn’t shake the feeling of how even a seemingly free thinking, college educated, white, female artist from a metropolitan area had no clue about any black pinup models, even just by chance during one of her college courses or something. I vowed to myself and my best friend that I would get to the bottom of all of this. It took me sometime, but I finally did my own research. I was down on myself thinking why I hadn’t thought of it sooner. It took me several weeks to find viable and honest resources about black pinup queens of the time, but I found about 100 images.
Aside from the images I was shocked to learn that there was no representation of art online or otherwise featuring vintage black pinups. I felt isolated about the whole thing, so I started generating conversations about it with family and friends. And after discussing the topic with several women I realized that I was no longer alone and that other women of color had similar convictions. I was moved by the excitement and curiosity in the conversations I was having, the spark that was lit in all of us. Something that I had tapped into, filled something in us all, stirring something much deeper than a mere moment. There were so many concerns from the women I conversed with for example, feeling tired of being underrepresented in media and history books, being subjected to white pinup models like #marilynmonroe #bettiepage and #bettegrable as if they represented the standard of beauty in all women, and lastly the sadness of seeing young black girls wearing teeshirts and other fashion trends that mimicked white women-how so many young black girls despised their own bodies so much to change their very own images, altering their Afrikan heritage, a rich and ambitious heritage all its own.
As a trendsetter in my community, lover of vintage errrydamnthang (well maybe not everything), but basically as a creative person I was disappointed that my search revealed nothing. Naythan reflecting vintage black pinup models online. ZERO Y’all! The lack thereof set forth in me a spiritual motion. I decided to be the first, but certainly not the last to create such art the way I envisioned it. I knew that my vision was not going to be like anyone else’s, so I went for it. My goal was to create wearable vintage art for people of color to be proud-to identify with. I thought of how dope it would be start a movement, a revolution, an awakening of something we know so little about. My earlier pinups were “buttons/pins” comprised of personalized sonnets and some adorned with mixed media materials. I gifted them to the women in my life. I did that to guesstimate how many would actually be brave enough to wear them. I know “brave” is suggestive, but you’d be surprised of how many of us black women feel shame and ridicule about our bodies. I was proud of the folks that willingly engaged my art, a topic that is otherwise taboo and unheard of.
Over the years, I began to transform my pinup button collection into other forms of wearable art like earrings and necklaces. My creative process with the pinups has been one of #spiritual fortitude. Freeing with an abundance of creative energy. And while I’ve added my own creative twist to the collectibles I wouldn’t be able to do any of it without them. The women’s images themselves-women that posed for a myriad of reasons. Brave birds. I always thank them. I always ask them to find me. I always tell them how I wish to honor them, never overpowering or overshadowing their stories, their beauty because they’re enough. I always ask them for guidance. Our relationship is similar to the way I view my ancestors and the alter I worship them on. I view each pinup as her own alter that will be a blessing to the lovely person that is called to her.
Sadly, the majority of the magazines and news spreads graced by black women were disproportionate, often hyper-sexualized, and lewd. Unlike #white pinup models of the time, praised for their #beauty, black pinup models were #fetishized for their #sexual prowess and curvaceous attributes. #Blackgirls who weren’t cherished by soldiers overseas, pinned on walls, or lockers, but were hidden under mattresses, beneath floor boards, cloaked in secrecy, fetishized in private, disposed of and belittled in public. Black pinup girls were not idealized versions of what was thought of as #beautiful or attractive. And despite the fact that #josephinebaker #dorothydandrige #lenahorn & #earthakitt were all categorized as #burlesque or #pinups of the time, black pinup models in general weren’t as widely distributed or paid as white women of the same time period.
I felt a sense of pride, the bravery it took to be a black woman, sexually free, an exhibitionist during a time of racial disparity and civil unrest, a time when hate crimes against black bodies-Afrikan bodies born in America-born in different parts of the world was as natural as breathing air. To the ones exploited, demeaned, and murdered I lift you up! Your stories deserve to be told. And although we weren’t acknoweledged by our names more so by our frames we were never insignificant and we exist for every reason. We deserve to be upheld triumphantly, free to be sexually empowered and beautiful-valued just as the white women were. How the single encounter at an art show some years back ignited so much more inside of me than simply creating art.
This collection is to honor, not overshadow those black women before me like mama #SartjeBaartman taken from #Afrika to #England and placed in a freak show because of her “disproportionate” body parts. To those that took risks and loved it. To those that loved art and #selfexpression. To the women in these images I thank you for letting me find you. I thank you for giving me cosmic permission to #honor you this way. Through #blackart from my #brown #black hands and beating #heart! To all black women learning of black pinup queen honey bees for the first time know that we were there! We are here now! And we are in the future-#INLIVINGCOLOR!
Art heals,
Thee Amazing Grace
GirlrillaVintage the Blog 