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! My name is Gracie Nicole Berry. I’m West Afrikan born in North Philadelphia Pennsylvania. I was raised by a fire house group of traditional “root healers” or “root doctors” depending on where you’re from. African Ancestry describes my mitochondrial descendants as a “haplogroup” that originated in Ghana then migrating to Sierra Leone before being stolen to Haiti to Norway South Carolina to Charlotte North Carolina before settling in Philadelphia. My mother’s side not only taught us the essentials of living off the land, but the lifelong lesson of honoring our descended ancestors in all the many ways we can while earthside.
As a child I was fascinated by the rituals I witnessed. I once saw my great gram Freda heal a man that rented a room in my grem Grace house from gout. Great grem Freda, grem Grace, grem Grace’s husband, and one of my great uncles used 2 large sacks of potatoes, corn liquor, grease-that smelled like cows poop and peppermint oil, and loud, intentional prayers, and humming. All of the swelling that had once deformed his lower legs and feet were gone by morning. A moment in time that further shaped my visual understanding of what it meant to work with roots. The shortest moment in time, felt like an eternity and it what they did worked. As they kept watch throughout the night. I sat crouched in a corner watching through where the door hinged. Candles kept the room dimly lit enough to see what was going on. I remember that poor old man tossing and turning, moaning in pain like he was drunk in his sleep, sweat from his body glistened and seemed to soak through puddles on the sheets. As day break I was sleepy, but could see that the potatoes that hung above the doorway, around the bed, and encased his legs and feet literally shrunk down to prune sized balls in front of my very eyes. I just knew it was a miracle that that old man didn’t have scary elephant looking legs and feet anymore. No one was permitted to touch the potato droppings accept for my uncle who swept them into a pile on a piece of cardboard, emptied the contents into two large paper bags and left at my great grem Fredas instruction to bury the bags.
My great grem Freda May in her younger years.
My great grem was known for moving throughout the community using practical and spiritual gifts passed down through many generations. She, my grem, and several aunts and uncles could also see and speak to ancestors and foresee things before they happened. They healed so many people in and round our community in miraculous ways. And somehow me and my cousins manage to hold both inherited and learned spiritual gifts like that of conjuring, veneration of the departed, using herbs as medicine, and channeling the elements out in nature.
It’s empowering to know the spiritual fortitude I come from-that flows in my DNA-one of the main reasons I choose to center my Blackness, un-apologetically before any of the margins. You may wonder what centering Blackness looks like…well for me, it reminds me of 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 micro-aggression’s plague every facet of our worldly experience with or without our consent. Centering myself as a Black woman first and foremost helps me to choose what’s best for me always.
Prior to discovering my mother’s west Afrikan ancestry in 2018, themes of healing, identity, and sexuality have been prevalent in my personal history and artistic development. Passions cultivated during my undergraduate studies at Lincoln University in Pennsylvania, the first degree granting, historically black college/university. Lincoln University’s very inception inspired me to dive deeper into my cultural lineage through the arts and to encourage others to do the same. To unpack parts of history our ancestors had long stowed away. To break generational trauma. My family of origin and community continue to be a great source of growth, pride, and self-discovery. I want any of the art I create to be steeped in truth. To inspire. To evoke all types of feelings. To energize. To interrogate systems of oppression. To renegotiate narratives as they relate to Black bodies and spaces.
If you get down to the exhibit, share your experience and hashtag so I can find you: #girlrillavintage #shadowkeepersandroothealers #shadowkeepersandroothealerstheoriginalogs
-In Warmest Sol,
TheeAmazingGrace
SHADOWKEEPERS & ROOTHEALERS “THE ORIGINAL OG’S” An homage and Afro-futurist altar to Obatala, Olokun and Orunmila, three of the eldest Orisha Gods from the Yoruba religion in West Afrika, involved in the creation of the universe, included are ancestors that have radically nourished, transformed and sustained the lives of those in the Afrikan Diaspora throughout the world.
I can’t begin acknowledgments of my experience as a station case artist at Lancaster’s Amtrak Station without first recognizing Ogun, the Orisha of iron and metalworkers. Ogun, aligns with all of the ancestors that were involved in building American and international railway systems that afford us the luxury of railway travel today. To the Pullman Porters, Black men and women who were often overworked, underpaid and racially defiled while fighting for their human right to exist. To those passengers of Afrikan descent that experienced segregated railway cars and unspeakable violence, those that lost their lives in struggle, and to those ancestors whose eternal flame will never burn out from the trail they’ve set ablaze in their fight toward freedom.
As a creative, community educator, and womanist my senses are often inundated with a ton of information. This particular project stretched me in ways I never understood before. The Public Art application phase, alone was daunting (well maybe not as daunting as single-handedly gluing hundreds of small shells onto large sculptures), but the written process was damn good practice in how to chronicle my creative accomplishments.
Researching the ancestors and Orisha triggered thoughts about how magnificent and powerful the Yoruba community is all over the world. Ancestors, books, dialogues, and research all influenced my visual works you see here today. Yoruba devotees, know that I’m still finding my way and have so much more to learn, but I’m happy to be welcomed in to do the work.
All of the Orisha sculptures you see are my personal, artistic depictions of a futuristic nature. I sited all references that helped me and maybe helpful to you at the end of this blog. Being an creative as well as an old soul, I wanted to create fresh images that highlight the power and influences of the eldest Orisha pantheon that may not be as popular as some of the other deities, but paved the way due to the jobs they were assigned to do on earth. You’ll notice the use of cowrie shells on several pieces in all sorts of shapes, symbols, and patterns. My idea was to convey “portals” or “wormhole” like projections all over their bodies with the cowrie shells serving as a conduit to connect us to deeper spiritual meaning and conciousness.
During meditation and dream states, I tapped into energy that surpassed 5th dimensional time and space. Ultimately, the Yoruba religion feels the most like home to me. And I trust that this exhibition will feel like home to you. That it will honor and uplift your spirits, ancestor, lineage, no matter how you feel about it.
Aside, I want to add that the presence of cowrie shells in my work is synonymous to many things, but mainly a sense of abundance, power and vastness of the ocean and water in general. How limitless it would be to re-imagine, not only our skin, but the totality of our ascension beyond the flesh. Nigerian philosopher, writer, activist, professor of psychology Bayo Akomolafe reminds us that, “We like water are homeless.” Because water as he describes it, in its entanglement, its fluidity, its porousness, serves as an invitation to deconstruct oneself over and over again, to shape shift. Think about the oneness that takes place between the mortal and immortal in the pouring of ancestral libation. And how it’s not simply to remember our ancestors, but is a way to reconfigure ourselves and our members over and over.
Shadowkeepers & Roothealers “The Original OG’s” serves as an invitation to those from all walks of life to go beyond what is simply in front of them. To go beyond the physical form and experience. To go beyond the call and response narrative. Beyond solutions. Beyond duality. To listen without ears. To see without eyes. To conceive that we are more alike than we are different despite how colonization tries to separate us at every junction. We exist. We are the space between the stars. We come from ancestors that never left us. We come from someplace.
AFRO-FUTURISM AND SPIRITUALITY WHILE RE-IMAGINING TECHNOLOGY
I find myself seeking truth in all areas of my life. I give myself permission to redefine things meant to harm or hinder me. One of my dearest friends and mentors lovingly calls me, “Crossaline” because she knows that if there is ever a line that teeters on the edge of injustice I will cross the line of struggle for understanding, for liberation.
The term Afrofuturism dates back to the 1990’s, but is not really new in terms of civilization. In fact the concept is quite ancient or “Afrodiasporic”. Evidence of an “Afrikan future” can be linked to northeast Afrika, the ancient Egyptian Pyramids of Giza. One of the most incredible achievements on the face of the earth from the hands of ancient humankind to this day. It’s fascinating to know that ancient Afrikans built something so long ago that no modern human or technology, scholar has ever been able to reproduce. Remember, we come from someplace.
Afro-futurist works and theories in essence are steeped in connecting past, present, and future unlike many mainstream techno-culture and science-fiction works and theories that more often deny the past and blur lines of present and future. I see color and infinite possibility. I see us as spiritual beings having a human experience. I see a collective consciousness, coming to the edge of our own truths, honoring each other and our ancestors. I see us organizing in a myriad of ways. After all the very nature of Afro-futurism involves a deep honoring of ancestors and ancient societies. Moreover, how it celebrates movements that fight to acknowledge, empower, and humanize people of Afrikan descent.
WEST AFRIKAN MYTHOLOGY
My exhibit focuses on Afrikan Mythology because of all the spiritual paths it offers the most sophisticated understanding of creation and humanity. It permeates Cameroon, Benin, Gambia, Ghana, Niger, Nigeria, Sierra Leone just to name a few, and it has journeyed throughout the Afrikan holocaust Maafa to Brasil, Cuba, Guyana, Haiti, Trinidad, South American and other Caribbean countries. Yoruba traditions are rich in artistic fables and creation truths, and offers a pantheon of Orishas (gods and goddesses). It serves in similar ways that angels do in Christianity, Islamic and Jewish religions. For example, Olodumare ranks as the highest Orisha because he is the God of all creation by giving living beings their very breath. He crafted the universe inside a calabash and is as highly regarded as Brahma is to Hinduism’s or Elohim to the Christian ethos. Lastly, Dr. Jacob Olupona, a Nigerian professor, reminds us that, “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.”
SHADOWKEEPERS THE ELDEST ORISHA
As I mentioned early on, I wanted to highlight the eldest Orisha. Given my theme of Afrofuturerism my focus was to focus on gender ambiguity of 2/3 of the Orisha as well as all of the prominent historical components that make them who they are. I sought Orisha that represented a world I could envision myself living in. Some sources both scholarly and spiritual pointed to Obatala being female, male or neither while others defined him as one or the other. Also, despite historical origins, women as well as men can be initiated to Obatala. One of the books I read examines deities to include that of Obatala. It further discusses some of the transformations experienced both in their Yoruba homeland and in the Americas.
To be transparent, I don’t fully understand why spirit charged me with creating a female incarnate of Obatala, but I’m very proud. I interpreted the information both as a creative, scholar and spiritual being, after extensive research. I think Obatala bringing forth femininity is sort of profound timing, given the harsh, male dominated political climate we live in today. Also, the fact that there is so much more work to be done to bridge commonalities over the differences in much of the oral traditions in the Yoruba spiritual community. It makes my journey toward a healthy Yoruba practice even more meaningful.
OBATALA
According to oral traditions in ancient Ile Ifa, an ancient Yoruba city in south-western Nigeria Obatala’ is said to have an equal number of male paths as female paths. There for Obatala does not have a permanent gender incarnation and can be male, female or neither. Oba meaning king, Obatala is the king of the white cloth and the creator of all humankind. Obatala is known by their crown. Obatala is married to Yemonja, the goddess of life at the top of the ocean and the godmother of Orishas. This makes Obatala the god of all human beings without regard to gender. Obatala is revered for justice, truth, peace, and purity. Much like the image of Jesus, Obatala is the child of God Olodumare also known as Olorun. Olorun, permitted Obatala to descend from the heavens, create land over the waters, and mold human bodies from popo (mud and clay). In most spiritual traditions, God shows compassion because the human being errs; in Yoruba tradition, Obatala shows compassion because they themselves have erred.
Obatala as female pathway. Created by Gracie Berry circa 2019. Photo by Shelby Wormley.
OLOKUN the people of southwestern Benin describe them as one of the most commanding Orisha and is respected as an authority over all other water deities. Olokun worship is especially noted in the cities of the Eco People in southwest Nigeria. In West African areas directly adjacent to the coast, Olokun takes a male form among his worshipers while in the hinterland, Olokun is a female deity. Olokun’s name is derived from the word “Olo” meaning “owner”, and “Okun” meaning “ocean”. Olokun is the owner of all deep, dark water at the bottom of the ocean. They hold the key to all the mysteries in the ocean and for what happened to our ancestors on those fateful journeys during Maafa across the Atlantic Ocean. They possess unmatched wisdom, governs over dreams, wealth, prosperity, meditation and healing past, present and future.
Olokun as female pathway. Created by Gracie Berry circa 2019. Photo by Shelby Wormley.
ORUNMILA the people of southwestern Nigeria describe him as a prophet and oldest son of Olorun-ruler of the sky, creator of the sun. Orunmila is a master spiritualist who sees all and knows all. He holds the gift of wisdom and divination. He was present both at the beginning of creation and then again amongst the people as a prophet. Orunmila taught an advanced form of spiritual knowledge and ethics called Odu Ifa, during visits to earth in physical form or through his disciples. He is a prophet and maker of miracles and speaks to us through his disciples.
Orunmila created by Gracie Berry circa 2019. Photo by Shelby Wormley.
ROOTHEALERS OUR BELOVED ANCESTORS
MAMA UBUNTU “HUMANESS” is the first of four dream inspired pieces from my first installment series AfrikanFace: Autochthonous Blood & Bone. Mama Ubuntu symbolizes the resilience of Winnie Mandela and many others during the wake of apartheid in South Afrika. She is a home (literally with each hanging from her waist) to those people of Afrikan descent who aren’t as well known in history, but without them the world wouldn’t be the same. They not only died in struggle, but kept the fight for freedom and justice alive.
To include:
AUSA UHSA “ITS RAINING” the second of four dream inspired pieces from my first installment series AfrikanFace: Autochthonous Blood & Bone. She was created to honor the people of Malakula Vanautu, a group of east Afrikans that migrated to northeast Australia, better known as the Mbotgate people where it is hot, rainy, and humid for most of the year.
BIYAHA “WATER” the third of four dream inspired pieces from my first installment series Afrikan Face: Autochthonous Blood & Bone. Biyaha honors deities of the ocean Olokun and Yemonja. How they lead those ancestors that perished at sea find their way during ascension at the middle passage.
ZINA “SECRET SPIRIT” the last of four dream inspired pieces in my first installment series Afrikan Face: Autochthonous Blood & Bone. Zina is an ode to my younger self. The spirit and physical manifestation I imagined myself to be.
EGUNGUN “MASQUERADE OF ANCESTOR REVERENCE” my Egungun was constructed for the purpose of honoring those you see here today. Given the deeply secretive and spiritual nature of the Egungun spirits, I felt called to ask my ancestors for permission. They gave me the go ahead after only one night and one prayer. Conjuring an Egungun was the most difficult part of my journey because I had to dig deep to find authentic resources. My friends, family and two cats engage the Egungunin ways that let me know that his ancestral power is activated.
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 