Ase’ Ancestor Affirmations Offerings Voyage & Thangs


Ase’O Beautiful Soul People! 


Finally made it down to a local creek earlier this evening to offer our Ase’ Ancestor Affirmations from my exhibit Shadowkeepers & Roothealers the Original OG’s, that was on view at The Ware Center-Millersville. We uplift the spirits of Olokun, Osun, Yemaya and all of the water Orisha I haven’t discovered yet. 

Transferring the NappyNotes for Safekeeping Watch the Video Below

I was literally chasing waterfalls yall lol! I wanted to be intentional about the final resting place of the affirmations, so I took time searching here and there. Initially, I thought to go down to my favorite watering hole, but that too didn’t quite feel right. I envisioned the affirmations being whisked away into moving water, rushing water. I asked my ancestors for guidance because nothing was resonating in my immediate environment. I went from one idea to the next when suddenly I saw something about water falls and dams in PA. A beautiful light bulb shined over my head, thats when the journey began to find a local spot that had a waterfall or stream of moving water. I kept finding places that were in PA, but over 200 miles away from Lancaster. I thought there has to be something closer to my area. I kept talking to my ancestors about the dilemma and urged them to help me. Plus, I was trying to get things done while the moon still waned because it (conjures to reverse, releases old habits and is good for reflection and divination) exactly what I was trying to do. Finally, I came across Mill Creek Falls which is about 20 miles outside of Lancaster, a 30 minute drive. I was SO HAPPY THAT MY ANCESTORS PROVIDED SUCH QUICK GUIDANCE. Also, I couldn’t help but to notice that the name Mill Creek is also the name of a section in Philadelphia where I spent some of my younger years. Also, my aunt Neece and uncle John raised their family there too. The discovery was like double confirmation that my thoughts were heard. I knew then that I was headed in the right direction.

I drove the 30 plus minutes through rural country, not many people were around. As I turned down McCalls Ferry Rd and began a 7 mile ascension into the falls. I felt an energetic shift as if I was time traveling or entering sacred ground. I wasn’t afraid but filled with excitement. As I approached my destination about a mile out, I saw the longest bridge in the area ever. It almost seemed to slope down, creating steep hills on both sides. It reminded me of a roller coaster and I wasn’t too pleased about that lol! As I got closer, the view from all angles took my breath away. My gaze was steady tho because I didn’t want no problems with the Susquehanna River below lol! After exiting the bridge, I drove back a lonely stretch of dirt road. I parked where I saw signs for the Mason Dixon Trail which is where I wanted to go according to visitors that wrote about their experiences. I took a deep breath and recorded myself walking into the wooded area. I asked for protection as I ventured in even further. It was hot as giraffe nuts and sticky. I walked about 20 minutes before happening upon the sweet spot, creek you see in the video. However, I was looking for the 12 foot waterfall that was apparently near by. I left that sweet little creek to continue exploring the vast area. I found a cool, well preserved canal called, Lock # 12 that has historic ties to the area.

It was one hot ass journey lol! All of the sudden, right after exploring the canal, I decided to keep following the sounds of the water. I got a little nervous for my safety for a brief moment when I encountered a large group of about 25 white folks that looked more like a mob. They didn’t look happy to see me as they were walking towards me on the same bridge I was crossing in the opposite direction. If looks could kill, I’d be dead. Some of them wore racist symbols on their t-shirts like the confederate flag, some had shiny, pink skinned heads, some had goth gear, heavy eye make up and purple lipstick (I liked actually liked the goths style look lol), some had spikes and motorcycle books on that stamped across the bridge LOUD as they stamped over the narrow, creaky bridge, some were young, some were old, some were female, some were male, one of the older men in the back said “howdy” and I said it back, the other said “hi” and I said it back, some just starred as if I had 3 heads lol! But despite how physically uncomfortable I felt on the inside, I forged ahead on the outside, starring back with strong stance and stride because I knew it was my birth right to be there too. Plus, I know that my ancestors don’t play about me, and ain’t bring me this far to meet no fatal demise at the hands of no patriotic white folks. I know I’m protected and knew I was then. I was on a mission and my ancestors saw me through, providing many lessons along the way.

I give thanks to my ancestors for having my back, for helping me come down (like Ma Bendu say’s). They kept me safe and soothed the very tiny spark of fear and uncertainty that passed through my head right out through the bottom of my shoes. They helped me to remember who I am and from what spiritual lineage I come from. They helped me to look to my families bones my West Afrikan, Choctaw and Cherokee ancestors that are alive in my very backbone. Also, I couldn’t help, but think of the horror my ancestors must’ve faced at angry white vigilante mobs out to intentionally kill them, but thats a whole other blog. I give thanks to all of them. I give thanks having been born in this skin, during these days and time. Ase’O!

Deepest gratitude to the Orisha that walk with me too like Esu’ for keeping our messages safe and for clearing the path for me to do the important spirit filled work I drove all that way and intended to do. Blessings to every soul and their 10,000 plus ancestors that took a moment to witness a very special body of work for me that lead to this final phase of my work. A body of work and perspective that goes beyond the paint. 

Down By the Riverside Offering Affirmations, Watch IG LIVE Video Below

Also, want to acknowledge the Afro-Cuban family and their ancestors for adding to the deeply spiritual backdrop as they played Afrikan drums LOUD the moment I began my water offering. That showed me in the flesh right then and there how divinely guided this thang is and that there are layers and nothing can stop power of it. I mean it was as tranquil as nature could be the whole time I foraged around from (birds, streams, water trickling over rocks, insects and other critters scurrying along). The drums were a call and response to something unseen and reaffirmed that my journey was not in vain. My ancestors showed up right on time. It was a pleasant surprise and gave me all the courage I needed in my bones that moment to keep going, to keep wading in the water.

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. 

To the 62 people including myself that left Ase’ Affirmations to our ancestors in that bowl, know that your ancestors got your messages long before this moment, I just ushered them out into the universe from an Ifa perspective. Y’all dope! Enjoy this very spontaneous live. Through muffled sounds of my phone speakers going under water you can still hear and feel my vibration through humble grace. I did the best I could being alone out there, so trusting you’ll be encouraged and uplifted in all the ways there is. After walking aimlessly for hours and miles and miles of terrain, I found this beautiful clearing and creek. A home to our most precious Affirmations and notes of gratitude to our ancestors.

My Journey through Slideshow, Watch the Slideshow Below


Ancestors are everywhere and in everything that existed before we were born, just look to the bones. Our bones symbolize truth and wisdom for the memories they hold. Our ancestors can be through blood, those we choose, those we know by name and don’t, spirits in nature, earth, moon, sun, stars as well as people in the lineage of our spiritual practice like the Orisha of the Ifa’ faith, ancestors etc,. My bones tell stories of ancient Afrikan civilizations with Ifa’ aka Yoruba feeling the most like home. What story is in your bones? How deeply do you know yourself beyond the human experience?

Out in the ‘tranquil’ protected by my ancestors and nem.


I created, Ase’ Ancestor Affirmations to serve as an invitation to engage community members and to act as a conduit to the unspoken parts of self as well as a space to honor and acknowledge ancestors from an Ifa perspective through writing on paper. Ase’ Affirmations also serves a places of healthy and transformative communication with yourself as well as between the mortal and spiritual worlds. Ase’O!

Ase’ Ancestral Affirmation Instructions that were on display at the Shadowkeepers & Roothealers Exhibit at The Ware Center-Millersville back in June 2022.


Remember earlier when I mentioned the Afrika drums that played the instant I started speaking about the affirmations? It can literally be heard during my LIVE video. Well, music is the gift that truly keeps on giving. After finishing the last of the affirmation offerings, I emerged from the trees transformed. And couldn’t help notice what sounded like a celebration, festival, something grand happening out in those backwoods. As I approached a clearing to get to my car, I see an Afro-Cuban family having a cookout. There was lots of food, children running about and most memorable the music. They played bachata so loud back there that I thought it was a concert or something lol! I was so relieved to see their flag and their freedom, carefree in the deep of nature enjoying themselves. As I got closer to my car, I finally witnessed where the source of the sound was coming from from as far back as the Afrikan drums I heard earlier. There were multiple speakers on top of his vehicle, so loud that it vibrated my solar plexus and I could feel hot air coming from them at every baseline. It looked like they were shooting a video out in the parking lot. I could tell no one lived remotely near by because they were having a ball with not a care in the world. The vibe was lit. The whole experience made my day! Watch me emerge from the woods in the video below. And to think I was a little nervous earlier.

Emerging from the woodsy Mill Creek Falls, Watch the Video Below

We don’t have to be spirit whisperers to maintain a healthy relationships with our ancestors. When we honor them in even small ways, we honor ourselves and all connected to us. Ancient teachings are alive in our bones we just have to remember and ask for guidance to reveal it. And just as in any meaningful relationship, our bonds with our ancestors calls for care, consistency and renewal. Our ancestors can become a tremendous source of healing, empowerment, and nourishment in our families and everyday lives if we allow it. 


Shout out @therealprcptn for the dope Tee! 🙏🏾

#afrikanface #ancestoraltar #ancestorsspeak #ase#aseancestoraffirmations #aseaffirmations #esu#girlrillavintage #girlrillavintage3d #ifa #nappynotes#offerings #shadowkeepersandroothealers#shadowkeepersandroothealerstheoriginalogs #smudgetalk#TheeAmazingGrace #westafrikanwoman

Movement for Maisha

Deep belly breaths… meditation has always served me from a place of awareness. Like leaving the thoughts in my mind instead of trying to push them out. Or paying attention to where the thoughts go to inside my body. Like what thoughts invite more peace and smoother breaths and what does it feel like. I use movement and breath like that to commandeer a mindful state that tells a story. As creatives we are inundated with so much damn information all of the time, so we have to be intentional about sifting through the garbage to get to the Jewels. 

Over the weekend, I found a bracelet with my sister‘s name on it at a rural thrift shop far away from the big city where we’re from. I had actually gone back to get something for an art project when I came across the bracelet. There was no reason on earth that I should’ve ever found a bracelet with her name on it at that location, place and time. It was confirmation that were conn no matter how far apart. Also of a truth I had known all along. It’s wild how divinely guided both my art and life path is. How ancestors and spirit confirms and reaffirms every time. My sister and I share the same father, so we didn’t grow up together. In fact, I don’t even know if the spelling on the bracelet is the correct one, but I know its her name. Gives me joy to say it aloud. I haven’t seen her since 2007, after a painful truth, not mine to tell, came out about her and our father. Made me weep for my sister, but proud of the courage she was born with.

Movement is one of the many ways I work in this life to heal my families lineage in the next because I truly believe we can’t just honor ancestors and those to come simply with words, but we have to honor them in our actions, the ways we live out our lives, the ways we change traumatic, unhealthy patterns in our structure once normalized. When I push, pull, bend, flex, stomp it’s a cosmic wave of energy that does something for them too. This movement is my sister Maisha for her courage and innocence lost…

Bracelet I found with my sisters name on it

Honest to God, I just wrote my dad who is in prison, explaining to him many things, but mainly that we can’t continue to shrink into or behind shame and guilt. We can’t shrink because the pain can grow us if we let it. We can no longer hold ourselves hostage for bad choices we made or hide behind distorted mindsets and actions either. We have to do the work that will allow ourselves to be eternally free beyond this body, beyond this earth. Because the truth will set us free or on fire.




1383991_367781190022898_986335139_n-3.jpgMy 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.

IMG_1825.JPGI 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.

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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