i didn’t mean to travel to the blackest city outside of the continent of africa for black history month, but i’m so glad that i did. i arrived in salvador, bahia, brazil on the eve of black history month, and it was the salve i didn’t know that i needed. the month had lost much of its zeal for me and on my feeds, with the weight of our current systems getting heavier by the day.

traveling across the waters to salvador, pulled me out of the media bubble and through a portal to where blackness just is. what does it mean to be black? they tell me it means to be a thing in the past. i’ve known black history month over my life as the time of year to pull out the playing cards of black history’s greatest hits — and i think christabel mintah-galloway succinctly articulated this best (required reading).

while in salvador, the sepia-toned glasses were shattered, and i was able to feel how deeply connected this time of year is to the diasporic ceremonies that take place across many waters, and ripple with the traditions carried by our ancestors, remembered in our songs, and kept in our rhythms.

despite distance, geography, language, and time, i witnessed us marching to the same drums and tambourines. they call it fest de yemanjá in salvador but it goes by many names around the world where Black folks are gathered.

i returned to the waters of yemanjá in salvador — the place that marked entry to all those enslaved. i said a prayer and left an offering to she who protects us from the water. i left remembering that i belong to strategies of survival, ceremonies of celebration, and rituals of care that have carried us over many waters and generations.

with care,

r

CITATIONS

1. christabel mintah-galloway

SEEDS

• yemọja, yemayá, lemanjá

• drone footage of festa de yemanjá