The Practice of a Hoodoo Baptist

In this episode of The Practice of a Hoodoo Baptist, I sit down with Tatianna Tarot, diviner, intuitive tarot therapist, and Iyalorisa priestess, for a grounded and expansive conversation on what it really means to trust your intuition.The conversation delves into ancestral wisdom, spiritual empowerment, and the significance of divination tools in reclaiming intuition. It also explores the impact of colonialism on spiritual disconnection and the importance of ancestral veneration and rites of passage. Takeaways:Ancestral wisdom and spiritual empowermentReclaiming intuition through divination toolsThe impact of colonialism on spiritual disconnection Discernment in spiritual educationThe power of abundance mindset and inner workThe impact of Afrofuturism on personal and collective growthChapters:00:00 Honoring Ancestral Wisdom and Spiritual Empowerment11:04 The Impact of Colonialism on Spiritual Disconnection46:22 The Transformational Power of Abundance Mindset and Inner Work53:40 Reparations and Afrofuturism

This episode of The Practice of a Hoodoo Baptist is a grounding conversation about ethics, discernment, and the responsibility that comes with spiritual work. I’m joined by Brooke “Bee” Sanders, founder of Amethyst Corner, a spiritual community rooted in ancestral connection, real healing, and practical tools for those walking their path with intention.The conversation delves into the importance of ancestral wisdom and ethical practice within the context of hoodoo and spiritual work. It explores the significance of honoring ancestral traditions and the need for ethical discernment in spiritual practices. We also get into the importance of community and sisterhood in spiritual practices, emphasizing the role of support, accountability, and cultural awakening. Further exploring the significance of ancestral wisdom, the power of tradition, and the non-performative nature of spiritual practices. Additionally, this episode highlights the magic of sisterhood, the importance of nurturing Black maternal health, and the value of intentional rest and self-care.TakeawaysImportance of ancestral wisdomEthical practice and discernment Community is key in spiritual practicesSisterhood and support are essential in the spiritual journeyChapters00:00 The Practice of Hoodoo and Ethical Discernment51:31 Embracing Sisterhood and Womb Magic

This episode of The Practice of a Hoodoo Baptist is about that kind of remembering.I’m joined by Charlotte Duerr James—educator, therapeutic coach, and initiated Medicine Woman—for a conversation that moves slowly, intentionally, and with reverence. The conversation delves into the exploration of ancestral wisdom, the use of psychedelics and earth medicines, early psychedelic experiences, Charlotte's personal psychedelic journey, and the ceremonial use of plant medicine. We go into the intersection of ancestral wisdom, plant medicine, and collective healing, highlighting the impact of colonial influence, societal stigma, and the importance of internal work and intention. Charlotte also emphasizes the need for more trained facilitators in the field of decolonized healing practices.TakeawaysAncestral wisdom and root work are central to the conversationPsychedelics and earth medicines play a significant role in personal and collective healing Ancestral wisdom and plant medicine offer a path to healing and ancestral reclamation.Colonial influence has led to societal stigma and misinformation about healing practices.Internal work and intention are key to the journey of healing and decolonization.Chapters00:00 Introduction to Ancestral Wisdom10:07 Early Psychedelic Experiences20:25 Charlotte's Psychedelic Journey32:22 Ceremonial Use of Plant Medicine38:54 Ancestral Wisdom and Plant Medicine55:39 Colonial Influence and Healing01:05:38 Internal Work and Intention01:11:06 Closing Remarks

The conversation delves into the exploration of ancestral wisdom and spiritual practices, highlighting the integration of these elements into personal journeys. It also addresses the challenges of navigating spiritual communities and the process of healing, emphasizing the importance of self-awareness and self-trust. Aycee Brown is a psychic medium, astrologer, and spiritual guide known for telling folks what they need to hear — not just what they want to hear. With over 15 years of experience blending astrology, Human Design, mediumship, and trauma-informed healing, she helps people strip away conditioning, reclaim intuition, and live from deep self-trust instead of spiritual performance. She hosts the podcast Is My Aura On Straight? and is the author of the forthcoming Embody Your Magic (HarperOne, Feb 2026), a guide to embodying your power and truth.We also get into the struggle of embracing independence and freedom, as well as the power of truth and healing. Lastly, our conversation explores the challenges faced in navigating personal freedom and the impact of emotional maturity on individual growth and healing.TakeawaysAncestral WisdomIntegration of Spiritual Practices Embracing independence and freedomThe power of truth and healingChapters00:00 Ancestral Wisdom and Spiritual Journey26:45 Navigating Spiritual Communities and Healing37:23 The Struggle of Independence and Freedom

The conversation delves into ancestral wisdom, black feminism, and the intimate history of black feminism. It explores personal experiences, intellectual connections, and the impact of ancestral teachings on identity and community. The discussion also touches on the significance of grief and emotional/spiritual practices in the context of social movement work and abolitionism. The conversation delves into the spiritual and emotional connection to activism, emphasizing the role of spirituality and ancestral connection in the work. It also explores the influence of radical socialization and community roots on activism, highlighting the importance of community and genealogy in movement work. Additionally, it addresses the intersection of academia and activism, the importance of citational ethics, and the need for movement leadership to be rooted in the genealogy of Black Panther women. The conversation also discusses the problem of radical individualism and performative activism, emphasizing the need for community-based and strategic activism. The conversation delves into the legacy of the Black Panther Party, the evolution of movements, intersectionality, misinformation, the poverty cycle, teaching Black history, plagiarism, marginalization of Black women's voices, normalization of harm, telling the truth to ourselves, wisdom from Black women's histories, and upcoming books and projects.TakeawaysAncestral wisdom and teachingsBlack feminism and political theoryIntimate history of black feminism Spirituality and emotional connection to the workThe importance of community and genealogy in movement work Intersectional activismChallenging social normsChapters00:00 Introduction and Guest Introduction06:21 Fluidity and Identity11:27 Black Women as Teachers and Architects17:34 Title of the Book and Intimate History22:40 Grief and Emotional/Spiritual Practice36:08 Academia and Activism46:23 Citational Ethics and Movement Leadership53:36 Radical Individualism and Performative Activism58:37 Misinformation and Disinformation01:05:23 Normalization of Harm01:14:21 Wisdom from Black Women's Histories01:20:01 Upcoming Books and Projects

The conversation delves into the intersection of religion, spirituality, and liberation, highlighting the impact of capitalism and supremacy on religious and spiritual practices. It also explores the implications of AI and technology, the environmental impact of data storage, challenges in nonprofit funding, the role of churches in communities, and the impact of surveillance and technology on personal privacy and health. Plus it highlights the struggle for funding, the high cost of maintaining a church, and the need for communal investment in spiritual gatherings and events. The conversation delves into the intersection of spirituality and Blackness, highlighting the importance of community, identity, and personal growth. It also explores the impact and significance of writing, storytelling, and the power of words in shaping narratives and creating connections.TakeawaysReligion and spirituality as tools of liberationThe impact of capitalism and supremacy on religious and spiritual practices Environmental racismImpact of data centers on communities Impact of capitalism on church fundingChallenges of sustaining a churchCommunity support and investment in spiritual spaces Spirituality and BlacknessThe Power of WritingChapters00:00 Introduction and Special Guest08:45 The Black Church and Its State19:11 Boycotts and Corporate Influence28:35 Environmental Racism and Data Centers36:40 Church and Community Impact42:08 Surveillance and Technology53:04 Impact of Capitalism on Church Funding01:15:42 Spirituality and Blackness01:35:15 The Power of Writing

The episode begins with an introduction to Season Two, followed by a dedication to the awakening of individuals. It then explores the embrace of ancestral traditions, the burden of being the first believer, the importance of embracing solitude and discernment, connecting with practitioners, navigating the journey of faith, planning for Season Two, and concludes with closing remarks and gratitude. The overarching theme revolves around embracing ancestral wisdom, navigating spiritual awakening, and finding community and support in the journey of faith.TakeawaysSeason of awakeningCommunity is everythingChapters00:00 Introduction to Season Two10:06 Embracing Ancestral Traditions16:25 Embracing Solitude and Discernment22:17 Navigating the Journey of Faith28:02 Planning for Season Two34:01 Closing and Gratitude

Forgiveness is sacred. But it’s not a shortcut. Not a performance. Not a requirement for healing. Some of us were taught to forgive too quickly — out of fear, out of guilt, out of the pressure to be “good.”Especially as Black women.Especially in the church. Especially when we were never given space to grieve what was taken.But here’s the truth: I didn’t forgive you for you. I did it for my spirit.Forgiveness doesn’t always mean calling them back. It means cutting the cord. Releasing the weight. Clearing the attachment and boundaries. That’s spiritual work too. That’s a “no” prayed over. That’s protection spelled out in silence. That’s clarity with a backbone.I’ve learned to stop equating maturity with suffering. I’ve learned that walking away is sometimes the holiest thing you can do. And I’ve learned that peace feels like stillness — not approval.If you’re still holding on to something you know you need to release… If you’ve been taught that forgiveness means forgetting who hurt you…If you’re afraid that saying “no” will make you look bitter…Take a breath. You’re not bitter….. You’re boundaried. You’re not broken….. You’re becoming.Covered by spirit. Guided by blood.🎙 Listen to this full reflection now on The Practice of a Hoodoo Baptist. This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit www.chelseavonchaz.com/subscribe

There are voices that don’t just speak — they shift the room.This week on The Practice of a Hoodoo Baptist, I sit down with EbonyJanice, Hip Hop Womanist scholar and author of All the Black Girls Are Activists. For those that may not know, EbonyJanice is a dynamic lecturer, transformational speaker, and Womanist scholar committed to decolonizing authority and centering Black women’s freedom dreams. Her latest book, All The Black Girls Are Activists, explores Black girlhood, ancestral reverence, and radical wholeness as pathways to liberation.Our conversation is a love letter to the sacred, intellectual, and spiritual work that Black women carry — often unseen, often unpaid, yet always world-shaping.Together, we talk about:* How the spiritual labor of liberation shows up in our bodies, relationships, and creative work.* Black girlhood as sacred text — joy, play, and memory as theology.* What ancestral reverence looks like as a living, breathing theology.* Why softness, pleasure, and wholeness are revolutionary acts.EbonyJanice reminds us that the revolution isn’t just in the streets — it’s in our healing, our art, our prayers, and our rest. Her voice carries the rhythm of revival, the fire of truth, and the joy of remembrance.Grab her book All the Black Girls Are Activists wherever books are sold and check out more of her work on her website. This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit www.chelseavonchaz.com/subscribe

There are certain conversations that feel like ceremony—where words, laughter, and memory become offerings. This one with Mawiyah Kai EL-Jamah Bomani is exactly that.A New Orleans native, award-winning playwright, priestess of OYA, and 8th-generation witch, Mawiyah carries both fire and tenderness in her voice. She joins me on The Practice of a Hoodoo Baptist to talk about what it means to live as OYA’s child—standing at the crossroads, creating art from the storm, and conjuring liberation through story.In this episode, we explore:* The sacred chaos of OYA and the spiritual lessons in change.* How Hoodoo and writing act as portals for ancestral wisdom.* Her books Conjuring the Calabash and the upcoming Hoodoo Saints and Root Warriors, and the power of magick made for women’s freedom.* What it means to carry an 8-generation legacy of witches, healers, and storytellers.* The purpose behind her podcast FishHeads in Red Gravy and her mission to center marginalized voices in the esoteric world.Mawiyah reminds us that the work of spirit is not always soft—it’s movement, transformation, and truth-telling. Her words are both a spell and a sermon for anyone learning to live inside their own storm. This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit www.chelseavonchaz.com/subscribe

Before I had language for “rootwork,” I had land. I had fresh mint by my great-grandmother’s steps. I had mason jars filled with leaves I wasn’t supposed to touch. I had herbs steeped into tea that tasted like prayer. I wasn’t taught by books. I was taught by the Earth. And the Earth never needed to explain herself.In Hoodoo, plants are not props. They’re not ingredients. They’re not trendy.They’re elders. They’re teachers. They’re spiritual collaborators.When I work with basil, I’m calling in peace. When I steep hyssop, I’m clearing something heavy. When I keep red clover near, I’m remembering my bloodline.And before I ask anything from these plants, I speak to them. I give thanks. I listen.You don’t need a yard. You don’t need the perfect setup. You just need to remember that you’re not separate from nature — you are nature. And nature recognizes her own.Start with what’s near. Start with what feels right. Let the land teach you what Google can’t. You don’t have to know every ritual — just move with respect.Covered by spirit. Guided by blood.🎙 Listen to this full reflection now on The Practice of a Hoodoo Baptist on YouTube, Spotify, and of course Substack. This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit www.chelseavonchaz.com/subscribe

Happy Hoodoo Heritage Month! It’s also my birthday month! Shout out to all of my Libras and Scorpios. In celebration of my favorite time of the year, I’m dedicating these last few episodes of this season of the podcast to the tradition. What happens when you study Hoodoo not as superstition, but as sacred practice — a living, breathing tradition of survival, healing, and power?This week on The Practice of a Hoodoo Baptist, I’m joined by Dr. Yvonne P. Chireau, historian, author of Black Magic: Religion and the African American Conjuring Tradition, and one of the first scholars to put Black folk healing and conjure at the center of American religious studies.Together, we talk about:* How enslaved and free Black communities used conjure as medicine, protection, and resistance.* The importance of oral tradition, memory, and everyday practice in keeping these traditions alive.* What therapeutic pluralism teaches us about the blending of Hoodoo, Christianity, and other healing systems.* The impact of her mentor Albert Raboteau, and what it means to build on that legacy.* Her own reflections on identity, faith, and how scholarship and spirit meet in her life.Dr. Chireau reminds us that Hoodoo is not just history on a page — it’s a sacred technology of resilience, rooted in the lives of Black people who refused to be erased. Listen now right here on Substack or consider following the podcast on Youtube! Follow Dr. Chireau’s work on her website, AcademicHoodoo.com. Paid subscribers get access to extended notes from this conversation, plus reflections on how Dr. Chireau’s scholarship shaped my own practice and work. This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit www.chelseavonchaz.com/subscribe

What happens when faith refuses to stay in the narrow pews it was handed, and instead begins to stretch, breathe, and move in the rhythm of liberation?This week on The Practice of a Hoodoo Baptist, I sit down with Kristian A. Smith — pastor, public theologian, and the voice behind Holy Smokes: Cigars and Spirituality. Kristian is a thought leader who challenges us to rethink the boundaries of belief, asking how faith can serve as a tool for healing, justice, and radical imagination. He’s also the founder of The Faith Community, an intersectional inclusive space, rooted in the Greatest Commandment. Together, we talk about:* Breaking up with fear-based theology and moving into a spirituality rooted in freedom.* How cigars, conversation, and community can become a liturgy of their own.* The role of storytelling in reshaping our understanding of God, church, and ourselves.* What it means to build faith practices that honor both tradition and personal truth.I truly enjoyed talking to my homie. We even talked about capitalism, and how too many Black christians view poverty as a virtue. Lawd knows I don’t condone slavery. Neither does pastor Smith. So we gotta get paid. Okay!Kristian reminds us that faith isn’t about blind allegiance — it’s about crafting practices that serve our wholeness and liberation. His voice is one that many of us have been waiting to hear: equal parts pastoral, prophetic, and practical.adsCheck out the full episode here or on Youtube and all other podcast platforms. Also please connect with Pastor Smith and tap into The Faith Community here. This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit www.chelseavonchaz.com/subscribe

Someone incredibly special to me recently passed away tragically. It’s still shocking. I’m taking my time to mourn and process. Grief has a way of reshaping us. It takes us apart, piece by piece, until all that’s left is what’s most true. In this episode of The Practice of a Hoodoo Baptist, I sit down with my partner, comedian and creative spirit Nore Davis to talk about grief, ancestors, and the ways our rituals can hold us when the world does not.This conversation is about more than mourning — it’s about remembering. We talk about how practices of ancestor veneration can soften grief, create space for laughter alongside tears, and remind us that our people have never left us.From altars to prayer, to calling names out loud, to the simple act of living in their joy — we break down what it means to build a daily practice that keeps the dead present in our lives. Nore shares how comedy, storytelling, and memory work are his forms of spiritual care. Together, we explore how grief can become not just a wound, but a doorway.In this episode, we explore:* What ancestor veneration looks like in everyday life* How grief can connect us deeper to spirit and lineage* The role of ritual, prayer, and creativity in healing* Why comedy and joy are sacred practices in times of mourning* How to live with grief in a way that honors both the pain and the beautyThis one is tender. It’s a reminder that grief is not something to “get over” — it’s something we learn to walk with, guided by those who came before us.Grief is not the absence of our ancestors. It is the proof of their presence. Each tear is an offering. Each memory, a prayer.Let me know if you appreciate anything from this episode. This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit www.chelseavonchaz.com/subscribe

Say it with me: Menstruation. Periods!They taught us to hide it. To be ashamed of it. To treat it like something dirty, something to pray away. We don’t talk about this enough. About how spiritual menstruation really is.How the body sheds what’s no longer needed—and how that’s likely a holy act.How the womb speaks in cramps and cravings, in silence and blood.But the truth is — blood is sacred. Menstruation is a monthly initiation. A reminder that your body is a temple, and your cycle is a ceremony.This episode is a love letter to the flow.A reclamation of power that’s been hidden, hushed, and misunderstood for too long.🎧 In this episode:* I reflect on the spiritual significance of menstruation* What church never taught us about the sacredness of the womb* How I use rootwork and ritual to support my cycle* And why our blood holds memory, medicine, and mojo💭 Reflection Prompt:How do you tend to your body during your cycle?What would it feel like to treat your period like a spiritual practice?🙌🏾 JoinThe Anointed FewAs a paid subscriber, you’ll get access to exclusive altar notes, bonus episodes, and spiritual tools to help you stay in alignment with your body, your blood, and your purpose. This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit www.chelseavonchaz.com/subscribe

Have you had the “M” talk? You know, that talk. About menopause!In this conversation with Omisade Burney-Scott, I have the opportunity to explore the intersections of ancestral wisdom, spirituality, and the experiences of Black women, Black bodies navigating menopause. Omisade shares her ancestral led journey into advocacy for reproductive justice and the importance of community support in understanding and normalizing menopause. Just in case you don’t know, Omisade Burney-Scott (she/her) is a seventh-generation Black Southern feminist, storyteller, and reproductive justice advocate. She is also the Founder and Chief Menopause Steward of The Black Girls’ Guide to Surviving Menopause (BGG2SM), a multidisciplinary narrative and culture shift project focused on normalizing menopause by centering the stories of Black women, transgender, gender-expansive people, and other marginalized groups of the Global Majority.Established in 2019, BGG2SM's core program offerings include a podcast, curated intergenerational storytelling gatherings, and a digital zine titled "Messages from the Menopausal Multiverse." She has been featured in multiple prominent media outlets, such as Oprah Daily, Forbes, VOGUE, WebMD, NPR, The Washington Post, and The New York Times. I stress to listeners during the interview that Omisade has BEEN doing this work! Long before it was trendy! Long before my favorite actress, Halle Berry was hollering MENOPAUSE on Capitol Hill. I’m so grateful for this intimate conversation. We discuss the impact of loss, the significance of rites of passage, and the role of ancestors in shaping contemporary practices. We both emphasize the need for inclusivity in reproductive health discussions and the growing movement around menopause awareness, as we’ve both have contributed more than a decade to the menstrual equity and reproductive justice space. This Queen takes me and listeners on a ride through the complexities of navigating life transitions, particularly menopause, through the lens of community, storytelling, and cultural identity. We also tap in on the importance of witnessing, creating safe spaces for dialogue, and the power of shared experiences in fostering resilience and understanding. Emphasizing the need for inclusivity in reproductive health discussions and the growing movement around menopause awareness, as we’ve both have contributed more than a decade to reproductive justice. In sharing the journey of her initiation to the Ifá religion, Omisade highlights the significance of ancestral memory, diasporic connections, and the need for inclusive gatherings that honor diverse narratives and experiences.Omisade and her team are preparing to offer the first intergenerational menopause conference for the Global Majority, Queer community and formerly incarcerated people called Iranti Eje: Remembering Blood, this October 9th-12th in Durham, NC. Do yourself a solid and check out the beautiful website for more details on this community offering. I will also be present at the gathering, offering my doula services at the Red Tent on the grounds. The Red Tent will serve as a restorative space inspired by ancient traditions where people who bleed can gather to rest and reconnect. You can register for everything here. It’s going to be so beautiful. See you there! This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit www.chelseavonchaz.com/subscribe

What’s in your mojo bag?! You know about mojo bags right?It’s not limited to just a gris gris bag or pouch made of flannel. Mojo bag represents the personal magic you have. The magic of Black women has been felt and reached globally for centuries.In this episode of The Practice of a Hoodoo Baptist podcast, I chat with Dr. Lindsey Stewart to explore the rich tapestry of Black women's spirituality, focusing on the legacy of hoodoo, the significance of community, and the importance of honoring ancestral wisdom. Dr. Lindsey Stewart is an Associate Professor of Philosophy at the University of Memphis, where she weaves Black feminist philosophy, Southern identity, and spiritual traditions into her scholarship . She is the author of The Politics of Black Joy: Zora Neale Hurston and Neo‑Abolitionism (Northwestern University Press, 2021), which explores how joy served as both resistance and refusal in southern Black life . Her newest work, Conjuring of America, traces 400 years of Black women’s magic—from mojos to mermaids—as a transformative spiritual history rooted in survival and self‑definition. During our chat we discuss the role of granny midwives, the cultural significance of textiles, specifically quilts, and the complexities surrounding charging for spiritual services like readings. We also touch on modern expressions of spirituality, such as brunch culture and social media. Dr. Stewart even shares reflections on the transformative power of mermaids as symbols of rebellion and change. Please consider supporting Dr. Lindsey Stewart by purchasing her new book, Conjuring of America: Mojos, Mermaids, Medicine, and 400 Years of Black Women’s Magic.The audiobook is also available on platforms like Audible and Spotify. I highly recommend listening to it! The dedicated chapters on The Candy Lady, Granny Midwives, and Caroline Dye are my favorites so far! Seriously, this book is a must have for all of the hoodoos and conjure women of today. This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit www.chelseavonchaz.com/subscribe

Growing up, many of us were told prophecy belonged to the Bible, to men in pulpits, or to faraway “chosen ones.” But what if I told you prophecy has always lived in us—passed through the mouths of grandmothers, whispered in dreams, traced in the stars, shuffled in tarot decks, and carried in our bones?This week on The Practice of a Hoodoo Baptist, I’m sitting down with Dayna Lynn Nuckolls—The People’s Oracle—to talk about prophecy not just as spiritual guidance, but as political fire. Dayna calls her work Divination for Liberation, skillfully using sidereal astrology, tarot, dream interpretation, and intuitive guidance in service of Black resistance.In this enlightening conversation, we explore the intersections of hoodoo, divination, and spirituality, emphasizing the importance of these practices in navigating oppression and fostering liberation. We also discuss the current cultural perceptions of astrology, the political implications of divination, and the necessity of reconnecting with ancestral wisdom. Together we ask:* What does it mean to reclaim prophecy as part of our survival toolkit?* How have colonization and Christianity sought to sever us from our oracular inheritance?* Can divination help us build a future that’s freer than our past?Dayna reminds us that prophecy isn’t just prediction—it’s direction. It’s the courage to say the truth even when the world isn’t ready to hear it.✨ Tune in to this conversation if you’ve ever wondered how spirit meets struggle, how dreams can be maps, and how divination can become a weapon for liberation.Because sometimes survival is political. And sometimes, prophecy is too.For more information on Dayna’s services and products, you can contact her here. Also check out her own podcast, Divination for Liberation. This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit www.chelseavonchaz.com/subscribe

I identify as Afro Indigenous. Specifically I am a Black Creek. My Great Grandmother, Claretha Williams-Lynum taught me that I’m a child of the Natives of this land as well as Africa, and that being both made me unique, and it was nothing to be ashamed of. After 46 years of exclusion, the Muscogee Nation’s Supreme Court ruled that Black Creeks are citizens. Descendants of Creek freedmen, like myself can now apply for tribal citizenship.My ancestors are rejoicing with me.This successful win for tribal recognition is something my Creek elders dreamed about. It’s my duty as a descendant to reclaim ALL that was denied.This isn’t just about paperwork.It’s about legacy. It’s about land. It’s about spiritual justice.Covered by spirit. Guided by blood.🎙 Listen to this full reflection now on The Practice of a Hoodoo Baptist. This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit www.chelseavonchaz.com/subscribe

In this soul-stirring episode of The Practice of a Hoodoo Baptist, spiritual activist and land steward Kat Niambi (aka The Hungry Medium) takes us to the edge of the seen and unseen.We talk haints, holy ghosts, and the spirits that show up when the veil thins—and how Black folks have always known the difference between a haunting and a homecoming.In this episode:— Growing up with spirits: Kat’s earliest haint encounters— How land carries memory, grief, and ancestral presence— Spiritual boundaries: when to welcome the dead, and when to set boundaries— Making space for the sacred through farming, ritual, and reverenceYou can support and connect with Kat Niambi aka The Hungry Medium directly by checking out Middleton-Cooke Farms.If your grandmother ever told you not to sweep after dark—or you’ve ever felt a chill with no wind—this one’s for you.Listen to full episodes of The Practice of a Hoodoo Baptist wherever you get your podcasts. Support my Youtube channel as well! This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit www.chelseavonchaz.com/subscribe

Growing up in the Yoruba tradition, Dr. Ayoka Wiles learned early that words are never just words—they’re power, protection, and prophecy.Dr. Ayoka Wiles is a scholar, spiritual practitioner, and author of I Hear Olofi’s Song: A Collection of Yoruba Spiritual Prayers for Egun and Orisa—a heart-deep offering of ancestral prayers. With a PhD in Public Policy and two decades in nonprofit and arts leadership, she amplifies the voices of Black women through writing and prayer as survival and liberation tools.In this episode, she joins The Practice of a Hoodoo Baptist to share how writing and prayer became her tools for survival, her connection to spirit, and her act of resistance.Growing up in the Yoruba tradition, Dr. Wiles shares her story of how language, ritual, and ancestral connection shaped her journey through academia, activism, and spiritual life.We talk:— How prayer functions as spiritual technology— Writing as a ritual of protection and prophecy— The power of Black women’s tongues to shift reality— Why silence is sometimes a spell—and sometimes a woundIf you’ve ever used your voice to heal, this one’s for you.Be sure to check out Dr. Wiles’ book, I Hear Olofi’s Song: A collection of Yoruba Spiritual Prayers for Egun and Orisa. Available to purchase here. This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit www.chelseavonchaz.com/subscribe

Rootwork is not a costume. It’s not a candle collection. It’s not a feed full of rituals you don’t actually follow. You can’t practice what you don’t live. And you shouldn’t.Because Hoodoo isn’t about looking powerful — it’s about being in alignment.I don’t do this for aesthetics. I do this because my spirit needs covering. Because my ancestors walk with me. Because my great-grandmother, Ma’dear, taught my Mother about discernment. My practice lives in how I move. How I make decisions. How I say no. How I protect my peace and call in support.A clean altar means nothing if your spirit is messy. A prayer means nothing if your actions cancel it. A spell won’t stick if your mouth is reckless and your boundaries are weak. Living the practice is the power.I wake up and cleanse because I need to be clear. I pour into others as a doula, so I pour back into myself as a spiritual being. I don’t wait until something breaks to check my alignment. This is daily. This is real. This is mine.If you’re just beginning your journey — move slowly. Let your practice grow through your choices, not just your rituals. Live the work before you speak on it.And trust: Spirit will always meet you where you’re real.Covered by spirit. Guided by blood.🎙 Listen to this full reflection now on The Practice of a Hoodoo Baptist. This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit www.chelseavonchaz.com/subscribe

I was raised in the church. Not just on Sundays — but in the culture.In the clothes. In the fear. In the expectations stitched into every sermon and skirt hem. Black girls raised in the Bible Belt know what it means to carry shame before we even understand our own bodies.We were taught to be nice — not discerning. To be obedient — not intuitive. To be godly — but never powerful.The rules were loud: Don’t feel too much.Don’t ask too many questions. Don’t trust your gut. Don’t ever speak spirit unless it comes from the pulpit.But what if your calling doesn’t entail wearing white on first Sundays? What if your altar has herbs instead of hymnals?They taught us to fear ourselves. Our menstruation, emotions, desires, and visions. And yet — even with all the shame and surveillance — the Spirit still found a way to speak.Hoodoo gave me back my voice. My body. My rhythm. My right to pray in a way that didn’t require permission. And the truth is — I still carry Baptist love in my heart. But now, I carry myself too.If you were told you were “too much” to be holy, or “not enough” to be loved, or “too worldly” to be safe — let this be your reminder:You are divine. You are whole. You are not confused — you are becoming.Covered by spirit. Guided by blood.🎙 Listen to this full reflection now on The Practice of a Hoodoo Baptist. This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit www.chelseavonchaz.com/subscribe

Protection is a practice. Not every spell starts with a flame. Before I speak, I honor the ones who spoke before me.Before I write, I call on the ones who wrote in spirit.May these words carry their wisdom, their warnings, their protection.May what needs to be heard, be heard.May what needs to be held, be held.Not every spell starts with a flame. Sometimes it starts with a bath. With salt, with prayer, with intention poured into water. Protection doesn’t begin when danger shows up — it begins with preparation.Spiritual hygiene is spiritual protection. And for me, that work happens daily. Hoodoo lives in the everyday.The small, consistent ways I keep my spirit clean, my space covered, and my energy clear — that’s rootwork.Spiritual hygiene is spiritual protection! Cleansing keeps you aligned and less vulnerable to spiritual debris. In this episode I share how I cleanse with certain herbs and products that you could get from a local botanica or apothecary. Do you ever take spiritual baths? Think of baths as cleansing, releasing, and resetting for your mind, your chakras, or energetic build. * I use:* Florida Water* Sea salt or Epsom salt* Herbs (like rosemary, hyssop, lavender, or basil)* Oils* Psalms or spoken prayerCleansing your space is necessary! Whether your home, personal workspace, business, it deserves cleanliness and protection. This also requires some discernment, because not everyone should be in your space… especially your home!I also cleanse my space.I mop with intention. I open windows and play music that makes Spirit feel welcome. Sometimes gospel. Sometimes jazz. Sometimes silence.* I use:* Floor washes — cleansing the home physically and spiritually* Lighting candles or incense to shift energy* Opening windows to move stagnant energy out* Playing blues, jazz, gospel, or spiritual music to shift the atmosphereBefore I leave the house, I anoint myself with oil. I pray over my work. I call on my ancestors to walk with me — especially when I’m showing up for others as a doula or healer. This isn’t performance. It’s maintenance. It’s what keeps me clear, calm, and covered.Don't wait for something to happen to practice protection. Consider building up new routines that keep you spiritually covered. I wear white a lot. I wear white to bed, when I go in hospitals, and of course when I’m attending traditional gatherings. You don’t need to be in crisis to protect yourself. You don’t have to wait to be thrown off before you reset. You can build a practice that holds you — even when life shakes. Your peace is sacred. Your energy is worth tending to. And your spirit deserves to be kept.Covered by spirit. Guided by blood.🎙 Listen to this full reflection now on The Practice of a Hoodoo Baptist. This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit www.chelseavonchaz.com/subscribe

Before I ever called it hoodoo, I called it faith.Before I knew it was conjure, I knew it was prayer.Before I had words for it, I had my granny’s hands, my mama’s oil, and a God who never needed a building to show up.Before I learned rootwork, I watched my grandma rub oil on our foreheads and sing the blood of Jesus into our skin.This ain’t new. It’s remembered.In this episode of The Practice of a Hoodoo Baptist I’m sharing the beginning of the walk in faith. My walk in faith.I’m talking about how I was raised in the church, what I carried with me, and what I had to reclaim. How I found myself somewhere between holy water and river water. Between scripture and rootwork. Between what was handed down and what was hidden in plain sight. I talk about growing up in church pews, hearing spirits in dreams, and eventually learning that the two weren’t separate. That the oil, the shouting, the prayers, the herbs—all of it lived inside me long before I had language for it.In this episode, I unpack how I became who I am: a daughter of the South, a doula, a conjure woman, and yes—a Hoodoo Baptist.Being a Hoodoo Baptist ain’t about choosing sides. It’s about remembering both. Holding both. Letting both make you whole.I invite you to listen with reverence, and with your own memories close by.🎧 In this episode:* I share how growing up Baptist shaped my spirit* How rootwork and ritual found me before I ever named them* Why I stopped splitting myself to be palatable* And how being a Hoodoo Baptist is a practice, not a title💭 Reflection Prompt:* Who gave you your first lesson in faith or protection? Who taught you how to pray?* What spiritual practices shaped you before you had the words? * What have you always known—but only recently named?The Anointed FewIf this episode resonates, share it with someone who’s walking their own path between tradition and truth.Loving this work? Consider becoming a paid subscriber. You’ll unlock bonus episodes, altar tips, notes, early access, and exclusive offerings like reading lists, quizzes, and more!Support keeps the porch light on, the mic hot, and open access to more resources for your knowledge and practice. This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit www.chelseavonchaz.com/subscribe

In this very special episode, I’m joined by my partner, Nore Davis. Grief can be hard, especially when you experience multiples losses in a short period of time. Nore shares how he navigates grief through his new understanding of ancestral veneration.The ancestors don’t stop speaking just because they’ve crossed over. If anything — they finally have room to speak louder. Through dreams, signs, and sudden knowing.Please understand, I don’t worship my ancestors. I honor them. I stay in relationship with them. And they stay in relationship with me.The ways they speak:* In dreams that carry their faces or their voices.* In repeating signs — animals, numbers, words that come like echoes.* In gut instincts that hit like truth before my mind can even catch up.* In confirmations — sometimes through strangers who don’t even know they’re being used.My great-grandmother Madear has visited me in dreams. She shows up for me and other family members when we need her. Also I think she does it when we need to remember our own strength. Sometimes to warn, sometimes to guide. Her presence feels like clarity — not fear. The world would call these coincidences. I call them conversations.Because our ancestors were silenced for so long, many of us were taught to ignore these moments. We were told they were “bad” or “spooky.” But they are sacred. We are the first generation with permission to speak what they had to whisper.If you feel your people speaking — trust it.* Build your altar.* Call their names.* Listen for the quiet ways they show up.* You don’t have to force it.* You don’t have to explain it.The relationship continues.Covered by spirit, guided by blood.🎙 Listen to this full reflection now on The Practice of a Hoodoo Baptist. This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit www.chelseavonchaz.com/subscribe

I’ve been a full spectrum doula for over a year now. I’ve been a doula concentrating on menstruation since the inception of my charity’s programming. Every time I show up as a doula, I’m practicing rootwork. I’m not just holding space for periods, fertility, or birth — I’m standing at a spiritual threshold.The womb has been undervalued and underestimated for too long. Where new life enters. Where blood moves. Where ancestors whisper. Where protection is required. The womb holds more than life. It holds memory. It holds spirit. It holds every woman who came before. As a doula, my practice is never just physical — it’s spiritual labor.Before I enter a birth space, I cover myself.* I pray.* I anoint my hands.* I cleanse my spirit.* I call on my great-grandmothers, on my ancestors, to walk with me.The hospitals may not see them — but they’re standing right beside me. Black women have always done this work. We were the midwives, the birthworkers, the root women who delivered babies while holding both physical and spiritual knowledge.Granny midwives or lay midwives, were Black and Indigenous women primarily living in the antebellum south, that delivered babies and took care of mothers. I’d like to honor some historical figures that paved the way and dedicated their lives to their communities. Ancestor Honorings* Onnie Lee Logan (1910-1995)* Margaret Charles Smith (1906-2004)* Biddy Mason (1818-1891)* Mary Coley (1900-1966)* Gladys Milton (1924 – 1999)* Maude Callen (1898-1990)Hoodoo isn’t separate from my doula work, it is my doula work.Every time I light a candle. Every time I prepare an herbal bath. Every time I protect a mother and child with prayer — I am practicing the work passed down in my blood. Shoutout to all of the Black, Indigenous, and Latina doulas and midwives out there. You don’t have to compartmentalize your gift. You don’t have to separate your calling from your culture. Your work is already your rootwork.Covered by spirit, guided by blood.🎙 Listen to this full reflection now on The Practice of a Hoodoo Baptist. This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit www.chelseavonchaz.com/subscribe

I never had to choose between the Bible and the jar, or prayer and rootwork.Between the cross and the candle. Both live in me. And both lived in the women and men who came before me. The truth is: Hoodoo was never separate from the Black church — it was woven into it.The lie that you can’t hold both? That was taught. That was imposed. That was colonized thinking trying to make us forget how we survived.The church mothers knew. The deacons’ wives knew. The grandmothers with florida water in their purses, who prayed Psalm 23 while rubbing oil on your forehead, knew.They were doing rootwork in plain sight — under hats, behind hand fans, wrapped in white lace gloves.The Psalms weren’t just prayers — they were spells.* Psalm 91 for protection.* Psalm 35 for justice.* Psalm 23 for comfort and covering.* Psalm 121 for safe travels.Our ancestors used what was given to them and infused it with what they brought with them. They laid hands while burning herbs and sang hymns while working roots. They anointed doors before the preacher arrived, and did what needed to be done to protect their homes, their children, and their spirits.I am a Hoodoo Baptist because both bloodlines run through me.My practice doesn’t conflict with my faith. It completes it. You don’t have to choose between Jesus and your ancestors. You don’t have to abandon one to honor the other.They’ve already made space for both to live in you.Covered by spirit. Guided by blood.🎙 Now listen to the full reflection of The Practice of a Hoodoo Baptist. This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit www.chelseavonchaz.com/subscribe

Before there was a candle lit or an oil blended. Before the roots were gathered. There was discernment.That was my great-grandmother Madear’s greatest spiritual gift. She didn’t trust everybody. She didn’t speak on everything. She moved when Spirit told her to move — not a moment sooner.And that’s how she kept herself, her children, and her family covered.In Hoodoo, discernment is rootwork. It’s knowing who to pray for and who to pray against. It’s reading energy before words are even spoken. It’s knowing which rooms you don’t belong in, which conversations you don’t need to have, and which hands you shouldn’t shake.Hoodoo isn’t just jars, candles, or floor washes — it’s protection that starts in the spirit before it ever hits the altar. As Black women, discernment has always been part of our spiritual technology. Passed down in bloodlines, strengthened by survival, sharpened by the world we move through.And every time I trust that nudge — the one that says “not this time,” or “watch this one,” — I hear Cleopatra’s voice right behind it. Her discernment lives in me. And I honor that work every day.Discernment doesn’t make you paranoid — it makes you prepared. It’s the reason some things never touch you. It’s the reason you can walk through this world protected.Covered by spirit. Guided by blood.🎙 Listen to this full reflection now on The Practice of a Hoodoo Baptist. This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit www.chelseavonchaz.com/subscribe

They’ve called it evil for centuries. But the only evil was how they tried to separate us from it. Hoodoo is not evil, it’s not the devil, and t’s not something to be feared. It’s survival. It’s a way of being. My great-grandparents, especially my maternal great-grandmother practiced Hoodoo with discernment and protection. They were not conjuring demons — they were protecting the family from a world that was designed to harm us.The demonization of Hoodoo was never about what we were doing — it was about control.Enslaved Africans brought spiritual medicine to these lands. They carried the knowledge of herbs, roots, ancestors, spirits, and divination. When forced into Christianity, they didn’t abandon their practices — they blended them, adapting for survival.And because our power didn’t rely on a pulpit, it became a threat. Because we could pray and pour libations, chant Psalms and burn herbs, sing hymns and work roots — we were labeled dangerous.But Hoodoo has always been a form of resistance.It is protection, healing, and discernment. It is ancestral intelligence moving through bloodlines that refused to break.Arthur Rickydoc Flowers, excerpt from LITERARY HOODOO AND THE SACRED TEXT:One semester one of my undergrads, upon learning that I was a practicing hoodooman, was sorely perplexed. She raised her hand up in class one day and said ‘Professor Flowers, how are you, you know, teaching in a prestigious university, if you, you know, are a hoodooman.’Boom. Teaching moment. Told her she probably thinking folk magic hoodoo. Spells, spirits and black catbones. Or maybe stage magic. Pulling rabbits out the hat. Explained we talking high magic up in here:- helping folk cope with life: souleasery- personal evolution: soulcare / soulwork- playing w/reality and the divine mind: magicwork- enhancing the human condition: rootwork- guide & guardian of human destiny: destinywork- oneness w / divinity / the great mojo: godworkMaking Real Into The World That Which Was Not. Same same Art. Same same ConjurationI don’t practice Hoodoo for aesthetics or perform it for entertainment. I speak of it to honor my folks. I live it because it’s mine too. Because my great-grandmother whispered to the Spirit when no one else was listening. Because I was raised with both the Bible and the Florida water. And I never had to choose between the two.The shame was taught to us. The fear was planted in us. The lie was never ours to carry. This practice is a return home.Covered by spirit. Guided by blood. This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit www.chelseavonchaz.com/subscribe

I was born into this. Not through books, but through blood.One of my great-grandmothers was an Alabama Creole woman. A descendant of enslaved Black Americans and Native Americans, who practiced what the world tried to demonize: Hoodoo.She lived it with discernment. Quiet power. Protection. Spirit and blood guided her hands. And now, it guides mine.I am an Afro Indigenous woman, because I am both of African descent and Creek descent. I am a Hoodoo Baptist — simply because I am both.The church didn’t cancel the root. The root never erased the cross. I was raised where Bible verses sit beside glass jars, where prayers sound like both hymns and chants, where the Holy Spirit and ancestral spirit hold hands. I never separated them. I never needed to. For years, hoodoo has been silenced, misnamed, feared, or flattened into something it’s not. It’s not evil. It’s not entertainment. It’s not a costume. It’s survival. It’s sacred. It’s my inheritance.The Practice of a Hoodoo Baptist is where I will share my story, my rituals, my reflections, and my remembrance.Some of it you’ll read. Some of it you’ll hear — because this practice was always oral first. It’s how I learned. I’m still learning. With this series, I’m introducing an audio element — intimate, spoken, personal — so you can experience this tradition not only through my words, but through my voice. As my great-grandmothers passed it down, so I will pass it on.This isn’t a grimoire. This isn’t a class. This is my practice.Covered by spirit. Guided by blood. This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit www.chelseavonchaz.com/subscribe