ALEXANDRIA'S ALCHEMY
ALEXANDRIA'S ALCHEMY
Many in the diaspora are feeling an exhilarating pull to reconnect with their roots, shaking off the remnants of colonial conditioning that have clouded our ancient practices. There’s a fire igniting within as I delve deeper into my own journey, uncovering insights that feel instinctual—realizing why I’ve always been drawn to certain traditions. It’s inspiring to see so many others bravely sharing their talents and the essence of Hoodoo, even as discussions about its closed nature intensify. Regardless of the politics, my path traverses realms from the physical to the spiritual, exploring the intersections of epigenetics and mysticism.
Colonialism profoundly impacted ancient spiritual practices like Voodoo and Hoodoo, instilling fear and stigma around these traditions among Black Americans. This fear was systematically cultivated to suppress spiritual powers that challenged colonial authority and fostered community resilience. In Haiti, the successful revolution against French colonization was deeply intertwined with the reverence for ancestors and the use of spellwork, which provided spiritual strength and unity among the enslaved. Similarly, in Louisiana, Indigenous and African communities resisted colonization by practicing their ancestral traditions, blending spiritual rituals with local resources to create powerful forms of resistance. These practices not only preserved cultural identity but also empowered individuals to reclaim their agency and confront oppressive forces, highlighting the transformative potential of ancestor reverence in overcoming colonial oppression.
Why The Ankh?
My adventure begins with a lifelong fascination with Egyptology. From my childhood days as “AnkhEbonyEyes” (my screen name as a kid) to my collection of pyramid and ankh images on Tumblr, Egyptian culture has always resonated with me. This connection goes beyond mere interest; it’s a bond many African Americans share, reclaiming the narratives often sensationalized in 1930s American Egyptology. We honor Egyptian deities, portraying them in our image. Surprisingly, modern Egyptians have often mistaken me for one of their own, a reflection of our shared heritage. An encounter with a man who looked like he stepped out of a hieroglyph made me realize how deeply this connection runs. Several people have asked me if I was Egyptian over the years. After all, I am named after a famous Egyptian city, Alexandria and adorn the Arabic script of it as a tattoo.
Dreaming And The In-Between
As a lifelong dreamer, I’ve always remembered my dreams vividly. In middle school, I discovered their prophetic nature, though I once wished to be rid of the ominous visions of loss. By high school, I turned my dreams into a powerful tool for manifestation. I learned to use the dreamscape as a way to envision scenarios that eventually came to life.
Sleep paralysis brought its own intensity, as I’ve had countless experiences that felt more than mere hallucinations as you fall asleep as science tells us. One unforgettable moment revealed me as a “chosen one” long before I ever encountered that term online. An entity enveloped me in a high-pitched tone that slowed just enough for me to grasp its message that I was a “Chosen One”—a clear reminder that higher-dimensional beings communicate on frequencies beyond our perception and have to slow down to be perceived by us.
The Pandemic And Spiritual Awareness
The pandemic deepened my spiritual quest, leading me to explore ancient Sumerians, the Anunnaki, and the Book of Enoch—topics that resonated with many Black Americans during that time. My affinity for deities like Tehuti (Thoth) blossomed alongside my love for scribing, astrology, and other esoteric practices he symbolizes. I even discovered that my rare blood type had speculations of being connected to the Anunnaki. Songs that I loved but didn’t know why, like the funk classic “The Mothership Connection” by Parliament Funkadelic, which reflected the vibrant themes I was uncovering.
Writer Or Channeler?
Realizing I had been manifesting through my creative writing since my teenage years, I was struck by the parallels between my life and stories I wrote so long ago. Just as I came to this realization, I randomly started the limited series “Kindred,” about a Black American writer embracing her channeling abilities and ancestral ties. It was like looking into a mirror of my own experiences. Not as theatrical of course, I am not a time traveler lol.
Allie’s Apothecary
Post-pandemic, I began crafting infused oils and cosmetics. I even created some for myself for manifestation and intention. My blends became a hit, enhancing beauty and radiance in ways I hadn’t anticipated. As I delve deeper into spellwork, I recognize that many ingredients I intuitively chose for beauty rituals years ago are staples in intention oils and mojo bags for the same purposes. Who knew?
Homecoming
I’ve come to embrace the powerful truth that “it’s not on me, it’s in me.” At 30, I embarked on a journey into Hoodoo, uncovering practices I had instinctively embraced all along. My altar, long an unacknowledged yearning, finally took shape after a medium’s encouragement. I gathered my cherished ankh symbol (which is encouraged), seven glasses, crystals, and a candy offering. When I shared my altar with my mom, she fondly recalled her father’s love for butterscotch—an unexpected bridge between past and present.
Prophecy and Divination, Manifesting & Intentionality, Altar Work, Making Potions and Ancestor Reverence—these are vital elements of Black American spiritual practices that have often been misunderstood
My Bolveda
That first night with my altar ignited a whirlwind of vivid dreams and transformative downloads, guiding me to work on my chakras. I literally woke up to an inner conversation about how I need to learn about my energy centers and work on each. There was A LOT of activity. It was unbelievable.
Since my dreams sharpened, and seeking guidance at my altar felt like a direct line to wisdom. I realized I had been complicating my journey, absorbing knowledge without harnessing my inherent power. Writing my intentions and refreshing my altar’s flowers sparked profound shifts within me.
Intentional cleansing, spiritual baths, and clear intentions led to remarkable changes in my interactions with others. After performing a spell for money, self-love, and beauty, compliments poured in as if the universe responded to my vibrant energy. Literally, five people stopped me that day and were abashed, adorning me with compliments and praise.
Ultimately, my boveda symbolizes a powerful homecoming, completing a circle in my spiritual evolution. Prophecy and Divination, Manifesting & Intentionality, Altar Work, Making Potions and Ancestor Reverence—these are vital elements of Black American spiritual practices that have often been misunderstood. Now, I stand proud, reclaiming the power that has always been within me.
Many in the diaspora are feeling an exhilarating pull to reconnect with their roots, shaking off the remnants of colonial conditioning that have clouded our ancient practices. There’s a fire igniting within as I delve deeper into my own journey, uncovering insights that feel instinctual—realizing why I’ve always been drawn to certain traditions. It’s inspiring to see so many others bravely sharing their talents and the essence of Hoodoo, even as discussions about its closed nature intensify. Regardless of the politics, my path traverses realms from the physical to the spiritual, exploring the intersections of epigenetics and mysticism.
Colonialism profoundly impacted ancient spiritual practices like Voodoo and Hoodoo, instilling fear and stigma around these traditions among Black Americans. This fear was systematically cultivated to suppress spiritual powers that challenged colonial authority and fostered community resilience. In Haiti, the successful revolution against French colonization was deeply intertwined with the reverence for ancestors and the use of spellwork, which provided spiritual strength and unity among the enslaved. Similarly, in Louisiana, Indigenous and African communities resisted colonization by practicing their ancestral traditions, blending spiritual rituals with local resources to create powerful forms of resistance. These practices not only preserved cultural identity but also empowered individuals to reclaim their agency and confront oppressive forces, highlighting the transformative potential of ancestor reverence in overcoming colonial oppression.
Why The Ankh?
My adventure begins with a lifelong fascination with Egyptology. From my childhood days as “AnkhEbonyEyes” (my screen name as a kid) to my collection of pyramid and ankh images on Tumblr, Egyptian culture has always resonated with me. This connection goes beyond mere interest; it’s a bond many African Americans share, reclaiming the narratives often sensationalized in 1930s American Egyptology. We honor Egyptian deities, portraying them in our image. Surprisingly, modern Egyptians have often mistaken me for one of their own, a reflection of our shared heritage. An encounter with a man who looked like he stepped out of a hieroglyph made me realize how deeply this connection runs. Several people have asked me if I was Egyptian over the years. After all, I am named after a famous Egyptian city, Alexandria and adorn the Arabic script of it as a tattoo.
Dreaming And The In-Between
As a lifelong dreamer, I’ve always remembered my dreams vividly. In middle school, I discovered their prophetic nature, though I once wished to be rid of the ominous visions of loss. By high school, I turned my dreams into a powerful tool for manifestation. I learned to use the dreamscape as a way to envision scenarios that eventually came to life.
Sleep paralysis brought its own intensity, as I’ve had countless experiences that felt more than mere hallucinations as you fall asleep as science tells us. One unforgettable moment revealed me as a “chosen one” long before I ever encountered that term online. An entity enveloped me in a high-pitched tone that slowed just enough for me to grasp its message that I was a “Chosen One”—a clear reminder that higher-dimensional beings communicate on frequencies beyond our perception and have to slow down to be perceived by us.
The Pandemic And Spiritual Awareness
The pandemic deepened my spiritual quest, leading me to explore ancient Sumerians, the Anunnaki, and the Book of Enoch—topics that resonated with many Black Americans during that time. My affinity for deities like Tehuti (Thoth) blossomed alongside my love for scribing, astrology, and other esoteric practices he symbolizes. I even discovered that my rare blood type had speculations of being connected to the Anunnaki. Songs that I loved but didn’t know why, like the funk classic “The Mothership Connection” by Parliament Funkadelic, which reflected the vibrant themes I was uncovering.
Writer Or Channeler?
Realizing I had been manifesting through my creative writing since my teenage years, I was struck by the parallels between my life and stories I wrote so long ago. Just as I came to this realization, I randomly started the limited series “Kindred,” about a Black American writer embracing her channeling abilities and ancestral ties. It was like looking into a mirror of my own experiences. Not as theatrical of course, I am not a time traveler lol.
Allie’s Apothecary
Post-pandemic, I began crafting infused oils and cosmetics. I even created some for myself for manifestation and intention. My blends became a hit, enhancing beauty and radiance in ways I hadn’t anticipated. As I delve deeper into spellwork, I recognize that many ingredients I intuitively chose for beauty rituals years ago are staples in intention oils and mojo bags for the same purposes. Who knew?
Homecoming
I’ve come to embrace the powerful truth that “it’s not on me, it’s in me.” At 30, I embarked on a journey into Hoodoo, uncovering practices I had instinctively embraced all along. My altar, long an unacknowledged yearning, finally took shape after a medium’s encouragement. I gathered my cherished ankh symbol (which is encouraged), seven glasses, crystals, and a candy offering. When I shared my altar with my mom, she fondly recalled her father’s love for butterscotch—an unexpected bridge between past and present.
Prophecy and Divination, Manifesting & Intentionality, Altar Work, Making Potions and Ancestor Reverence—these are vital elements of Black American spiritual practices that have often been misunderstood
My Bolveda
That first night with my altar ignited a whirlwind of vivid dreams and transformative downloads, guiding me to work on my chakras. I literally woke up to an inner conversation about how I need to learn about my energy centers and work on each. There was A LOT of activity. It was unbelievable.
Since my dreams sharpened, and seeking guidance at my altar felt like a direct line to wisdom. I realized I had been complicating my journey, absorbing knowledge without harnessing my inherent power. Writing my intentions and refreshing my altar’s flowers sparked profound shifts within me.
Intentional cleansing, spiritual baths, and clear intentions led to remarkable changes in my interactions with others. After performing a spell for money, self-love, and beauty, compliments poured in as if the universe responded to my vibrant energy. Literally, five people stopped me that day and were abashed, adorning me with compliments and praise.
Ultimately, my boveda symbolizes a powerful homecoming, completing a circle in my spiritual evolution. Prophecy and Divination, Manifesting & Intentionality, Altar Work, Making Potions and Ancestor Reverence—these are vital elements of Black American spiritual practices that have often been misunderstood. Now, I stand proud, reclaiming the power that has always been within me.