Showing posts with label roots. Show all posts

A Witch's View - Seeing Myself

As I begin wrapping up this year I'm coming to terms with the way my year of mastery has changed. How I have grown and how I have changed. When I started out with this year my goal was to focus on what I wanted to do with my shop and my crafts both my material crafts and as it turns out my spiritual crafts as well.

This post is about my relationship with my dreadlocks and Hecate.

Two and a half years ago I started my dreadlocks.  Many days of confrontations and discussions about why I shouldn't have them and why I did have them later, I ended up with quite a healthy head full of them.  I created them because of several references to the goddess I follow and words used in her references ....and her hair was like snakes.  I wrote a blog about this and you can find it here.  You can also see a photo history of my dreadlock journey here.

The day before I cut my dreads - Photo Credit - Elijah Olson


Over the days prior to November 30th, I had many discussions with my hubby about taking them out. Finally on the 30th I decided to take them out.  Ironically enough on Hecate's Night.  Read more about the references to this date and Hecate here.  I have felt my belief structure changing and growing.  It now no longer sees the gods and goddesses as deities but more of an image, a personification of characteristics that we want to be or not be.  It was though I was outgrowing a belief and becoming more independently spiritual, if that makes sense.


We started by cutting about six-eight inches off them.

Cut Locks - Photo Credit - Renee Sosanna Olson
 This is me with the locks trimmed.  The weight off my head made me feel like I had lost 10 pounds. They didn't weigh that much though.  Trust me I weighed myself to make sure.  For about 15 minutes I considered leaving them at this length.
Photo Credit - Elijah Olson

Photo Credit - Renee Sosanna Olson
This is the back side.  I decided to just go ahead and start combing them out.  I read one part on the web that said, expect to lose some hair.  That is a gross understatement.  I lost A TON of hair.  Now remember that my locks were nearly 3 years old.  Your hair grows and falls out or gets caught in your hair brush over this time and you hardly notice it.  But if you had it all come out in the same day well you'd get a pile like below.

Next we spent hours and hours combing them out.  My head was so sore.  It took a lot of time, a lot of de-tangler and a lot of patience but we finally got them all combed out.

One of about 20 hair piles - Photo Credit - Renee Sosanna Olson
This is a photo of them all combed out.  As you can see pretty fuzzy.  I needed to apply some conditioner to it and straight keratin to it to calm it down a bit.  Next I decided I wanted a bit of a wave to my hair so I made an appointment.  I spent the next day thinking about my relationship and what this would me to it, if anything.  I know that I am now leaning towards a more magical life and less in devotion to a goddess and more in line with taking control of my destiny and making things happen.


All combed out - Photo Credit - Renee Sosanna Olson
So here's the final photo.  The circle is complete.  I hope you have enjoyed this journey with them this year.  I cannot wait for the year to come.




Photo Credit - Elijah Olson



Thoughts on Racism

Thoughts on Racism

I started this article out with the idea of looking back at the history of race relations in North Carolina.  I thought maybe I could pull together some statistics about how it is better now.  I began by looking at the Civil War.  I dug through the National Archives to find information on black participants.  I found references to 54th Regiment of Massachusetts and other volunteers like the sons of Fredrick Douglas (Charles to the 5th Calvary and Lewis to the 54th Regiment) and even women like Harriet Tubman who fought unofficially for the Union.  Black soldiers were paid less than white and they were charged for their uniforms until 1864 when Congress granted equal pay retroactively.  Nearly 200,000 black men fought for the union, while it is said that only several thousand fought on the side of the Confederacy.  The troops remained segregated for over 100 years.  In 1948 President Truman signed an executive order creating the Committee on Equality of Treatment and Opportunity in the Armed Services to begin integration of the US Military.  Still today we have regulations to the dress code that tells people of color they cannot have natural hair and be in the military, hair that is does not lay flat and straight is preferred over fuller hair.

Changes, but not as clear cut as you would think we could be in our countries history.  I thought, ok, let’s go at this from a personal angle.  I have personal experience.

When I was in a youngster in 2nd or 3rd grade the little girl who sat in front of me had braids and beads in her hair.  I would play with her locks and ask her how her hair was able to have beads and ribbons.  She explained that her mom sat down each day and combed her hair and put in the twists and bows.  My young brain accepted that I would never have pretty hair like my black classmate because my mom never did anything but watch TV.  She never sat with me and braided my hair.  So I was destined to be different than my classmate not because of our hair texture or skin color but more so because her mom cared more than mine. Later in the year, while playing “Red Rover” outside I busted through the line next to my classmate and pulled her back to my side to be on my team.  For those not familiar with the game, two groups are selected, the kids hold hands and call the name of someone on the opposite side to run over and break through the chain.  If they don’t break through, they are added to the chain, if they do they select one of the two that broke the chain to take back to the other side.  I selected my classmate with the pretty hair to come back to my team.  I recall as if it were yesterday, “Come with me, slave.” are the words I spoke. I knew that a slave was a person that had to do what the other person said.  My friend yanked away from me and was angry.  She had tears in her eyes and said, “Don’t call me that.”  I was confused. I had no idea why she was upset.  She ran inside.  I never approached her again.  We never spoke again.   It wasn’t until 1977, when Roots was released that I had any clue what the word “slave” and racial bias were all about.  Here, she was well experienced in the words in our 3rd grade class, yet I had no idea.  This is white privilege.  No one needed to explain to me what racism was because it didn’t have an impact on my life. 

Today as a nearly 50 year old woman I sit writing this paper, with dreadlocks in my hair.  I have beads and ribbons, all the things that the little 8 year old wanted in her hair.  Yet, I have people approaching me saying I am appropriating a culture, store managers following me and treating me as though I’m going to steal something and the need to buy scarves and head wraps to put forth a more “businesslike” appearance. 

As I do more research for the piece and see so many comments about how when white people try to talk about race, they make it about them.  I try to think about how editorial pieces are written.  For the most part they are written based on first person experience.  I know that I don’t have the slightest clue what it is like to have to explain racial bias to your children.  I know that when my child made friends with the girl next door, it made no difference her race.  I didn’t ask her race.  It wasn’t important.  When she picked out a “brown baby doll” (her words) with her birthday money, I had no issue with that.  She took her toy to show and tell and was told very directly by the other children that she could not have a “brown baby”, that only brown mommies could have brown babies, I had to explain to her genetics.  Was I wrong to let her pick which ever one she wanted?  Should I have had a talk with her before I let her take it to school?  Hindsight is 20/20 they say.  I would not change my decisions. By the end of my research on this topic, to say I was disheartened and frustrated is putting it mildly.  I found a website called Mapping Police Violence and it is just incredible how much goes unreported by mainstream media.  I stare in awe at the screen unsure what my next move should be?  How do we move forward?  How do we work together to end racism?  Do we call on religion or government to help?  Interestingly enough the only religious text I could find that condemned racism was in the Quran, despite what modern media tries to say about Islam.

As children we are unaware of racism.  We learn racism from those around us.  We are taught to be nasty to each other or to judge others based on bias from the adults around us.  I saw an interview between Mike Wallace and Morgan Freeman where they discuss the need to stop referring to each other as a white man and a black man but more as Mike and Morgan.  Do discussions and dialog on racism actually lead to more racism?  For this I have no answer.  I do know that today, I wish I could return to the days of just appreciating the pretty beads in someone’s hair and wanting to have them in my own without worrying about offending someone.

Maybe the time has come to stop talking about racism and start doing something about it. Treat other people with the same kindness and respect that you would like to have given to you.  That’s it. Simple.