Bloodlines
Bloodlines
Where ancestral wisdom lives, in bone, in rhythm and in story.
Some beings are not of this world, yet choose to live among us. Cats are one of them. Their presence carries mystery, the kind you don’t explain but feel. They move like smoke and silence, slipping through shadows and slipping back with secrets. One second you look at a cat across the room, you blink once and the cat is on the other side of the room. From ancient temples to modern living rooms, cats have always been more than pets.
Those who seek, find. And the deeper you go, the more you realize it was never just stories. It was energy. It was instruction. It was a book of magic disguised as a book of morals. When you read it with your spirit instead of your eyes, you feel that every verse carries a frequency: to heal, to protect, to manifest, to restore faith.
In my work, I see so many women in pain, not because they lack strength, but because they have forgotten the goddess within. Generations of women before them carried the same wound. Culture, religion, and society confused them about their true role.
This is the story of Black Female Mysticism and how five women opened the ways for us, carving portals into the spiritual landscape through resistance, intuition, and divine trust.
So they called it evil. Vodou. Winti. Obeah. Hoodoo. Santería. Not because it was dark — but because it was untamed. Because it didn’t need a false religion to save us. Because it set us free from the inside out.