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  • Writer's pictureTaylor Waits

#DEEPTHOTS: Summer of Magic

My people are rooted in Louisiana, a place I call, The Land Of Spirits. I learned about the energies of the world from my people. I learned the importance of letting go, the repercussions of allowing certain spirit or energies into your space, and how long they can feed on you. They taught me to sing my worries away, cook like my heart depended on it, dance as hard as I can, and remember where I came from.

As I grew older, my family ritual became personal. As I matured into my queerness I also became more aware of astrology. I never really paid attention to it until college when the girls in the sapphic organization would take turns reading each other's charts. They always warned me about walking around in the world without consciousness to my emotional needs and tendencies. I mean I remember vividly going to a music festival, and having this group of white twinks run up on me and say, “Bitch I love this outfit what IS your sign?” I told them the truth - I don’t know. “See that’s why you're out here at a music festival at 4AM dancing in the middle of Tennessee. Don’t even know what your sign is.” This was two gay signs in a row, it was time to take action. Like any good amateur astrologer, I downloaded CoStar and read every fucking section of my chart. Then I made my way to Youtube to hear other people’s explanations and stories about astrology and what it means for them. A lot of folks see it as one of many perspectives on life that people could choose to try and understand. It was a way to map and understand your own energy, the energy of those in your social circle, and the world abroad. Nothing is due to coincidence - it’s all meant to be. And I see my own energy that way. Unnerving. Immovable. Inevitable.

Growing into my black womanhood also taught me about energy. How much energy it takes to be Black, woman, and queer. How much energy it takes to love, to feel, to do. And after you do all that bitch you betta sat down. Black women Black queers, Black people across the world have taught me different recovery methods. This past week’s social media patterns forced me to employ a few of them in the span of one week. I was taught to express my feelings and then let them go. Not only by the people around me but my amazing counselor. In response to the world making my plight a trend yet again, I needed to blow off a lot of steam. I needed rest, time with friends calls to people I can’t see but love to be around, good food, some fresh air, and a blunt. These sessions repair me, renew me, leave me with something fresh, like magic - I am back.

Picture of two oil containers, and a red lighter, with a succulent, two candles, and an ashtray. A diffuser sits on top of a canvas art piece with weed strains on it.

Magic goes back to my roots. My people in Louisiana, the dishes, the traditions, the music. It influences how I move forward, helps me to understand when I need to take a step back, and helps me to be intentional about my decisions and words. My ancestors send messages to me, I see glimpses of the future, the present gives me signs that I’m on the right path. Black magic. Black people are magical, resilient, joyful, intelligent, and extremely hated. We possess what others could never understand but they try so hard to get a piece of. Cops kill us for it, White people steal from us for it, non black folks mimic us for it. But HA - it’s OURS bitch!

I am Black magic and yall gone see why. This Summer will be magical. More content, more personal stories, more of me saying what the fuck I wanna say when I wanna say it. And taking a step up to challenge my creativity and continue to do things I am proud of. Until the next #DEEPTHOTS, stay magical.

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