I Can't Breathe

i cant ,

issue no. three

woke.

welcome to woke.

We are a collective of seekers, doers, believers and creators.

We approach life through the possibility and freedom provided by spiritual practice, mindful living, and direct engagement with the world.

We believe that self-realization is for everyone, social change is possible, good health shouldn’t cost your life, and meditation and mindfulness can create a revolution.

We are from all walks of life.

We see you.

Revolution Begins Within.

EDITOR-IN-CHIEF

CONTACT US

ekaette ekong

info@wearewoke.com

CREATIVE DESIGN

FOLLOW US

zohreh sadeghi

@wearewokemag

CONTRIBUTORS

rosie acosta elika aird camile bethune-brown vanessa charlot misia denĂŠa ekaette ekong meclina gomes angela hennessy chloe jackman michelle cassandra johnson nadine johnson romy phillips octavia f. raheem zohreh sadeghi alia schultz nicole taylor 1

letter from the editor I’m having difficulty focusing. I’ve been staring at my computer screen for what feels like hours. Gather around and take a seat; we’ve got something serious to discuss. It’s time to talk about race in the yoga and wellness communities.

It’s different being Black in America.

It’s different being Black in the wellness community.

The recent murders of Rayshard Brooks, George Floyd, Breonna Taylor, and Ahmaud Arbery are fresh in my mind. With the exception of Breonna Taylor, each of these deaths was recorded and is played continuously on news channels, with little advisory, to the point of relived trauma for some and desensitization for others. With the exception of Breonna Taylor, the murderers have been indicted and arrested. Daily, we learn of new victims who were purposely overlooked, with their cases swept under the rug.

White Americans are opening their eyes to the struggles of Black and Brown people, like Rip Van Winkle waking up after a 1000-year nap. It is the biggest gaslight of all time. I am grateful they are here and frustrated it took so long.

“Those who see action in inaction and inaction in action are truly wise “

amongst humans.

- Bhagavad Gita, Chapter 4, verse 18

Complacency is an action. Racism cannot be meditated away. Doing nothing has brought us to where we are today, yet the yoga community believes it is impervious to Racism. “I don’t see color” suggests that you are on a higher spiritual plane and can’t possibly be racist. Note: You can be racist.

The identities of Black yoga teachers and spiritual leaders are being ignored because of their proximity to whiteness. It’s assumed that we have the same experiences. Note: We don’t.

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“I am invisible, understand, simply because people refuse to see me…

“

When they approach me, they see only my surroundings, themselves, or figments of their imagination, indeed, everything and anything except me.

- Ralph Ellison, Invisible Man

Michelle Obama used to take walks outside of the White House and went unrecognized. MICHELLE OBAMA. No one noticed her. Black women are not seen in the world, even when they have tremendous accomplishments.

Black women are ignored and Black men are criminalized. Breonna Taylor was murdered more than 100 days ago and her killers still haven’t been held accountable. She is mostly ignored in the news, and her case is almost forgotten. Rayshard Brooks and Ahmaud Arbery were tried and found guilty by a jury of racist police and neighbors. They were criminalized and executed for the color of their skin.

Our contributors speak to this invisibility and silence, and to how Black people are entitled to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness, not inequality, occasional liberty, and the pursuit of survival.

I knew that when WOKE. returned, it would be different because it has to be.

Our world demands it. We will still center and amplify Black and Brown voices and marginalized narratives. We’ll still have articles on meditation, but life isn’t lived on zafus. Wellness isn’t only physical. Active change isn’t made with complacency. White Privilege isn’t dismantled by silence. Systematic Racism is real.

Let’s have the difficult conversations, engage in deep listening & self-examination, commit to change, and get to work.

- E.

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CONTRIBUTORS ROSIE ACOSTA, is a renowned Yoga and Meditation Teacher, Yoga Teacher Trainer and Holistic Health Coach. She is also the founder of Radically Loved: Yoga, Health + Wellness and host of the top-rated iTunes podcast, Radically Loved.

Web: radicallyloved.com IG + Twitter: rosieacosta FB: radicallylovedrosie

ELIKA AIRD, is a Prana Vinyasa trained instructor and specializes in Pre+Postnatal Yoga, therapeutic movement and meditation. Her classes ignite the heart with a sense of resilience, nourish the body, mind, and soul and invite students to tune into their creative potential. She infuses mantra & sound healing with yogic wisdom to encourage all beings to experience and live from a more elevated place. Elika has been sharing Yoga, Ayurveda and energy healing for 15 years with corporations, studios and churches from Atlanta to the Bay Area.

Web: blissfulbodiesyoga.com IG + Twitter: blissfulbyoga

CAMILLE BETHUNE-BROWN, E-RYT 500, is an Ashtanga Yoga Instructor and Historian from Washington, DC. As a Black, gay, and disabled woman, much of her yoga practice and teaching centers around these experiences. She believes in embracing the uncomfortable and beckons folks to step into the unknown in order to sit with a deeper understanding of self. When Camille isn’t teaching yoga or working in Museums she enjoys baking, reading, and listening to BeyoncÊ.

IG + Twitter: curatingcamille

VANESSA CHARLOT, (She/Her) is a Haitian- American documentary photographer. She shoots primarily in black and white to explore the immutability of the collective human experience and to disrupt compositional hierarchy. Her work focuses on the intersectionality of spirituality, socio-economic issues and sexual/gender expression.

The purpose of her work is to produce visual representations of varied human existences that are free of an oppressive gaze.

Web: vanessacharlot.com IG: vanessa.charlot

MISIA DENÉA, (She/Her They/Them), is an award-winning performance artist and the founder of Hatha Holistic Integrative Wellness. She has been teaching Hatha Yoga since 2007 in Philadelphia, PA, Washington DC and the Bay Area. Body positivity and health at every size are integral to Misia’s healing arts work. She is a member of ASDAH (Association of Size Diversity and Health) and a licensed Body Positive facilitator via California’s The Body Positive. In recent years Misia received a grant from NOLOSE, performed in the San Francisco Queer Arts Festival and produced a short film with QWOCMAP (Queer Women of Color Media Arts Project).

IG: HathaHolisticWellness Twitter: HathaHolistic

Web: ekaekong.com IG + Twitter: thisiseka

woke. CONTRIBUTORS

EKAETTE EKONG, is the founder and editor-in-chief of woke., a writer, artist, and former yoga teacher. She has practiced yoga for 20 years and has taught classes, workshops, and yoga teacher trainings globally for 15 years. Ekaette has a Bachelor’s degree in Art History from the American University of Paris. She enjoys reading and collecting books, awful reality shows, libraries, a good cup of coffee, and voraciously studies History and Pop Culture. Ekaette has lived in Paris, London, and Japan. She currently resides in Los Angeles.

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CONTRIBUTORS (CONT.) MECLINA GOMES, is a micrography artist. She specializes in using words to create images that invite conversation and contemplation.

It is her intention to create art that calls upon the notion that the pen is mightier than the sword in a climate of social & cultural exploration.

Meclina has completed a plethora of commissions for private collectors and Hotels. Her work has been featured at MODA Atlanta, Turner Broadcasting, BET & Bravo sets. Meclina is currently the Artist-in-Residence at the Renaissance Hotel in Tampa, FL and a James Weldon Johnson Foundation Fellow.

Web: meclinaart.com IG: meclinaart

ANGELA HENNESSY, is an Oakland-based artist and Associate Professor at California College of the Arts where she teaches courses on visual and cultural narratives of death and contemporary art. Through writing, studio work, and performance, her practice questions assumptions about Death and the Dead themselves. In 2019, she received the San Francisco Artadia Award. Hennessy, a survivor of a gunshot wound, lectures and leads workshops on aesthetic and embodied practices responding to death and grief.

Web: angelahennessy.com IG: thehouseofhennessy

CHLOE JACKMAN, was born & raised in San Francisco and is married to another SF native. They are the proud parents of a beautiful son, Alonzo Barack.
She was born to be a photographer but didn’t fully realize that dream until 2008. She took her business full time in 2012 and moved into her first brick & mortar studio space in 2017. Over the years, Chloe has evolved her business from family portraits, weddings, sassy headshots, and corporate conferences. She now focuses on lifestyle & product photography to help small & medium size businesses thrive. Chloe is passionate about changing the world, fighting for what is right, and leaving her son a better and safer world.

Web: chloejackman.com IG: chloejackmanphotos

MICHELLE CASSANDRA JOHNSON, is a social justice warrior, author, dismantling racism trainer, empath, yoga teacher and practitioner, and intuitive healer. With more than twenty years of experience leading dismantling racism workshops and working with clients as a licensed clinical social worker, she has a deep understanding of how trauma impacts the mind, body, spirit, and heart. Michelle has a Bachelors of Arts degree from the College of William and Mary and a Masters degree in Social Work from the University of North Carolina-Chapel Hill.

Michelle published Skill in Action: Radicalizing Your Yoga Practice to Create a Just World in 2017 to great acclaim. web: michellecjohnson.com IG: skillinaction Twitter: skillinactionyoga NADINE JOHNSON, is a San Francisco-based Yoga Teacher. Outside of the studio, she freelances as a creative professional specializing in sustainability, innovation and customer experience for companies around the world.

Web: gowellbeyond.com IG: gowellbeyond FB: whattheom

woke. CONTRIBUTORS

REV. ROSALIE NORMAN-MCNANEY, has a Master’s Degree from Harvard, School of Education, as well as a Master’s in Divinity from Andover-Newton Theological School. She is an ordained American Baptist Minister and an Interfaith Spiritual Director. Rev. Rosalie is the author of Intentional Outreach With Individuals with Special Needs for congregations, Elder Care Resources: Sunday School Curricula for Adults and co-edited Embodied Spirits: Stories of Spiritual Directors of Color. She is also a contributing author of Ain’t Gonna Let Nobody Turn Me Around: Stories of Contemplation and Justice. Rev. Rosalie currently serves as a chaplain, offering workshops and support groups for caregivers and grief support for the bereaved, with VITAS Health Care in Brevard County.

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CONTRIBUTORS (CONT.) ROMY PHILLIPS, MFA, E-RYT 500, C-IAYT, began teaching yoga in 2001 in Los Angeles. She leads workshops, trainings and retreats in the US and Asia. Since 2012, Romy has been leading teacher trainings in Japan, China, and Vietnam for YogaWorks, as well as workshops and intensives for First Ship Yoga School in Tokyo. She is the author of Yoga Forma: A Visual Resource Guide for the Spine and Lower Back. Romy is an avid Ashtanga practitioner, meditation instructor and yoga therapist.

She currently resides and teaches in Maryland.

Web: yogforma.com IG: romyphillips Twitter: rromyann

OCTAVIA F. RAHEEM, is a mother, author of Gather, and Yoga Teacher living in Atlanta, Georgia. She is the co-owner of Sacred Chill {West} Yoga and Meditation studio, the founder of Starshine & Clay Yoga Retreats For Women of Color, and Held Mentor program for yoga teachers and wellness professionals. For her deep love, wellbeing, and care of Black and Brown people is a central part of the collective movement toward freedom and justice.

Web: octaviaraheem.com IG: octaviaraheem

ZOHREH SADEGHI, is the founder and director of Roha Center For The Healing Arts in San Francisco, CA. She has studied Ayurvedic medicine extensively in California and India. Zohreh’s objective is to restore balance in her clients’ bodies and minds, helping them achieve a state of relaxation and peacefulness through Ayurveda and its sister science, Yoga. Her expertise includes Ayurvedic consultations, pulse diagnosis, nutrition consultations, holistic coaching, Ayurvedic therapeutic treatments, and Yoga therapy. Zohreh holds a BFA in Graphic Design and a Doctorate Degree in Ayurvedic Medicine (Ay.D). She is of Iranian descent, and migrated to the United States with her family in 1999.

Web: rohasf.com IG + Twitter: rohasf FB: rohasf

ALIA SCHULTZ, after 20 years of practice, Alia Schultz discovered a style of Affirmation Yoga that deeply resonated with her. She completed her 200 hour Teacher Training in Buzios, Brazil with Yogaworks and Yoga Therapist training (300 hours) with Niroga Institute in Berkeley, CA. Yoga and mindfulness had such a positive impact on Alia that when her young son was diagnosed with Sensory Processing Disorder, she knew that yoga would be highly-beneficial to his development. Seeing the power of yoga in her son’s everyday life, Alia became a certified Children’s Yoga teacher. It is her passion to make yoga accessible to all children.

IG: beachqueen32

NICOLE TAYLOR, is the author of A Joyful Pause: 52 Ways to Love Life.

She is dedicated to supporting individuals in their personal transformation and spiritual growth. Using a blend of meditation, yoga, mind/body awareness, and Ayurvedic principles, Nicole facilitates transformative offerings on self-care. Nicole is a 500-hour certified yoga teacher, and a graduate of the Hendricks Institute’s Big Leap Coach program and the Himalayan Institute’s Ayurvedic Health Counselor program.

She has facilitated wellness instruction for her home district in the Philadelphia Police Department, the Fairmount Park Conservancy, Penn Center for Community Health Workers, the Mural Arts Foundation, and the Billions Institute.

Web: Evolvephiladelphia.com IG: joyful_pause Twitter: joyfulpause

woke. CONTRIBUTORS

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we must

breathe

TABLE OF CONTENTS why can’t i talk about racism as a yoga teacher

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wellness is not neutral

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conjure

22

without resolution

24

whose streets

26

dear black bodhisattva

34

home is a feeling

36

calling in the ancestors

42

affirmation

46

our streets

48

practice for our collective liberation

56

sound bites

58

beautiful are the souls

64

strange fruit

68

toy gun

76

unmute

78

a pentecost prayer

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PHOTO BY: Frank Mckenna ig: log.frankiefoto.com

WHY CAN’T I TALK ABOUT RACISM AS A YOGA TEACHER?

by Rosie Acosta I don’t know one person who has had an easy year.

I saw a meme a while ago about 2020 being “cancelled.” I chuckled as it was mid-quarantine and part of me felt that maybe they were right.

Then May came.

On May 27th, 2020, protests erupted across the United States after the murder of George Floyd in Minneapolis. Cities across the nation gathered in protest over the deaths of Mr. Floyd, Breonna Taylor in Louisville, KY., and Ahmaud Arbery in Brunswick, GA. This took me right back to April 29th, 1992. I was 9 years old and it felt like the entire city of Los Angeles was on fire in response to the Rodney King verdict.

The ‘92 LA Riots have always been a reference point for racial unrest. There are many parallels between 1992 and 2020, all brought about by the same abuse of power.

Where I grew up I experienced this first hand. I saw how my Black and Brown brothers were treated by figures of authority (teachers, store owners, police).

I went to a diverse school and lived in a neighborhood where most people struggled to make ends meet, and often times had no voice or choice.

woke. PHILOSOPHY

I grew up hearing my friends called the N-word by store clerks. I saw them being treated differently in classrooms and knowing it was because of the color of their skin.

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When I became a yoga teacher, I wanted to bring these healing modalities and practices to underprivileged communities because I knew they would help (especially where people feel helpless and disconnected). I believe that our health, wellness and spiritual wellbeing are the biggest active forms of rebellion.

I teach weekly classes for my community, and I try to be as present as possible in a world where I find

myself constantly questioning what the lesson is. I’ve been researching and educating myself the best I can and learning different ways to show up.

I revere being a teacher and believe it is a privilege.

I came into the health & wellness world because I wanted to utilize spiritual practices to help me connect to who I was. I believed the yoga community would be a space of openness, inclusion, and spiritual practice.

Or at least that is what I thought.

Racism causes division and has long been engrained in our psyches. When you grow up playing with dolls or watching T.V. shows that don’t reflect your family or community, it creates cognitive dissonance.

I saw the same thing happening in the yoga world when I first started practicing. Most yoga teachers on magazine covers and books exhibited the same lack of diversity. Whether intentional or not, this signals to Black, Indigenous and People of Color (BIPOC) that “this is not for you.”

For years I’ve navigated topics about Race gingerly, as I was taught never to make waves. I have many white students and family members who don’t believe racism is real and any information shared by the mainstream media is “fake news”.

Have I experienced racism in my own life? Yes. Have I experienced it in the yoga community? Yes. Have I experienced it in the last five years? Yes. Have I seen how wellness events use ‘tokenism’ to relieve them from doing the true work that needs to be done? Yes. It’s important to take stock of the actual message we are putting out there. Many teachers are posting black squares and feel absolved from any real in-depth study of systematic racism. They refuse to acknowledge that we have to confront these issues that have been present for longer than some of us have been alive.

As yoga teachers, we are responsible for showing up and doing the work for our students. Posting an empty square on a grid isn’t enough. Listening is the key.

People don’t like to be uncomfortable. I teach postures that are designed to open the body and harmonize breathing as an exercise in cultivating more discernment. To know when your body needs a break, when it needs to breathe and when it needs to be challenged. The same goes for our state of mind and our spiritual path. It will not always feel good, and sometimes it will be greatly uncomfortable.

I will disclaim this quickly by saying that physically there’s a difference between pain and discomfort.

Just like in Yoga, it’s your responsibility to know when enough is enough and it’s a teacher’s job to guide you in the right direction. People are afraid to do or say the wrong thing. Nobody wants to be wrong, but everyone should be at least a little uncomfortable.

We can’t disregard social issues. The racism, violence and injustice that keeps happening isn’t something we can unfollow or turn off. They require our undivided attention. These issues should be faced with the same gusto and warrior-like energy you radiate when you show up to teach on a stage.

Yoga communities are vital right now. We need to listen and be there in discomfort with our communities.

This is how we change the trajectory of where we are going.

There’s nothing wrong with us wanting to change a system that wasn’t built on the premise of equality, and we can’t pretend that these issues don’t exist.

Discussing racism and inequality on my platform isn’t intended to create more divisiveness-It is intended to create more unity. I’ve been wanting to talk about it for a long time, but I had my own fears to overcome.

Yoga, mindfulness, and self-development are designed for us to create a deeper connection to ourselves so that we can create a deeper connection to each other.

enough is enough and it’s a teacher’s job to guide you in the right direction.

”

The mind’s job is to calculate the fall out, but your heart’s job is to guide you into the right direction.

Discussing racial issues creates unity. We can’t shame people into changing and taking action. I believe this creates a disingenuous understanding of the issues.

Instead, we need to use our actions and voices to inspire people to change. Now is the time to speak up.

Now is the time to be Anti-Racist.

One of my teachers told me the word Yogi is an operative word. To be a yogi is a science that came from another culture, an indigenous culture. These are people whose opportunities in the United States emerged as a result of Black America’s struggles for freedom.

Last summer, I read Ibram X. Kendi’s book, How to be an Anti-Racist, and I loved his definition: “To be antiracist is to think nothing is behaviorally wrong or right -- inferior or superior -- with any of the racial groups. Whenever the antiracist sees individuals behaving positively or negatively, the antiracist sees exactly that: individuals behaving positively or negatively, not representatives of whole races. To be antiracist is to deracialize behavior, to remove the tattooed stereotype from every racialized body. Behavior is something humans do, not races do.”

This time right now, is an invitation to learn and give thanks for those who have helped us heal, grow, and rise. This is a divine invitation to practice Union. It’s an invitation to speak up, activate, and acknowledge that we are all growing and learning. It’s an invitation to sit in the discomfort, to ask questions and have a desire to make things differently. May we all do it with our outdoor voices.

Quotation: Ibram X. Kendi. How to Be an Anti-Racist.

First Edition, One World, 2019, New York.

woke. PHILOSOPHY

“What will this person think?”

“What will my sponsors think?”

“Will I be classified a certain way?”

like in Yoga, it’s your “Just responsibility to know when

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woke. PHOTOS

PHOTO BY: Lan Nguyen web: imlanimal.com

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PHOTO BY: Zoe Fernandez

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WELLNESS IS NOT NEUTRAL

by Camille Bethune-Brown

I didn’t define myself for “Ifmyself, I would be crunched into other people’s fantasies for me and eaten alive.

”

I chose to begin with my favorite quote by our dear ancestor Audre Lorde. It’s a quote that I come back to time and time again. Sad thing is, that quote is almost 40 years old and it feels more prevalent today than ever before. Wellness has had a long violent history of taking from communities of color and repacking it as some new and cool thing. You see in this country it has long been accepted for those in positions of power to take and steal from Black bodies.

woke. POLITICS OF WELLNESS

I’ve been a yoga teacher for 10 years. In some ways I think of myself almost like an old timer in the world of teachers. In the yoga world I’m a bit of an anomaly.

I’m a Black, gay, and physically disabled woman.

I came to yoga over a decade ago as a way to supplement my physical therapy for my Scoliosis.

I’ve long felt that the yoga community wasn’t for me.

I became a yoga teacher back in 2009 because I felt that students who looked like me needed to see folks like me in positions of power.

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Wow, 2009 seems so long ago and when there was still Hope in the air. When Black folks show up and show out in positions of power in Wellness they are often ostracized, I’ve had instances where white students don’t like the idea of someone who is Black telling them what to do. As they country reckons with the injustices done towards Black individuals, what has been most telling is the flat out silence by many in the wellness community.

The Western Yoga community promote themselves as pillars of progressiveness but in fact, they are not. I think in the case of the U.S., you have to acknowledge that you are promoting a stolen culture in some cases.

Case in point- White folks that appropriate Sanskrit

names and put Hindu deities around their studios without asking themselves why that doesn’t fly? How did Western Yoga get this way… who built and who sustained this ideology? That’s the starting point.

Bodies are inherently political. You cannot claim to be investigating your relationship with your body without also investigating your internalized beliefs, authorities and prejudices. Yoga practice is neither accessible or affordable or diverse in North America. The real hustle Yoga Teacher Training Programs don’t tell you is that after you shell out your $4,000, don’t expect to ever make that money back teaching. And why would they?

After all it’s quicker to sign up for a luxurious teacher training program faster than you can say ‘Om Shanti’.

It is the practice of the elite and it held up by white supremacy and privilege. If you don’t observe the fact that almost every yoga room is made up primarily of white women, and that the most famous teachers are skinny, physically blessed white people, then we haven’t even reached the starting point for conversation. Look around. Reckon with the reality of what’s around you. Participate or don’t but gosh, yoga communities do disappoint don’t they?

The apathy, defensiveness, irritation and resistance of fellow yogis around race, privilege, exclusion, oppression, often makes me question working in the wellness industry. I see so much privilege, so much willingness to study and read about asana and yoga mats but no energy to look into cultural appropriation, the sanitization of Eastern philosophy for Western appetites, the predominant wealth and whiteness of wellness...the difficult stuff.. White folks have to do better, they have to acknowledge their part in systemic racism. Nothing is immune, nowhere is sacred.

I imagine a world where the people who call themselves yoga teachers and wellness warriors start to get deeply reflective. Folks need to be less upset about being called out and get excited about being called in.

PHOTO BY: Nick Owuor ig: astro.nic.visuals

woke. POLITICS OF WELLNESS

Quotation: Cheryl Clarke & Audre Lorde. Sister Outsider, Essays and Speeches, Revised Edition, Crossing Press, 1984, 2007, New York.

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GEORGE FLOYD ♦ TRAYVON MARTIN ♦ TAMIR RICE ♦ RAYSHARD BROOK TAYLOR ♦ JUSTIN HOWELL ♦ SEAN MONTERROSA ♦ OLUWATOYIN SALAU ♦ ♦ DAVID SMITH ♦ ROBERT FULLER ♦ KIKI FANTROY ♦ ELIJAH MCCLAIN ♦ MYA HALL ♦ ALTON STERLING ♦ DAVID MCATEE ♦ BOTHAM JEAN ♦ KEI LAQUAN MCDONALD ♦ DANTE PARKER ♦ YAHIRA NESBY ♦ TONY ROBINSON SALVADO ELLSWOOD ♦ JONATHAN SANDERS ♦ SANDRA BLAND ♦ RIAH MILT RUFFIN ♦ KAMAL FLOWERS ♦ TYQUARN GRAVES ♦ DERRICK THOMPSON ♦ J REYES ♦ TONY MCDADE ♦ DION JOHNSN ♦ MAURICE S GORDON ♦ WILLIE HALL ♦ ROBERT JOHNSON ♦ RAYSHARD SCALES ♦ DAVID TYLEK ATKINSO HENRY JR. ♦ ARTAGO DAMON HOWARD ♦ JEREMY LETT ♦ LAVAL HALL ♦ THO ROBINSON ♦ BOBBY GROSS ♦ BRANDON JONES ♦ ERIC HARRIS ♦ FRANK SH JACKSON ♦ SPENCER MCCAIN ♦ VICTOR EMMANUEL LAROSA ♦ DARIUS STE ♦ ASSHAMS PHAROAH MANLEY ♦ FELIX KUMI ♦ INDIA KAGER ♦ KEITH HA TIGNOR ♦ AMAR CLARK ♦ BAILEY REEVES ♦ MIGUEL ESPINAL ♦ MICHAEL JOSEPH ♦ DYZHAWN L. PERKINS ♦ CALIN ROQUEMORE ♦ CHRISTOPHER J. ♦ MICHAEL EUGENE WILSON JR. ♦ VERNELL BING ♦ ANTWUN SHUMPERT ♦ D POP ♦ TERENCE CRUTCHER ♦ ALFRED OLANGO ♦ CHRISTOPHER SOWELL ♦ A ♦ NANA ADOMAKO ♦ CAD ROBERTSON ♦ RAYNARD BURTON ♦ ALTERIA WOOD AARON BAILEY ♦ DEJUAN GUILLORY ♦ CHARLES DAVID ROBINSON ♦ AN HAWKINS ♦ KEITA O’NEIL ♦ JUAN PEDRO PIERRE ♦ ARTHER MCAFEE JR CAMERON HALL ♦ STEPHON CLARK ♦ DANNY THOMAS ♦ JUAN MARKEE JONE BEE LOVE SLATER ♦ JAMES LEATHERWOOD ♦ CHARLES ROUNDTREE ♦ DANN RYAN TWYMAN ♦ ANTWUN SHUMPERT ♦ JOSEF RICHARDSON ♦ ATATIANA JE ♦ DREASJON REED ♦ TONY MCDADE ♦ MELVIN WATKINS ♦ CHANNARA TOM MARZEUS SCOTT ♦ KEVIN BRUCE MASON ♦ JIMMY ATCHISON ♦ DANNY WAS RASHAUN WASHINGTON ♦ ANTWON ROSE ♦ ROBERT LAWRENCE WHITE ♦ MAR THOMAS ♦ CAMERON HALL ♦ SHERMICHAEL EZEFF ♦ MARIO DANTONI BASS KEUNANG ♦ JOHN BAILON ♦ MICHAEL WILSON ♦ JEAN PEDRO PIERRE ♦ KE ♦ JUNIOR PROSPER ♦ CHARLES DAVID ROBINSON ♦ ISAIAH TUCKER ♦ BRI RICCO DEVANTE HOLDEN ♦ JORDAN EDWARDS ♦ ALTERIA WOODS ♦ RAYNAR MITCHELL KITCHEN ♦ ANDREW DEPEIZA ♦ CHRISTOPHER SOWELL ♦ ALFRED ♦ DALVIN HOLLINS ♦ DERAVIS CAINE ROGERS ♦ VERNELL BING ♦ MICHA ♦ CHRISTOPHER J. DAVIS ♦ DYZHAWN L. PERKINS ♦ CALIN ROQUEMORE

KS ♦ MICHAEL BROWN ♦ ERIC GARNER ♦ PHILANDO CASTILE ♦ BREONNA AHMAUD ARBERY ♦ SEAN REED ♦ KALIEF BROWDER ♦ CHANEL SCURLOCK N ♦ COURTNEY WILLIAMS ♦ EZELL FORD ♦ AKAI GURLEY ♦ ERIC HARRIS ITH LAMONT SCOTT ♦ MICHAEL BROWN ♦ FRANK SMART ♦ JERAME REID ♦ ♦ WALTER SCOTT ♦ GEORGE MANN ♦ ANTHONY HILL ♦ PHILLIP WHITE ♦ TON ♦ DOMINIQUE FELLS ♦ ELIJAH MCCLAIN ♦ MICHAEL THOMAS ♦ LEWIS JARVIS SULLIVAN ♦ MOMODOU LAMIN SISAY ♦ RUBEN SMITH ♦ MODESTO LEE QUARLES ♦ TOBBY WIGGINS ♦ RANDY ROSZELL LEWIS ♦ CAMERON ON ♦ YASSIN MOHAMED ♦ FINAN H. BERHE ♦ TIMOTHY THOMAS ♦ DANROY OMAS ALLEN ♦ CHARLY LEUNDEU KEUNANG ♦ NAESCHYLUS VINZANT ♦ TONY HEPHARD ♦ WILLIAM CHAPMAN ♦ DAVID FELIX ♦ BRENDON GLENN ♦ KRIS EWART ♦ ALBERT JOSEPH DAVIS ♦ SAMUEL DUBOSE ♦ CHRISTIAN TAYLOR ARRISON MCLEOD ♦ JUNIOR PROSPER ♦ ANTHONY ASHFORD ♦ BENNIE LEE L NOEL ♦ KEVIN MATHEWS ♦ BETTIE JONES ♦ ANTRONIE SCOTT ♦ DAVID DAVI ♦ PETER GAINES ♦ JESSICA NELSON-WILLIAMS ♦ DOMINIC FELDER DERAVIS CAINE ROGERS ♦ DALVIN HOLLINS ♦ DONNELL THOMPSON ♦ NINA ANDREW DEPEIZA ♦ JR WILLIAMS ♦ DARRION BARNHILL ♦ TRACY SINGLE DS ♦ RICCO DEVANTE HOLDEN ♦ MARC BRANDON DAVIS ♦ DAVID JONES ♦ NTHONY ANTONIO FORD ♦ DEWBOY LISTER ♦ CALVIN TONEY ♦ LAWRENCE R. ♦ RONNELL FOSTER ♦ MARIO DANTONI BASS ♦ SHERMICHAEL EZEFF ♦ ES ♦ MARCUS-DAVID L. PETERS ♦ TONY GREEN ♦ RASHAUN WASHINGTON ♦ NY WASHINGTON ♦ GREGORY GRIFFIN ♦ MARCUS MCVAE ♦ ISAIAH LEWIS ♦ EFFERSON ♦ MICHAEL DEAN ♦ WILLIAN HOWARD GREEN ♦ BRANDON JONES M PHEAP ♦ JOSEF DELON RICHARDS ♦ RYAN TWYMAN ♦ KEVIN PUDLIK ♦ SHINGTON ♦ JESSE J. QUIONTON ♦ JACOB SEVAIS ♦ CYNTHIA FIELDS ♦ RCUS-DAVID L. PETERS ♦ JAMES BAUDUY ♦ JUAN MARKEE JONES ♦ DANNY ♦ DARION BAKER ♦ RONNELL FOSTER ♦ COREY MOBLEY ♦ CHARLY LEUNDEU EITA O’NEIL ♦ LAWRENCE HAWKINS ♦ CALVIN TONEY ♦ DEWBOY LISTER IAN EASLEY ♦ AARON BAILEY ♦ DAVID JONES ♦ MARC BRANDON DAVIS ♦ RD BURTON ♦ CHAD ROBERTSON ♦ NANA ADOMAKO ♦ DARRION BARNHILL ♦ D OLANGO ♦ TERENCE CRUTCHER ♦ LEVONIA RIGGINS ♦ DONNEL THOMPSON AEL EUGENE WILSON JR. ♦ JESSICA NELSON-WILLIAMS ♦ KEVIN HICKS E ♦ DAVID JOSEPH ♦ ANTRONIE SCOTT ♦ KEITH CHILDRESS ♦ MICHAEL

know their names

CONJURE

by Michelle Cassandra Johnson

Beloveds, I have been intentionally touching into my own grief about all that is swirling around in the atmosphere. I’ve been talking to so many people about their grief, which means I have been holding so many others grief and mine finally bubbled up. I am not sure about all of the things that might be breaking my heart right now, but one thing I am sure about is I am trying to maintain hope while reviewing a history that suggests humanity has a pattern of turning a blind eye to suffering and the causes of suffering, which in turn creates more suffering.

We all are suffering but we are not suffering in the same ways. We are not experiencing this moment in the same way. We are not in this together.

Our identities, social location, ancestral memories, lived experiences and relationship to power define our experience the wrath of systemic racism.

When hope evades me because history haunts, my grief surfaces and I turn towards it, attend to it, breathe, pray and then take another breath as I contemplate what skillful action might look like moment to moment.

When hope evades me because history haunts me, I dig deep and remember my ancestors went through suffering much like the suffering we are facing today. My mind doesn’t allow me to remember my ancestral memories but my heart and the earth do.

woke. PRACTICE

The will to survive and the dare to thrive is in my bloodline.

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When hope evades me because history haunts me, I conjure and stir, doing magic calling on all the energies, deities, guides and spirits that might support us in remembering that if we continue to dissociate from the ways in which we cause harm to others and the planet, all we will breed is more suffering.

This moment is an opportunity that comes with great pain and deep lessons.

May we create a new way of being so that when generations to come read history books they will be able to hold onto hope. They will see that we chose to conjure something other than more suffering and grief. May they see that we chose to conjure liberation, ease, breath, freedom, space and collective care.

AsĂŠ: Here is a practice designed for you to touch into your grief and what is breaking your heart at this time. This practice is designed for you to conjure up a new way of living as you move through your grief.

PRACTICE Find a comfortable way to be in your body.

Take a few moments to settle and center.

Connect with your inhales and exhales and take a moment to breathe.

Feel the breath fill up the lungs and then empty.

Now find a way to connect with your core and heart. You can place a hand on your belly, a hand on your heart, or simply bring your awareness to those energy centers in the body.

Take a moment to feel your hands rise and fall with each cycle of breath.

As you connect with your belly/core, realign with the value of interconnectedness and interdependence.

Bring other beings into your awareness you love and care for.

Spend a moment here.

As you connect with your heart, take a moment to touch your grief. Take a moment to touch your heart.

Notice what is there. Notice if there is heartbreak and notice where there is resilience. Take a moment here to be with your heart.

After a few moments fully engaging with your heart and what it is holding, journal, draw, sing, dance or engage any creative medium to express what is present in your heart space.

Then repeat this mantra: I feel my heart.

I feel my heartbreak.

I feel my heart.

I feel the resilience that resides in my heart.

I conjure a new way of being. I conjure a new way of seeing. I conjure a new way of living.

If it would feel supportive and helpful to journal about what you are wanting to conjure, please take a few moments to journal.

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WITHOUT RESOLUTION

by Alia Schultz Being a Black girl growing up on the south side of Chicago, in an Irish-Catholic neighborhood with a German/West Indian mother and a Jewish/African American stepfather, was the most confusing way for me to begin learning about racism.

Most of my friends were the children of the same police who would harass me and say I stole my own bike and, in later years, my own car. I was repeatedly told by my white classmates almost weekly that my mother wasn’t my mother because of the difference in our skin color. We were called lesbians when we were seen holding hands because there was no way on earth this fair-skinned lady could have a Black daughter.

I remember one Halloween, when I was about eight years old, a group of cop’s kids (a.k.a. “the neighborhood teenage boys”) wrote in giant letters across our fence, “White Power.” I remember feeling violated, scared, angry, and confused as we cleaned our home and not having any resolution.

Little did I know that I was going to carry these feelings with me for the rest of my life.

woke. PERSPECTIVE

I had no idea that these pangs of discrimination would sneak into my yoga classes either. I remember my first class, entering the room, looking around, and being the only Black woman. Because of my childhood, being the “only” or the “token” wasn’t foreign, but neither was the feeling of “here we go again.” I recall the judgmental looks from the girls with no hips and the hair tosses in my face from the women who felt the need to compete with me on their mat.

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I remember the doors shut on me as I stood behind them, and always the one who is angry with me because she feels I “took her space.” I came to practice yoga for my sense of therapy and evolution, and here I was dealing with micro-aggressions left and right. Before I could even practice, I had to compartmentalize the feelings and actions I had just encountered.

These experiences were in the 1990’s, and racial biases have since become worse because of what I call the Yoga-Journalistas, Lulu crew, and the whitewashing of a profoundly spiritual practice that originated in India.

Suddenly something that meant so much to me and many other Brown people had been scrambled into a suburban subculture that excluded us and only showed images of blonde “gurus” and instructors who looked like they starved themselves to attain the yoga look.

Even today, when I walk in to take a yoga class, people are surprised to see me. At 5’9’’ &160 lbs., I don’t fit the mold of what the yoga community thinks I should look like. I don’t tell the class that I am a teacher or that I have been practicing yoga for over 20 years.

Why should I be made to feel like I have to?

The surprise and fear are still there. The microaggressions are still there. For some reason being less than or equal to me in a yoga pose bothers these “spiritual” women. Some days you want to go to a class to practice and not have to deal with all the multiple layers of other people’s bullshit or baggage.

I specifically remember after the killing of Trayvon Martin going to my mat t o grieve silently and for self-care. In that yoga class, I realized that not one of my peers, friends, or acquaintances cared to acknowledge I was suffering due to a huge racial injustice that had

been served hot and left on my plate to process.

They did not want to hear about it, talk about it, or understand why I wasn’t my “usual” self, let alone hold space for my tears as it was too painful.

I think the question we all have to ask ourselves is: why the acknowledgment of my existence as an equal is so uncomfortable for the same people I meditate, practice, and break bread with?

That being said, I have seen more allies out in the streets protesting than I have ever seen before. These last few weeks have been emotional and given me a little hope (because that’s all I have left) that something will change, and my son will not have to endure the same pain my ancestors and I have walked through.

If, after reading this, you feel compelled to take a step toward change, maybe next time you see a Person of Color in your class, smile at them rather than stare.

If you are the teacher, perhaps you add some Latin or African musicians to your playlist. Maybe as a studio owner, you order more medium and large sizes for women with curves for your retail. We, as a country and spiritual community, have an obligation for our future to stop fearing what we don’t initially understand. There are so many similarities for us to celebrate.

think the question we all “Ihave to ask ourselves is: why the acknowledgment of my existence as an equal is so uncomfortable for the same people I meditate, practice, and break bread with?

”

PHOTO BY: Alexander Krivitskiy fb: alexander.krivitskiy.5

WHOSE STREETS

by Vanessa Charlot

woke. PHOTOS

My life is my message...

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woke. PHOTOS

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woke. PHOTOS

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DEAR BLACK BODHISATTVA

woke. INSPIRATION

by Misia Denéa

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PHOTO BY: Jessica Felicio

Dear Black Bodhisattva, Please don’t wallow in resentment It’s an energy block What are your needs and boundaries now?

Make them explicitly clear Give thanks Ancestors!

We honor you What systems do you have in place to address the trauma response?

Are you enveloped in pleasure and BLACK JOY? Take time to go beyond the news and the noise Walk with an open Heart Use your time alone to listen to the echo of Silence and Stillness If the breath stays stuck or held (I CAN’T BREATHE) Take an even longer soothing exhale, be guided by your breathing The mind may wander Listen to the Epic Memory What are the messages rising to the surface from the heart?

Let Sacred Rest pour into you The Ancestors are here for you The Cosmos The Stars The Moon “Do you know how beautiful you are ?”

Beloved Black Bodhisattva, thank you for spiritual medicine Thank you L’ouverture Thank you Queen Nzinga I honor the light within you

Spotify Playlist: /DearBlackBoddhisattva

woke. POETRY

You are PRECIOUS

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HOME IS A FEELING

by Dr. Zohreh Sadeghi No matter how far I go, I don’t seem to be able to move too far away from my identity as an Iranian woman.

For years it felt like I was running away from it.

Part of me rejected my heritage and hated the fact that I was born in a war-torn country with a horrible history of blood, violence, oppression, misogyny, discrimination, and many shed tears. Still, there was another part, a deeply rooted side of me profoundly attached to my birthplace, my ancestors’ motherland.

In 1999, my family left Iran to come to the United States, chasing the same illusions that led so many other families to join their own diasporas.

I spent years battling my identity. My world was turned upside down, literally. I was suddenly torn away from my roots and planted in new soil on the other side of the world. Was I supposed to grow new roots? I was confused. Every morning, I would ask myself, “Who are you, and where do you belong?”

“Do you have cars back home, or do you ride camels?”

“It must always be so hot back there since it’s all one big desert, isn’t it?”

“Can women drive? Can women vote? Can women travel?”

“Do women have to cover up head-to-toe, only showing their eyes, where you’re from?”

“Can you belly dance?”

“You look exotic.”

“But wait, where are you from again? Where is Eye-ran?”

The absurdity of it all was outrageous, and I decided to tune it out most days.

“It’s in Asia?”

When I went to college, and 9/11 happened, things got worse. The day after 9/11, I was in my painting class, happily working away when my much older (white) American teacher walked up to me and said: “I still remember the hostage crisis in the ‘80s, and now this. I’m sure your people are responsible for this, huh? Terrorists.”

“What does ‘Asian’ look like?”

“Oh, I get it, you’re from the Middle East.”

woke. SELF-EXPRESSION

And then came all the stereotypes of being from the so-called Middle East, further exacerbated by being a Middle Eastern woman.

In high school, the confusion only grew larger.

“So wait, you’re Asian? But you don’t look Asian?”

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wasn’t Europe. It was perceived as a fictional land suspended between the Indian Ocean and the Mediterranean Sea. A land with so much incredible history yet always at war. Another phrase I quickly became very familiar with was “Peace in the Middle East.” It seemed like the region I was from was never meant to see freedom, peace, and liberation.

I felt more hopeless than ever.

“Middle East? Middle to where exactly? That term makes no sense.” ♦♦♦ My confusion gave way to resignation, and soon enough, I became very familiar with the term “The Middle East.” It was not far away enough for Americans to call it Asia, and it certainly

I had no words in response. I didn’t even know what the term racism meant back then. I wasn’t sure it was real, nor did I want to accept that it was real, so I ignored it. I disregarded every racist comment thrown my way, pretending I either didn’t hear them or that they didn’t affect me. But they always did; they still hurt. And as the years passed, the pain only deepened.

“A terrorist?” How dare he, I thought. Does he even know the definition of the word?

♦♦♦ Suppressing all the anger that was the immediate result of immigration, racism, and identity crisis made me unwell both physically and mentally. My body was in pain, and my mind was foggy, heavy, depressed.

If I wasn’t sad, I was angry. If I wasn’t angry, I was anxious. And if I wasn’t anxious, I was sad. One emotion rolled into another as the days passed, and I fell deeper into a hole leading to nothing but more agony. I felt more lost than ever.

One day, sitting in a small classroom in Kerala in the south of India, I learned about Ayurveda. With this discovery, my many questions were answered.

Each day revealed some new secret, a new realization, a unique “a-ha” moment, and a new understanding of myself and the world around me. I began to understand human nature and psychology on an esoteric level. I started to understand why we do the things we do.

I came to understand that racism doesn’t stem from hatred. This may sound odd, but it goes way deeper than that. As human beings, we cannot conceivably hate one another, but we act like we do because we are surrounded by so much fear. Racism is rooted in fear. Hatred is the symptom, but fear is the root cause.

PHOTOS BY: Zohreh Sadeghi

“what are you?” self-portrait series 2002 35mm black and white film

are you indian? are you egyptian? are you spanish? are you native american? are you an arab? are you a gypsy? what are you?

woke. SELF-EXPRESSION

i am human. ♦♦♦♦♦♦

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In Ayurveda, we acknowledge the power of the mind and how it can become the “trouble maker.” Our minds like to keep us busy by creating narratives, attachments, aversions, and cravings. The mind distracts us from our true essence and from our higher selves, which are sattvic (good and pure). We become preoccupied with the outside world — money, success, fame, sex, food – and the divisive ideas that permeate it. When we get too far removed from our essence, we are trapped in our mind games. One of these games is fear.

We live life surrounded by so much fear that we become numb, frozen, and unable to tap into our hearts. We experience fear of the unknown, fear of the future, fear of failure, fear of loneliness, and even fear of love. When the mind fills with dread, we operate from that frightening place that often manifests as anxiety and stress. Our mind goes into a constant state of fight-or-flight, and we begin displaying behavior that seems irrational, exaggerated, or ridiculous. When the mind goes into this state, we become ungrounded and baseless, like a tree without roots.

woke. SELF-EXPRESSION

When you have no roots, you are bound to sway from one side to the other until you find a side that resonates, makes you feel safe and justifies your fears.

Then you stick to it. Racism is just that—the fear of the unfamiliar and the unknown. Instead of understanding others’ experiences and seeing their point of view, we use convenient stereotypes to judge them. We will fear them and discriminate because then we’ll have control, be in charge, and feel that their unfamiliarity won’t hurt us. We become so trapped that we fail to recognize love. When love is offered, we shut it down, push it away, and don’t believe we deserve anything.

A fearful mind is a dangerous one. A tree without roots is harmful to itself and its surroundings.

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As human beings, we are born whole, kind, and filled with love. A host of stuff occurs between life and death. It’s how you deal with what life throws your way that determines the quality of your life. If you choose to be a victim in this life, you will always remain in a state of fear. When you stay in fear, you live your life in ignorance and hatred. You will continue to be racist.

However, if you decide to tackle whatever life throws your way with grace and resilience, you will sing and dance your way through life even when you’re in tears. Facing your real emotions will help you heal and escape from the toxic traits of your mind. If you dare to rise above self-pity, have the strength to recognize your shortcomings, can hold the mirror to yourself and ask the tough questions such as “how can I better myself?”, then you will free yourself from the bondage of misery and live a life that’s filled with purpose, meaning, and light. The only way towards illumination is to move through the pain!

I spent years tackling my emotions, wishing them away, expressing them in unconstructive ways. Until one day, I woke up realizing how genuinely miserable I felt inside — I felt empty. I felt lonely. I had given my power away, and I was a prisoner to my mind. The day I decided to face the darkness within me is the day my life started to change.

After years of searching for my home, my place, and where I belong in the world, I finally found my answer.

It was there all along. I didn’t see it because I was so wrapped up in my mind’s fearful narrative that I failed to see what was right in front of me. I am home.

Home is within me and resides inside my heart. My home isn’t an actual location; it’s a feeling, a sensation.

I feel at home when I’m content. I feel at home when I’m smiling. Even when I’m sad, I am still home. I feel at home when my family surrounds me. I am home when I’m with me.

“Listen: this world is the lunatic’s sphere, Don’t always agree it’s real,

Even with my feet upon it And the postman knowing my door My address is somewhere else.

”

Shams-al-Din Mohammad Hafez, The Gift

CALLING IN THE ANCESTORS

by Octavia F. Raheem My mama’s pain is not mine to carry. My daddy’s suffering does not belong to me.

I don’t have to make my grandmama’s weariness my own in order to maintain a connection to her. I don’t have to drink from the cup of sorrow my granddaddy did in order to feel like we share something.

When I put down what is not mine to carry, I am free.

Free to face the very real, historic, and systemic oppression that created the suffering and pain for my people without the fear.

Free to access the power, courage, love, and strength of my lineage and carry it forward in a way that is boundless.

Free to command justice when and where I enter.

Free to call in peace with each breath.

Free to summon armies of protective guides to go before, behind, and surround me.

Free to pour the medicine of joy, harmony, and abundance from the ladle of my heart into the bowl of my whole being.

Free to drink deeply of that nectar.

Free to be at home wherever I am.

Free to walk a path of profound liberation with each step I take.

woke. WISDOM

Free to rebuke the narrative that where and who I come from are permanently broken.

Free to remember how to rise and finally get on with the business of doing it.

Free to restore wholeness.

Free to stand and testify on behalf of myself and the millions who live within me: that my life matters.

That our Black Lives Matter.

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to access the freedom they prayed for me and my children and their children and so on- to have.

My daily practice right now is to release through feeling deeply and letting go.

I do that through writing, yoga nidra, prayer, sacred movement, self love, being quiet enough to hear my heart, and being brave enough to remember.

My Ancestors were more than pain and suffering.

So am I. So are we.

WE ARE NOT BROKEN. Excerpt from Gather, by Octavia Raheem, published April 2020.

Available for purchase from Charis Books and Amazon.

Please visit www.octaviaraheem.com to receive Gather Ancestors, a journal/ workbook and short meditation to support you in reflecting and connecting to your Ancestors as a source of strength, resilience, and power.

I’ve come to the place in my journey where it’s time to release the pain and suffering of my Ancestors in order PHOTO BY: Nick Owuor ig: astro.nic.visuals

PHOTO BY: Clay Banks ig: clay.banks

AFFIRMATION

by Elika Aird I am bountiful I am beautiful I am blissful And yes, trust I am brave Brave to walk, head held high When just walking, breathing, glowing Might lead me to an early grave I wanted to believe it so badly, I even sung it out loud In Troop 905 ...1988 This land is your land, this land is MY land?

But can you say to the spirit of Sandra Bland Just as Sister Sandra knew so well Focusing on the material world, Was only Maya We are either living in heaven Or living in hell So, I have chosen To lift the vibration higher Walking with elders, teachers, starpeople, grandmothers and grandfathers It is why at times I might appear To be so gracefully gliding Over lotus flowers And golden stardust encircles me as I walk

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Many years I walked in only darkness, So ignorant of my vastness So fearful of living up to the legacy Of all those who came before me Quite content to stay asleep And like the sun magnificently welcomes

the dawning of a new day Clarity and wisdom gratefully arrived Taking my hand, lovingly, leading the way Like the sweet flow of Oshun’s riverways And the place I awoke in, I could have never dreamed Based on the injustice, hatred And fear that I’d seen But my soul was re-awakened Birthed into this new world In a space where I was FREE to Black, Bold, Beautiful, Bountiful, and yes Blissful And Always Brave Surrounded by this New Earth of Kings and Queens, Reflecting what I only thought I could be Truly Raditating Like the Black Gold of the Sun UN~APOLOGETICALLY Reflecting Moonglow Eminating Amrita Inhale Hummmm ~ Exhale Soooo And in each breath connecting with The 10,000 joys and the 10,000 sorrows It is finally the time for the world to see Our beauty, our wisdom and who we are authentically Not just our game, our stride, or our celebrity And until this day, I will continue to cultivate

Even if its seen as an act of political warfare.

woke. POETRY

Rest as Resistence Lifting up this Black life, So I can lift other Black lives Loving this body, Affirming this life Giving this Soul the utmost care

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OUR STREETS

by Chloe Jackman

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PRACTICE FOR OUR COLLECTIVE LIBERATION

by Nicole T. Taylor Systemic racism is not something one can wish away.

It seems like a thing that wouldn’t need to be said, and yet here we are. My social media feed is peppered with internet and real-life friends who seem more concerned with property than human lives, and my phone has a lot of well-meaning “thinking of you” texts without any mention of pausing to do the work of becoming anti-racist.

It’s early June. Protesters continue to fill the streets, rising up against hundreds of years of systemic racism and the scourge of white supremacy, speaking out against police brutality, and calling for change in the name of all who have been killed by perpetrators of systemic racism; most recently George Floyd, Breonna Taylor, and Ahmaud Arbery.

woke. #TRUTH

I am heartened by many in my spiritual community who have committed to doing their work to examine how they have internalized the white supremacist beliefs that are woven into our education, legal, political, and economic systems. The truth is, if you live in the U.S. you have been stewing in those beliefs your entire life and it will take active work to cast them out. It isn’t easy but it is necessary for our collective liberation.

I see you. Keep going.

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And then there are the spiritual bypassing folks. When I think of why you can’t wish away systemic racism, white supremacist beliefs, or unconscious bias, I think of an experience I had at a spiritual retreat center about two years ago. I opened my door to leave the room and saw that the housekeeping cart was parked near my door, off to the side. It reminded me that I needed to change out my towels, so I closed the door to gather my laundry. When I opened the door again, a white woman who I had seen around the center a number of times over the years was standing in front of the cart. “Two towels, please,” she said, thrusting them in my direction. I froze, surprised. “I don’t work here,” I said. “Oh well how was I supposed to know?

You’re standing in front of the cart,” she shot back.

I took a breath. Before I could speak, the staff person, who was cleaning the rooms, emerged and she engaged with them. I went back into my room.

Hot tears of unexpressed anger ran down my face.

I was so angry and sad that in the place that I go to for refuge, I was not safe from another person’s bias and assumptions. She didn’t think I was there to sit beside her and learn. She assumed I was there for her comfort. I was angry and hurt that rather than apologize, she doubled down with “how was I supposed to know?” She didn’t see me. She saw a Black face and assumed I was there to serve her.

Although that said more about her than it did about me, it took me a while to process those feelings before I felt ready to go down to the session and learn.

Here’s another story about places of solace being compromised: My husband and I had been up in the mountains, taking long walks and getting closer to nature. This has been our happy place, amongst the deer and butterflies and trees and spaciousness.

Friends called us after the protests in Philadelphia and said, “Oh it’s so great that you’re up there”. They meant well, but being Black in America doesn’t change just because the surroundings are prettier. On my daily walk I pass two giant Trump signs, and at least one confederate flag either hanging from someone’s house or as part of a license plate.

didn’t see me. She saw a “She Black face and assumed I was

there to serve her. Although that said more about her than it did about me, it took me a while to process those feelings before I felt ready to go down to the session and learn.

”

My husband notices everything and in his curiosity he likes to check out people’s lawns to get ideas for what we might do with ours. I have to literally do diaphragmatic breathing to calm myself so I don’t say anything to him about looking at people’s lawns. I feel a wave of fear that he will be innocently looking at a lawn and some racist person will come out with a gun and accuse us of something we aren’t doing--like the men who killed Ahmaud Arbery. We are Black in America. There’s no vacation from what that means in terms of our safety. I do not put my fear on my husband by asking him not to look around because he is doing nothing wrong.

We make choices every day, to not internalize what systemic racism tells us about what we can and cannot do. In making those choices we acknowledge that there may be grave consequences, but we will not allow the fullness of our human experience to be stripped from us.

So no, there’s no wishing this away. The Black people in your spiritual community do not want your spiritual bypassing. Show us how you are using your yoga and meditation to sharpen your Buddhi so that you can discern truth and act accordingly. Show us how you build Tejas in order to integrate your spiritual experience into what this changeable world asks of each of us. Show us how you are using practices like Vichara (self-inquiry) to face and shift anti-Black beliefs and biases. Don’t just engage with the Yamas and Niyamas by wearing an Ahimsa T-shirt;-Have the courage to speak up when someone says something racist in your presence. If you teach a form of yoga that attracts only two Black people in a room of over 100, ask yourself what you can do to address this and take action. Tapas comes with enduring discomfort, and we can use these years of practicing yoga to prepare us for the Tapas it will take to become anti-racist.

And yes, love will hold us as we do that work together for equality and all of our liberation.

PHOTO BY: Clay Banks ig: clay.banks

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SOUND BITES

by Romy Phillips I was an Arts administrator and educator on staff at a very prestigious art institution in NYC. One evening at a museum opening, I decided to escape the crowds and use the restroom in the administrative tower near our department’s office. I showed my badge to the Security Guard at the desk and stepped into the elevator.

Once inside the quiet restroom, as I was washing my hands, a woman at the other sink turned and looked at me. We are alone, and I politely spoke to her. With a stern look on her face, she says to me emphatically, “YOU KNOW THAT YOUR ENTIRE LIFE IS A LIE!” Stunned, I froze and opened my mouth to say something, but no words came out. I didn’t know this woman, and I had never seen her before. Although this incident occurred many years ago, I still vividly remember that she was blonde and well dressed in an elegant pale-colored outfit. She was someone who would be considered “upper crust.”

My personal experiences and qualifications didn’t matter. This woman made it clear that whatever I thought I had accomplished in my life was an illusion “a lie.” A white woman, who did not know me personally, made an observation, and formulated an opinion of me, a Black woman, existing in the art world. Her harsh words hit me like a hammer!

They bore a cautionary tone as if she needed to warn me that I certainly wasn’t fooling her.

woke. MEMORIES

Bewildered, I left the restroom in a daze. Years later, I realized how this encounter seeped into my psyche and made me doubt my choice to pursue a career in the Arts.

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On another occasion, at a museum opening, I was standing amongst the crowd of members, donors, Art collectors, board members, and others of influence and talking with the artist boyfriend of one of my colleagues. He and I already had many conversations about the challenges of working in this environment.

Although he was a white male, he turned to me and said, “I feel like a janitor dressed up in a suit.

I am only here to make these rich people feel better about themselves.”

His words resonated with me. I knew deep down that regardless of how I dressed; the fact remained the same---I was not one of them and would never be.

My non-profit salary and scant work benefits would continually keep me from being in the same social status as the art collectors, donors, board members, or patrons. Good education, talent, and intelligence didn’t make us equal, and being Black certainly didn’t!

I would continue to work diligently, advocating for African American artists, and eventually moved onto another prestigious art institution. The lines of delineation were invisible, but the professional glass ceiling became more evident as time went on. I slowly began to see the marginalization and lack of opportunity.

I would experience many more racist comments and interpersonal conflicts to continually remind me of this.

I would be okay if I were content to stay in a particular place: arts education, discussing race and identity politics, and interacting with Black artists. I would be blocked from any other positions of prestige and power. I grew increasingly disillusioned, depressed, and tired.

Growing up, my parents wanted my siblings and I to experience programs that middle-class white children commonly participated in. I was artistically inclined.

I studied dance, went to art school, and then to an Ivy League college and graduate school. I faced a fierce struggle with many obstacles to overcome before I reached the finish line: the financial difficulty of surviving in NYC and the constant harassment from an assistant dean of the School of the Arts. They didn’t want me in the program and definitely didn’t want me to have a degree. It was grueling, but as a young Black woman, I was trying to make a change and penetrate institutions and fields that had been closed to African Americans. I was incredibly naive in thinking that the opportunities would be plentiful, and people would be receptive and fair. Yes, I had been hired, but maybe it was because of affirmative action, a quota to be filled, or a token Black person needed. Although I was in the

mix, someone I encountered at this time, would say that I was the “Jackie Robinson.” They expected me to stay and fight. How much of my self-esteem and dignity was I supposed to sacrifice?

I felt emotionally beaten down and would soon be prescribed high blood pressure medication and anti-depressants. As much as I loved my work and being in the Arts, the social culture’s reality was absolutely miserable. It was a culture of acute racism, classism, riddled with ruthless backstabbing, and opportunists. Exhausted from it all, from trying to “keep up the lie,” I quit working in Arts institutions and never looked back. Friends would ask me for years why I walked away from what they believed to be a successful career and prestigious jobs. I would tell them it wasn’t what I thought it was.

as I loved my work “Asandmuch being in the Arts, the social culture’s reality was absolutely miserable. It was a culture of acute racism, classism, riddled with ruthless backstabbing, and opportunists. Exhausted from it all, from trying to “keep up the lie,” I quit working in Arts institutions and never looked back.

”

Seeking a life change, I later moved to Los Angeles and am working as a yoga teacher. Early in my yoga career, by coincidence, I had lots of powerful private clients, the type that could be board members of cultural institutions. I trained a client in her home regularly. She was white and the wife of a very famous actor. During our sessions, she learned about my past. We had discussed my education, upbringing, my former career in the arts, and my desire to strike out on my own. One day as I was guiding her through a lesson, as she is lying down on the floor she looks up to me and says, “I DON’T UNDERSTAND HOW YOU TURNED OUT TO BE WHO YOU ARE IF YOUR ANCESTORS WERE SLAVES!” I was shocked by her statement! My heart starts racing, my head pounds, and I snap! In a loud voice, I replied to her, “How dare you say something like that to me!! Having slaves as ancestors have nothing to do with my intelligence or abilities!” I yelled so loudly that her housekeeper knocked on the bedroom door and asked if everything was okay. Although the housekeeper may have been worried that I was threatening her, she was not afraid of me and had a disdainful look of satisfaction on her face, realizing that she had touched a nerve. She had penetrated my usually cheerful and polite demeanor to make me lose control.

PHOTO BY: Divine Effiong

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Through our previous conversations, I realized that she was implying that “being a slave made one genetically inferior and the offspring of slaves were inherently inferior.”

Her comment echoed my earlier experience in the museum bathroom. That no matter what you have accomplished as a Black person, “Your life is a lie!”

Years later, I am teaching yoga at a famous yoga studio in Los Angeles, and my classes aren’t doing well at a specific location. The teacher manager, a white woman, takes my class for the first time, and afterward, she says, “You seem like someone we should get behind” and congratulates me on my past success at another location. However, by the next time she takes my class, her attitude of me had noticeably changed, and she had many criticisms: the room was too dark, the sequence was too slow, she didn’t like my playlist, a pose was too difficult for the class level.

She suggested that I take the classes of some other teachers who she clearly admired, and perhaps I could learn from them. She rattles off their names. They are all white teachers, and one is a white male. She didn’t realize in her insensitive comparisons of me to them that I would never be like them, nor should I want to!

Besides, I had already been teaching for 15 years.

I was keenly aware of what I had accomplished and my value in a field that sorely lacked diversity. I told her that their classes aren’t in a style that I like to teach or practice, and their audience is different than mine. When my class numbers fail to grow, she tells me that she is taking my classes away saying,

woke. MEMORIES

“FACE IT, YOU JUST AREN’T A GOOD FIT FOR THIS STUDIO!”

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I am sitting outside of a Whole Foods in LA with another African American colleague of mine recounting my experience with the teacher manager.

A white woman is seated at the next table. I didn’t realize she was listening to our conversation. As she gets up to leave, she says, “I’m very sorry to interrupt, but I couldn’t help but overhear what a horrible, horrible thing that person said to you! It was horrible, and that was just wrong!”

PHOTO BY: Gift Habeshaw

PHOTO BY: Diego Rosa

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I was surprised by her comment but felt a sense of satisfaction that she had come to that conclusion.

Verbal insults can be veiled in racism, words, and phrases that are intended to cut you down, put you in your place, take away power, and prevent you from realizing your dreams. Prejudiced opinions that demean you. I remember the teacher who corrected one of my papers on African American Art, who said the “w” in reference to white people was a capital “W,” and the “b” for Black people was lower case.

I questioned this, probing for a logical answer, she remarked, “it just is.” I had no choice but to concede and make the correction.

I often reflect on these derogatory comments or statements, “sound bites” that have been said to me throughout my life in the context of racially charged words that have penetrated my psyche and have caused emotional harm. These condescending comments come from a place of superiority, projecting who I should be, assaulting my identity and existence.

These phrases have been pivotal to an ongoing battle to find self-worth, my desire to live free from bias, and experience true happiness and prosperity.

White people who think they are liberal-minded should intimately examine their beliefs. They need to ask themselves honestly if they believe a Black person is equal to them why feel threatened when a Black person has more than them or is better at something than they are? What do they have to lose?

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I’ve always had a will to persevere. However, the incessant struggle to fight for what I deserve can be utterly exhausting. Emotional fatigue sets in now and then. I’ve always wondered if a white person with my skills would ever face the social and cultural barriers I’ve encountered or if I had been white, how many more opportunities would be easily accessible to me. How many doors would magically open!

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As I’ve matured and grown to see the realities of discrimination in its many guises, I have gained wisdom and resilient tools to circumvent and navigate obstacles in my life’s path. I’ve gained the independence and gratification of working for myself rather than closely aligning with established institutions, friends, students, clients, and jobs that value my skills and knowledge, the transformative benefits of a regular yoga and meditation practice, and through my traveling, have broken through established cultural barriers.

Racism exists in many situations and institutions--and regardless of social class or education, no Black person or person of color is immune. I guarantee that those you see who have made it, have painful stories to tell. Perhaps it’s a matter of their inner strength, support systems, and beliefs that allowed them to succeed.

web:

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PHOTO BY: Engin Akyurt web: youtube.com/c/svftv

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BEAUTIFUL ARE THE SOULS

woke. ART

by Meclina Gomes

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“Pause”

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“Lift Ev’ry Voice”

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Lift ev’ry voice and sing, ‘Til earth and heaven ring, Ring with the harmonies of Liberty; Let our rejoicing rise High as the list’ning skies, Let it resound loud as the rolling sea.

Sing a song full of the faith that the dark past has taught us, Sing a song full of the hope that the present has brought us; Facing the rising sun of our new day begun, Let us march on ’til victory is won.

Stony the road we t trod, Bitter the chastening rod, Felt in the days when hope unborn had died; Yet with a steady beat, Have not our weary feet Come to the place for which our fathers sighed?

We have come over a way that with tears has been watered, We have come, treading our path through the blood of the slaughtered, Out from the gloomy past, ‘Til now we stand at last Where the white gleam of our bright star is cast.

God of our weary years, God of our silent tears, Thou who has brought us thus far on the way; Thou who has by Thy might Led us into the light, Keep us forever in the path, we pray.

Lest our feet stray from the places, our God, where we met Thee, Lest, our hearts drunk with the wine of the world, we forget Thee; Shadowed beneath Thy hand, May we forever stand, True to our God, True to our native land.

Written by James Weldon Johnson, 1899

woke. ART

Lift Every Voice and Sing

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Southern trees bear strange fruit, Blood on the leaves and blood at the root, Black bodies swinging in the Southern breeze, Strange fruit hanging from the poplar trees.

Pastoral scene of the gallant South, The bulging eyes and twisted mouth, The scent of magnolias, sweet and fresh, Then the sudden smell of burning flesh.

Here is a fruit for the crows to pluck, For the rain to gather, for the wind to suck, For the sun to rot, for the trees to drop, Here is a strange and bitter crop.

Strange Fruit

woke. REFLECTION

Recorded by Billie Holiday, 1939 Written and Published by Abel Meeropol, 1937

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STRANGE FRUIT

by Ekaette Ekong On July 5, 2016, Alton Sterling was shot dead at close range by two police officers in Baton Rouge, Louisiana.

On July 6, 2016, Philando Castile was shot at close range seven times by a police officer in front of his partner and four-year-old daughter during a traffic stop in Minnesota. He died at the hospital 20 minutes later.

Both of these atrocities were filmed.

On July 7, I had to teach my scheduled yoga class in Marin, CA. I didn’t sleep much the night before.

I was awake, grieving, and speaking to family. When I arrived at the yoga studio, I felt myself shaking with sadness. I was so angry. It felt like my skin was visibly red.

I tried to hold back my tears as I walked in, but they came rushing back like a flood. The manager (a friend) took me into the office. She tried to console me. I said aloud, “Why won’t they stop killing us?” She said I didn’t have to teach my class. I could go home. I wiped away my tears. “I’m not going home,“ I said. “For most of these people, I am the only Black person they will be in contact with all week. They need to see what is happening to us.“ I walked into my class, and the room was filled with excited chatter and laughter. It as if nothing had even happened. I spoke about the murders in my opening.

I don’t remember what I said. I do remember crying and feeling invisible.

On June 10, 2020, Robert Fuller, a 24-year old Black man, was found hanging from a tree in Palmdale, CA. Authorities initially ruled it as a suicide. Due to

These dubious conclusions are similar to the reports of activists’ deaths in 1980’s apartheid ridden South Africa. Beginning in 1962, South Africa legalized imprisonment without trial or official explanations.

Between 1962 and 1987, at least 20 political activist detainees’ deaths are classified as “suicide by hanging.” Others, like Steve Biko, were tortured to death, or “no official explanation” is given for their deaths.

“More than 4000 African Americans were killed in racial terror lynchings between 1877 and 1950. Many of these extra-judicial murders were celebratory public spectacles, where thousands of white people, including elected officials and prominent citizens, gathered to witness victims being gruesomely tortured and mutilated. White newspapers advertised these carnival-like events; vendors sold food, photographers printed postcards, and victims’ clothing and body parts were given out as souvenirs.”

- Equal Justice Initiative (www.eji.org) It is suspect that all of the “suicide by hanging” deaths in South Africa were suicide, just as it is implausible that the seven “suicides by hanging” of Black men in the past two weeks are.

Recently, five nooses were found hanging from trees in Oakland, CA. This is racial terrorism and modern-day lynching.

Ahmaud Arbery was lynched.

George Floyd was lynched.

Sandra Bland was lynched.

Robert Fuller was, most likely, lynched.

While I appreciate it, it seems like white people are cramming for an anti-racism exam. I wonder how long it will be before they are posting videos of Black murders again and sharing the same four Martin Luther King quotes. When I look at the social media feeds of my white yoga and “spiritual” friends, some are doing the work. Some are afraid to speak out because they are afraid they will offend someone or will lose students. Many are acting like it’s life as usual and sending me invitations to their classes.

woke. REFLECTION

“Be kind, for everyone is fighting a hard battle.”

These words are often quoted in yoga classes and quickly forgotten once in the studio parking lot.

Black people have been fighting a lifelong battle that white people are JUST NOW beginning to acknowledge and recognize.

community outcry, an investigation and autopsy are finally being conducted.

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PHOTOS BY: Hector Falcon web: hectorfotografia8.wixsite.com/miamiphotographerone ORIGINAL MURAL BY: Fin DAC ig: findac TITLE: “Sun Goddesses 1 & 2”

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This is White privilege, and yes, it exists in the yoga and wellness communities.

On July 22, 2016, one of my students sent me this note: As a kids yoga teacher in a low-income community, I study the ways that trauma can manifest during a yoga practice, but it’s something I had never experienced first hand until yesterday.

Class was ending, and I was resting in savasana. The teacher invited us to bring awareness back into our bodies, so like I’ve always done, I reached my straight arms up to the sky a variation my students have coined “the good morning stretch.” Without warning, a wave of extreme anxiety washed over me. A video I had watched hours earlier played back in my imagination, except this time I was Charles Kinsey, staring down the chamber of a police handgun while begging for my student to comply. Tears started streaming down my cheeks.

Instinctively, I opened my eyes, sat up, and looked around at the other 28 practitioners in the room. Like most classes in SF, I was the only underrepresented minority in the room.

In that moment, all I remember wishing was that you had been leading the class so that I could have felt seen. Thank you for the work that you do, Ekaette Ekong.

My response: Hi Patrick, I have been thinking of you and wanted to reach out. I have been at a loss of words these past weeks, so my apologies in advance for any brevity. It is certainly not my intention.

I hope deep within your heart, you know - You. Are. Seen.

Your presence and strength, along with the depth and grace of your practice, are powerful.

It can often seem like we are living in two worlds. The veil is slowly being removed, so more people are beginning to see what it means to be Black in America. The yoga world is myopic and slower with this understanding.

There have been too many days that I have wanted to “call in Black.”

I have had to swallow my pain, put on my mask, and act as if my world wasn’t being kicked in.

I sense you have had to do this too.

It is time to allow ourselves to cry, kick, and scream. Speak your truth to power. Speak your truth to Yogis. Live your truth in the world.

Whenever you want to talk, need a hug, or absolutely anything, I am here for you.

I see you. You are loved.

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There are many of us holding you in our hearts. We have also been invisible in the yoga room, even as the teacher. This is changing because we are changing it.

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PHOTO BY: Max Bender web: maxwbender

This conversation could have happened yesterday.

“The reality is whiteness never prioritized Black lives. You just didn’t notice or care until now.“ Michelle Cassandra Johnson

Breonna Taylor was lynched.

Rayshard Brooks was lynched.

Andres Guardado was lynched.

Elijah McClain was lynched.

White people can choose to be anti-racist and an ally when it is convenient for them. Black people don’t have this option, yet it’s expected that we will nod and smile, or else we’ll be seen as angry and disruptive.

Imagine how exhausting that is.

White people, allies, and performative allies, it is beyond time to take an examination of your past actions and inactions. A company email, especially when you have zero to few Black employees or an IG post, doesn’t cut it. Your white privilege is not something you can wear, consciously or unconsciously, as a badge of honor anymore.

I genuinely hope this momentum towards change, acknowledgment of racism, white privilege, and white supremacy continues. I hope this isn’t a boutique movement. I hope the wellness community understands that we’re not all the same and recognizes the lived differences of Black and Brown people rather than gaslighting or spiritually bypassing our life experiences. I hope people actually read all of the anti-racism books they are buying, do the work, and don’t just add them to their bookshelves.

Time will tell.

woke. REFLECTION

PHOTO BY: Joe Yates ig: josephyates

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TOY GUN for John Crawford III ♦ for Tamir Rice ♦ for Dedric Colvin

by Angela Hennessy

toy gun i’m grieving you i’m grieving toy and gun ever meeting in a sentence in the same breath taking up residence upon my tongue toy gun i’m grieving you i’m grieving toy and gun shaking hands with a child shaking in the hands of a child getting children play killed then real killed toy gun i’m grieving you i’m grieving toy gun no longer a toy he a home boy acting all grown taking bart on his own got so big so fast so—wow he pull up his holster—how? he load his own bullets now finger just reaches the trigger—pow toy gun i’m grieving you

i turn around and toy was gone he a big gun now he bang bang for real now he even look me in the eye before he shoot me down toy gun i’m grieving you i heard the first one not two, not three, not four midnight came over the mourning sun i fall he run not a 5k fun run maybe a runaway slave run toy gun i’m grieving you you come in colors so cute but only red when you shoot toy gun i’m grieving you i’m grieving toy and gun and marketing strategies of masculinity that capitalize on vulnerability and the innocence of the son

Excerpt from This Is Not A Gun, edited by Cara Levine, published by Sming Sming Books and Candor Arts, March 2020 Available for purchase https://www.smingsming.com/products/this-is-not-a-gun

woke. POETRY

toy gun i’m grieving you

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UNMUTE

by Nadine Johnson

Do I have your permission to UnMute?

Should I lean in just enough to console your guilt without triggering it Is it okay for me to say just enough to evoke I’m so sorry that happened to you But not too much because I’m sorry you feel that way Do I have your permission to UnMute

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PHOTO BY: Leighann Blackwood ig: ohleighann web: ohleighann.com

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A PENTECOST PRAYER

by Rev. Rosalie Norman-McNaney Pentecost in the Christian tradition is Jesus’ Promise to send the Holy Spirit upon being fulfilled and the beginning of the Christian Church.

Spirit of the Loving God of Many Expressions of Faith, Fall a Fresh on Us. During this time of collective grief for the loss of what appeared “normal” & familiar during this time of COVID-19 Pandemic, we find ourselves in a time of unrest and truth-telling.

Each day we face an ever-changing territory and the unknown that we may reluctantly choose to face in our world nation, communities, and within our very beings.

Spirit of the Loving God; Comfort and Surround Us. We must Not forget or trivialize the 103,600 souls taken from us due to the COVID-19 Pandemic. We must be reminded that there is a precious name for each number given, a chair is empty, a side of a bed is left untouched. Loved ones missing at a dinner table or a grasp loosened from a child ‘s small hand wondering why and where have their grandparents or parents have gone ever so swiftly without warning or with the minimal final arrangement and fanfare to celebrate a person’s life.

Spirit of the Loving God, Come as a Rushing Wind and Blow Over Us; Guide us in Truth.

There are other numbers that we must recognize, and there are names for as well. They are names of African Americans that must be said and shouted out loud collectively. They are the names of countless African American lives that have been unjustly and swiftly taken from us because of the Black color of their skin. As in Palov’s classical reaction, Blackness creates fear and judgment. A learned response that must be unlearned if we are all to survive!

Do we only see Blackness and not People?!

Lest we forget their names of any during this pandemic as we shelter in place, masked and socially distanced, George Floyd, unarmed and cuffed, was murdered in front of us as a Minneapolis officer cruelly pressed his knee on George’s neck. George repeatedly gasped, saying, “I can’t breathe.”

woke. INSPIRATION

Did you know the same George Floyd shared the Gospel of Jesus Christ with others and encouraged young men to stop gun violence?

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Memories surface of Eric Garner saying, “I can’t breathe” as he was locked in a stronghold by an NYC police officer.

Breonna Taylor, a paramedic who cared for all people regardless of color, was shot by Louisville, Ky. police in her own apartment; the crime, being black. We do not know the pain of the last minutes of her life and of her last breath.

Ahmaud Arbery jogged believing we were in a world of equality, and safety was suspected by white vigilantes in Georgia of being a burglar. Murdered by those believing that Ahmaud didn’t deserve to exist or breathe on this Earth because of the color of his skin.

The call made by Amy Cooper to police about Christian Cooper, a Black man who was bird-watching in Central Park: Amy’s act, a recent trend of white women feeling vulnerable around Black men, may appear benign and self-care. In Christian Cooper’s case, a former publisher of Marvel Comics and a board member of the NYC Audubon Society, Christian could have ended up being shot dead that day by the police. Another chair left empty, a side of a bed is left untouched, loved ones missing at a dinner table or a grasp loosened from a child‘s small hand wondering why a loved one gone, ever so swiftly because of “living Black.”

Let Us remember their names and many others. We must become truth-tellers and ask ourselves: What do we see or think when we see a Black person? Do we care if he or she is educated or not, a father or mother, a doctor or lawyer, a person of faith as yourselves, or do we just see Black? Are we unknowingly part of the problem or part of the solution?

Spirit of the Loving, God Light a Flame of Truth Beneath and Above Us! Open our eyes and ears! Search our hearts and souls in the midst of this Sacred Pause on Mother Earth. There is rampant racism that we pretend that we don’t see since all is well in our safe part of the woods.

Even COVID-19 shouted loud and clear, “Look, I know who to infect and affect disproportionately: those of color.” COVID says, “It was easy for me: you already have systemic racism in place for me to invade and affect those Brown and Black people with low-level jobs, untreated medical conditions, and insufficient access to proper health.”

Yes, they are mainly the essential workers and are readily available and exposed to take of the masses. “You made it easy for me,” COVID YELLS OUT AND GRINS! Spirit of the Loving God, Stir Within Us and Guide us in Truth and Justice.

Yes, racism and injustice were always known to exist; at this time, it is so blatant; we cannot hide it. Sanctity of life must be acknowledged and demanded for African Americans whose ancestors were dehumanized so this country could be “great.”

Our ancestors already sustained 400 years of slavery and abuse. The truth must be told, has anything changed? Now declare ALL LIVES MATTER, and this must include BLACK AND BROWN LIVES!

Open our eyes and remind us to Love God, our creator first with all our hearts, minds, and souls, and if that is true, we are called to love ourselves and our neighbors as we love ourselves.

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Spirit of the Loving God, Capture Our Tears. Send a Healing Balm to Speak into our Souls.

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We are all equal regardless of race, culture, faith, expression, language, age, sexual orientation, and ability, but our actions speak the opposite in volumes.

Loving God is knowing that “we are all created in God’s image”, and we are All God’s creation and that God’s creation is Good and includes Black and Brown people as well. To hate one part of God’s creation is hate ourselves. How does that reflect on how we actually view and relate to God? Let us stand for a pro-life for All. Intentionally Commit today to see others who are different as “WE”- Brother and Sister rather than the “Other” to be feared and kept separate.

May we fall on our knees before our creator and ask for forgiveness. If we truly believe that we love God, we must love all of God’s creation, not just the ones that look like ourselves.

Spirit of the Loving God You are the Potter, We are the Clay.

More than ever, we need you to melt, mold, and form us into your vessel of love, acceptance and oneness.

Fill us with Compassion rather than self-pity, self -centeredness, egotism, and self-righteousness.

Fill us with Acceptance rather than Judgment and Hate.

Fill us with a willingness to Listen to God rather than to our divisive, fearful thinking.

Fill us with radical, unconditional love to see the Divine and many the facets of God’s goodness and expression in others who may be different from ourselves Racially, Culturally, Faithfully, Linguistically, in Sexual Orientation, Age, and Ability.

Use Us to bring about Your Justice & Peace in your kingdom here on Earth – one person one moment at a time.

Save Us from our own will, and may we seek your Will, Wisdom, and Righteousness rather than our own.

Help us see that our time of being separated and sheltered at home was the preparation and an opportunity to build awareness, acknowledgment, and acceptance that You, our God of many names is in charge. We need each other, and we are stronger together.

woke. INSPIRATION

As we open cities and communities, open our hearts and minds. Instill in us a commitment to begin a-new being One, rather than many in hate, violence, and division.

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We are all being called for such time as this!

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We are magic.

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woke. ONE LOVE

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woke. ONE LOVE

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PHOTOS BY: Deva Darshan ig: darshan394

woke. ONE LOVE

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woke. ONE LOVE

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woke. ONE LOVE

PHOTO BY: Danny G

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woke. ONE LOVE

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“Please I can’t breathe...”

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woke.