BIPOC Americans are building altars to their ancestors – and healing generational wounds

When T’Challa enters the purple-tinged Ancestral Plane in “Black Panther”, standing before generations of Wakandan rulers, he embodies a connection to ancestors that resonates across cultures. Disney’s “Coconut‘ captures this too, as Miguel discovers his family’s history through the glowing marigold bridges of Día de los Muertos. Even Simba’s profound moment with his father’s ghost in ‘The Lion King‘, where Mufasa reminds him ‘you are more than what you have become’, speaks to a deeper truth: ancestral worship is not a creation from Disney films, but rather a traditional and spiritual practice that spans cultures.

As Americans increasingly seek connection with their cultural heritage – with Ancestry tracking services are reporting record growth And millions of TikTok users Imagine conversations with their ancestors through viral videos – many BIPOC individuals are turning to traditional practices of ancestor worship.

Building altars dedicated to ancestors is essential to honoring and building connection for practitioners of ancestral veneration. Darcell Andréa holistic interventionist and hoodoo practitioner in San Antonio, says the idea is to honor those who continue to guide the living.

“Even when we talk about people dying, really in Black American spirituality or African spirituality, there’s not really a death. It’s just a transition. So the physical form now has the spiritual form,” Andre said.

Andre emphasizes that practitioners do not worship their ancestors, but rather communicate with them.

“I know my grandmother helps me through life. The same way I would thank my grandmother if she were still alive, this is why I put her cup of coffee down. This is why I go and make her favorite food and write it down as a thank you,” he said.

While the word ancestor, like defined by Merriam-Webstertraditionally refers to deceased relatives, Andre notes that there is a common misconception that ancestors are limited to the bloodline, adding that honoring adopted relatives is just as legitimate.

Christa Leia community care facilitator and death doula, began building an ancestral altar during the COVID-19 pandemic, basing some elements on the altars their Filipino immigrant parents kept, and blending traditions with their own beliefs, including activists who fought for issues of vital importance for their lives. identity.

“They’re not technically family or blood related, but Stacey Milbernwho is a disability advocate and queer, died as a result of the pandemic. Because I’m disabled and chronically ill, that’s an ancestor of mine, you know? Marsha P Johnson“I’m strange, she’s also an ancestor,” said Lei, using the pronouns.

Crystal Dorado has been running her holistic wellness studio, Verdein Chicago’s historic Pilsen neighborhood for 13 years. Although Pilsen has confronted gentrification For two decades, they have remained predominantly Latino, especially Mexican immigrants like Dorado’s grandfather, who is a curanderoor traditional folk healer, and grandmother who was a yerbera or herbalist. She continues to teach and help others heal in the community she grew up in, thanks to the teachings of her father, who believed they could make an impact in their own community.

“(He taught me that) we didn’t need any rescuers, we could do it ourselves,” Dorado told Reckon.

Building an altar came naturally to Dorado, who grew up in a spiritual household. Her family’s devotion ran deep: Dorado’s grandmother even had a pew built in her home where she could kneel before her altar.

“They have always been a big part of my life. And altars, I think, really come from our indigenous ancestors and I think that applies not just to us specifically in our Mesoamerican ancestry, but to the entire world,” she said.

Dorado believes that maintaining a connection with ancestors keeps people grounded, which is especially crucial for BIPOC individuals navigating cultural identity in a society that often misrepresents their history.

“It ensures that the foundation cannot easily shake. “I think if we don’t know where we come from and who we are, we can easily be shaken off our axis,” she said. “Especially as minorities, we are so manipulated by the media to believe these horrible aspects about ourselves, but they don’t speak about the truth about our ancestors. They had been colonized. Our lands have been stolen. They were hyper-intelligent people.”

Reclaiming history and practices

Luis Cornejo (he/she), certified marriage and family therapist, co-owner of Psychosocial therapy and host of the Queer Magical Podcastgrew up in a Christian evangelist household. He found that implementing an ancestral altar helped him embrace his Guatemalan and Mexican roots and reclaim his heritage.

“It was almost an opportunity to celebrate and honor people who came through, rather than just forget about them,” Cornejo said. ‘Even in our religion we were often told that as people passed by, ‘they’re gone, let’s hope they’re in heaven’, but there was never really any celebration or tribute to the dead. I think it was avoided more than anything.”

Connecting with their ancestors through worship opened up access to history for Conejo, who notes that the trauma of many BIPOC individuals and immigrant families is a prominent aspect of their history, through which traditionals and knowledge are often passed down.

“What we often get is a reminder of the trauma that we’ve experienced as a family, whether it’s divorce, whether it’s first generation, whether it’s growing up without our parents or whether it’s domestic violence or alcoholism . “It is difficult for many of our family members to process that it almost ends there,” says Cornejo.

A 2017 Pew Research Center Research showed that Latino identity weakens over generations. As more Latinos marry non-Latinos, some born in the U.S. are losing connection with their heritage. About 11% of Latinos – 5 million no longer identify as Hispanic or Latino, especially in the third generation or later.

Dorado says connecting with ancestors can help alleviate intergenerational trauma and prevent it from continuing down the line.

“When we do generational healing, and when we change the narrative, we change it not just for the past, but for future generations. They will no longer live out the same stories we inherited from our grandparents. You know, they’re no longer going to live with the feeling of oppression, the feeling of loss or feeling like they can’t achieve anything,” she said.

Create your own altar

How you build an altar is a personal choice, but the most basic elements of an altar are a cloth-covered surface, a glass of water, a food offering, and a photo of a deceased loved one, if you have one.

While flowers and candles are a good starting point, an altar can be as simple as a rock or leaf found outside.

“It could start with a vase of flowers and a photo of someone you love. It might start with an image of a deity and a candle. And as you go forth and gather, your altar will grow and you will find things that are more important to you,” Dorado said. “It is very important that it is personal.”

Dorado, who studied with Mayan healers in Yucatan, Mexico, learned that the oldest ancestors are the elements: air, fire, water and earth. Andre and Dorado find it important to preserve the four elements, represented by a candle representing fire, incense representing air, a glass of water and various objects representing the earth.

“I make sure there are a lot of crystals in my altar because that’s mostly earth energy,” Dorado said, adding that she intentionally uses earth energy to reconnect with her indigenous ancestors, historically. . separated from the Mexicans and Mexican Americans through colonization and assimilation.

Food remains a common offering across all cultures, inclusive Chinese, Mexican, Hindu traditions, and more.

“At family gatherings, someone would always make a full plate of food for the deceased ancestors, and we would leave it on an altar,” says Lei. “That’s an offering meant for them, it’s such a simple thing to give them.”

Dorado says food remains prominent because it represents a connection to life.

“Even though life can be bitter and difficult, there is always something sweet in it,” she said.

While most practitioners place altars on a shelf or table, Andre notes that the location depends on the space available.

“Sometimes you see people have ancestral altars in drawers because they can just close them, or they place them like a shoebox and pray with their ancestors, or talk to their ancestors, or communicate with their ancestors through divination. tools, such as cards or a pendulum,” Andre said. These discrete practices mirror those historically enslaved Africans practiced Yoruba Religions And Native Americansboth forced to practice Christianity.

Andre emphasizes that veneration extends beyond a physical space, through funerals, placing flowers on graves, passing on namesakes or singing favorite songs.

“We all do it. We did it. All that has taken place is religious indoctrination and cultural extermination,” Andre said.

Cornejo advises against feeling pressure to match a certain aesthetic or match photos of the great Dia de los Muertos ofrendas, or altars, circulating on social media.

“It doesn’t have to look or be a certain way. I made it into something that is very personal to me, incorporating things that I have collected over the year,” Cornejo said, mentioning their dog’s ashes, a pinata and dolls as some of the other items they keep on their altar.

Ultimately, altars are about intention and should not be a homework assignment, according to Dorado, who says your ancestors just want to spend time with you.

“Spirit just welcomes your connection and your reverence and your moment for yourself,” she said.