By Nikesha Elise Williams
“Is your name Yemaya? Oh hell no, it’s got to be Osun.”
This line is from the opening poem, Brother to the Night (A Blues for Nina), from the 1997 film, Love Jones. It may also be one of the earliest references in pop culture of two deities known as orisas in the African Traditional Religion known as Ifá. Fast-forward twenty-two years and references to these deities, and several others, are more common in popular culture.
As a Black woman raised in the church, and someone who openly identifies as Christian, I have noticed many of my kindred, men and women, are shunning the religion and spiritual practice we inherited at birth in favor of a practice that feels more authentic. For some, the act of living without regard of the white gaze has led to a shunning of the religion of our oppressors, and a want, need, and desire to reclaim our roots; our Africanness that was lost in the middle passage.
This internal yearning of the individual is also being played out externally in popular culture with increased knowledge and awareness of all things African through brands like The Wrap Life or Diyanu. The easy access of over the counter DNA testing kits, and commercial successes of Black Panther and Tomi Adeyemi’s young-adult novel, The Children of Blood and Bone.
As consciousness of the culture of the continent increases, especially in this year of the return to mark 400 years since the start of slavery, so to does the awareness of its religion; specifically, Ifá.
Ifá is the religious system most commonly attributed to and practiced by the Yoruba ethnic group of West Africa. As history would have it, when these people were forced into bondage and enslaved their religious systems and customs traveled with them. Although, Christianity was effectively used as a tool for conquering, colonization, and assimilation—especially in the United States—Ifá did not die. Now there are various diasporic variations practiced amongst people of African descent all around the world. In Cuba it is known as Lucumi. In Brazil, Candomblé. In Trinidad and other Caribbean Islands, Shango Baptist.
While there are serious practitioners of Ifá and its offshoots across the country and around the world, there has also been a bandwagon trend for some in the diaspora to claim this religious practice, and most often its deities, without knowing what it means and the implications for their life.
This is thanks in part to the internet, and the pivotal role social media plays in our world. Names of orisas, the deities of Ifá, are commonly seen in status updates and social media profile names. To the uninitiated, co-opting the names of orisas such as Osun, Yemoja, Oya or Shango can be a way to pay homage to one’s African ancestry that cannot be completely traced; a way of acknowledging one’s roots and ambiguous ancestry. However, to the initiated, Ifá, like any other religion is not a game, is not a trend, and is to be taken seriously.
“Everything is not for public consumption,” said one aborisa—a servant of orisa— I spoke to. The director of an African dance company in Jacksonville, Florida this aboris considers herself a “dancethropologist;” in that she educates her students and company members about West African culture and its spiritual customs and practices through her chosen art form. When we spoke for this article she said she first became aware of African Traditional Religions twenty years ago. That awareness grew as she continued dancing and studying traditional forms of African dance in Guinea. Her path has been a long, but authentic journey. One that extends from her mission to be what she calls “a respectful custodian of culture.”
“To call it a religion is not doing it [Ifá] justice,” she said. “It’s much broader than that.”
“Everything starts with the ancestors,” said a priestess who was crowned under the orisa Osun. When I spoke to her, she had just come off of a weekend of initiating new practitioners. She said, “The orisa that you worship is flavored by your ancestors.”
This key component of Ifá often gets lost in today’s culture of instant gratification and immediacy. In this era of “wokeness” some people have been so quick to shed labels and pick up others in the name of “authenticity,” they don’t realize they’re misappropriating the culture and religion they’re trying to venerate. In Ifá, the orisa, which may be the most interesting and mystical component to the uninitiated, are not the most important when it comes to practicing the religion. It is the ancestors.
Knowing your ancestors, their wants, and wishes for your life takes spiritual work. This work includes genealogy to know who your ancestors are on both sides of your bloodline. It also includes prayer and divination, consulting your ancestors and the spirit realm with regards to their intention for your life. Both Sylla and Olafemi say this work takes elevation, enlightenment, and intellect. In short, practicing an African Traditional Religion such as Ifá is not for the faint of heart or those jumping on the bandwagon of the latest trend in culture influenced by celebrities.
When Beyoncé released Lemonade in 2016, it was widely assumed the singer was embodying the orisa, Osun, in the video for “Hold Up” when she emerged from a body of water in a yellow dress swinging a bat. “While Osun can be beautiful in a yellow dress near the water, she can also be seen as a mad woman with a machete,” said Sylla. “She can be honey sweet, or she can be a vulture.” Beyoncé has never publicly confirmed people’s speculation. However, assumptions of her religious practice intensified after her 2017 Grammy performance, and now with the release of her concept album, The Lion King: The Gift.
While Beyoncé’s personal spiritual connection to Ifá and orisa are nebulous, Spike Lee’s short-lived reboot of, She’s Gotta Have It, was more direct. The main character, Nola Darling, consulted with a Lucumi practitioner in her own personal quest for understanding and enlightenment.
Even though She’s Gotta Have It was created for public consumption, the season one interactions between Nola and Lourdes “LuLu” Blackmon, in regards to Lucumi were done with style and grace without perverting the religion for ratings. However, in season two, Nola’s trip to Puerto Rico that included an impromptu dance in a drum circle and an apparent baptism in a nearby body of water had many practitioners of Ifá crying foul. There is more to Ifá than picking the deity you like, donning their colors, and dancing to their worship songs. A fact practitioners of the religion doesn’t want people who are truly looking for an authentic alternative to Christianity, Islam, Buddhism, etc. to forget.
“It’s popular, but people are searching,” Olafemi said, when I asked her whether she thought the awareness of Ifá was a trend that may soon fizzle out. Sylla agreed, acknowledging that there is a “trendy jump on the bandwagon, but those people will weed themselves out.” For those not following the zeitgeist, the call of Ifá, one of its variations or another African Traditional Religion is innate. Just like in Christianity where a priest, pastor, nun, or another worker in ministry must have and hear the call of God on their life, the same is true in Ifá.
The priestess I spoke with, guides people who are interested in practicing. She says she sees many African-Americans coming to the religion for various reasons. She believes many are following their ori—their divine alignment—because they are looking for and in need of balance. “A lot of African-Americans come to the orisa for enlightenment, wealth, and for healing,” she said.
Initiated at the age of nine, the priestess I spoke with says she first became aware of Ifá at four years old. Over the years of her practice she has found that when people come searching they will have an epiphany, but they have to seek elevation and healing to go forward in the practice. They will also find that this religion is reciprocal; in that when practitioners go searching they will find the answers and the solutions they seek. Solutions that can only begotten from spiritual intellect and an innate yearning to elevate not only yourself, but your entire ancestral bloodline.
“[They’re] reclaiming their sovereignty because the current system that is in place is not working,” the aborisa said. With hundreds of orisas and a central focus on ancestor worship, only time will tell if the cultural trendiness of African Traditional Religions will wane. Though some practitioners see the increased interest in African Traditional Religions and Ifá practice as a response to endemic ancestral memories and a way that African people in the diaspora are reestablishing their beings.
Whether we’re reclaiming our history, reestablishing our beings, or just searching for something that works outside of the church house and the therapist’s office, we have to remember there will be many parts and practices of Ifá we will not be privy to. We cannot call out cultural appropriation in music, in fashion, in language, in HBCU etiquette, if we then turn around and do the same thing when it comes to religion. However, we can all honor our ancestors by being responsible alejos (visitors) toward this religious practice that is seen as pure, beautiful, and healing when worked in the proper way.
Reading Suggestions:
“West African Religions like Ifa and Vodou are on the rise in Maryland, as practitioners connect with roots,” Johnathan M. Pitts, The Baltimore Sun (2019)
“The Way of Orisa: Empowering Your Life Through the Ancient African Religion,” Philip J. Neimark (1993)
“Ifa Divination, Knowledge, Power, and Performance (African Expressive Cultures),” Jacob K. Olupona (2016)
“Black Gods: Orisa Studies in the New World,” John Mason
“The Handbook of Yoruba Religious Concepts,” Ifa Karade (1994)
Nikesha Elise Williams is an Emmy award winning news producer and author. She was born and raised in Chicago, Illinois, and attended The Florida State University where she graduated with a B.S. in Communication: Mass Media Studies and Honors English Creative Writing. Nikesha’s debut novel, Four Women, was awarded the 2018 Florida Authors and Publishers Association President’s Award in the category of Adult Contemporary/Literary Fiction. Four Women, was also recognized by the National Association of Black Journalists as an Outstanding Literary Work. Nikesha lives in Jacksonville, Florida, but you can always find her online at www.newwrites.com, Facebook.com/NikeshaElise or @Nikesha_Elise on Twitter and Instagram.
