Hey family!
I’m happy to be back here with you all! Thank you for returning to LifeWithLexisKai.com. Happy Black History Month to all my Soulani! Today’s post is a reminder that YOU are Black history, just by existing.
I’ve been thinking more about writing on my Substack, just different content. So make sure you’re subscribed here to the blog and on Substack with the same name.
Right now I’m just sitting here at my desk, eating sliced apples and oranges. Sipping a citrus Vitamin C tea that Papa made for me – living life lavish and usual. Maybe need to get some affiliate links, lol jk (or am I?)
Anyway, I’ve been sitting on this blog post for the last 3, 4, 5 days. I’ve been slacking on writing on the blog. However, I have enough content out there. I just repost my old ish on my socials.
But lately I’ve been getting into some different types of spiritual practices. Not even on some hoodoo stuff, but just recognizing and researching the lives of those who came before me.
Spiritual Memory Runs in My Family
It’s funny, when I think about it, that part isn’t new to me. My aunties have witnessed spirits of deceased family members. I’ve done family trees before, though they were inaccurate at the time. I grew up partially in the Norman family house on Dodge Road.
It was a brick house built in the 1940s with an added-on front porch. That meant there was a heavy wooden door, separate from the home’s actual front door.
Yet, every so often, when sitting in the living room, just watching TV together, the front door of the house would swing open—screen door and all.
“That’s just your Ma Mary,” or “Hey, Auntie Thelma,” someone would say.
It was always acknowledged and accepted that our loved ones who have passed on are still here with us in spirit. Even now, I find myself referring to my Granny in the present tense, even though she’s been gone for the past 2, going on 3 years.
I know my Granny would love my house, not so much the stairs though. And when making certain meals, I ask for her guidance still. Once, I left her some coffee out on my family altar. I want to get in the habit of leaving offerings more often. She took the coffee better than the water. I know she wasn’t too keen on water in her living days. All of these things help me feel closer not only to my grandmother but also to myself. They have become a spiritual practice to me.
Before we get into today’s topic, you know I got to tell y’all a story.
Over the past few days, I made my husband sit down and watch Coco with me, you know, the Disney movie. Now I realize, watching it was more for me than him anyway.
What Coco Helped Me See This Time
I’ve watched this movie several times. We used to have Disney+ as part of Xfinity, so I know the characters, plot, and storyline, all that.
But it was something about watching this time, I really saw the movie.
Remember, God can use anything to convey a message to you.
Like many of us, Mama Coco, Miguel, and the entire Rivera family were taught a misinterpreted version of their history. Hector never abandoned his family; music wasn’t a curse, and you don’t have to conform to family traditions, even when they’ve helped you survive for generations.
Why am I talking about a Mexican heritage-inspired movie during Black History Month? Black Americans also have a practice of honoring our dead – it’s just not as mainstream. Watching this children’s movie, sobbing next to my exhausted husband, God was revealing something to me: My spirituality, vocation, passions, and creativity are all intertwined.
Just like Miguel traveling to the Land of the Dead, I connect with my ancestry through my own genealogical research. I’ve read my great-grandfather’s 1942 military draft card. The death certificates of both my maternal great-grandmother and great-grandfather, who both died of strokes one year apart from each other.
These artifacts turn names on a family tree into real people. This gives even more power to a name, a zodiac sign, a location, and even an occupation. All these things from your ancestors play a part in your life. After all, you didn’t just fall out of a coconut tree.
For example, I found the 1910 census for Leon County, Florida, and discovered my maternal grandmother’s great-grandfather, Abram Norman. He was listed as a preacher in the 1900 census, but in 1910, he listed his occupation as a public school teacher. I did my research, and there was only one public school for black children at that time, Old Lincoln High, which still stands today.
Lineage, Work, and Purpose
That blew my mind because the synchronicities were crazy! I lived in Leon County throughout college. I attended Florida State University, a school that existed during my Grandpa Abram’s time. Yet, he didn’t have access to attend or teach there.
Even freakier, I was also a teacher, as you know if you’ve been keeping up with the blog for years. I taught in a charter school, but still a public school, and served a predominantly low-income Hispanic population. The parallels were astounding, but the understanding and wisdom of “Okay, this is what I am meant to be doing” resonated all the more.
It also reassured me that there’s nothing wrong with me. I’ve been battling with that one for the longest, y’all. Cause I feel crazy most of the time. Like, why would you quit your good corporate job? Why can’t I keep a job? Why am I always hopping from one thing to the next, etc., etc.?
I could blame it on the diagnosis or the dyes in the food, but at the same time, there was no denying this is who I was meant to be.
What I’m really describing here isn’t money or status — it’s true inheritance, class consciousness, and spiritual identity. I was raised by, literally and spiritually, entrepreneurs, go-getters, make-it-happeners, in whatever way. It dawned on me: the lumpenproletariat is my social stratum!
That’s the class I belong to, no matter what amount of money I make. Because income doesn’t equal class. But I love that. There’s power at all levels. Not saying one level is better than another.
Think about the drug kingpins and brothel madams who made thousands, if not millions, of dollars on the low-class vices. It wasn’t real estate investments or ETFs, yet it was the underbelly of the world that made their world go around.
Even today, we’ve gained a glimpse of the other side of the upper class, the so-called elite class, the oligarchy’s own shadow side. They needed something to convert into all that energy, and used the bodies of the innocent. We, as a people, can channel the energy of those who came before us.
Healing the Past by Living Fully Now
No matter if they were scientists, doctors, inventors, or even, like in my case, bootleggers. I love this version of reality that I was blessed to come into. I had to learn to heal my family’s wounds because, just as in Coco, the work done for this generation heals those to come and those in the past.
I challenge you to take the rest of Black History Month to research your own genealogy. I’m using Familysearch.org to build my family tree.
What part of your life feels like an ancestral continuation, not just a coincidence?
I leave you with this charge that was given to me and a room full of entrepreneurs back in November by industry leader, Sylvester Turner:
- Be successful (however that looks for you!)
- Transform your family (with love!)
- Influence your community (by preserving unity)
I love you all to life!
Until next time,
Cousin Lex
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