Herbalism is resistance

The same way self-care is an act of resistance; knowing plants and remembering the old ways of healing is, too.

When you descend from a line of people who were refused a formal education: either to suppress knowledge or to be sold the myth that they weren’t colonized, but merely made a Protectorate (Uganda in 1894; you understand that knowing what your elders have always known: is power.

It’s standing on the shoulders and at the feet of grandmothers or great-grandmothers like mine, who could identify which plant could fight measles, which plant could deworm a child, which plant would break a fever.

It’s the same wise women who brought babies into this fraught world and ensured both babe and mother stayed earth side. My own mother was a midwife, albeit, in different hospitals around the UK, but still, she ushered in life and held the door open with her knowledge and love.

My great-grandmother passed what her uncle taught her to my grandfather, and he married a woman, who could also hold a plant in hand and know its potential, know its spirit.

When those in power tell you that the knowledge you have isn’t up to their standards; standards which came into place to keep you out and certainly unpaid, you show them your healing fingers and let your toes burrow roots into the ground to memories, knowledge, stories, shared recipes, and studying the ways of our ancestors.

Black history month is already wrapping up fast and it’s reminded me how much I love to learn from my black elders. Whether reading the works and actions of Emma Dupree, Lucretia Van Dyke or Empress Karen Rose, theirs is a way of understanding the intricate dance between the seasons, the stars, how the spirit is moving, how our bodies are responding and what is at the root of ailments.

Perhaps that’s what it is to be a black herbalist. A treasured (soul) trove of knowledge and spirit, tapped in and sharing: skills, knowledge and healing.

It’s really no surprise the people who have suffered the most under systemic injustices are the ones that have shown up to bind up, inspire and guide the rest, to not give up, to keep living, to adapt, to thrive.

Much like the plants still on the Continent and the others taken to root elsewhere.

Always,

Erina ✨