Divine Right
arrow icon

Divine Right

Illustration of a heart with flowers growing from it

AS WE DO the work of decolonization, it is difficult to separate and distill who we are into one generational lineage. We cannot pick and choose the biological ancestors who are responsible for our existence in this terrestrial plane and time. I have struggled with acknowledging and accepting that my bloodlines are made up of oppressed and oppressor. Healing, true healing, is facing truths that many of us want to run away from. This poem, “Divine Right,” reveals my process of facing realities that do not sit comfortably with me and that I am learning to embrace. Yet to heal, we need to acknowledge that just as we are not a monolith of culture, neither were our ancestors. We do the work to heal transgenerational trauma because we are the ancestors of future generations. As we take on this responsibility to heal our lineage, we must look into our own Obsidian Mirrors to see how we can make changes that will benefit generations to come.

Enjoying Ofrenda?

Divine Right

Self love is my Divine Right.

El quererme a mí is an act of ancestral healing donde el amor es bálsamo to the generational trauma de mi linaje.

Donde tomar el tiempo to sit with bloodlines of colonizer and colonized fuck with my perception of what is right.

Where feeling shame at the pale skin I can’t hide is a reminder of the rape my grandfathers subjected my abuelitas to.

En mi para esta destrucción.

En mi hay possibility of healing the hurt that spills into coraje, resentment, and hardness.

My heart is clay—maleable, soft, and smelling of wet earth.

My veins carry shards of obsidiana cutting wounds of, “no me olvides.”

My throat holds centuries of pride, holding in cantos left in silence to survive.

My eyes hold years of tears refusing to fall por orgullo.

My hands are stained with blood and shame.

My soul is tortured with gross violence inflicted por la sed of the conquest. 

I am my ancestors’ wildest dreams not because I am a guerrera. 

But because in me there is hope of “maybe.”

En mi se encuentran el conquistado y el conquistador. 

En mi hay el susurrar de “a la mejor se puede.”

In me is a battle refusing to hide living a duality. 

En mi están la duda de quién soy y la pregunta de quién seré. 

Porque al amarme I honor those who came before me. 

When I heal my abuela, sano a mi madre, al sanar mi madre sano yo, al sanar yo sana a mi hija y al sanar mi hija sana mi linaje.

I love myself as an act of defiance,

Porque una bastarda como yo shouldn’t be digna of self love.

But a bitch’s lineage is strong, and she loves herself despite being told she can’t.

Because to love myself is a radical act of revolution where those at war in my bloodlines are allowed to release centuries of hate and rabia.

Self love is my Divine Right.

Divine Right

Illustration of a heart with flowers growing from it

AS WE DO the work of decolonization, it is difficult to separate and distill who we are into one generational lineage. We cannot pick and choose the biological ancestors who are responsible for our existence in this terrestrial plane and time. I have struggled with acknowledging and accepting that my bloodlines are made up of oppressed and oppressor. Healing, true healing, is facing truths that many of us want to run away from. This poem, “Divine Right,” reveals my process of facing realities that do not sit comfortably with me and that I am learning to embrace. Yet to heal, we need to acknowledge that just as we are not a monolith of culture, neither were our ancestors. We do the work to heal transgenerational trauma because we are the ancestors of future generations. As we take on this responsibility to heal our lineage, we must look into our own Obsidian Mirrors to see how we can make changes that will benefit generations to come.

Enjoying Ofrenda?

Divine Right

Self love is my Divine Right.

El quererme a mí is an act of ancestral healing donde el amor es bálsamo to the generational trauma de mi linaje.

Donde tomar el tiempo to sit with bloodlines of colonizer and colonized fuck with my perception of what is right.

Where feeling shame at the pale skin I can’t hide is a reminder of the rape my grandfathers subjected my abuelitas to.

En mi para esta destrucción.

En mi hay possibility of healing the hurt that spills into coraje, resentment, and hardness.

My heart is clay—maleable, soft, and smelling of wet earth.

My veins carry shards of obsidiana cutting wounds of, “no me olvides.”

My throat holds centuries of pride, holding in cantos left in silence to survive.

My eyes hold years of tears refusing to fall por orgullo.

My hands are stained with blood and shame.

My soul is tortured with gross violence inflicted por la sed of the conquest. 

I am my ancestors’ wildest dreams not because I am a guerrera. 

But because in me there is hope of “maybe.”

En mi se encuentran el conquistado y el conquistador. 

En mi hay el susurrar de “a la mejor se puede.”

In me is a battle refusing to hide living a duality. 

En mi están la duda de quién soy y la pregunta de quién seré. 

Porque al amarme I honor those who came before me. 

When I heal my abuela, sano a mi madre, al sanar mi madre sano yo, al sanar yo sana a mi hija y al sanar mi hija sana mi linaje.

I love myself as an act of defiance,

Porque una bastarda como yo shouldn’t be digna of self love.

But a bitch’s lineage is strong, and she loves herself despite being told she can’t.

Because to love myself is a radical act of revolution where those at war in my bloodlines are allowed to release centuries of hate and rabia.

Self love is my Divine Right.

Divine Right

Illustration of a heart with flowers growing from it

AS WE DO the work of decolonization, it is difficult to separate and distill who we are into one generational lineage. We cannot pick and choose the biological ancestors who are responsible for our existence in this terrestrial plane and time. I have struggled with acknowledging and accepting that my bloodlines are made up of oppressed and oppressor. Healing, true healing, is facing truths that many of us want to run away from. This poem, “Divine Right,” reveals my process of facing realities that do not sit comfortably with me and that I am learning to embrace. Yet to heal, we need to acknowledge that just as we are not a monolith of culture, neither were our ancestors. We do the work to heal transgenerational trauma because we are the ancestors of future generations. As we take on this responsibility to heal our lineage, we must look into our own Obsidian Mirrors to see how we can make changes that will benefit generations to come.

Enjoying Ofrenda?

Divine Right

Self love is my Divine Right.

El quererme a mí is an act of ancestral healing donde el amor es bálsamo to the generational trauma de mi linaje.

Donde tomar el tiempo to sit with bloodlines of colonizer and colonized fuck with my perception of what is right.

Where feeling shame at the pale skin I can’t hide is a reminder of the rape my grandfathers subjected my abuelitas to.

En mi para esta destrucción.

En mi hay possibility of healing the hurt that spills into coraje, resentment, and hardness.

My heart is clay—maleable, soft, and smelling of wet earth.

My veins carry shards of obsidiana cutting wounds of, “no me olvides.”

My throat holds centuries of pride, holding in cantos left in silence to survive.

My eyes hold years of tears refusing to fall por orgullo.

My hands are stained with blood and shame.

My soul is tortured with gross violence inflicted por la sed of the conquest. 

I am my ancestors’ wildest dreams not because I am a guerrera. 

But because in me there is hope of “maybe.”

En mi se encuentran el conquistado y el conquistador. 

En mi hay el susurrar de “a la mejor se puede.”

In me is a battle refusing to hide living a duality. 

En mi están la duda de quién soy y la pregunta de quién seré. 

Porque al amarme I honor those who came before me. 

When I heal my abuela, sano a mi madre, al sanar mi madre sano yo, al sanar yo sana a mi hija y al sanar mi hija sana mi linaje.

I love myself as an act of defiance,

Porque una bastarda como yo shouldn’t be digna of self love.

But a bitch’s lineage is strong, and she loves herself despite being told she can’t.

Because to love myself is a radical act of revolution where those at war in my bloodlines are allowed to release centuries of hate and rabia.

Self love is my Divine Right.

Divine Right, read by Xolayruca

Divine Right

Illustration of a heart with flowers growing from it

AS WE DO the work of decolonization, it is difficult to separate and distill who we are into one generational lineage. We cannot pick and choose the biological ancestors who are responsible for our existence in this terrestrial plane and time. I have struggled with acknowledging and accepting that my bloodlines are made up of oppressed and oppressor. Healing, true healing, is facing truths that many of us want to run away from. This poem, “Divine Right,” reveals my process of facing realities that do not sit comfortably with me and that I am learning to embrace. Yet to heal, we need to acknowledge that just as we are not a monolith of culture, neither were our ancestors. We do the work to heal transgenerational trauma because we are the ancestors of future generations. As we take on this responsibility to heal our lineage, we must look into our own Obsidian Mirrors to see how we can make changes that will benefit generations to come.

Enjoying Ofrenda?

Divine Right

Self love is my Divine Right.

El quererme a mí is an act of ancestral healing donde el amor es bálsamo to the generational trauma de mi linaje.

Donde tomar el tiempo to sit with bloodlines of colonizer and colonized fuck with my perception of what is right.

Where feeling shame at the pale skin I can’t hide is a reminder of the rape my grandfathers subjected my abuelitas to.

En mi para esta destrucción.

En mi hay possibility of healing the hurt that spills into coraje, resentment, and hardness.

My heart is clay—maleable, soft, and smelling of wet earth.

My veins carry shards of obsidiana cutting wounds of, “no me olvides.”

My throat holds centuries of pride, holding in cantos left in silence to survive.

My eyes hold years of tears refusing to fall por orgullo.

My hands are stained with blood and shame.

My soul is tortured with gross violence inflicted por la sed of the conquest. 

I am my ancestors’ wildest dreams not because I am a guerrera. 

But because in me there is hope of “maybe.”

En mi se encuentran el conquistado y el conquistador. 

En mi hay el susurrar de “a la mejor se puede.”

In me is a battle refusing to hide living a duality. 

En mi están la duda de quién soy y la pregunta de quién seré. 

Porque al amarme I honor those who came before me. 

When I heal my abuela, sano a mi madre, al sanar mi madre sano yo, al sanar yo sana a mi hija y al sanar mi hija sana mi linaje.

I love myself as an act of defiance,

Porque una bastarda como yo shouldn’t be digna of self love.

But a bitch’s lineage is strong, and she loves herself despite being told she can’t.

Because to love myself is a radical act of revolution where those at war in my bloodlines are allowed to release centuries of hate and rabia.

Self love is my Divine Right.

Divine Right, read by Xolayruca

Divine Right

Illustration of a heart with flowers growing from it

AS WE DO the work of decolonization, it is difficult to separate and distill who we are into one generational lineage. We cannot pick and choose the biological ancestors who are responsible for our existence in this terrestrial plane and time. I have struggled with acknowledging and accepting that my bloodlines are made up of oppressed and oppressor. Healing, true healing, is facing truths that many of us want to run away from. This poem, “Divine Right,” reveals my process of facing realities that do not sit comfortably with me and that I am learning to embrace. Yet to heal, we need to acknowledge that just as we are not a monolith of culture, neither were our ancestors. We do the work to heal transgenerational trauma because we are the ancestors of future generations. As we take on this responsibility to heal our lineage, we must look into our own Obsidian Mirrors to see how we can make changes that will benefit generations to come.

Enjoying Ofrenda?

Divine Right

Self love is my Divine Right.

El quererme a mí is an act of ancestral healing donde el amor es bálsamo to the generational trauma de mi linaje.

Donde tomar el tiempo to sit with bloodlines of colonizer and colonized fuck with my perception of what is right.

Where feeling shame at the pale skin I can’t hide is a reminder of the rape my grandfathers subjected my abuelitas to.

En mi para esta destrucción.

En mi hay possibility of healing the hurt that spills into coraje, resentment, and hardness.

My heart is clay—maleable, soft, and smelling of wet earth.

My veins carry shards of obsidiana cutting wounds of, “no me olvides.”

My throat holds centuries of pride, holding in cantos left in silence to survive.

My eyes hold years of tears refusing to fall por orgullo.

My hands are stained with blood and shame.

My soul is tortured with gross violence inflicted por la sed of the conquest. 

I am my ancestors’ wildest dreams not because I am a guerrera. 

But because in me there is hope of “maybe.”

En mi se encuentran el conquistado y el conquistador. 

En mi hay el susurrar de “a la mejor se puede.”

In me is a battle refusing to hide living a duality. 

En mi están la duda de quién soy y la pregunta de quién seré. 

Porque al amarme I honor those who came before me. 

When I heal my abuela, sano a mi madre, al sanar mi madre sano yo, al sanar yo sana a mi hija y al sanar mi hija sana mi linaje.

I love myself as an act of defiance,

Porque una bastarda como yo shouldn’t be digna of self love.

But a bitch’s lineage is strong, and she loves herself despite being told she can’t.

Because to love myself is a radical act of revolution where those at war in my bloodlines are allowed to release centuries of hate and rabia.

Self love is my Divine Right.

Divine Right

Illustration of a heart with flowers growing from it

AS WE DO the work of decolonization, it is difficult to separate and distill who we are into one generational lineage. We cannot pick and choose the biological ancestors who are responsible for our existence in this terrestrial plane and time. I have struggled with acknowledging and accepting that my bloodlines are made up of oppressed and oppressor. Healing, true healing, is facing truths that many of us want to run away from. This poem, “Divine Right,” reveals my process of facing realities that do not sit comfortably with me and that I am learning to embrace. Yet to heal, we need to acknowledge that just as we are not a monolith of culture, neither were our ancestors. We do the work to heal transgenerational trauma because we are the ancestors of future generations. As we take on this responsibility to heal our lineage, we must look into our own Obsidian Mirrors to see how we can make changes that will benefit generations to come.

Divine Right

Self love is my Divine Right.

El quererme a mí is an act of ancestral healing donde el amor es bálsamo to the generational trauma de mi linaje.

Donde tomar el tiempo to sit with bloodlines of colonizer and colonized fuck with my perception of what is right.

Where feeling shame at the pale skin I can’t hide is a reminder of the rape my grandfathers subjected my abuelitas to.

En mi para esta destrucción.

En mi hay possibility of healing the hurt that spills into coraje, resentment, and hardness.

My heart is clay—maleable, soft, and smelling of wet earth.

My veins carry shards of obsidiana cutting wounds of, “no me olvides.”

My throat holds centuries of pride, holding in cantos left in silence to survive.

My eyes hold years of tears refusing to fall por orgullo.

My hands are stained with blood and shame.

My soul is tortured with gross violence inflicted por la sed of the conquest. 

I am my ancestors’ wildest dreams not because I am a guerrera. 

But because in me there is hope of “maybe.”

En mi se encuentran el conquistado y el conquistador. 

En mi hay el susurrar de “a la mejor se puede.”

In me is a battle refusing to hide living a duality. 

En mi están la duda de quién soy y la pregunta de quién seré. 

Porque al amarme I honor those who came before me. 

When I heal my abuela, sano a mi madre, al sanar mi madre sano yo, al sanar yo sana a mi hija y al sanar mi hija sana mi linaje.

I love myself as an act of defiance,

Porque una bastarda como yo shouldn’t be digna of self love.

But a bitch’s lineage is strong, and she loves herself despite being told she can’t.

Because to love myself is a radical act of revolution where those at war in my bloodlines are allowed to release centuries of hate and rabia.

Self love is my Divine Right.

Divine Right

Illustration of a heart with flowers growing from it

AS WE DO the work of decolonization, it is difficult to separate and distill who we are into one generational lineage. We cannot pick and choose the biological ancestors who are responsible for our existence in this terrestrial plane and time. I have struggled with acknowledging and accepting that my bloodlines are made up of oppressed and oppressor. Healing, true healing, is facing truths that many of us want to run away from. This poem, “Divine Right,” reveals my process of facing realities that do not sit comfortably with me and that I am learning to embrace. Yet to heal, we need to acknowledge that just as we are not a monolith of culture, neither were our ancestors. We do the work to heal transgenerational trauma because we are the ancestors of future generations. As we take on this responsibility to heal our lineage, we must look into our own Obsidian Mirrors to see how we can make changes that will benefit generations to come.

The Practice of Intention

1

If possible, play music that inspires you to be calm. This is the time to look inward. Turn off any external distractions; silence your phone.

2

Close your eyes, taking a moment to “feel” how different and peaceful it is to have the eyes closed.

3

Take three very slow and deep breaths, trying to fill out the bottom of your lungs. Inhale and exhale slowly.

4

With either hand, take a little bit of tobacco or some dry herbs—like lavender, sage, rosemary, basil, rose petals, a combination of all of them, or imagine them, if you don’t have any. In the Curanderismo tradition, it is believed that these plants have energy that can help us communicate more deeply with the spirit realm, and focus with concentration and a sense of calm.

5

Place your hand with the herbs at the center of your chest. That is the area known as the heart chakra. Take another deep and slow breath.

6

Very slowly, start directing your attention to one or more of the emotions mentioned before: love, gratitude, happiness, and peace.

7

Then, also very slowly, start your prayer, being careful that you genuinely mean what you are saying. If you are reciting a prayer in another language, make sure you say it first in your native language and then in the other language.

8

At the end of each sentence from your prayer, add a vibration of any of the emotions. Once you feel the emotions, move them throughout your body until it is vibrating. This is a very important step because this vibration is creating electromagnetic energy that will help you manifest what you are asking for.

9

Carry on with your prayer until you are done. Remember not to rush. By the end, your body should be vibrating, and from there you are going to send gratitude to the Universe, to the spirits, to your ancestors, to everyone for hearing your prayer and making it happen.

10

If you are conducting a ceremony or ritual, empowering a place or a spiritual tool, asking for healing, or something similar, you can cup your hands and transfer all of these beautiful energies into your hands and into the mixture of herbs. Then you can offer these herbs by placing them on your altar (if you have one), placing your hands on the part of the body that you want to heal, or offering the herbs to Mother Earth.

11

Finish by staying still for a moment, just feeling this beautiful energy that you have created.

Divine Right

Self love is my Divine Right.

El quererme a mí is an act of ancestral healing donde el amor es bálsamo to the generational trauma de mi linaje.

Donde tomar el tiempo to sit with bloodlines of colonizer and colonized fuck with my perception of what is right.

Where feeling shame at the pale skin I can’t hide is a reminder of the rape my grandfathers subjected my abuelitas to.

En mi para esta destrucción.

En mi hay possibility of healing the hurt that spills into coraje, resentment, and hardness.

My heart is clay—maleable, soft, and smelling of wet earth.

My veins carry shards of obsidiana cutting wounds of, “no me olvides.”

My throat holds centuries of pride, holding in cantos left in silence to survive.

My eyes hold years of tears refusing to fall por orgullo.

My hands are stained with blood and shame.

My soul is tortured with gross violence inflicted por la sed of the conquest. 

I am my ancestors’ wildest dreams not because I am a guerrera. 

But because in me there is hope of “maybe.”

En mi se encuentran el conquistado y el conquistador. 

En mi hay el susurrar de “a la mejor se puede.”

In me is a battle refusing to hide living a duality. 

En mi están la duda de quién soy y la pregunta de quién seré. 

Porque al amarme I honor those who came before me. 

When I heal my abuela, sano a mi madre, al sanar mi madre sano yo, al sanar yo sana a mi hija y al sanar mi hija sana mi linaje.

I love myself as an act of defiance,

Porque una bastarda como yo shouldn’t be digna of self love.

But a bitch’s lineage is strong, and she loves herself despite being told she can’t.

Because to love myself is a radical act of revolution where those at war in my bloodlines are allowed to release centuries of hate and rabia.

Self love is my Divine Right.

Continue Reading

All Issue Contents

Advertising Sponsors