“DON’T CRY FOR ME”

“In that moment, I understood—my grandma was my first teacher. My introduction to old-school hoodoo. The kind rooted in the Baptist Church and the Christian Religion. The kind who mopped the carpet from back to front. Who scrubbed couch cushions every Sunday. Who spent 90% of her time in the prayer closet, rebuking the unseen, hanging photos of her mama and her mama’s mama over her bed. She had prophetic dreams”