I've been on a long journey the last several years to discover and connect to my paternal heritage, which was hidden from my sisters and I by the fearful and traumatized generations who came before us.I grew up without the culture, stories, and traditions of my father's people, who transformed themselves into something else, pretending to be Greek, when in fact they were Persian. 

With skin the color of the darkened honey, and thick hair blacker than a moonless night they quietly lived a lie, and taught this lie to their children, raising them to fit in, blend in, and pass unnoticed.But a bloodline is a powerful thing, it is a root that cannot be cut, cannot be removed and will twist and turn until it finds the right time to send tender shoots upwards, towards the light of truth. My Persian lineage is ancient, going back to the time of Queen Esther, and perhaps even to a time before her. The roots of my father's people are stirring.

The blood of my ancestors surfaced throughout my life as curious, strong attractions to a culture I had no idea I belonged to. Henna tattoos, belly dancing, nose piercing and the history, mythology and magic of the desert lands were part of my everyday interests, I even studied Middle Eastern art in college, getting lost in the strangely familiar imagery.

Recently, I read an article written by a Persian American author, who discussed the issue of Persians being people of color, rather than white. As I read his words, I felt anger rising up within me. Anger for what was stolen from me, kept from me and hidden from me. I also felt a deep sadness come over me, an aching grief for what was lost, and a wrenching sadness for my ancestors, who lost much more than I have, for they knew who they were.And, finally, I felt confused. Raised as a white person, was I now also a person of color? Newly aware of my bi-racial heritage, I feel timid about claiming any color whatsoever, it feels inauthentic, and I feel unworthy of it...and yet I also want to claim it as my own, as something precious and sacred, as a way to honor those who couldn't. But how can I unwind 62 years of identity and slip into a new one? It is only through this dilemma that I truly understand how my father's people must have felt when they had to do this very thing.

 And so, for now, I call upon my ancestors for connection, and guidance. With quiet prayers, and soft tears I reach for them. Looking up at the stars, I wonder if they can see me. Teach me in my dreams, I ask them. Sing to me in my sleep. Come to me as intuition, as inner knowing and show me who I am.

***

I recently wrote the above in a post on social media, and afterwards I realized that it is in deep alignment with a special offering that I have been daydreaming about for a long while; ancestral magic. My searching for identity within a newly discovered heritage has led me to deeply wonder about the origins of my lineage, who my ancient people were, what were their lives like, and what rituals and magic did they practice? 

Several years ago I had a reading with a curandera, who shared with me that an ancient female ancestor was coming forth to remind me of who I am, where I come from and help me to make connections to the magical ways of the people who lived before me. Through the curandera, this ancestor sent me a message; you possess a knowing of things that are inherent within you, and were practiced in your lineage, revive this, bring it back to life, and offer it now, in a more modern way. Mystified, I had no idea what exactly this ancestor was referring to, but I expressed my gratitude and promised to fulfill the request. I have since discovered what this ancient ancestor was referring to, and have been working with talismanic and protection magic, as well as the rituals to remove the evil eye by using the Hamsa amulet. I have also been working with the plants and rituals of my people to create powerful magic. 

As I dive deeper and deeper with the magical workings of these things, I feel elated, and excited, as if I have come home, finally, and it is through working with the traditional ritual plants used by ancient Persians, that I am finding a special sense of fulfillment for something within me that I had no idea was missing; a very deep and powerful sense of belonging to and a connection with these plants that I did not have with the plants of other cultures, such as white sage, Palo Santo and sweetgrass. While these plants are dear to me, and have taught me so much, they are not plants that I can claim as part of my heritage, or lineage and so I have not have made the kind of connections that I am now making with Persian plants like Esfand, or wild rue. Knowing that rue has been used in Persia for centuries to ward off evil, I feel a sense of belonging to this plant, and I often find myself saying; my people knew you, and I remember you through them. 

I am aware of the heated discussions these days regarding appropriation, and my heart hurts with all the conflict. Plants and magic overall belong to us all, and while I deeply respect the ownership of sacred, heritage based practices, and do not practice or claim them for my own, I do believe that it is through the sharing of these things that we as people living on this earth will come together, and live in harmony. But first, we must discover who we are, and where we come from. We must learn of our ancestral magic. 

I'm still daydreaming my offering for ancestral magic, and while I do, perhaps you can spend some time researching your own lineage, and what its magical practices are. What plants did your people use, what rituals did they perform with them, and what do you feel most connected to about your lineage. If you are fortunate enough to have grown up with your heritage intact, perhaps you can start to journal about it as a way to keep it alive. 

 And as you begin your own journey of seeking, ask your ancestors to come forth, to teach you in your dreams, sing to you in your sleep. Look up at the stars, and wonder if they can see you. Ask them to come to you as intuition, as inner knowing and to show you who you are.

© 2023 Renée Starr

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