Words Casts Spells
There’s something I want you to know about me: I deeply respect and value New Year’s Day. Second only to Halloween, New Year’s is that holiday I look forward to celebrating. It is the moment the world resets itself. The new year replenishes the sense of hope I need to manifest whatever intentions I set for 2025. At the beginning of January, folks make New Year’s resolutions with the promise of transforming their lives in some fashion.
New Year’s resolutions are no longer part of my ministry. They haven’t been for many years. I quit this annual ritual to protect myself from disappointment when my intentions didn’t materialize. But I never bothered to replace the tradition with anything else. As I approach 43 in May, I’m not satisfied with the nature of my daily existence. And neither is the Inner Family with which I share this body. Rather than live another day with no direction, I’ve decided to claim the opportunity to create a ritual that’d manifest something tangible.
Soon after making this decision, I stumbled upon the Substack article “What Is Your Word for 2025?” by Jelisha Jones. She mentions the never-ending tradition of making grandiose, yet sincere resolutions that inevitably falter under the weight of unrealistic expectations. Jones explains that she has stopped making resolutions because they’ve been a source of disappointment. Rather than cause herself distress, she creates the tradition of setting intentions around a word that encapsulates her goals for the year. She writes why she chose the word Joy:
"Joy represents the intention of living this 36th year from a childlike space—a space of being open to all the things that set my heart ablaze. It could be a song, a trip, relocating, or something as simple as a pottery class. It could be anything that brings me the emotion of joy.”
This yearly ritual resonates with me as it illustrates the power of words. As an author, I use words to craft beautiful and thoughtful stories. As a Hoodoo practitioner, I wield the pen to write petitions and prayers to speak power into my ancestral alter. I have conversations with my Inner Children/Teen/Young Adult on the regular, always listening and attempting to decipher their needs in hopes I’ve heard correctly. Words cast spells. The historical and generational trauma unleashed upon marginalized demographics—the Black community especially—is the result of their impact. At the same time, words are also the reason we’ve persevered and continue to exist. If words have the power to keep us alive and if Black folks like Jones can cast spells on her own behalf, then I might as well go ahead and do the same.
The word I choose for 2025
Liberation. I decided on this word simply because it represents the fact that having complete freedom and living like a free spirit is how I’m destined to exist. Meaning that I’m to navigate this world like someone who understands they’ve the absolute right to do so. I’m not supposed to place unnecessary restrictions on myself or my capabilities but to use both to my advantage. I’m meant to exert my agency and independence. Meant to honor my creativity and the imagination that breathes life into this part of me. Liberation allows me the opportunity to ask questions and search for answers without judgement. But most importantly, Liberation demands that I physically and spiritually step out of the shadows and become an active member of my community.
A Word that Reflects Who I Am
The kind of person described above is who I truly am. When my spirit isn’t congested with memories of my past childhood trauma, I’m able to experience the fullness of the person I am today. And by today, I’m referring to the person I am post-transition. Before becoming Louis, I lived as someone named Meeka. I was assigned female at birth and socialized as a cis Black girl. It was also during these years that I regularly survived multiple incidents of abuse. I’d eventually come out as Agender Transmasculine in 2017 at age 37. However, I wouldn’t recognize the severity of the interpersonal trauma until I noticed that the treatment I received after transitioning was way less violent.
There was something else that occurred soon after I came out. The moment I declared my name as Louis, I noticed this feeling of being energetically torn in half and snatched out of my body. The same happened to my mind. It felt like it was wiped clean by whatever it was that pulled me apart from the inside. It was then that I noticed that I had no recollection of my past life. None whatsoever. It was as if every ounce of suffering Meeka endured and the memories those incidents left behind were yanked out of my brain. I believe that Meeka was removed as their lifetime ended. That after all the suffering they've endured, they were finally able to rest once we switched places. And honestly I appreciated this unusual event. My mind was a clean slate. I perceived it as an opportunity to begin an entirely different history.
I remember approaching my surroundings with a sense of novelty. Everything and everyone felt new. Felt discovered. I picked up mundane objects like a cup and noticed its shade looked brighter than the last time I used it. Whenever I went outside, I sometimes explored my surroundings awestricken like I was experiencing the outdoors for the very first time. Occasionally, a friend would approach me and for a split second I’d wonder who they were and how we even met. Speaking of friends, I was heading towards Equal Grounds—Rochester’s only LGBTQ+ coffee shop—when I ran into a young trans man I was once friends with. We immediately hugged as we haven’t laid eyes on one another in a while.
“You feel different,” he spoke into my ear, drawing into himself a deep calming breath and sighing. His embrace lingered a couple of seconds longer before he let go. Compliments like this hit different when spoken by another trans person. They’re an indication that my authenticity was electric and reassuring to even those around me. And it reflected how I wanted to experience my history as Louis Javier. In other words, I was free.
But the feeling of freedom would be brief. About two months after leaving the closet behind, I began experiencing the feeling of something attempting to break into my body. It was like an entity was trying to possess it against my will. I knew it was Meeka—or their spirit—wanting to reclaim it. I knew because their horrific memories flooded my mind. The wave of panic and indecisiveness nearly drowned out the confidence I embodied. Whenever I attempted to move on from my former life, however, an Inner version of Meeka emerged. They always carried within them the emotional and psychological ramifications of their childhood trauma.
I wanted nothing to do with Meeka's history. Theirs was violent and polluted by generations of unaddressed trauma. I was living a life that was relatively peaceful and stable for the most part. My life as Louis was completely different from the one I struggled through for the last 37 years I presented as female. Granted, not everyday was a joyous one and I've since had my run-ins with transphobia. But I wasn't encountering multiple accounts of interpersonal and community violence. So I assumed that I didn't understand and couldn't relate to the injustice Meeka was subjected to.
I also wanted to move on and forward from anything related to complex childhood trauma. I was ready to carve out an entirely new history where I lived out the life I envisioned for myself. With Meeka and their pain lingering, I thought, that wasn't going to be possible. Plus, this was my time and I wanted to experience it as my authentic self! And I felt that my chance to do that was being ripped away from me before I started!
From that moment on, the battle for this body began. I asked my spiritual guides to prevent my former self from returning. I tried to energetically lock them out. It reached a point where I’d use doses of weed and psychedelics to deliberately mute their disembodied voices that reached out to me from the inside of my subconscious mind. Meeka wanted to return to this body. But I wasn’t having it. I was finally released from the closet and was able to carve my own life and sense of belonging. There was no way I was going to allow my Former Self to move back when I only had this body to myself for a month. Despite my efforts, though, every version of me bombarded this one body.
I understand now why my Former Self had to return. At the time, however, I was pissed. In fact, pissed is too timid of a word to describe the emotions that swirled through me. Even after getting sober and joining Adult Children of Alcoholics Anonymous (ACA), I approached the thought of revisiting the past with unconcealed bitterness. I’m an entirely different person now, I thought furiously. I waited years to come out of the closet. Why the fuck now?!
It wasn’t even a minute before the 19-year-old version of Meeka suddenly materialized within the forefront of my mind. Because we need to tell our story, they replied bluntly. And we need this body so we can feel and remember everything that happened to us.
Unfinished Business
Chapter One of The Loving Parent Guidebook says about the Inner Family:
Your inner child and inner teenager long to be seen and heard. They want to release the pain and grief they carry. We can have one or many inner children who range in age. They communicate through words, feelings, physical sensations, dreams, images, and behavior…
By freeing the inner child, we begin to feel our grief and other emotions from childhood. This transformation opens us to spontaneity, playfulness, intuition, trust, and joy. Once your inner children can emerge from hiding, share their pain, and heal, they will be free to express their natural, delightful qualities more often.
Since I’ve began learning how to become my own Loving Parent through ACA, certain Inner versions of Meeka finally felt safe enough to begin their own healing journey. This involves authoring three memoirs about their experiences with complex childhood trauma. The pages of each of these books will contain chapters vividly describing years of life-altering mistreatment. Woven throughout these narratives is the confusion around being socialized as a cis Black girl and woman, which was a false identity. At the same time, the versions of my Former Self also want to celebrate the moments they can express their queerness and trans identity while living in a fat Black body. They wish to share how mediums like music and literature helped them discover who they are and develop their sense of self.
Meeka’s desire to reveal significant facets of their life to the world moves beyond their genuine hope of reaching other survivors. My Former Self really wants to heal. And their healing requires them to openly speak on what they’ve experienced and witnessed while surrounded by emotionally stunted relatives. In addition, disclosure is another way for Meeka to navigate the years of masking their authenticity in fear of losing community. My Inner Former Self knew they were that one kid that wasn’t like the others yet had not the words to explain what made them so. Even if they had the verbiage to describe their feelings, Meeka would be met with beatings and accusations of being stupid.
So Meeka just remained silent. Their inner vault locked away decades of unanswered questions as continuous exposure to abuse recalibrated this child’s nervous system. Years of working with an affirming trauma-informed therapist had unraveled much of the damage caused by past injustices. For Meeka, keeping one’s mental stability is only half the battle. The other part calls for Meeka to break the silence about their history. For my Inner Former Selves, writing and publishing these three books about their journey is the last step they must complete before they get to rest. In other words, Meeka desires Liberation as well.
The Revolution is Reparenting
My recovery work in ACA has since revealed to me that my Inner Children (especially my Inner 21-Year-Old) have always only wanted people to listen to them with sincerity. After so many years of their voices being heavily policed and restrained, they want folks willing to listen. They want others to acknowledge their suffering and hear the unabridged version of their history.
But more than anything, all the versions of Meeka want me to know the entirety of them. Want me to know that they’ve once been a living breathing human being who considered their weirdness a badge of honor. They rose out of bed early every Saturday morning to watch cartoons until noon. They not only believed in the supernatural and paranormal but have stories about their own encounters with those who’ve since passed on. They want to watch The Goonies and eat a bowl of Coco Puffs with me. They want to listen to their favorite Beatles songs and fantasize about John Lennon (Listen. This is before finding out about him being horrible to women—his wives included). They’d become excited after spotting a book written by John Bellairs or anything pertaining to Horror or Magical Realism. Unsolved Mysteries with Robert Stack will always be one of their favorite shows. When they considered me safe enough, the versions of Meeka I’ve met shared these details about themselves.
The more we spent time together, it became apparent that my Inner Family indulged in these beloved activities to unapologetically express our authentic selves. Their otherworldliness. Their Divinity and Essence. I notice the sense of elation that pulsed through the body we share as they spoke of what brought them joy. That was when it dawned on me that they were revealing expressions of freedom. I understood that my Inner Children/Teen/Young Adult wanted to be liberated as much as I do.
The Liberation me and my Inner Family desire, however, requires some much needed changes. The most significant change we’re to make involves becoming more vulnerable. The ACA Solution states:
“The healing begins when we move out of isolation. Feelings and memories will return. By gradually releasing the burden of unexpressed grief, we slowly move out of the past. We learn to re-parent ourselves with gentleness, humor, love and respect.”
Liberation can only be achieved with community. Under no circumstances can I undergo this recovery journey alone. This is why I’ve since built relationships with other Black Fellow Travelers, connecting with most of them outside of meetings. However, Inner Family and I also need one another. We must practice mutual vulnerability, which requires mutual trust. This will take time because we all had a tumultuous start. But solidifying a sense of community with my Inner Family is paramount for our overall recovery. This is important to note since Liberation also means connecting with people outside our house.
Speaking of community …
Building a loving, affirming community with Black and BIPOC Fellow Travelers in the ACA rooms is more important than ever. However, Liberation calling for me to cultivate a community within the city of Rochester. I’ve begun self-isolating for a few reasons, many of them revolved about the fear of judgement. But 2025 will be the year I leave my house to strengthen relationships with those who’ve often shown me kindness.
Moving out of isolation for me resembles reaching out to someone I haven’t seen or spoken to a while. It’s having coffee with friends I enjoy spending time with and getting to know them better. It’s allowing them to see me at the height of my joy and the depth of my shadows. And it’s me giving the same amount of authenticity in return without expecting abandonment. Liberation is allowing my mask to slip off and shatter into pieces at my feet. It’s gifting myself the choice to allow others to see the fullest of me once mutual trust is gained. It’s me and my Inner Family recognizing what unconditional love is and what it entails when in the presence of another person. At the same time, Liberation is still letting people in and loving ourselves even if someone walks out of our lives.
Liberation in the form of community building is now more important than ever—especially with other Black trans and non-binary people. Trump hasn’t even stepped onto White House’s lawn yet and his administration is already targeting the trans and non-binary community. This administration will ultimately implement Project 2025, which will strip marginalized people of our rights. People like me are on the top of the list. Working towards Liberation during another four years of staunch fascism is paramount for my life as that of my Inner Children. Not only will this help me become comfortable interacting with other people, but it will implement ACA principles in real life situations.
Recovery and Community Will Set Us Free
New Years is the moment at which many of us contemplate ways to become better versions of ourselves. We make grandiose promises at the beginning of the year, only to resort to the same patterns because the outcome is familiar. I know because I’m one of them. But I’m no longer comfortable with the familiar as that sense of familiarity has since run its course. Me and my Inner family chose the word Liberation because we know that life is best lived outside of our comfort zone. Life is best lived when one recognizes their right to experience joy within a loving community. But most importantly, we’re to understand that we were always meant to be free.
What's your word for 2025? What words come to mind when thinking about the changes you want to make this year? I'd love to hear about them in the comments.
Thank you so much for your support. As always, I really appreciate you.
Until next time, safe travels!