black woman mystic

So, Raven Baxter is green now and Raven-Symoné is, as ever, anything but Black.

The internet is wringing her out to dry over her latest words, but I want to zoom in on what we SAW in that interview: Those solemn nods she was getting from her partner the entire time.

I’ve dated a couple of white men who date women of color exclusively.
Give me that any day over a partner who thinks it’s noble to co-sign my erasure.
If my Blackness is part of what draws you to me, cool—so long as it’s not the only reason you want me.
But I refuse to be loved in SPITE of my Blackness.

Years ago, Raven said: "I'm not Black, I'm human."
And I'm saying: If someone considers those two things mutually exclusive, there's a big problem.

If the goal is to dissolve the ego, 'human' is just as much an identity as 'Black' so why denounce one and not the other?

And yes, Raven and her wife are esoteric believers.
Which fits because this whole thing reeks of spiritual bypassing.

I can understand the temptation to de-racialize everything in the name of "oneness consciousness"—especially as Black women, where our lineages carry complex, generational trauma.

But "transcendence" is a trap if it's sought as an exit from reality.

I've heard people say Raven's in the Sunken Place.
Honestly? No notes. That's hilarious.

More compassionately though, I pray for our community to keep healing.
We're not victims of our histories—but we are living trophies of the ancestors who survived them.

When people ask about my race, they often apologize afterward or shyly avoid the question all together. I wish they’d do neither.
Just ask me.
Because I'll say it plainly: 93% of my blood is from West and Central Africa, 5% is Colonial European, and 2% is American Indigenous.

I have caramel skin, a heavy field of gravity, and a throat like honeyed thunder.

Defying anyone who would claim otherwise:
I am a Black woman.