Why I Use Vodou as a Black Man in America

Hetepu (Peace & Blessings) Family.
You know, I was 16 years old and my mother had sent my 12-year-old brother and I to the store to get a few items so that she could make lunch for us and my father when he returned home from work. The Famer Jack grocery store was almost a half-a-mile from the house, so as usual my brother and I told each other jokes as we walked to and from the store. On our way back from the store as we were walking home and carrying plastic grocery bags, a squad car out of nowhere, came to a screeching stop on the side of the road. Two white officers jumped out of the car and asked where we were coming from. Scared as hell, we said the store. Then, the officers told us to go to the side of the car, while they frisked us.  Finding nothing, they jumped back in the car and sped off down the street.
As my brother and I picked up the groceries off the ground, while seeing passerby ride by us. All I could remember was feeling shame, frustrated, fear and anger all at the same time. My brother and I were speechless for the rest of the walk home.
When we got home, my father had just arrived and my mother asked us why did it take so long.  We told them that the cops had pulled us over. I remember telling my parents that I wanted to run from them but, my parents told my brother and I did the right thing. We were not guilty of anything so there was no reason to run but, still I was angry, embarrassed, upset, and frustrated because the way it sounded.  It was normal for the police to do this. The officers did not offer any apology or anything, as if they assumed that my brother and I were probably up to no good, just not today.
This was the first time I experienced being powerless but understood that it was not about being right but about surviving.  This incident made me think about all of those other kids who did not have parents or some wise adult in their sphere to tell them to focus on surviving and not on what was right. It made me think about one of my great uncles who was murdered by a white man during the Jim Crow era and justice was not served because my uncle was Black. It also made me think about all of those untold stories of Black men and women who were murdered all throughout history.
But, the incident also made me see a big chink in Christianity because I remembered thinking how could you believe that Jesus protects you but you see police harassment and brutality as a part of life?  I mean no disrespect to my parents and older generations who have had to deal with this nonsense. I understand that is what they had to do at the time and no matter how much we, in the younger generation(s), may disagree with the choices made by those in the Civil Rights era. The facts are, those people made sacrifices by being attacked by dogs, having fire houses opened on them, etc., in order for us to talk to today. For that, I am extremely appreciative and grateful but, we live in a different time now and I do not have to live by the Christian Golden Rule.

Now, I pay homage to my warrior spirits because the blood of Jesus only covered a fraction of my being, but my spirits cover all of me like the cape of Spawn, because they are the warrior aspect of my BA (Higher Self/Superconscious).
Ever since I have come into the understanding of who I AM, I know that I shape my reality.  I know that what works for “them” does not work for me and vice versa.  And, that’s why as a Black Man, I thank God for the Vodou, which gives me a different way of seeing.  Please note, that by the term Vodou I am referring to the rebellious African spirit and Bantu-Kongo cosmological thinking in the western society.
For instance, after coming into my own, the last time I was pulled over by the cops, it was Maat who oversaw the whole incident. It was at night and a cop pulled me over because my rear lights were out. Then, the cop escorted me to the nearest auto parts store so that I could replace the fuse that had blown.

The point that I am making, is that we need to stop being hypocritical. It absolutely drove me crazy hearing my parents and their generation talk about the goodness of Jesus and how powerful the blood of Jesus was in one breath but, then complain how the “man” kept them down, harassed and brutalized them, as if “the man” was more powerful than God.
I hear people today saying a similar thing. They talk about how we are gods and goddesses but then complain about how the “man” or some other conspiracy is working on them. I mean, if you claim to be a god or goddess…SHOW AND PROVE!
Hetepu.