#blue/white/pink for the flag and flowers for marsha p johnson

[ladyinsilvcr]

                         𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐚 𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐞 — 𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤

[trans-rite]

Candela’s TRoE Altar: Day 1

The Trans Ancestor Altar:

Pictured above: full trans ancestor altar setup (to be described below in greater detail) — not pictured are the three Micah Bazant posters above the altar, which are displayed in the final picture in this photoset. The altar is on the ground, placed atop a rainbow flag. On the left, along the purple band of the flag, rest 4 white tealights in a row flanked by two quartzes on either side. On the right, along the red band of the flag, same thing (and one quartz is comically small). There is another tealight on the bottom center of the flag—each of these for each of the days of the ritual.

On the top center of the altar:

a white pillar candle (the same I used last year—with the trans symbol, “may you never thirst,” and “que nunca pasen sed” written on it in Sharpie); 

a glass cup of water;

beneath the cup and candle, a handwritten list of the TROE 2016 names from last year’s ritual (some names from 2016 were not added since I didn’t modify the list after November 20th and some more folks passed between then and the end of the year);

underneath the cup, candle, and sheet of paper, a blue bandanna covering book #1: “The Other Side: Queer Paranormal Romance Anthology” which @flamingkorybante​ got for me.

My deity altar isn’t pictured, but it’s mostly the same as most recently, with a few modifications. Notably, I tossed the wine, cleaned the cups, and refreshed the alcohol for Persephone (Chambord—a raspberry liqueur I’ve used for her before), Dionysus (fancy-ass rye gin), and Aphrodite (honey-infused whiskey mixed with water).

Click below to read more about the ritual itself, the rest of the offerings, and close-up pictures with descriptions of what’s on the altar exactly.

The Ritual Itself:

I…started extremely late. I’d been having a rollercoaster of a weekend and was not in an appropriate headspace to say hey to the ancestors, or even feel super connected. Fast forward and it’s early in the morning of November 13th and I’m still prepping for this whole shebang. I knew Alder and Rocket had started officially on the 12th, so I wasn’t worried, but I certainly felt a little mad at myself that I wasn’t able to start sooner. But ah well.

I was cold and still not entirely emotionally prepared, so I didn’t change into my black/white dress, and just used comfy pajamas. So then I purified myself with lustral water (burnt a match though I often use bay leaves to do this in the style of khernips in Hellenismos) and smoke (burnt some sage, not the endangered kind—some from a local botánica). 

After the purification—focusing particularly on my hands, throat, neck face, and chest—I lit the candles on my deity altar and ancestor altar (in separate rooms) and lit some of the lavender. I called the deities to aid in this work (Hestia, Persephone, Agdistis, Dionysus, Aphrodite) in front of my regular altar, and then called the ancestors (including the helping spirits) while sitting on the floor in front of this altar (and apologizing for starting at dawn instead of the previous night).

The theme of this first night for me was purification and water—in the poetry, in the songs, as an offering, as what I needed to be able to be present because I was carrying sludge from my daily life and wanted to be present for them and this ritual.

I read the main prayer as “Nothing But the Water” by Grace Potter played very softly. Then, I played “Aguacero” by Perotá Chingò. I read “Coping” by Audre Lorde and started tearing up when I read the part “where small islands /are only beginning / to cope.” Then, I played “Aguacero” again while I meditated on it all and tried to be present. Overall, I felt a sputtering sense of connection—not fully threaded and online, but certainly there. My hands buzzed with energy while the music played. 

I felt something was missing, and I opened up the poetry book “Firefly Under the Tongue” by Coral Bracho (and translated by Forrest Gander) and opened up randomly to a perfect poem—one about the dawn (”Imagen al amanecer”) and nature. I read it in Spanish, then English. Did I keep the music playing? I can’t remember. But then I ate the “left” mini Twix to Sylvia’s “right” mini Twix and mirrored that offering so we could eat it together, parts of a connected team. I remained there meditating for a little while longer, burnt some lavender, and eventually started to wrap up by elevating the cup/candle on the first book, purifying myself again with water and smoke, and snuffing out the candles on both altars.

Pictured above: rainbow anodized throwing knife horizontally laid out above a pin that reads “you may not be strong enough, but maybe we are,” a chunk of peacock ore, and a pin that says “glorious weirdo.” Underneath, a pink and green enamel flower pin that reads “rude and gay,” a white tea light, and a small enamel pin of the transgender flag. Framing all of this, a stretchy-fabric, rainbow chest harness with an old bracelet—that reads “DEFIANCE” four times (white font on black background)—laid atop one of the harness straps.

Pictured above: a circular they/them patch (black with white text) that says “My fucking pronouns are they/them” next to a thin, black-ink pen (I think gifted to me by an ex a million moons ago?). Below that, a small white dish with dried lavender (the flowers on short stems) from my garden and a circular patch that says “Amorous Revolt” and pictures a small backpack in the middle (from a queer, kinky camping event I helped organize a few years ago). Below this, a white tealight in a glass holder, a print of an illustrated portrait of Sylvia Rivera with candy on it—a pineapple (or piña colada?) saltwater taffy that @oncebittentwiceborn​ and @flamingkorybante​ got me on a trip, and a fun-sized Twix bar. 

This section is specifically in response to the divination results regarding this triumvirate of badass ancestor helping spirits. When I heard Sylvia wanted candy, my immediate response was dulces de guayaba (guava paste candies, which come in a few varieties) and dulces de ajonjolí (sesame and brown sugar candies). Sadly, I wasn’t able to find any before I set up my altar (and did not find any on my quest today). Alas! Rocket did manage to find some for her, and so that’s covered at least on one front. I may try to make my own candy this weekend!

The patch and pen are for Leslie (writing, fluidity, poetry); the flowers and patch are for Marsha (love, peace, community, abundance); the candle, art, and candies are for Sylvia.

Pictured above: from top to bottom, along the blue line of the rainbow flag — a jar full of glitter and ashes from The Mill; a yellow patch with a pink trans symbol painted on it; beans and brown rice in a small coconut half-shell from last year’s ritual — these sit on my ancestor altar overall; a half-shell of dried lavender from my garden; and off to the left on the line between blue and purple on the flag, a lipstick patch where the “lipstick” color piece is actually a small blade. #weaponizedfemme.

Pictured above: full altar with 3 Micah Bazant illustrated posters (one of Marsha P. Johnson that reads “no pride for some of us without liberation for all of us” and has information about her work; one with two trans women of color—one clearly an elder—that reads “remember trans power, fight for trans lives;” and a third that pictures various brown trans folks where the lettering reads “Imagine love-filled, abundant, sustainable TGNC futures.”)