 Zehara & Veles I’ve always had a deep connection to snakes. For as long as I can remember, I’ve been drawn to their stillness, their mystery, their quiet presence that speaks volumes without a single sound. Like me, snakes are often misunderstood—cast as dangerous, feared, or cold. But beneath that surface lies something far more sacred and complex.
Growing up, I was surrounded by reptiles. My fascination with them wasn’t just about their scales or the way they moved—it was about their energy. There was something ancient and wise in their gaze, something I couldn’t put into words as a child but felt deep in my spirit. At nineteen, I got my first snake: a delicate ribbon snake I named Eden. That name wasn’t accidental. Even then, I intuitively knew that snakes held a key to some deeper spiritual truth—a truth that, like the serpent in the garden, invites us to awaken. Snakes are quiet creatures. They don’t announce themselves. They observe, they feel, and when they move, it is intentional. That quiet strength resonated with me deeply. I’ve never been one for loud entrances or taking up unnecessary space. I’ve always preferred to feel the room first, to read the energy, to sense what lies beneath the surface. Like the snake, I keep to myself—not out of fear or coldness, but out of deep discernment. There’s power in silence, and snakes know that. Misunderstood is a word I’ve carried most of my life. People see what they want to see. They project their fears onto you, their assumptions, their own discomfort with what they cannot control or define. Snakes carry that same burden. In many cultures, they’re seen as omens or threats—creatures to kill or avoid. But in truth, they are keepers of ancient wisdom. They teach us to shed what no longer serves, to embrace transformation, to move gracefully through life’s cycles of death and rebirth. Spiritually, the serpent is a symbol of profound awakening. From the Kundalini energy coiled at the base of the spine, to the ouroboros that swallows its own tail, snakes embody the eternal dance of life, death, and regeneration. They remind us that healing doesn’t always look like light and love—sometimes, it looks like going into the dark, into the stillness, into the places we fear, and learning to breathe there. When I hold a snake, I feel that energy pulsing through me—ancient, primal, sacred. It’s a communion, a reminder that there is power in being misunderstood, in walking the shadowed path, in moving differently from the rest. Eden, my first snake, taught me that. She was delicate but strong, quiet but wise, and she showed me that it was okay to be all those things too. So when people ask why I relate to snakes, my answer is simple: because I am one. Not in body, but in spirit. I know what it means to be feared for your power, to be judged for your silence, to be revered and reviled all at once. I know what it means to shed your skin, over and over again, to survive. And like the snake, I keep going—quietly, purposefully, sacredly—carrying the wisdom of every transformation with me.
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New Orleans Voodoo—sometimes spelled Vodou, Voudou, or Voudon—is a unique spiritual tradition born from the blending of West African spiritual systems, Catholicism, Native American beliefs, and European folk magic. Unlike Haitian Vodou, which is deeply tied to specific African lineages and initiatory structures, New Orleans Voodoo evolved in a culturally fluid environment that naturally embraced adaptation, integration, and resilience. One of the most beautiful aspects of New Orleans Voodoo is its inherent inclusivity. It has always been, at its core, a practice of survival, resistance, and empowerment for the marginalized—and that same spirit of openness is what allows sincere seekers, regardless of race, to walk its path.
A Syncretic Tradition by Nature New Orleans Voodoo arose out of the crucible of colonial New Orleans: a city where enslaved Africans, free people of color, French and Spanish colonizers, indigenous peoples, and European immigrants all lived, clashed, and coexisted. In that melting pot, enslaved Africans preserved their traditional spiritual practices in secret, often hiding them beneath the façade of Catholic saints and rituals. As the years passed, these systems organically merged with European folk traditions and indigenous customs, creating something wholly unique to New Orleans. This syncretism isn’t a weakness—it’s a strength. New Orleans Voodoo never relied on rigid orthodoxy. Instead, it evolved through community, necessity, and adaptability. Its spiritual core is about honoring the spirits (the Loa or Mystères), connecting with ancestors, and working magic for healing, protection, justice, and prosperity. These are universal human needs, not limited by skin color. The Role of Race in Voodoo Practice Let’s address the question directly: Can white people practice New Orleans Voodoo? The answer is yes—with respect, responsibility, and deep reverence for the culture and the spirits. It's important to acknowledge that Voodoo has historically been a path of empowerment for Black people who were enslaved, oppressed, and dehumanized. That history should never be erased, ignored, or minimized. Cultural sensitivity is essential. But inclusivity doesn’t mean erasure—it means understanding your place within a tradition and honoring its roots. White practitioners must be especially mindful of not commodifying or appropriating Voodoo for aesthetics, profit, or shock value. It’s not about buying a "voodoo doll" in the French Quarter or donning beads and feathers for a social media post. It’s about walking the path humbly, doing the work, honoring the spirits, and showing up with authenticity. Gatekeeping vs. Guardianship There’s a distinction to be made between gatekeeping and guardianship. While some practitioners, especially within more initiatory systems like Haitian Vodou or West African Ifá, may have strict rules about who can be initiated, New Orleans Voodoo is often practiced outside of these structures. There are no central temples or universal initiatory requirements. Instead, the tradition is often passed down through oral teachings, personal mentorship, or spirit-led experiences. That being said, cultural guardianship is still important. Seek out teachers who are authentic, lineage-honoring, and who understand the history and the spirits deeply. Respect their time, their wisdom, and their boundaries. Learn from people of color, support Black practitioners, and give back to the culture that is offering you its spiritual wealth. Spirit Doesn’t Care About Skin—But It Does Care About Integrity Many Voodoo spirits don’t discriminate based on race. They care more about your heart, your intentions, your offerings, and your ability to listen. Spirits like Papa Legba, Erzulie, and Baron Samedi welcome those who come in truth and service. Ancestors may speak in dreams, saints may reveal themselves in moments of crisis, and the Veve may call out to you in unexpected ways. What matters most is that you’re walking the path with integrity. Are you honoring the spirits? Are you studying the history? Are you approaching with humility, not entitlement? Walking the Path with Respect New Orleans Voodoo is a tradition forged in fire—a living, breathing, evolving system that has survived centuries of oppression and misunderstanding. It is a birthright for many, and a calling for others. If you feel that call, listen with your soul, not your ego. Approach with reverence, humility, and the understanding that you are stepping into a sacred tradition shaped by pain, power, and profound spiritual beauty. Yes, white people can practice New Orleans Voodoo—but only if they do so with an open heart, a grounded spirit, and a commitment to honoring the culture, the people, and the spirits that make it what it is. Recommended ReadingTo explore the roots, complexity, and beauty of New Orleans Voodoo and its related traditions, the following books and authors offer valuable insight:
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