It’s among the most iconic ‘80s film scenes and one that introduced many Black Americans to a long-taboo element of their history: After decades of torment, The Color Purple’s Celie (played by Whoopi Goldberg) blocks her abusive husband mid-blow with three outstretched fingers and the ominous, karma-filled phrase, “Everything you done to me, already done to you.”

Horrified, he stops cold, and Celie rides off into the sunset.

Goldberg’s character was invoking Hoodoo, an African-inspired folk magic practice which joins a pantheon of non-traditional spiritual expressions—from Ifa to New Age and even mediumship—exploding in popularity among Blacks in Atlanta and beyond.  

Such faiths have always maintained a presence in the community, however subtle. But insiders say adherents are growing in number and becoming more vocal as more Black men and women seek a spirituality that affirms everything from their culture to their sexuality.

“We as African people in America are wanting to know more about who we were before we got here,” says the Rev. Lakara Foster, an LGBTQ+ identified minister and medium in Atlanta. “There is an awakening that’s happening on a lot of different levels.”

Some like Foster blend elements of their traditional faith with new age mysticism - “Christians with crystals” as one practitioner put it. Others are doing a complete 180 to faiths like Santeria, Candomblé, and other expressions with strong origins among their slave ancestors. 

All point to a rising cultural awareness as a driving factor in changing religious beliefs among Blacks.

“With what is happening and what has happened - all the movements, all the protests - people are wanting to dive into something that actually feels meaningful,” says Ifa Priest Olufunke Faseye. “They’re getting liberated on all levels. People are going back to go forward.”

Seeking a Cultural Connection

Data has long shown religious faith has an especially strong foothold in the Black community, where it has been pivotal in both surviving and fighting systemic racism. Protestant denominations, the faiths often handed down from Southern slaveholders to their human chattel, have historically dominated Black faith in America and still do. About 79% of Blacks identify as Christian, according to the Pew Research Center, in Washington D.C.

But recent numbers reveal a broad trend of evolving American faith is reaching into the Black community. In February’s “Faith Among Black Americans,” Pew reported roughly half of Blacks born after 1996 identify as Protestant, versus 75% of Baby Boomers. The same report found 18% of Blacks identified as unaffiliated, up from 12% in 2009.

The report didn’t offer detailed numbers for Afrocentric faiths like Santeria or Vodou, which are often practiced more privately than their large, mainline counterparts. But it did contain an interesting detail: Significant numbers of Blacks surveyed told Pew they burn candles, pray at an altar or consult diviners—practices commonly shunned in Christian denominations and embraced by traditional African and alternative faiths.

In Atlanta, the change shows up in everything from inboxes to shopping trends. A recent Sunday afternoon found Honey Pot Energy & Art, a new Black-owned boutique in Little Five Points, crowded with Black patrons shopping for sage, crystals, ancestor candles, and more. 

Meanwhile, Ifa Priest Faseye fields a growing number of online inquiries from people wanting to know how to get started in her faith. 

“My DMs stay rather active,” Faseye says. “It’s people that don’t feel connected to Christianity and they want to connect. They may not know if it’s Ifa, but they want to learn about it to cancel it out, or to embrace it.”

Faseye says the trend of exploring new faiths is driven by reasons both practical and profound.

“Beyonce made one particular Orisha very trendy,” she says, referencing the popular singer’s recent inclusion of African-diasporan deity Oshun in lyrics to hits like Black Parade. “Now people are trying to figure that out.”

For many LGBTQ+ men and women, interest in new faiths stems from frustration with religious condemnation, says Bahdori Oyanna, a queer New Thought practitioner in Atlanta. 

“People are looking at other faith beliefs because of the doctrines of Christianity and being oppressed, especially gay people,” says Oyanna, who personally experienced frustration with the conflicting messages among inclusive and non-inclusive Christian churches.

She points to changing attitudes that have allowed more people to practice and explore other faiths more openly. Her own practice of Hoodoo, for instance, was historically stigmatized as evil due to the inclusion of negative spells. Now, as younger Blacks seek to connect more with their past, they’re reclaiming the practice.

“This generation is really just inquisitive,” she says. “Now everything is pretty much in the open, there’s nobody really hiding anymore. It’s more accepting.” 

That’s also apparent in the Black entertainment world, where the Rev. Foster recently offered psychic advice to Black couples on VH1’s Couples Retreat. Foster doubted she’d have been welcomed years ago.

Indeed, decades after Whoopi Goldberg vexed his character on The Color Purple, even actor Danny Glover is a rumored Babalawo, a spiritual title granted to Ifa priests.

“There absolutely has been an evolution just in terms of spirituality, in terms of people wanting to know more, needing to know more, and being open to knowing more,” Foster says. “I’ve watched that even within myself.”

But while alternate faiths may seem more flexible and embracing - for instance, Vodou includes deities associated with LGBTQ+ sexuality—insiders warn not to expect a panacea. 

In her own faith, for example, Faseye says iles—or congregations—may be liberal or subscribe to strongly gendered roles and restrictions, depending on their particular traditions.

“No matter what practice you go into those practices are littered with humans, humans who come into practices with their beliefs,” says Faseye, who presents as masculine of center.

Queer Atlanta artist Nadiyah Oyawoye Najah experienced that firsthand. Raised in the Nation of Islam, she began exploring Ifa as a teenager and quickly found herself being primed for marriage. Initially, it caused her to run from the faith.

“For 20 years I was on the outskirts because I was a queer woman—I did not think that I fit into the pan-African community,” she says. “It wasn’t until my 40s that I started seeing lesbians in the faith.”

Decades later, Najah has been formally initiated into the faith and believes an attitude of activism has led to LGBTQ+ people being more visible in Ifa, and more Blacks embracing ancestral faiths overall.

“People are rejecting the religion of their oppressors,” she says. “[Their] explanation of God doesn’t fit our circumstances.”