Why Black Goddesses Matter: Reclaiming African Mythology as Black Women
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Why Black Goddesses Matter
I’ve spent most of my life loving mythology.
I’m one of those women who can happily disappear into books about gods, goddesses, and lore for hours. For years, I consumed mythology the way some people binge television. I knew the Greek pantheon. I recognized the Roman names. I understood the Norse gods well enough to follow the references when they showed up in books, media, and pop culture.
But somewhere along the way, a question began to trouble me:
Why did I know so much about gods and goddesses who did not look like me, while knowing so little about the sacred figures connected to the people I come from?
That question did not arrive all at once. It built slowly over time through research, through worldwide travel, writing, grief, and the long process of becoming honest about who I am.
Why I Started Looking for Black Goddesses
Because the truth is, I’ve always been a Black nerd.
I have always loved the thrill of finding meaning beneath the surface. But for a long time, I hid that part of myself. Growing up, being Black, intelligent, unconventional, and deeply curious did not always feel safe. There were parts of me I learned to tuck away, soften and keep hidden so I wouldn’t draw the wrong kind of attention.
And yet, that curiosity never left me.
When I began developing stories rooted in African mythology, I had to confront something painful: I was disconnected from a body of knowledge that should not have felt so distant. I could recognize Athena, Artemis, or Freya on sight. But Oya? Oshun? Yemaya? Those names were not offered to me in school with the same reverence, depth, or familiarity. I had to teach myself what had not been widely taught to me.
Why Black Goddesses Matter for Black Women
It matters because what we are taught to revere shapes what we believe is valuable. It shapes whose wisdom is treated as universal and whose is treated as invisible. When Black girls and Black women grow up surrounded by mythic systems that rarely reflect them, the message is subtle but powerful: feminine divinity belongs elsewhere.
But it does not.
Black goddesses matter because they restore reflection where there has been erasure.
They matter because they give us the language of power that Black women have always carried: transformation, sensuality, discernment, grief, protection, intuition, creation, and righteous anger.

West African Goddesses Like Oya, Oshun, and Yemaya as Sacred Mirrors
That is one of the reasons Oya resonates so deeply with me.
The more I researched her, the more I felt that familiar spark. Oya showed me that Black goddesses can be upheaval, transition, and force. Her storm does not ask permission. There is something profoundly meaningful in encountering a goddess like that as a Black woman, especially after a lifetime of being told, in ways subtle and direct, to be quieter, smaller, easier to manage.
But what was intriguing to me to learn was neither do Oshun, Yemaya, or Mawu. These goddesses are often remembered through story and symbolism. Each offers a different mirror and language for understanding power.
And for me, that discovery has been personal.
How Traveling to Ghana Deepened My Connection to African Spiritual Heritage
When I traveled to Ghana during the Year of Return, something in me shifted. Being in West Africa was not just travel. It felt like remembrance. I saw symbols, stories, and ancestral traces that stirred something deep in me. I visited spaces that cracked me open emotionally and spiritually. I felt both the violence of disconnection and the healing possibility of return.
That experience changed the way I think about heritage.
It also changed the way I think about story.
Because mythology is not just about old gods in old times. Mythology carries worldview, cultural memory as well as values. To reconnect with African goddesses is not simply to collect beautiful names or interesting folklore. It is to engage a deeper archive of meaning. I mean if I'm being real it's about ancient survival messages and what the ancestor's carried across the water but we lost. We must reconnect to our stories even after generations of rupture.
Can African Americans Reconnect with African Gods and Goddesses?
For Black Americans, that question can be especially tender.
So much was stolen. And because that loss is real, the process of reconnection can be deeply significant but messy. No, many of us were not raised with these traditions in intact form. We just don't have complete knowledge. But that does not mean the search is meaningless. To me, it makes the search meaningful.
Can African Americans come to know the African gods and goddesses the way people know the Greek, Roman, or Norse ones?
I believe we can, but perhaps not in exactly the same way.
We can come to know them through study, respect, storytelling, travel, cultural recovery, and honest engagement.
Why I Write Stories Inspired by Black Goddesses
As a writer, this is why I keep returning to these stories.
The mythology I use isn't decoration or a commercial niche (just switch European mythology for African mythology). I’m interested in what it opens up especially what happens when Black women get to see themselves inside epic, sacred, and powerful frameworks.
If you haven't had the opportunity to read the research I conducted and shared in the Oya Warrior Goddess Lore Book, check it out here. It also includes two seasons showing Oya within my Sentinel Superhero Vigilante series.
Relevant Blog Posts
- Writing Vlog: A Black Nerd's Journey to Sharing Her Research on Ifa Oya in African Folktales
- Ghana and my “Year of Return”
- Author Alicia McCalla Interviews Helen Nde of Mythological Africans on the Historical Significance of the Woman King






2 comments
Sis, what you’ve said is real. It’s not just that we don’t know our mythology, but the little we do know, we’ve been taught to fear it. That’s the part that takes years to untangle.
Thank you for naming it. 🖤
This is a wonderful post. I was a history enthusiast and I didn’t know anything about African mythology untili was an adult. That largely came from an interest in African drums. I also think, unfortunately, a lot of Black people in America are taught that it’s ‘evil’ or ‘voodo’(misunderstanding that tradition also and somehow makes them less of a Christian. As a whole, Black people I grew up with in the South were very church-y. It’s a complex psychology.