6 minute read
Queenly Conjure
Queenly Conjure
A tea ceremony uniting Rootwork with Indigenous tradition
Story by Sophie Nau • Photos by Alexandra Kennon
Recently, I found myself seated across from Queenly Conjure’s LaReina at Endless Night Tattoo shop, sage permeating around the room. Before us sat a handmade bowl and small porcelain cups, patiently waiting to be filled. Until she finds a more permanent space, this is where LaReina has been hosting her tea ceremonies—part of her practice of Hoodoo, or Rootwork, here in New Orleans.
Hoodoo in the Americas originated from a diverse set of spiritual beliefs preserved by the West Africans who were forced into the slave trade—all of which collectively placed a high value on the generational wisdom of ancestors. Over the years its traditions incorporated the herbal remedies from Africa with those of the indigenous peoples of the Americas.
As part of this lineage, LaReina learned Rootwork from her parents. Her mother passed down the information that was given to her, and her father, who could knock out a cold overnight with his bitter tea blend, taught LaReina how to work with herbs.
LaReina, a California native with family roots in Louisiana, initially moved to New Orleans just three months before the pandemic of 2020 to pursue her burlesque dancing career. When everything shut down, she felt a call from her ancestors to fully embrace her role as a Rootwork practitioner.
Though teas, or tisanes, are a part of Hoodoo tradition, LaReina’s tea ceremonies are more inspired by the traditional Chinese tea ceremony, or Gongfu Cha, which emphasizes precision in tea to water ratio and savoring the quality of the tea itself. Guided by her family’s heritage, as well as mentorship from Sen Elias of Crescent City Conjure, LaReina has developed a practice that syncretizes her Hoodoo roots with the art of tea. The result? A unique blend of her own magic.
As the ceremony proceeded, LaReina’s voice rang soft and purposeful, her presence inviting, her smile open. She explained that there is a spirit associated with each herb used in her teas, from lemon (a refresher), to mint (sharp, powerful, good when working towards prosperity), to lavender (maternal and nurturing). By paying close attention to the herbs—from where they’re sourced (local shops like Rosalie Botanical and organic farms around the country) to the spirit they embody—we can connect our own spirit to the natural world. “There’s a song we sing that goes, ‘Isn’t it great for brothers and sisters to work together?’” She went on, “I like to say, the water in me connects to the water in the herbs.”
LaReina poured the tea blend she had selected for us, Elements of Water—a combination of lavender, damiana, mugwort, honeysuckle, and butterfly pea blossom. As the water hit the tea, the pea blossom transformed it to a bright, playful blue. She walked us through the three-sip process, and told us where we might taste each element of the tea—the lavender at the tip of our tongues, the mugwort in the back of our throats.
In Rootwork, “the herbs are considered asleep when they are no longer attached to water, like when they’re growing,” La- Reina explained. She gestured out the window. “That is an awakened tree. It’s open, it’s present, it’s ready. When it’s cut off from that connection to earth, to water, it goes to sleep.” Activating the herb with hot water for tea is a way to “breathe life into it.”
Across cultures, tea has drawn people together as an occasion for gathering and listening. For LaReina, the joy of her work comes from connecting with those who come for a ceremony, using tea as the foundation “to have those moments when you can actually talk about things and reveal truths about yourself that maybe you didn’t even know about. That soul-to-soul connection.” As a result, the friends and family that come in for ceremonies often leave more open with each other.
“If someone wants a tea ceremony,” she explained, “I don’t necessarily ask ‘What kind of tea do you want?’ but I say, ‘What is it that you feel that you are missing and that you want to draw into yourself?’”
Lighting the sage again, LaReina ushered in the closing of our ceremony, instructing us to take three deep breaths, guiding them to different parts of our body. We thanked our ancestors, we felt the presence of the earth beneath us. It occurred to me that engaging with tea this way is a type of meditation, a practice of presence.
“When we think about time and our lives, a lot of herbs and plants move slower than us,” said LaReina, steadying her voice. “But we also grow slow, too. We live our lives so quickly, we rush things. [It’s important to recognize] that pattern of life puts us in difference to the tides. Learning how to live how nature lives, that all comes from Indigenous practices.”
Where rushing from one thing to the next is status quo, our minds active tornadoes of shoulds, coulds, and musts, slowing down can feel like a radical act.
LaReina said she knows how difficult that can be. Her previous shop on Oak Street was a great trial run in having a physical presence in the community, (during Hurricane Ida, LaReina used the shop as a base camp to serve food to the neighborhood), but now she is looking for a bigger and more permanent space for Queenly Conjure. In the meantime, she is conducting private ceremonies and participating in pop-up events in New Orleans, Mississippi and Atlanta.
Amongst all of this change, there is always tea to come back to. “Knowing where things come from helps you to know where you’re going, or where you can go,” said LaReina.
After we closed the ceremony, I headed out to check the next to-do off my ever growing list. But my conversation with LaReina resonated throughout the day. I think back to the little tea cup in my hands: the creative blend of tradition it held, and the invitation it offered to connect with ourselves more deeply.
Keep up with Queenly Conjure on Instagram @queenlyconjure and find her teas for purchase on etsy.com.