In the Eye of the Storm

In Yoruba spirituality, Oya is a force to be reckoned with. Known as the Orisha (divine spirits in the Yoruba religion of West Africa) of storms, winds, and transformation, she is a deity of immense power. Oya embodies resistance and renewal, capable of blowing away what no longer serves and ushering in the new. In my novel, The Wind on Her Tongue, the second standalone installment of the Daughter of Three Waters trilogy after my debut, Shallow Waters, I reimagine Oya as a young woman grappling with her place in a tumultuous 19th-century America, navigating personal and collective struggles with grace, strength, and fury.

But Oya’s energy is more than just a metaphor for change. She is a reminder that in the fight for liberation—whether personal or societal—there is both a need for relentless effort and a necessity for rest. Even in Oya’s storm, there is an eye—a calm center where restoration and reflection are possible.

Oya’s role as a warrior makes her a powerful deity to invoke in times of resistance. Whether facing personal battles or collective struggles for justice, Oya teaches us to channel her stormy energy to sweep away the debris of oppression, stagnation, and fear. She reminds us that resistance isn’t always loud; sometimes, it’s the quiet, determined resolve to stand firm in our truth.

Oya’s power extends beyond destruction. Her winds carry seeds of renewal, helping us plant the foundations for a better future. This duality—destruction and creation—is at the heart of her magic. It’s a cycle we see mirrored in nature: old leaves fall to the ground, decompose, and nourish new growth. Similarly, Oya’s energy helps us release what no longer serves us, making space for transformation.

In the whirlwind of activism, resistance, and personal growth, it’s easy to forget the importance of rest. Oya, however, teaches us balance. At the heart of every storm lies the eye—a place of stillness amid chaos. This is where Oya invites us to pause, reflect, and recharge.

Rest is not a retreat from resistance; it is a revolutionary act in itself. In a society that glorifies productivity and burnout, choosing to rest is a radical affirmation of our worth beyond what we produce. Rest allows us to heal, to connect with our joy, and to cultivate the love and relationships that sustain us.

Oya’s storms remind us that while the winds of change are necessary, they cannot blow indefinitely. There must be a moment of calm, a space to regroup and realign. This rhythm— action and rest, resistance and renewal—is essential for the long fight for liberation.

Part of Oya’s transformative power comes from her connection to the ancestors. In Yoruba cosmology, she guards the gates between the living and the dead, bridging the worlds in a way that reminds us of our own lineage and heritage.

Remembering our ancestors and the knowledge of the global south is an act of resistance. For too long, colonialism and oppression have sought to erase these histories, discrediting the wisdom of indigenous peoples and enslaved communities. Yet, these ancestors carried profound knowledge about healing, community, and survival. By reconnecting with their stories and practices, we reclaim a part of ourselves and resist the erasure of our history.

Honoring the ancestors is also deeply personal. It can help us find strength in their resilience, guidance in their wisdom, and comfort in their enduring presence. In The Wind on Her Tongue, Oya’s connection to her lineage is a source of power, reminding her—and us—that we are never alone in our struggles.

How to Create an Ancestor Altar

One way to honor the ancestors and invite their wisdom into your life is by creating an ancestor altar. This sacred space can serve as a daily reminder of your connection to those who came before you and a focal point for reflection and gratitude. Here are a few tips to get started:

CHOOSE A LOCATION: Find a place in your home where you can set up the altar. It doesn’t have to be large—what matters most is intention.

GATHER ITEMS OF MEANING: Include photos, heirlooms, or other items that remind you of your ancestors. If you don’t have physical mementos, symbolic objects that represent them or their values work just as well.

ADD THE ELEMENTS: Incorporate representations of the natural elements. For example, a candle for fire, a small bowl of water, a plant or flower for earth, and incense or a feather for air.

OFFERINGS: Place offerings on the altar as a gesture of respect and gratitude. These can be as simple as fresh flowers, food, alcohol, weed, or a cup of coffee or tea—whatever feels meaningful to you.

PERSONAL TOUCHES: Make the altar your own by including items that reflect your heritage or spiritual practices, such as sacred texts, crystals, or artwork.

DAILY PRACTICE: Spend a few moments each day at the altar, whether in meditation, prayer, or simply in quiet reflection. Speak to your ancestors, share your thoughts, or ask for their guidance.

Oya’s story is one of power, transformation, and balance. She reminds us that the work of liberation requires both fierce action and tender care. By invoking her energy, we can find the strength to confront injustice and the wisdom to know when to rest.

In honoring Oya, the ancestors, and the discredited knowledge of the global south, we reclaim a legacy of resilience and renewal. This is not just a spiritual act but a revolutionary one. It reminds us that we are part of a lineage that has faced unimaginable hardships and yet continues to rise.

Through The Wind on Her Tongue, I hope to share a small part of this legacy, offering a space for readers to reflect, heal, and feel the winds of Oya at their backs. Together, we can navigate the storms of life, finding moments of calm and connection amid the chaos.