Celebrating Women's History Month: Honoring My Mother Through Oriki and Altar Work

As Women's History Month comes to a close, I find myself reflecting on the powerful ways we honor the women who have shaped our lives. After a year of mourning the transition of my mother, I've finally completed writing her Oriki and setting up her altar. While this sacred space honors her memory, I recognize it's also for me—a way to ensure I always remember her presence in my life.

What is Oriki?

In the Yoruba tradition, "oríkì" combines "orí" (head) and "kì" (to greet or praise), creating a form of praise poetry that celebrates a person's character and lineage. These poetic tributes can be brief praise names or elaborate chants that honor one's attributes and heritage.

The Oriki I wrote for my mother, Marise Thompson, lovingly chronicles her many names and roles: "Ti-Rose, RoseMarie, matant, granma, mummy." It traces her Haitian roots as "Daughter of Saseffie" and "Petit fi Papa fene Thompson," acknowledging her journey from "gran lakou Gonaive Desdune" to America.

I celebrate her as a "warrior woman" and "prayer woman," highlighting her deep spirituality as someone "praying San ses from morning to night." I honor her entrepreneurial spirit as "the lady of the marketplace," and her incredible culinary talents making "the best griot and pikliz." My Oriki acknowledges her resilience as "the woman who fled violence to support her children."

My tribute closes with powerful Haitian Creole affirmations: "Fanm djanm, Fanm Vayant, Fanm Saj Mwen" – strong woman, valiant woman, my wise woman.

Cultural Remembrance as a Tool for Healing and Organizing

Drawing from my work and reflections shared in my blog about Osun's wisdom, I've come to understand how cultural remembrance is a powerful tool for both personal healing and collective liberation. In my organizing work, I've witnessed how reconnecting with ancestral practices can create pathways toward healing from both personal and societal trauma.

When we honor our cultural traditions like Oriki, we aren't just preserving customs—we're actively engaging in resistance against systems that have historically tried to erase our identities. By remembering and practicing the wisdom of our ancestors, particularly the women who carried these traditions forward, we interrupt the violence of cultural erasure.

As I've written about the connection between Osun's wisdom and women champions of holistic health and social equity, I recognize that my mother embodied many of these principles. Her care for others, her entrepreneurship, and her spiritual practices were all forms of resistance and healing in a world that often devalued her experiences as a Haitian immigrant woman.

The act of creating an altar and writing an Oriki isn't separate from my work toward social justice—it's foundational to it. By honoring the wisdom of those who came before us, we gain strength and strategies for creating more just communities. We remember that healing practices have always been part of our communities' survival strategies.

The Power of Cultural Remembrance

Creating this Oriki and altar has been healing for me. These cultural traditions have provided a framework for processing my grief and maintaining connection with my mother's spirit. As we conclude Women's History Month, I'm reminded that this celebration isn't just about famous figures but also about honoring the everyday women whose strength and wisdom continue to guide us.

My mother's story lives on through my words, rituals, and remembrances—creating an unbroken thread between generations of powerful women. This Women's History Month, I invite you to consider the ways you might honor the influential women in your own life, whether through traditional practices like Oriki or through your own meaningful rituals of remembrance.

In doing so, we not only heal ourselves but contribute to collective healing and the interruption of systemic violence through the preservation and practice of cultural wisdom.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​