Babymamahood is a mother and daughter led project, founded on the ancestral science of our abuelitas y elders. It is a living space where we share how we thrive in Babylon (the hood) . We honor all the elemental forces that have allowed us to learn this very simple healing practice and we thank all our ancestors and relations who continue to bless and support this work. Our goal is to inspire and to help sustain the lives of mamas and babies everywhere.

Based in Oakland, CA.

Zion and Juju create potions to love on sadness and recovery. 

What REALLY Took Light's Life

“The vulnerability in being love is knowing that you might not get that love back” -ItsReaLight

I mean no harm by this post. My intentions are hood. I am angry at us. At me. Like Nina Simone sang, I am just a soul/ whose intentions are good/ please don't let me be misunderstood.

It wasn’t Lupus that killed Light…

You did. 

The “you” is universal & maybe I am talking to myself, as I am not excluded from this post either. But, I don’t even have my own couch to give. 

It goes back to worth. What was her life worth to you? Was it just a poem? A performance or a song? Was her worth an external manifestation or one of an internal nature? How did you measure up & show up for Light. Again, the you is me too. & I feel like I didn’t do enough. I feel like I wasn’t enough of a comrade to her. Actually, I haven’t been much of a comrade to myself, either... My current housemate told me I need to change my self-talk, & she is right, but I am not done with the darkness, yet... I wish I could have done a lot more. I wish life didn't distract me from you. I wish a lot of things. I know better, now. I will try to do better.


The last time Light called me, I didn’t answer the phone. I was tired, emotionally. I am bad at being present over the phone. I wasn’t in the mood to listen bc Light can talk for hours & I was tired of talking about housing, about how fucked it all is. When we do talk, we laugh, we cry, we sing gospel songs, & we plot. 

Light has lived an incredibly hard life & was mostly misunderstood by the people around her. Her poems of positivity is what got her through life. Light has dealt with neglect, abandonment, homelessness, & most recently, Lupus. 

In the spoken word community, we talk & write a lot of shit about justice; about THE MAN, about how cruel this world could be. We also talk about love. Love for our culture, for our people, & for the struggle. However, a lot of us ain’t really riders. We aint bouty bouty for community. We that punk ass kid who talks mad shit, but never takes the first swing. 

Some of you may say, but I lend Light a helping hand. She stayed at my house, blah, blah, blah… I am here to say, that’s your duty. Duuuuuuh.

I have seen people in the community talk hella shit about Light’s weight. I seen people call her a mooch bc she legit didn’t have a place to live. I have seen people just be straight up disrespectful to her & then sing a song about black freedom in their wack ass poems. Light & I have laughed & cried about it. We have questioned it. All she wished was to be understood. 

Y’all be out there marching & singing & teaching, but you are not about freedom for real. My sista was straight up struggling, but she never cried about it. She was in pain, & she never verbally ached about it. Her light was always in her vision for the future. I am so sorry that I could not be there for her in the ways that she needed it most. She craved for a family to love her unconditionally. 

Many will say that her life was cut short, but I know her life was long. Age aint nuttin’ but a number. You don’t ever have to worry about Light coming to your house & eating all you food or not cleaning after herself after she prepared for you a wonderful meal. The extent to the pettiness in the material is what really shows me that the revolution hasn’t come bc we are not equipped for it. We are not ready to lose our comforts.

The extent to which I feel her loss is just to say, although y'all tried to cut her down & Lupus won, my homie has been on your death beds with your tongues. Don’t praise her now that it is easy to just bid her farewell. 

I wish you (Light) could have been here while your world celebrated you. 

I will live my life differently now. I will be present in a different way now. I am sorry it took your loss for me to gain the insight that I need to toil on. I am homeless still. I am hurting still. But, I will change soon enough. 

May you fly home in peace. I will call for you soon. 

From the stage to my altar. 


Mama Juju

For those of us who care, Light’s younger sister, Quiana is raising funds so that her family can burry Light in NY. Light passed away in Colorado Springs yesterday. To help, please follow the link to her GoFundMe page. No donation will be turned away. Stay, blessed. 


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