Truths of Our Hues: “Deep-Rooted” by Mi-shael Taylor


It’s been awhile since I’ve been able to escape the crushing weight of my responsibilities, capitalism and its vicious demands. I’ve missed sitting with my narrative journal and favorite ball-point pen. Feels like ages since, I’ve sat in silence with my own thoughts, focused on my own hopes and dreams. Why? Well, because so many other souls need safe havens and my bills aren’t waitin’. Lately, my mind has been racin’ because Erykah told us that Time’s a wastin’. Okay I have bars! Anyway…

Moving too fast, gets us nowhere. I know this, but these damn systems are designed this way for a reason, to make us forget. James Baldwin stated: “My memory stammers, but my soul is a witness.” Luckily our bodies won’t allow us to forget. Mine forced me to a full stop, a functional freeze, because I was being hard-headed, again. Mereba was right, I “always did like it the hard way, since you was a kid.” With hella scars on my legs to prove it, I stay choosing the wild road.

Every time though, I get humbled. For about three days, all I could do was sleep, eat and write. “Deep-Rooted” is a product of my body’s resistance. Remember to keep stopping, keep creating, keep breathing, keep dreaming (awake and asleep), while you’re here keep living. Just in time for Spring, I had this new awakening.

“Deep-Rooted” by Mi-shael Taylor

I must’ve heard that I’m “too theoretical”, “feel too deeply”, “looking too deeply” or “too sensitive” a million times in my life. Be that as it may, but what if those same people who so confidently told me this, are too distracted or too detached? What if they’re living on a plateaued plane to escape this reality or to comfort themselves into oblivion? I mean I get it 1000%. I used to wish I didn’t feel and think this way, because it used to be overwhelming, terrifying sometimes. I used to feel fragile to every ripple of change around and within me. But now? Baby this is a superpower. 

After hearing, “it’s not that deep” time and time again, I’ve come to realize that it is indeed “that deep.” It’s soul deep. The oceans stretch for thousands of feet below us and space stretches for ions above and away. Are we not of the universe? Are we not connected to all living, breathing forms? Y’all don’t feel that? Here I go again, diving into the theories, and concepts of life that make many spiral and volatile.

As I’ve grown, I recognized myself as different, as weird I guess.. (I’m never beating those allegations y’all). I’ve been reminded that not everyone I may come across in life, even those I love so much, those nearest and dearest to me, may not fully understand me and I accept that. I understand that many do not feel things the way that I do, do not see through these lenses that I’ve been gifted. It’s all love. It took me a while to accept that I do experience life in a unique way, and my psyche is like no one else.

I feel the pain of my great, great, great-grandmothers. Although, my body exists in this lapse of time, and my murmured heart beats in this very moment, my blood is ancient. It runs, “that deep.” Flowing through my body, along with memories, and imprinted images of red clay, the fluorescent smiles of my ancestors rest peacefully in my nervous system. Landscapes of sweet peach southern sunsets, and Tennessee mountains, are stamped on my heart. While gray Michigan skies of thick fog cloud my imagination, our summers give me hope and restoration.

Since I was a little girl I saw the world in such a peculiar way compared to most kids my age. I could spend hours in my front yard, dancing with the wind, speaking in my own made up languages and mixing together grass, sticks and stones. Under starry night skies, I’d run barefoot, catching fireflies in the palms of my hands. I imagined myself on a cloud floating, when I’d receive questions like, “What do you want to be when you grow up?”. 

I realized why, even at 5 years old, I couldn’t answer that question honestly. Now grown,  with a fully-developed frontal lobe, I can conclude that I was right. We never wanted to be here scrounging and fighting for the things we rightfully deserve. I was right, I’d rather be on cloud, no longer daydreaming of a simpler life but frolicking in a field of sunflowers and climbing trees. Cocoa butter, lathered skin sparkling under the afternoon golden hour. As my teeth sink into sweet mangos and strawberries from my nana’s woven basket, I’d laugh boldly, and without a care in the world. I appreciate my connection to that wide eyed girl who always got lost in her thoughts and did cartwheels. She guides me, and reminds me to keep dreaming of monarchs. That little girl lives in me, and my mother lives in her, and her mother within her, and so on. I’m indebted to those before me. My obligations include: remembering to create beauty and rest in the world that has taken from us, a poised posture while speaking with conviction, as my Vishuddha works in the face of malevolence, while uplifting myself and protecting those next to me. I’m reminded that while I’m striving to complete this goal and that…I do not stray too far off of the path. To always acknowledge my roots, and water them as my ancestors have for me. Because you see, it is “that deep”. My life, my existence, my passions & dreams, stretch far and wide, as does yours. 

Please feel free to email me at with topics you desire to see reflected in my blog posts. All posts will be anonymous, except chosen stories of my own that I will share. As my schedule persists, I intend to post weekly or biweekly. Welcome to Truths of Our Hues.

Peace and with love,