Not all ancestors are blood.

Some of the strongest spirits holding you down don’t share your last name — pero they’ve been walking with your soul for lifetimes.

Let’s talk about it…

Have you honored the land spirits beneath your feet?
You’re lighting candles on colonized ground but haven’t whispered a single “thank you” to the ones who were murdered, displaced, erased from it.
That’s wild, baby.
Honor the land you stand on.

What about your queer ancestors?
The ones who loved in silence, who survived in shadows, who carried sacred divinity in a world that tried to crush them.
Your freedom didn’t come from nowhere — somebody before you bled glitter, grief, and grace so you could breathe out loud today.

And don’t you dare forget the enslaved ancestors —
the ones who survived the unthinkable, who prayed into the soil with no rights, no names, no language, but infinite power.
You are their answered prayer.
Say their names. Feed them. Feel them.

And then there are the chosen elders —
the madrina who covered your spirit,
the bruja who handed you a candle and a warning,
the tía who called your light sacred before you ever believed it.

That’s lineage.
That’s inheritance.
That’s love.

So ask yourself today:
Who else deserves honor in your line?

If you’re out here saying “I am the altar”…
then walk like it.
Honor like it.
Live like it.

The forgotten ones, the erased ones, the chosen ones — they all live in you.

And you?
You are the answer.

Aché.