Who got “deprogrammed,” and how did that happen?

For generations, colonization, slavery, missionary Christianity, and structural racism actively erased, suppressed, or reframed African spiritual systems. Enslaved people were forced into Christian rituals; ancestral names, liturgies, languages, and community practices were interrupted or outlawed; and later generations grew up taught that “Christianity = civilization” while their ancestral beliefs were primitive or demonized. That’s not rumor — it’s historical pattern.

Being “deprogrammed” isn’t a moral failing. It’s a survival adaptation. Parents and grandparents often intentionally stopped transmitting ritual knowledge to protect children from violence, legal sanction, or community ostracism. The result: many Black folks today feel spiritually homeless — curious about ritual and ancestral power, but disconnected and sometimes skeptical.

What survives (and how it evolved)

African spiritual systems didn’t simply vanish. They adapted and syncretized — creating Hoodoo, Vodou, Santería, Candomblé, Ifá communities, and other rites across the diaspora. These practices kept ancestor veneration, herbalism, spirit work, music, and communal rites alive — though often hidden, coded, or mixed with Christian forms. Museums and historians document this continuity.

Why some Black folks see “woke” Black people practicing ATR as “Wiccans” or “witchy”

There are a few overlapping reasons for that confusion:

1. Terminology mismatch. “Witchcraft” and “witch” are broad umbrella terms in English. Some people use “witchcraft” casually to mean any ritual, spell, or folk healing practice. But Wicca is a specific modern Pagan religion (20th century, largely Eurocentric in formation) with its own theology, rituals, and lineage. Confusing the two is common and understandable, but it erases specificity.

2. Visibility & marketing. Since the late 20th century, mainstream and internet “witch” culture — often led by non-Black creators — has polished, packaged, and sold “witch aesthetic” (candles, crystals, spells, Sabbats). This makes an easily consumable image of “witchcraft” that looks very different from communal ATR practices like Vodou or Candomblé. When Black practitioners reclaim ritual publicly, outsiders sometimes lump everything into that mainstream “witch” box.

3. Loss of language. If families stopped teaching specific names and cosmologies, younger people may use familiar modern terms (like “witch” or “witchcraft”) to describe practices that are actually rooted in African diaspora systems.

4. Appropriation & blending. Some non-Black neopagan communities borrow African-derived elements incorrectly — and some Black folks experimenting online adopt eclectic mixes (which is fine when done responsibly) but then get labeled or misread as “Wiccan.”

Key differences people need to understand (quick primer)

• ATRs (e.g., Vodou, Santería, Candomblé, Ifá): Religions with organized lineage, priesthoods, named spirits/deities (lwa, orishas), communal rites, sacred music, initiation paths, and cultural specificity tied to West/Central African cosmologies adapted in the Americas.

• Hoodoo / Conjure / Rootwork: Primarily an African American folk magic system — practical, household-rooted, focusing on healing, protection, and power in everyday life. Not a religion with formal priesthood in the same sense as ATRs, but deeply spiritual and ancestral.

• Wicca / Modern Pagan Witchcraft: A modern Western religion created in the 20th century, with its own rituals, gods/goddesses (often Celtic/European focus), Wheel of the Year, and specific initiation traditions. Many neopagans borrow from many sources; that borrowing can become appropriation if not done responsibly.

Why this matters — harm, mislabeling, and appropriation

• Mislabeling erases lineage. Calling Vodou “voodoo witchcraft” or Hoodoo “Wicca” flattens distinct lineages and devalues elders and initiated teachers.

• Cultural appropriation commodifies trauma and sacredness. When people strip rituals from their cultural context, package them, and sell them, it profits from histories of oppression. That’s not spiritual sharing — it’s extraction.

• Gatekeeping vs. protection. Communities often limit access to certain rituals to protect sacred knowledge or maintain relationship-based transmission. Outsiders may view that as “gatekeeping,” but it’s often a necessary boundary for cultural and spiritual survival.

How to educate — practical language & teaching points to use

(Use this if you’re talking to family, community, or running a workshop.)

1. Start with history, not opinion. Frame the conversation around what happened (enslavement, colonialism, legal and social pressures to convert), using facts and examples. Cite accessible sources (Smithsonian, National Park Service, academic overviews).

2. Define terms clearly. Teach the difference between ATR, Hoodoo, and Wicca. Offer short, memorable definitions (see above) and insist people use the right word.

3. Name the harm of commodification. Explain how selling “authentic” Hoodoo kits or repackaging orisha names as trendy “deities for manifestation” strips context and harms communities.

4. Lift up elders and lineage. Encourage contact with local or online elders, priesthoods, and community institutions rather than YouTube-only “teachers.” Institutions like the Smithsonian’s Center for the Study of African American Religious Life are good starting points.

5. Teach boundaries. Explain why some practices are closed (initiation-only), and why asking permission matters. That’s not elitism — it’s respect.

How deprogrammed Black people can reconnect — a practical path

If you or someone you care about wants to reconnect but doesn’t know where to start, here’s a non-intimidating roadmap:

1. Learn the history first. Read accessible pieces on African diaspora religions and Hoodoo. Museums and university public-facing articles are reliable places to start.

2. Ask family stories. Even if elders won’t teach rituals, stories often preserve cosmology, sayings, and ritual fragments. Record them. Respect their boundaries.

3. Find community (slowly). Look for community-led groups, African diaspora cultural centers, or established priest/priestess networks. Avoid influencer-only spaces that sell “quick initiation” packages.

4. Practice ancestor work safely. Begin simple: create an ancestor corner, learn names you can verify, start a daily short offering (water, food, song). Lineage knowledge grows.

5. Study with care. If you take online classes or read books, prioritize Black and diasporic authors and initiated teachers. Beware “eclectic” teachers who cherry-pick without attribution.

6. Follow ethics. Don’t monetize sacred practices that come from another culture you’re not part of. Don’t perform initiation rites without proper training and authorization. Respect food, music, and ceremony as communal, not Instagram props.

For Black folks who see other Black people labeled as “Wiccans” — how to respond without shaming

• Assume curiosity, not malice. Many people are experimenting because they’re hungry for ritual. Educate rather than ridicule.

• Offer clarity, not condemnation. Say, “It sounds like what you’re doing is eclectic witchcraft; there are African-rooted traditions we should talk about if you want the ancestral context.” That opens dialogue.

• Share resources and elders. Connect them to community centers, books, and teachers. Real change happens when curiosity meets lineage.

What allies and non-Black spiritual communities must know

• Do the work before borrowing. Study the history and ask permission. If a practice is clearly community-specific and sacred, don’t appropriate it.

• Support reparative efforts. Donate to ATR cultural centers, uplift Black elders publicly, and platform initiated practitioners instead of influencers who commodify.

Recommended accessible resources (start here)

• Smithsonian pieces and exhibits on African diaspora religions and Hoodoo.

• National Park Service overview articles on Hoodoo and African American spiritual traditions.

• Encyclopaedia/Britannica entries on Vodou, Santería, and African religions for concise, reliable overviews.

Final words — a call to reclaim with humility and power

Reconnecting to ancestral practices is sacred work — political, personal, and communal. For Black people who were “deprogrammed,” the path back is not about copying a trendy aesthetic or scoring spiritual clout. It’s about honoring ancestors, learning history, building community, and practicing responsibility. For those who practice publicly — whether in ATR lineages, Hoodoo, or modern eclectic paths — insist on transparency, give credit, and place elders and lineage first.