Capitalism, Racism and the Roots of Black Resistance

“We are not rewriting history—we are remembering it fully. Not just the cross and the crown, but the chains and the silence.”

🌍 From STL to ATR

I’m a proud St. Louis native, raised at the intersection of Black faith, resistance, and storytelling. This blog, STL Girl in an ATR World, is where I explore the deep waters of African Traditional Religions (ATRs), Black spirituality, and the roots of resistance that have always lived in us—even when buried beneath the weight of empire.

My first post begins with the research I recently presented:
“Beneath the Cross and the Crown: Capitalism, Racism, and the Roots of Black Resistance.”

✝️ The Cross, the Crown… and the Chains

We are told that American capitalism promises opportunity—and that religion provides moral grounding. But for Black people, both systems have often functioned as tools of control and oppression.

Capitalism was never race-neutral.
As theorist Cedric Robinson argued in Black Marxism, capitalism didn’t simply intersect with racism—it required it.

The Trans-Atlantic slave trade was not a byproduct of greed. It was the blueprint.

Religious institutions—from Catholic missionaries to slave-holding pastors—often sanctified this violence. The cross was lifted beside the whip. The crown blessed conquest.

📍 St. Louis: A Case Study in Racial Capitalism

St. Louis is a sacred site for this history. We were:

A launching pad for Indigenous cultural removal
Home of the Dred Scott decision
The backdrop for the East St. Louis Massacre
The cradle of redlining, urban divestment, and mass incarceration

And yet, we’ve always resisted.

The Ferguson uprising, the radical scholarship of people like William Wells Brown, and the quiet survival of Hoodoo and spiritual practice all prove that Black St. Louis refuses to die quietly.

🌊 The Refuge of African Traditional Religions

When the church was used against us, we turned to the water. To the moon. To the ancestors.

ATR practices like Vodun, Ifá, Hoodoo, and Santería didn’t just survive—they transformed.

Through syncretism, saints became Orishas, psalms became protection spells, and spiritual altars rose in places where no church would welcome us.

These traditions are not superstition. They are sovereignty. They are survival.

🔗 What Liberation Looks Like

My work asks: What if we reimagine the systems that tried to erase us?

What if we built trade routes not in bodies, but in self-possession?
What if our connection to ATRs wasn’t hidden—but honored?
What if our spirituality became the foundation for a self-reparative future?

This is what I call a world without chains—where our memory becomes our medicine, and our faith becomes a flame.

✊🏾 Join Me on the Journey

This is just the beginning. In future posts, I’ll share more on:

Mami Wata, Yemaya, and the water and moon spirits of the diaspora
Black femme icons of St. Louis and beyond
The story of St. Louis’ Hoodoo roots
A deep dive into Black Marxism, the Black Radical Tradition, racial capitalism, and the development of the concept of race
Syncretism and the theft of African Spirituality: the origin of Abrahamic religions and the white washing of history
My project: Sankofa Diaspora Tradeworks—a reparative vision for the future

Let’s remember. Let’s resist. Let’s rise.
Welcome to STL Girl in an ATR World.