06/08/2026
“Can you teach me how to trap, skin, and cook squirrels?”
I did not expect that question to stump our 70 year old, career military, former Black Ops neighbor.
His usual rapid-fire speech slowed. “I haven’t done that in a long time. There’s a guy at the YMCA ‘round the corner who can teach you.”
Do I want to kill squirrels, of course not. But when I tell you I’m in my prepper season, I’m not kidding.
Every single time I open a browser or a social media app, I read updates on this country’s determination to make life harder for its citizens.
This week’s news that the agricultural funding bill will cut $200 million from grocery vouchers for women and children hurts. Like…why?
As I read that headline, instead of spiraling, I thought, “what would my ancestors do?” Afterall, political periods of instability and grief are more familiar than foreign for Black people.
I finally finished reading the narrative of Charles Ball. It’s everything you’d expect from a first-hand account of an enslaved ancestor: gut wrenching, maddening, disturbing, but also motivating. You know how it ends, he escaped, but the journey and lessons on how are nothing short of miraculous.
With no foreseeable end to slavery in sight, I marvel at not only the hope and determination but the skills required to survive.
Charles trapped fish and other wild game, started fires, fed on foraged and plantation food he picked while hiding in plain sight, made shoes from plants, built discreet shelter in the woods, dodged alligators and bloodhounds while crossing rivers, slept in swamps, lost his bearings on cloud-filled winter nights, got caught, whipped, was re-enslaved and escaped again.
I don’t know if I have the will or resourcefulness our ancestors had, but I want to be someone who can survive the unknown when the tide’s force is against me. We’re battling attacks from multiple directions: weakening voting rights, restrictive reproductive care, and shrinking educational, professional, and healthcare access.
However, we all stand as the living legacy of those who imagined more, endured the impossible, fought against injustice, and forged a path for a better future. Their lives provide the blueprint for our journey ahead.
So why squirrels? I learned how to kill chickens when I served in the Peace Corps, but our HOA forbids all livestock. This is purely an if-I-need-to-I-can kind of preparation. And I may chicken out.
I have a growing collection of canned food in the pantry. When we return home after the Soul and Soil Retreat, we’ll add more vegetables and herbs to the garden.
My kitchen surgery skills for first aid wounds continue to improve and y’all already know we have the home apothecary fully stocked.
We’re researching solar panels, the ones you can install yourself, adding more rain barrels and while I don’t do guns, I do have a few plants in the stash that will slow a muthasucka down.
Another lesson from our ancestors is the collective care and sharing of resources and wisdom. Charles had help along the way from fellow enslaved and sympathetic whites who risked their own safety to feed and offer shelter.
I’m not doing all of this just for me. As a clinical herbalist - one of the medicine women - I know my role and my charge. Supporting others on their healing journeys changes the health trajectory of entire families. The calling feels incomplete if I keep it to myself.
The reliance that so many of us have on these systems is frightening and reaching critical levels. So many people are already drowning in survival mode. It feels urgent, but also unfair to burden them with yet another task or responsibility.
To the parent of multiple children who’s trying to hold it down with two jobs and rising costs.
To the chronically ill person to whom most people say, “you don’t look sick.”
To the overwhelmed caretaker tending to an aging parent.
I see you.
Not every ancestor had the compulsion to escape. And some betrayed those who ran away for their own gain - all skinfolk ain’t kinfolk as they say. For the ancestors who remained captive but aided liberation for your brethren, that too is part of the blueprint.
With every policy that reverses the progress of our country, more are asking, “what can I do?” There are individual and collective actions we can all take. If you have the capacity, skill-build with your neighbor. Buy one extra can of the food during your next grocery run. Gardens yield abundance, so share. Vote.
Pursue your curiosities and continue to master your gifts. If you can throw down in the kitchen, that’s for good reason. Remember who nourished our freedom fighters during the Civil Rights Movement. If you’re an artist, never think your creativity is frivolous. You are the soul and memory that changes hearts. All the gabbers and yappers, your words change minds. Medicine people, be the balm with every modality you’re devoted to.
Most importantly, listen to your own longing. For the ancestors who were called to escape, it was an unyielding yearning. They could not refuse or deny their instructions. Whether it’s trapping, yapping, organizing, growing, or something else, don’t ignore that god in you.
With joy,
Selima
