The Little Houngan On The Bayou

Let me start this by saying, I remember who you were. A vibrant open-hearted girl, with big curly hair, and a warm heart. Now let me say this; I am disappointed in who you have become. Yes, I am angry in writing this, yet I have nothing to gain in it. My only goal is that you don’t mislead others as you mislead me. You should be seen for who you are, not the narrative you project. You so loudly called out others as frauds, monsters, and liars. And now you’ve become just that.

What triggered me to write this was when you recently responded to a comment from one of your followers. Something about putting more people in jars. That hit me. Because I’m one of those people in one of your jars. Maybe you forgot. Maybe it was a pure anecdote. Or maybe you got bored after realizing your magic isn’t as powerful as you were told it to be. But that’s what happens when you climb ladders only to get sold magic beans.

My issue with you goes back to when we were in Carmel’s house. I re-read the texts you told me about how Carmel was scamming us. Nothing added up. It still doesn’t. You told me Carmel was romantically after Bob, but this all seemed like an elaborate way for you to cheat on Julien. Spirit was giving me a window out, but I was too scared to question you. I held onto every word you said. I had to. You told me I needed to join the house. You told me the Lwa walked with me. You told me all these contradictory things, and I stupidly believed you. My lesson; my fault. But fast forward to when you told me you were going to steal my Pot Tet from the Djevo. You created a farcical story about how Carmel was going to kill us or turn us into Zombies. I couldn’t piece it all together, I mean how could I. You were basically telling me an episode of American Horror Story. It was so far-fetched. But now I can see what you were planning.

In your recent posts, you’ve shared how initiates can join your house. Now it all adds up. You stole my Pot Tet so I’d be a servant in your house. The whole ancestor thing? That’s how you were going to keep me tied to your house. Back when we were diving into our practices, you knew I knew my ancestors, by name. You’d make digs about how ancestors can only do so much, but Higher Spirits are where it’s really at. Now you’ve come back to preach about ancestors, lineage, and tradition. Bull. So, anyone reading this: if you’d like to be an Hounsi servant to a house that will never give you spirits, take thousands from you, and use your ancestors as fuel, have fun. I’m sure she’ll give you a shout out on Instagram every other year.

Just kidding, she won’t.

But on the subject, Jess, you wrote an entire post about me. The blue chair post. I noticed you deleted it, but I remember it quite well. I almost cried tears of rage. All the beginning of this year, you kept asking me how my company was doing. And every time I told you it was a little rough, you told me I should just pack up and move to New Orleans. And then you wrote that post. An entire post about me, but no mention or tag. Now I know this will come off as bitter, but I want to explain that this bitterness doesn’t come from feeling like I was owed something. This bitterness comes from finding out that you were working my Pot Tet to block and suppress any success in my life unless I moved to New Orleans and worked in your store. I thought I was being paranoid for seeing this in my tarot readings at first. So, I consulted 3 other readers. In each instance, I didn’t tell the reader anything about you or clues to the situation. And each time, the situation was called out with nuance. But let’s pretend that’s all make-believe. As a friend, it honestly hurt me that you knew the amount of help it would’ve meant to give a shout out, and you decided against. Not writing a post at all would’ve been much better. You knew how hard I worked to pay for flights to come see you. Back in March of this year, I literally scrubbed your store floors on my hands and knees after buying a flight to your store, and ubers to and from the airport. I didn’t expect money, but a simple “Thank you” when I left for the airport would’ve been nice. You and Bob weren’t even there when I left. But again; stupid me.

Speaking of how little you thought of me when I finally asked how much I would make if I worked in your store, I was disgusted. You offered me a couch at Julien’s and $13/hr. So here you are advising me to drop my company, leave my family, all to sleep on a couch and work in a store for $13/hr. If you’re paying your employees that now, you should know that activists in multiple states are currently fighting for a living minimum wage of $15. Please pay people a livable wage.

But this goes back to how little you think of others. There’s a discussion about the legitimacy of you calling your company Haus of Hoodoo. You thought this would fade away, but at your own doing this has come back up for you. All because you opened the conversation about lineage and who has a right to practice. This is not your ancestral practice. So, you have always been a guest in Hoodoo, which is fine. You’re not the first and won’t be the last. But to become a gatekeeping authoritative voice is where you’ve crossed the line. You’re doing the same thing in Haitian Vodou. You flip flop on who can and can’t practice, and the ebb and flow seem to coincide with when you need more customers to when you need more legitimacy. You profit off African American spirituality, only to shit on the tradition and glorify Vodou above it. I won't even dive into how your glorification of Haitian culture is just as bad as white fetishization. That’s not my battle to fight. But yes, consider changing your company name to Haus of Vodou or something. You’ve never cared about African American culture. You’ve never talked about anything regarding us, other than so flippantly saying in an interview “its just magic on the fly.” Please, leave our spirituality alone.

And lastly, let's chat about your company. You didn’t think I heard you when you explained your process for the candles. But I heard you loud and clear. You said, “I give people their own magic”. Then I watched your process. You’re giving people wholesale Indio products in nicer branding. The only magic is in the branding though, because through this they’re able to tap into their own power by your projected power (if you’re a customer, re-read that). There is no praying in the candles and oils. There are no passcodes either. You give them nicely prepared wholesale candles. Just be real. Nothing wrong with that but stop creating an air of mystery and power, while shitting on other practitioners. You always told on yourself by how defensive you were and ready to attack practitioners that had anything like your branding. Again, that’s the only place your magic exists. The other major key is how extensive your instructions are. If the candles were powerful on their own, they could be lit at any time of day with a minimal prayer into it. But your instructions are much like a book on general magic. Again, nothing wrong with that. But be real.

At any rate, I won't lie and say I wish you the best. That ship sailed when you decided to keep my Pot Tet after I said I’m not moving to New Orleans. I wish you to be honest. Be honest with yourself and others.

It’s not uncommon for me to receive asks or messages asking me to verify that a particular priest or a particular sosyete is valid/authentic/traditional/etc. By and large, I don’t answer these because it’s not appropriate in that there is no reason for me to comment on a particular person or sosyete. That’s not how you make friends, maintain a religious community, or serve the spirits.

And, there is the truth that, in Haiti and on the island in general, there is variety in practice. I talk a lot about regleman, which is the appropriate order for things, and I talk a lot about what happens when folks just want to grab what they thinks looks cool or spooky for their own purposes (no, Papa Legba is not a cocaine-sniffing demon, no, Ezili Freda does not want to be saluted with twerking). Discernment is a thing, and well-trained priests have it; folks can sniff out fraud versus ‘huh, we don’t do it like that but it makes a lot of sense that other people do it this way’.

This doesn’t mean there isn’t a lot of fraud and fraudulent folks who use the trappings of the religion to make a lot of cash. It happens a lot. A LOT. It happens in Haiti and it happens outside of Haiti. The birth of social media has given folks, legitimate and not, a place to showcase what they do and connect with people whom are seeking the spirits or, conversely, whom the spirits are seeking. It was that for me; I reconnected with an old friend on Facebook after at least 5 years of no contact and, through a series of Very Fortunate Events, found my way to my spiritual mother’s door from there.

Social media has given a platform for fraudulent people to really dig their heels in. Instagram (the platform I love to hate) is particularly awful with this. Folks who have not had exposure or training in the religion see beautiful photos and assume that what they are seeing is true and authentic because it looks like it must be, or someone is a very talented writer and uses generic photos along with compelling, persuasive text. This is not the fault of the folks looking—how can they know?–but the fault squarely of the people trying to trade the sacred for power, adoration, and, often most importantly, cold hard cash.

This reality often brings up a very difficult conversation to have that contains a lot of hard truths: the face of fraud in Haitian Vodou is not always white and birthright (or the presumption of birthright) can be abused.

These two things bring us to the topic at hand: Haus of Hoodoo and the person behind it, Jessyka Winston.

Haus of Hoodoo is a small business that began online selling fixed candles and posting lovely photos. Within the last 6 months or so, a retail location opened in New Orleans. It’s a cute shop (I like all the plants), and she portrays it as doing well.

Where things have gone from cringe-y to whose-child-is-this to ‘you have got to be fucking kidding me’ complete with the sort of strangled laugh that doesn’t come from something funny is around Haitian Vodou.

Let me be really clear: I have been watching this for a good long while, and I didn’t want to say anything for the reasons outlined above and because, quite bluntly, I know this is going to bring a whole lot of unpleasantness to my doorstep. Jessyka likes to flex, and how she flexes is making statements that she feels are intimidating/fear-inspiring, going in on character assassination, and, frankly, talking a whole lot of shit. She threatens sending spirits after someone, with the stated intent that a person will die or be made food, and she spins into this cyclone of nonsense that she thinks leaves her looking authentic and traditional. It doesn’t, and I don’t attach weight to those sorts of things or get scared of them. But, I have known that’s what is in store as soon as this is published and I had to kind of have a talk with myself to make sure I have really been willing to take that on. At this point, I am willing because what has been said is so incredibly untrue and, in some cases, downright harmful or unethical. There are times to be quiet, and there are times to speak. This one of those times to speak.

After the cut, I’m going to lay things out the best I can with the receipts I’ve got and the knowledge I have been blessed to gain. It’s going to be image-heavy and with a lot of text, and there’s a LOT of it.

But, before we get there, it’s important to acknowledge some things upfront:

Haus of Hoodoo/Jessyka Winston is alone in what she is saying. She is not gaining support from anyone and no one is standing up to agree with her. She has been a topic in the Haitian Vodou community for at least a year, and no one has said much of anything to her because, sadly, no one seems to be invested in her.  I really do think this is sad. Haitian Vodou is familial in nature, even across sosyetes and lineages. Folks disagree with each other and argue, but they still come back and call each other sister and brother. She has said she is a part of no community and eschews what community means, but I can’t imagine what it must be like to not have anyone who will either support you because what you are saying is true for your corner, or anyone who cares enough to say ‘hey, I know you mean well but you’re really off-base here. Maybe you should walk it back’. I think this is why she has turned so poisonous. I know I have benefited greatly from a spiritual parent and siblings who have helped me right my course and/or given me a kick in the butt. Not having that is a huge loss and a huge spiritual hole.

I also do not think Jessyka is without redemption. She can change what she is doing and change the current course she has set for herself. While the things she has said will never go away, she can take responsibility for the inaccuracies she is spreading, the outright disrespect she is showing to Haitians and the people who made it possible for her to even have contact with the religion, and the harm she is inflicting. With the lwa, there is always a chance to do things differently. The function of community, in this moment, is to call out the hurt and harm she is spreading, and to call her in so that she may come back to center and work on repairing not only what she has perpetuated but work repairing herself as well.

(Quick note, some of the image formatting is weird and some images are darker than others. If you are having trouble reading something, let me know. I regret that I cannot caption each one. Additionally, I have removed the actual photos from the images for time and bandwidth)