Amir Interview Sam Villarreal

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Relationship, Community, Identity in the NM Pueblos

Professor Villarreal
Fall 2024

Getting to Know You


Ta’Von Amir

Answer the following questions in any way you feel comfortable and feel will be useful to the
class and yourself (e.g., through text, video, audio). The one thing I ask is that you give
meaningful thought to your answers and produce at least two paragraph’s worth for each
question.

1. How would you describe yourself at this point in your life? Be broad, providing some

specific examples.

At this point in my life, I am leaning into the possibilities that spring from

authenticity. I am practicing more intentionality, more quiet, more

spontaneity. I keep myself on my toes, and I harvest comfort in discomfort.

Accepting myself and my positionality in my life has been hard work.

Before, it was easier to live in the confidence of fear and the dysfunction of

feigned ignorance because I wasn’t conscious of many fundamental facets

of life (and didn’t want to be). I want to be conscious and practice

participating in life intentionally now because there are people who have

shown me life can be worth living, who show me that there is joy left for me

to experience. I want to know, embrace, and express who I am

to continue knitting this thread of beauty.


2. Share about the world (your world) you were born into (e.g., family, location, culture,

belief and value systems).

I was born by the banks of a great river, close to a bay where freshwater

meets salt waters, in what is now called Portsmouth, Virginia. My mother

Shantel was impregnated with me right after she had just turned 17. My

father Galen was 21. I would come to be born in 2002 on December 31st. My

mother met my step-father around 2008 when I was about 6 years old, and

through him she gave birth to my sister Tereena Amira in 2011. I was raised

by my mother, my grandmother Monique, my step-father Gregory, and my

grandfather Tanner.

While I have discovered I come from a lineage of musicians on my father’s

side, it is my mom and my grandmother who– whether through gospel

songs or hip-hop– handed me their love for music. I picked up cello in 2012,

but traded it for the double bass sound in 2014.

My family values the arts and education, and, after having my sister, my

mom dreamed of going to get her degree. Before actualizing her desires, my

mom transitioned out of this earthly realm in late 2016. Earlier that year, I

won a literary competition and performed my first reading ever with my

poem “They Can’t Win” which was published in a local magazine.


3. What/who put you on the path to wanting to attend college?

Initially, I wanted to attend college because it was what my mom wanted. I

told myself that my reasons had to do with accessing therapy and healing,

but there was also an underlying, subconscious inclination to preserve the

life of my mom because of my difficulty in accepting her death. I thought

that I could give my mom love and keep her alive by pursuing her dreams,

but, in the end, I found that didn’t provide sustenance for myself.

I have been reflecting on the fact that though on the surface I may have

pursued college because of someone else, college was an option for me to

choose because it is something I did work for, and it is something I enjoy.

Through all the meandering curves of life, I have made my undergraduate

career a truly unique experience– and I did this for me.

4. Why did you choose your degree program? What are you seeking to get and give during

your time in college?

I chose to pursue and create an undergraduate degree program in

Metaphysical Arts because the field of metaphysical studies holds in it

knowledge that numerous Indigenous peoples and African American

persons have generated for many centuries. Within the metaphysical realm

is the technology that enabled these folks to survive inhumane and

supernatural violence (like settler colonialism or plantation colonialism),


which is the same technology that sustained and supported them before the

invention of coloniality.

In this experience, I hope I am giving possibilities of hope and longevity to

voices which seek to uplift the vitality of the metaphysical, of the holistic

human being. I hope I help give space to imagine, to be, and to worldbuild

in the crux of institution-mandated devastation. I hope I help give the

beginning of the end of an era wherein dominant narratives often exclude,

silence, and dismiss Traditional Indigenous knowledge— particularly as it

pertains to the metaphysical.

During my time in college, I hope I get the needed amount of light, sweet

water, space, and all other conditions that enable me to grow healthily and

in abundance. I want to get unexpected reasons to smile, and more good

reasons to stay alive. I want to get something so pleasurable for me that I

don’t have words to describe. And I want to get a stable and comfortable

foundation that will take me far in my personal passions and ambitions.

5. Prior to our discussions around ideas of “Community” in class so far, how would you

define this term? What do you feel informs your definition of this concept?

My conceptualization of what constitutes community revolved around what

I saw on TV and read in books and intuitively felt before taking the class

“Relationship, Community, Identity in the NM Pueblos”. Sharing a kitchen

sink with the folks I learn with has really given a new light to how I now see
community. I don’t believe it’s about who you don’t like or with whom you’ll

split a piece of cake. I believe community is an acknowledgement of the

interconnectedness of a people who choose to belong to a particular place.

When I can acknowledge that interconnectedness, I lean into a knowing:

everyone in that place is valuable and important because they exist. Period.

And like Kelsey Dayle John asserts in …Why silencing the horse is so

important to the settler project, human beings often aren’t the only persons

in any given community.

6. Do you consider yourself to be a member of a specific community? If so, tell me a little

about it (if you belong to multiple, choose the one that’s on your mind most often). What

do you believe or know makes you a member? What does it mean to be a member?

In my ile or spiritual home, the water is a community member. I joined Ìjọ

Ifá Ògúndá Másá, my ile, in the spring semester of my college junior year. I

know I am a member of this community because of the ceremonial cycles I

have gone through, like receiving my hand of Ifá or Isefa.

Being a part of this community that is housed in Baltimore, Maryland

means many things, but most central is learning the Traditional ways of the

Ifá worldview, and following the practices of the Iśeśe Lágbà tradition as

practiced in Yorubaland. In my community, there is an emphasis on


developing faith and absorbing Ifá’s messages in order to be benevolent,

responsible, and successful people. And, temple gatherings are open to all–

members and non-members!

7. What is something (e.g., a belief or practice) that helps ground you and brings you back

to your center or on your chosen path?

When it comes to tools that help to center me, there are a couple that, to be

honest, I have only recently started getting serious about implementing

again. Singing from my body (not my head) and with movement is really

grounding for me. It helps me feel present, in good company, and like I am

bringing life to parts of myself– physical and otherwise– that had felt stuck

or numb.

Da’fa– Ifá divination– is another tool that helps me to find my way when I

feel like I need help centering myself on my path. In particular, I often find

myself receiving ikin Ifá divination to help guide my way lately. Knowing

that I have support– visible and invisible– helps to keep me going strong.

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