‘sage (witch two)’
— Nix Thérèse
During my ten-day residency in Santiago de Cuba, I found myself largely relieved that I didn’t have to consider the 4th of July in any real way. Premade holidays, especially nationalist ones, leave me with the feeling that I’m not present enough. How do you protect your energy when someone’s seemingly asking for an allegiance you can’t give?
I woke up early that morning, watching fog roll across the mountainscape, and hearing Be Steadwell’s ‘sage (witch two)’ flare at the back of my head. It’s easily one of the catchiest pop songs I’ve heard this year, yet the chorus is pretty somber in its declaration of how the speaker shields themself: “I lit a sage when you walked in / ‘cause I have no idea where you’ve been, what kind of energy you conjurin’, what kind of spells you be castin’.” The power of the you is dangerous simply because it’s not fully brought to light. In these moments that lack clarity, Be asks us to evaluate who’s bringing bad energy into our spaces, how we plan to ward them off, and what we can arm ourselves with. What’s your hypothetic sage?
I’ll admit that sometimes I feel mad guilt for defending myself, but Be reminds me that protection doesn’t always mean laying blame. Sometimes it’s just a balm, holding yourself close and grounding in the present. A “let me exist in this space alone for a minute because I know how easy it is to be pulled out of my orbit.” This song feels like the deep breath before the plunge. You have to widen the lungs so you can take in new sweet air and settle back into yourself again. Here, we’re definitely worth cleansing.