The conjuring of America Mojos, mermaids, medicine, and 400 years of Black women's magic

If you've ever slathered on Vicks VapoRub, breakfasted on Aunt Jemima pancakes, or sipped a cold Coca Cola, you have a Black conjure woman to thank. Each of these billion-dollar products was based on traditional knowledge of roots and plants that enslaved African Americans used to ensure good health and add flavor to lives of oppression. Stewart traces the history of conjure from West African orisha mythology that was carried across the ocean by slave ships and transplanted to the rural South. The blend of spirituality and traditional-roots knowledge influenced healthcare, midwifery, cooking, hairstyles, and even textiles; all-American blue jeans began with enslaved indigo workers. Stewart makes some startling connections, tracing the rise of anti-abortion laws to white plantation owners determined to keep their enslaved women producing as many new workers as possible. Their work criminalized, some conjure midwives took their knowledge underground to Black hair salons, where stylists were often the first to recognize health problems. Stewart's lively and informative guide sheds much-needed light on the power and beauty of Black female traditions.

This enlightening cultural history of "conjure" from political philosopher Stewart (The Politics of Black Joy) tracks the magical folk tradition practiced by Black women in America from slavery to the present day. As Stewart explains, conjure is "a mix of spiritual beliefs, herbal rituals, and therapeutic practices" brought to America by enslaved Africans and shaped by Black "conjure women" over centuries. Among Stewart's aims is to demonstrate that conjure has had a wide-ranging and unacknowledged impact on American culture, including everyday products like Vicks VapoRub, an herbal recipe stolen from an enslaved woman by a former master, and the indigo used to create blue jeans, cultivated and popularized by conjure women (indigo was used not just for dyeing textiles but as a birth control method to help prevent enslaved women being impregnated by their masters). As the narrative spans from excavating archetypes like the "mammy" and the "voodoo queen" to historical figures like Marie Laveau, a 19th-century New Orleans herbalist and midwife who would help her clients outwit men, it can grow repetitive, though this has an air of intentionality (images of knotting and weaving are most often repeated). Above all, this succeeds as giving readers the feeling that they're being let in on an ancient secret. It's a delight. (July)

A celebration of Black magic. Black feminist philosopher Stewart examines how magic has shaped Black experience in America by tracing the transformations of the conjure woman from the Negro Mammy during slavery to the Candy Lady, a revered elder in Black communities during the Civil Rights Movement. Powerful figures in Blacks' battles against racism and sexism, conjure women have inhabited many roles, among them, healers, spiritual guides, midwives and abortion providers, weavers and quilters, hairdressers, and cooks. Enslaved African women brought their ancestors' use of natural medicine to the plantation, where Negro Mammies applied methods that were noninvasive and boosted the immune system, far different from medical doctors' bloodletting and purging. Among one Negro Mammy's remedies was a salve containing turpentine, which cleared airways so effectively it was sought after by whites, including one Southern man who made a fortune marketing it as Vicks VapoRub. In antebellum New Orleans, the Voodoo Queen was central to a community of free women of color who worshiped mermaids. Associated with rebellion and vengeance, Voodoo Queens inspired fear in their white neighbors. Stewart traces the connections of conjure to Aunt Jemima (whose image derived from a minstrel act), the invention of the blues, and even the creation of blue jeans, first made and worn by enslaved people and sewn from "negro cloth," dyed with the West African plant indigo. Conjure emerges in the art of hairdressers, in cooks whose soul food has the power to bring good luck, and in quilters who designed "busy patterns" in their blankets to distract spirits that brought bad luck. Stewart melds personal reflections, African mythology, and abundant primary sources, most notably interviews conducted by the Federal Writers' Project, to create a brisk, spirited narrative. An entertaining, informative contribution to Black history. Copyright (c) Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.