african spirituality is demonic?

Growing up, whenever I heard the name Mami Wata, it was always in a negative context. “Beware of Mami Wata,” they would say. I never thought to question why that was, why something so rooted in African culture was treated like a threat. It wasn’t until recently, as I started deconstructing Christianity, that I stopped to think about it. Why is it that so much of our own mythology and spirituality has been demonized?

Then I came across this Tik Tok:

@adeche.atelierPeople always ask us why we started looking into African mythology, folklore and religions and here’s why! So, if you’re curious about African pantheons, religions, and history, you’re in the right place✨ If mythology, folklore, and legends make you uncomfortable…especially African ones then feel free to keep scrolling. Buuut if you can watch Death Note, Spirited Away, Avengers, Percy Jackson, or literally anything Disney then stay, learn and let’s have a conversation! And if you believe in the importance of knowing your culture and heritage, but somehow draw the line at African traditional religions and mythology… or if you think only post-colonial narratives are worth learning - there’s some unpacking to do before you pass that mindset forward 💛 Side note: we’re so happy to have our American friends back in here 🥹❤️ #africanmythology #mythologyart #folklore

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Which sparked this note:

I've noticed a recurring trend within the Christian community: anything they don’t understand is often labeled as “evil” or “demonic.” Yoga, astrology, meditation, manifestation, anything outside of their framework is treated like a threat.

We know so much about the folklore of other cultures—Greek gods, Norse legends, even Celtic mythology. But when it comes to African mythology, it’s met with fear or dismissed entirely. Why is that?

To a certain extent, I get it. Many of our elders have experienced the harmful sides of these practices firsthand. The pain and harm they’ve witnessed are real, and that’s something we need to respect. But I don’t think that should stop us from asking questions and learning more. If we don’t, this knowledge will die with them. Our ancestral practices and stories will disappear, leaving us with nothing but watered-down, colonial versions of who we are.

Of course, not everything about these practices was perfect, just as no religion or ideology is free of flaws. But dismissing them outright without nuance means losing the opportunity to separate what was harmful from what was meaningful.

It’s dangerous to write off this curiosity about our roots as “demonic.” I think we need to ask ourselves some hard questions. Why are we so afraid of ideologies that our own ancestors practiced? Who benefits when we distance ourselves from our roots? Who taught us that our traditions, our history, are something to fear?

I’m not claiming to be an expert on the history of Christianity or religion in Africa, but what I will say is this: Christianity didn’t arrive here in a vacuum. It came through colonization, and with it came an intentional effort to erase and replace. Practices and beliefs that had sustained us for centuries were suddenly framed as barbaric or evil, and that narrative still lingers today. It’s so deeply ingrained in us that even questioning it feels like a betrayal.

Colonialism didn’t just frame our practices as barbaric; it systematically erased them through policies, education, and religious conversion. What’s left today are fragments of those traditions, often viewed through a lens of fear or misunderstanding.

But here’s the thing: if we never question, how do we grow? How do we reclaim the parts of ourselves that we’ve been told to abandon? How do we pass on a full, honest version of our history to the next generation?

While I’m still figuring out what Christianity and spirituality look like for me, one thing is clear: it’s hypocritical for a group of people who claim to be loving and judgment-free to demonize those who want to explore their heritage or learn about their culture. Even if you have no plans to practice African spirituality, what harm is there in learning about it? Education isn’t dangerous. Ignorance is.

Something Christians often fail to understand is that religious belief is a choice. People are allowed to decide how they want to engage with Christianity, or if they want to engage with it at all. We’re all on our own journeys. If someone chooses to ignore their roots, that’s their decision. But shaming others for wanting to reconnect with theirs? That’s not love.

At the end of the day, this isn’t just about spirituality, it’s about identity. Colonialism didn’t just take our resources; it took our sense of self. And if we don’t know who we are, how do we move forward? How do we heal?

Reclaiming our stories and our practices doesn’t mean rejecting Christianity; it means acknowledging the full picture of who we are. It means asking questions, digging deeper, and refusing to let fear and shame dictate how we see ourselves.

Our mythology and spirituality are not just about rituals; they’re about storytelling, creativity, and identity. They can inspire art, literature, and new ways of connecting with each other. By exploring them, we’re not just reclaiming the past—we’re enriching the present.

So if we’re allowed to learn about Zeus and Poseidon in school, why can’t we learn about Mami Wata or Oshun? Why can’t we honor the history and spirituality of our own ancestors? There’s nothing wrong with being curious, nothing wrong with wanting to know the truth. Because the truth is, the more we understand about where we come from, the closer we get to understanding who we really are.

If you’re interested in learning more about African spirituality, folklore, & mythology, check out this TikTok account: @adeche.atelier. Their content provides an insightful look into these traditions, helping you gain a deeper understanding and appreciate the rich cultural heritage they aim to preserve and share.