Tropical Gothic Sunday

Because of the astrological influence of Mercury conjunct Chiron as of this Wednesday, I thought delving into some familial heritage in written form could be healing. We all come into world with stories and traumas. I like telling the stories that have been passed down, and I enjoy listening to others as well. I’m currently reading the book The Haunting of Alejandra, a folk-horror novel about generational trauma told through the Mexican legend of La Llorona. This has inspired me to share a little about my own familial history.

I have shared bits through the years often about my paternal great grandmother, Florence Consuelo Dubus (Harvey). She was Scottish/Ashkenazi Jewish born in Philadelphia, but spent the first 21 years of her life living in Mexico, primarily Mexico City. What my family was up to there is still a bit of a mystery, to me anyway. The elder family members who knew all the details are long gone, and I was too young to absorb it when they were still living. But many of the stories of this paternal lineage made their way, and I often cling to them when I am feeling restless, or lonely even. Florence’s father, Charles, was befriended by Pancho Villa, and during the Mexican Revolution he hid my family in a traditional home hidden from the streets for an entire year. It is assumed their friendship stemmed from the card tables, and it was told my great-great grandfather was known to have killed a man in self defense at said tables. Perhaps this is the real reason Pancho hid my family for a year as the dust settled. My great grandmother was an only child to Gertrude and Charles, which might have made this transitory lifestyle a bit easier for that time period. As a young woman, she met a young man named Calvin in Havana, Cuba who was from New Orleans. Charles’ father, Samuel, had renounced his American passport and became a Cuban citizen. He had been the mayor of Pensacola, Florida and had decided Cuban lifestyle was better fit for himself. This was at the turn of the century and he clearly had enough privilege to make those decisions, a choice that your average American could not make today. So while visiting her grandfather Samuel, Florence meets Calvin (who was on holiday), they become engaged and Florence agrees to start her family in New Orleans. From Tampico Mexico she boards a ship, sails to New Orleans in 1921, and starts her family. My grandmother (Consuelo Florence) was born in New Orleans, but her sister was born back in Mexico. For some reason, the couple and their baby sailed back to Mexico to have their second daughter (Gertrude), perhaps she wanted her mother Gertrude present. It must have been difficult to start a family in a new country without any of one’s own family present. She was both American and Mexican. She lived in Mexico from less than a year old until the age of 21. She spoke Spanish and English both as first languages, but culturally, she was more familiar with Mexico. Calvin’s family immigrated to New Orleans from Paris. It might have been difficult getting used to living with Frenchmen. Calvin’s grandfather was a judge, so maybe they were uptight. Perhaps more uptight than your parents playing cards with Pancho Villa and him letting you ride his white horse.

I bridge this story with the book I am currently reading into a Tropical Gothic theme, because many years ago, my aunt called me while channeling my great grandmother Florence (in Florence’s’ voice😵‍💫), and she told me a few things. She gave me some pretty straightforward directions on changes I needed to make in my life and then hung up. I called my aunt the next day, totally confused, and she said, yeah…that was your great grandma and she told me that you’d be the next one in the family to channel. I let that sink in then, and while visiting New Orleans several years ago, I probed her a bit more on the topic, but ultimately set it back down because I have no deep feelings or attachments to thinking that I have that ability. But I’m also grateful to have received that direction, as it helped shape where I am today, rather than where I was when I received the message. It fuels my Tropical Gothic Spirit and keeps me coming back for more stories about my family and their travels. I find this form of escaping to and through the past healing primarily because it reconnects me to where I come from. It helps me persevere and carry on. Some days I need to remind myself it’s not all about growth and progress. There doesn’t have to be an end goal. I am enough, and so are you. So are the unhoused folks I sit next to on the city bus everyday on my way to work. I hope they find the healing they may desire from their ancestors to guide them off that bus and into a new world, if that is their wish. I hope they remain safe and cared for. These stories also remind me where I get my paternally and maternally inherited wanderlust. Not only in having the drive to see new ways of living, and living amongst different types of people, but in the attraction of being amongst revolutionaries such as Pancho Villa.

Now, I know you’re not going to hop a plane and head to Veracruz anytime soon, but if you do, check out Maison Courturier. It’s a French Colonial hotel rehabilitated by an amazing group, and very Trop Goth. Please take me with you. The beach is a close drive or bike ride away, but the river is very close. I am a river girl. Rivers are what keeps us alive.

I also know I was going to share about all the trees my partner just put in the ground this past week and how the bees are doing. It’s coming! Today needed to be about escaping to and through the past. Because, I am an escapist. ❤️🦊