28 February 2025
Roots to Fruit
A Black Psychedelic Liberation
By Pamela Roundtree
MAPS Bulletin: Volume XXXIV
Being Black in America means living in a constant state of vigilance. We are always watching our backs, listening for microaggressions, and bracing for both subtle and overt acts of racism. Our Blackness, its richness and complexity, is treated as an open target for attack by the police, politicians, and those in society who, lacking the culture or opportunity to rise into the upper class, direct their hatred toward us. Whether we are highly educated or struggling financially, our worth is reduced to the color of our skin.
Malcolm X once stated, “You can’t hate the roots of a tree and not hate the tree. You can’t hate the blackness in a person and not hate the person. Even if you’re a lawyer in a Mercedes-Benz, you’re still a [expletive deleted] in a coupe.” These words ring true: no amount of success can shield us from the racism that is rooted in our very identity.
For me, navigating the world as a Black, Queer woman means carrying the weight of racism, homophobia, and misogyny every day. It means finding ways to protect myself from these intersecting forms of oppression. Even in spaces I expect to be safe.
When I was first introduced to plant medicines, I believed I had finally found a community of like-minded individuals who sought healing. I was finally among people open to feeling, growing, and becoming better versions of themselves. I had no reason to believe that racism, homophobia, or misogyny would infiltrate this space.
But it did.
I lost count of the times, after ceremonies, when I heard phrases like, “I’m so sorry my ancestors did that to your ancestors,” or my personal favorite (yes, sarcasm intended), “Thank you for being so strong during the ceremony. When I needed strength, I looked to you.” In those moments, I couldn’t help but feel a sting because my intention for the ceremony was no different from anyone else’s: to seek answers, understand our human experience, connect with myself, and experience quantum growth. I also did not sign up to endure microaggressions aimed at my identity or history, especially in a space that prides itself on being “safe and open,” but I soon learned these spaces were still operating within the margins of white supremacy.
If you’re Black and reading this, I invite you to pause and reflect: How many times have you heard similar phrases, or felt that faint yet unmistakable undertone of “How did you get here?”
Roots To Fruit (R2F) is a sanctuary for Black people in psychedelics, offering a space to embrace our identities authentically. We envision it as an overground railroad, symbolized by the Water Jug—a symbol of refuge, acceptance, and nonjudgment. Here, we are free to express ourselves however we need: through tears, laughter, silence, or words. We are here to heal together.
To be fair, I can’t fully fault people for wondering why I’m here. Let’s be honest, in my mind, the use of psychedelics was for white people. The first time I heard about Huachuma and Ayahuasca, it was my assumption that they were white vices. But why do we, as Black people, think this way? For starters, the War on Drugs aggressively targeted Black communities, decimating families. Historically, medical institutions have used our bodies as guinea pigs without our consent, showing no care or remorse for the generational effects of their experiments. Unethical medical trials were performed on incarcerated Black people at Holmesburg Prison in Philadelphia from the 1950s through the 1970s. In Medical Apartheid: The Dark History of Medical Experimentation on Black Americans, Harriet A. Washington details various crimes. And we all know about the infamous Tuskegee Syphilis Experiment. We have enough historical trauma to rightfully mistrust and so we don’t eagerly run toward anything outside the comfort of our communities.
I’ve spent six years journeying to the mountains and deserts of Ecuador and Mexico, including Maria Sabina’s village, seeking deeper knowledge. After years of working with plant medicines, I decided to come above ground and attend conferences. I felt it was time to create a space where Black people in psychedelics could feel safe, valued, heard, and respected. We were there, I knew that much, but the question was: How can we gather in a centralized location?
The answer started to crystallize as I studied the work of brilliant Black researchers and scientists such as Ayize Everett, Courtney Watson, Dr. Darron T. Smith, Hanifa Nayo Washington, Jamilah R. George, Leticia Brown, Mary Sanders, Reggie Harris, and Sara Reed. Their scientific insights into how plant medicines impacted the entire body and how we could heal our trauma were a revelation. Armed with this knowledge and my personal experience, I sought to connect with my tribe.
My first psychedelic conference was Chacruna Institute’s Queering Psychedelics in April 2023. I connected with the Black psychedelic community in Oakland, but something felt off when leaving the conference. In June 2023, I attended MAPS’ Psychedelic Science 2023 (PS23), and clarity arrived: On a larger scale, Black people in psychedelics don’t have a dedicated space to just be Black. Not BIPOC, but Black! Yes, we have pockets of community in Oakland and Detroit, but where is our unified space to meet and to see, “Who else is here like me?” BIPOC encompasses individuals who identify as Latinae, Asian, Middle Eastern, Pacific Islander, or multi-ethnic, and while BIPOC spaces are undeniably important, Black spaces hold a unique significance. They provide a safe haven where we can communicate in a language uniquely our own, allowing our culture, our swag, and our lived experiences to be expressed freely, unapologetically, and without reservation.
That idea of creating a Black Psychedelic community wouldn’t leave my mind or heart. I shared the vision with others during the week, but the responses were indifferent until I met Luka at PS23. I shared the vision, and she was onboard to support the launch of Roots To Fruit (R2F)—A Black Psychedelic Liberation. We held our first gathering in October 2023, and it was a beautiful time. Everyone showed up to that space: from lawyers, MDs, PhDs, scientists, researchers, novices, to my fellow underground folks.
Roots To Fruit (R2F) is a sanctuary for Black people in psychedelics, offering a space to embrace our identities authentically. We envision it as an overground railroad, symbolized by the Water Jug—a symbol of refuge, acceptance, and nonjudgment. Here, we are free to express ourselves however we need: through tears, laughter, silence, or words. We are here to heal together.
Healing for Black people is a unique journey, rooted in our inherent Magic and Power. Society has often failed to see or appreciate our power, but we no longer seek validation from the outside world. At R2F, we validate ourselves.
Our gatherings, kickbacks, retreats, and conferences are for us, by us, and with us, creating a community where our Blackness, our Magic, our Power, our Joy, and our Accomplishments are celebrated. We uphold the principle of Do No Harm, grounded in love, truth, and understanding. If harm occurs, we lead with active listening and engage in restorative justice practices.
Though R2F is still in its early stages, we’ve already held gatherings, events, and retreats in Atlanta and Harlem, strengthening bonds, sharing knowledge, and building community. Our Signal chat is alive with ongoing communication, discussions, articles, and job postings. Moving forward, we aim to strengthen our support for the community, providing honorariums so that financial barriers will not prevent Black academics from attending conferences. When there are retreats where the intention is for Black bodies to be safe, we want to offer scholarships. If there’s research that needs an extra $50,000 to be successful, we want to have the resources to say, “Here you go.” We want to ensure that when conferences are happening and Black people are attending, we have the capacity to hold a gathering within that city or state, and we all know there’s a safe space to just be, with the water jug on the porch as the symbol.
A Black Psychedelic Liberation is not a request or ask; this is retribution, our reparations. This is our privilege and birthright. These medicines were always part of us. When our ancestors used aloe to soothe burns, made hemp oil for aches, or gathered roots in the forest to brew healing teas, they too were doing plant medicine. We are remembering and reclaiming what is inherently ours.
Welcome to the Black Psychedelic Liberation. This is for us, by us, and with us.
Pamela Roundtree
Pamela’s journey into the world of Psychedelic Plant Medicines began in 2018, when she first sat with Shamans in the heart of the deep woods, gathered around the fire for sacred night ceremonies. Her initiation came through the Grandfather Plant, Huachuma. For two years, she sat in quiet contemplation, diligently healing the wounds of her childhood, confronting past traumas, and working through unresolved issues with her father.
In 2021, Pamela embarked on a transformative journey across South America, dedicating six months to immerse herself in the teachings of the Grandmother Plant, Ayahuasca. During this time, she listened, learned, and deepened her connection to the wisdom of the plants. Later that year, the mushrooms called to her, delivering a powerful message: “You are to serve us.” Initially, she resisted this call. Serving medicine had never been part of her intention when she first sipped from the cup in 2018. But as many who walk this path know, the call of the medicine cannot be ignored for long.
By December 2021, Pamela began serving mushrooms to Black women, with a clear vision: to facilitate healing for Black Bodies. Her work was rooted in the belief that the collective healing of Black women was not just possible, but essential.
In June 2022, Pamela traveled to Oaxaca, Mexico, to deepen her relationship with the sacred mushrooms, visiting the village where the legendary Maria Sabina once harvested her medicine. This experience further enriched her understanding and connection to the plant.
Pamela views this journey as a never-ending cycle of growth and learning, one that continuously propels her upward into new realms of wisdom and healing.
