Kindred “Dana” (2022)

Sis, the pilot had my spirit guides on Slack mode: pings, whistles, whole ancestral storm. One minute, Dana’s flirting in 2016 L.A.; next, she’s soaked on a Maryland plantation—nose bleeding like a portal notification. I felt the whiplash in my solar plexus, and we just got started.

• Newly relocated NYC-to-L.A. writer Dana James sells her Brownstone, chases Hollywood dreams, and meets Kevin, a low-key, cute waiter with vintage-soul playlist energy.

• Reality glitch: mid-date, she’s yanked to 1815 Maryland and saves a drowning white boy (Rufus Weylin). Nosebleed signals her return home.

• Three yo-yo jumps later, we learn the boy is Dana’s slave-owning ancestor, and surprise: Dana’s mother, Olivia—thought dead—is alive in the past.

• Plantation patrol assault cues Mama-bear Olivia to crack skulls; Dana snaps back to L.A., clawing Kevin in sheer terror. 

#Cinematography Moment

The cold-blue LEDs of Dana’s empty Los Feliz bungalow dissolve into candle-lit sepia tones of the Weylin nursery. That palette switch isn’t just pretty—it’s a timeline gut-check: the present feels sterile but “safe,” the past thick with dust, flame, and danger we can taste.

Metaphysical & Spiritual Tea

Time-travel here isn’t whimsical sci-fi; it’s ancestral summons. Rufus’s near-death vibrations drag Dana back because lineage must survive. The nosebleed? A third-eye alarm bell telling her she’s straddling planes too fast. Olivia’s presence proves that mother wounds don’t die; they time-loop until healed.

Watching Dana get called a “haint” and “n—ger” within minutes of arrival underlines how Black bodies shift from visible to hyper-visible across centuries. Same violence, new avatars. Kindred frames slavery not as dusty history but as live code still running—algorithmic racism patch-update 2025.

Personal Reflection

As a Black woman walking this 2025 timeline, I recognized Dana’s split-screen reality: chasing liberation while haunted by inherited trauma. My body tensed when that patrolman grabbed her—ancestral PTSD hitting my nervous system like déjà-vu. Yet seeing Olivia wield that rock reminded me: Matriarchs protect portals.

Journal Prompt for Readers:

Where in your life are you time-jumping, reacting from old survival scripts instead of current safety? Name one ritual to ground yourself in the present.