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About a year ago, while scrolling Instagram I bucked up on a post about a notable revolt led by enslaved Blacks in Cuba, 1825 I believe. Immediately, I started to imagine my great grandfather, Eliazer McFarlane, a man physically unknown to this side of his descendants.    Proud, excited and curious, I left a comment sharing the bit I know of our Cuban ancestry. That my grandfather was born in Cuba and left speaking childlike Spanish- to return during his bout of dementia, that his mother was a migrant worker in Cuba where she and Eliazer manifested my favorite Bull, and that Eliazer likely/definitely had...

Slow fashion, sustainability, textiles as life, home as a sanctuary, family traditions, thriving in the interior design and fashion industry as a black Rastafarian woman in Boston; these are just a few of the realities we will share in our monthly blog entitled, “Talk di ting!” Nothing is off topic so as it pertains to the truth of growing, establishing, sustaining and executing the values and mission of House of Tafari Collection, and the advancement of our community.

Two plaits bound in satin ribbon, 10 year old Imani was eager to finally cross the ocean beyond the hovering line that separated her from her young mother. 1,700 miles plus four years felt like an eternity. Familiar with the essence of travel through her deep dives into barrels packed with white dolly babies, toy trucks, frocks and pretty socks dusted with the protective stench of moth balls, in 1972 Imani and her siblings would finally join their mother at Brookledge St.  Their transition is one best understood by those who have lived it. The story of her family was...

Back in the day, Imani would host the most memorable Kwanzaa's. My brothers and I deep cleaned to lover’s rock and roots & culture as we had been conditioned. Day 5 of the celebration, Imani began early preparation of the karamu- large enough for leftovers. On day 6, once gathered friends and family recited the day’s principle, passing the unity cup and pouring libations for those who have gone before us. The calling of names were always long, a remembrance of those lost to age, dis-ease and violence. The most capable elder or child proceeded to light the candle of...