The feminine power within the logic of the orixás is revered and seen as a central, vital force in the structure of the Universe. In African-rooted religions such as Candomblé and Umbanda, the female orixás are figures of wisdom, creation, and protection. They care for the home, go to war, and work. They dance, experience pleasures, and live through profound sorrows. They gather in secret societies, and also decide the paths of society. They are complex ancestors who challenge the patriarchal logic imposed on women.

These orixás play essential roles in the lives of their devotees, who honor them to strengthen our capacity to be fertile, creative, and sensitive beings—and also in gratitude for life itself. After all, nothing exists without water, and we barely survive a single day without it. So, an orixá who rules over the waters can only be immense. To honor her, let us speak of Yemanjá, queen of the seas and mother of all heads.

In the exercise of connecting natural phenomena to orixás, we can highlight that the sea is vital for regulating the planet’s climate, distributing heat and absorbing polluting gases that mitigate the effects of climate change. The sea is also a source of biodiversity and has ecosystems that are essential for health, sustainable technology, and planetary renewal. It feeds humanity, as billions of people depend on fishing, and also enables many to make it a great partner in work—through tourism, maritime transport, fishing, and trade.

Its waves are best friends to many children and adults who enjoy coastal fun. Another important point about the sea is its therapeutic function. A dip in the ocean renews our strength almost instantly. Moreover, the sea makes us reflect on the scale of our existence: if you want to be a drop, join the sea; if you try to defy it, you will be swallowed by its waves.

A powerful story that helps us reflect on Yemanjá—known as the keeper of the home and great mother of all orixás—happened when one of her sons dared to challenge her authority.

She reprimanded him, but he continued defying her. At first, the orixá dismissed his impudence, pretending not to notice. For his own good, he should have stopped there; he would have been called to attention later, but without much conflict.

But his insistence started to irritate her. And Yemanjá, although known for her protective nature, would not tolerate disobedience in her domain. She would not allow a son to treat his mother’s house and waters with disrespect.

As her irritation grew, Yemanjá began to expand—larger and larger. Eventually, her waves became furious, and even the sky changed color.

She confronted the orixá with the force of a tsunami, showing that her patience had limits. With her authority, she put him in his place, asserting that in her house, she was the supreme ruler. Her wrath nearly drowned the orixá until, in desperation, he recognized his mistake. From that moment on, he honored and respected Yemanjá’s position, and her authority was never challenged again.

Beyond illustrating Yemanjá’s leadership, this itã (a sacred tale) teaches us a lot about the patience of the sea—which can only be tested up to a certain point. Once the disrespect toward its dwelling becomes unbearable, its fury is absolutely destructive. The sea—fierce and ancient—rises to sweep away the disrespectful until harmony is restored.

I reflected on this story last week, upon seeing the news that the Secretary-General of the United Nations, António Guterres, issued a warning. Backed by extensive research attesting to the rise in sea levels due to the melting of polar ice caps, he stated that a global-scale catastrophe is underway, with entire countries disappearing and enormous impacts—Brazil included.

Clearly, the sea can no longer bear so much human interference and irresponsibility. It’s past time we understood our place.

Originally published in Folha de S. Paulo, on August 15, 2024.

Image created with AI