Is Egypt Ours?

For years, many of us have looked to Egypt to find our worth. The skin matched. The statues looked familiar. The architecture was brilliant. And in a world that taught us we came from slavery and nothing else, Egypt became a way to reclaim our dignity. We needed something ancient. Something powerful. Something beautiful.

But here’s the truth:
Egypt was never ours.
Not spiritually. Not prophetically. Not by covenant.

Yes, the Egyptians were melanated.
Yes, they were brilliant builders and master astronomers.
Yes, they left a legacy of intelligence and power.

But they were also descendants of Ham, not Shem.
They did not serve Yahuah.
They served the gods of the fallen; the same ones Yahuah told us to never bow to.

They were not our ancestors.
They were our enslavers.

The Bible tells us plainly: we were the ones in chains.
The ones forced into labor.
The ones who cried out to Yahuah for deliverance.
And He answered, not by raising us into Egyptian royalty, but by calling us out through Moses.

That’s why it’s so dangerous to romanticize Egypt now.

Many of us have unknowingly returned to the same spiritual system Yahuah rescued us from—through crystals, sun worship, ancestor altars, and Egyptian symbolism disguised as Black empowerment. We wear the ankh and speak of goddesses, not realizing we’ve traded one form of bondage for another.

But hear this: Egypt may not be our legacy but greatness still is.

Because while we weren’t the kings of Egypt…
We were kings here in the Americas.

We built cities.
We mapped the stars.
We governed in peace.
We lived in harmony with the land.
We farmed, healed, studied, and led.
We were the copper-skinned people written of in ancient journals and forgotten maps.

Our civilizations were vast.
Our libraries were full.
Our knowledge was sacred.

And when the colonizers arrived, they didn’t find savages.
They found kingdoms and they burned them to the ground.

The same people who told us we were nothing erased the evidence that we were everything.
Not as pharaohs but as the remnant of Israel, walking in greatness on this land, in covenant with Yahuah.

You don’t need Egypt to feel powerful.
You don’t need Kemet to feel holy.
You have a name that’s older than both: Israel.
And you were set apart not to imitate the kingdoms of the fallen, but to walk in obedience to the Most High.

So come out of Egypt.
Not just the land.
But the system.
The gods.
The rituals.
The pride.

Because you weren’t called to reclaim their throne.
You were called to return to His.