When I think of Black joy, I envision sons and daughters getting to live out their childhoods without being forced to grow up too soon.
I think of mothers and fathers welcoming new life without fear for their safety in the hands of the police…even before that first breath hits their little lungs.
I think of brothas and sistas walking, jogging, sitting, biking, driving, and just simply navigating this built environment with the ease of assured safety
I think of my brothers throwing on a hoodie of their choice without a second thought of their safety and likelihood of returning home unharmed
I think of my sistas near and far, owning their bodily autonomy and calling for help without fear of becoming victimized all over again
I think of Black folks chillin’, relaxin’, kickin’ it in the safety of their own homes without worries of gunshots in their safe spaces
I think of vehicles simply being modes of transportation from origin to destination, not coffins and caskets on four wheels at the whims of a deranged officers caped in shiny badges
I think of brothas protecting and serving our Communities without fear of annihilation from those SWORN to protect and serve our neighborhood…at a price.
Arrested mobility leads to arrests and immobility; at least that’s what Charles Brown tried to tell y’all
Where can Kings and Queens Simply be, and Joy freely flowing? Not in this America; across these so-called united states.
Coz the reality is that in this America, and other similar places that villainize black bodies, autonomy, and the audacity to live as a free person in society, Black joy is endangered -it is rare, it is fleeting, and it is certainly sacred. I look for it wherever I go -in the faces of my brothas n sistas both young and old.
I cherish those fleeting moments I see them reveling in their humanity…and I think to myself, please don’t kill ma vibe; because joy is a whole vibe, and I want to rest in it.
By: Winnie O.
