Radical Black Joy
It all begins with an idea.
There is something to be said about how black joy is Perceived as experimental.
ex·per·i·men·tal
/ikˌsperəˈmen(t)l,ekˌsperəˈmen(t)l/
Defined on Oxford Languages via Google as:
“…based on untested ideas or techniques and not yet established or finalized.”
In spite of that rhetoric,
there is beauty within the practice of black joy.
From the undeniably exhilarating presence of a crown that knows no ceilings, to the rhythm that resides within the soft pads of our feet. A combined stomp of rejoice is understood cross-ocean, speaking a language synthesized in both a game of double dutch amongst children and ‘chipping’ to a resonant calypso that fills even the wordless moments with records what is and what once was.
There is a pervasive sense of brotherhood that is nestled between the arms of those that answer to the call of a swag surf or palance. A new level of intimacy revealed when strangers seem to reunite to the ballad of a piano's white and black keys and the ancestral tanbou in a konpa . This very aspect of black joy prioritizes and calls for the essence of l’union fait la force that our Ayitien brothers know all too well. Black joy is ALIVE.
To the congregation of elders who sit and observe at barbecues and block parties; humming hymns that tell stories of their journey and guide them towards a place of solace. Black joy is soulful.
To the source of soft laughter —children who equally know curiosity, kindness and mischievousness, black joy is in practice.
Though once silenced and brought to a shameful secrecy, black joy is LOUD. Ascribing notes from an ancestry that once overthrew fields of cotton and sugarcane, to the paint and powder that graces Eastern Parkway yearly in sweet remembrance, Black joy is VISIBLE.
I hear my people before i see my people and if granted the opportunity, I feel my people and smell them too.
From the blinding glow off of the foreheads of Vaseline and cocoa butter babies with excessively powdered necks, to florida water and dettol soap.
This is an art of living bodies and the fruit of prior generations’ labor in-action. Evidence of all that existed before and all that will be.
To the assessing eyes with ‘perceived’ authority, our joy is no experiment, it is not untested or in theory.
It is.
-Cairo Chow-Jennings, Intern Writer/Editor @LOCnificentfest
why natural hair spaces matter
Let’s be honest, navigating the world with natural hair can be a whole journey. Whether you wear locs, curls, bantu knots, twists, afros, or cornrows- if you’ve got textured hair, you’ve probably faced some kind of judgment, misunderstanding, or disrespect at some point. But the truth is our hair is not a trend. It’s a part of our identity, our history, and our pride.
Let’s be honest, navigating the world with natural hair can be a whole journey. Whether you wear locs, curls, bantu knots, twists, afros, or cornrows— if you’ve got textured hair, judgment, misunderstanding, or disrespect of your crown at some point is likely to have been a canon moment. As trends for curly styles on looser textured hair increase, appropriation has as well. The truth is? Our hair is not a trend. For many of us, it’s a part of our identity, our history, and our deeply rooted pride.
That’s why spaces like LOCnificent Fest aren’t just “nice-to-haves.” They’re vital.
For African-Americans, Afro-Latinos, Afro-Caribbeans, Indigenous peoples, and many others across the diaspora, hair holds deep meaning. It’s cultural. It’s spiritual. It’s political. From the baby hairs laid with love to the sacred patience of growing locs, our hair is an extension of who we are. But society doesn’t always view it in that way.
Most times, we’ve been made to feel like our hair is “too wild,” “too unprofessional,“ “too ethnic.” Long before this wave of interest, people of color everywhere have been told to straighten, relax, cut, or cover their natural textures just to be “acceptable.”
LOCnificent Fest is more than a hair event. It’s a safe space, a celebration, and a movement. It’s for the melanin-rich babies who deserve to see themselves represented. It’s for the Afro-Dominican girl who grew up thinking her curls were “pelo malo.” It’s for the golden brown boy growing out his curly top despite being told to “cut it low.” It’s for Indigenous folks reclaiming traditional braiding practices and Caribbean tias/aunties/tantes who continuously redefine what elegance looks like.
Here at Culture Unloc’d’s LOCnificent Fest, your natural hair is not “too much.” It’s commanding. It’s regal. It’s dope.
This is a space where:
No one will question your texture, style, or protective style choices.
Stylists, artists, and brands get it—they understand and meet the needs of curly and coily hair across the diaspora.
You’re uplifted, not othered.
You’ll meet people who look like both close and distant relatives, who’ll vibe with you, and inspire you to feel affirmed in your identity.
Events like LOCnificent are about healing deeply rooted wounds— not just with products and tutorials, but with community, love, and shared understanding. It’s about saying: You’re not alone. You are beautiful as you are.
When we come together to celebrate our hair, we’re really celebrating our resilience, our creativity, and our roots, literally and culturally. LOCnificent is a reminder that natural hair— across all cultures and backgrounds—is worth celebrating. Whether you’re early in your natural hair journey or rocking your signature look for years, this is THE space to feel embraced, proud and seen.
Welcome home Cousin.
— Jessica Marte and Cairo Chow-Jennings, Intern Writers @LOCnificentfest
Join us at LOCnificent Fest and be part of the celebration.
Follow @LOCnificent for updates, behind-the-scenes, and community highlights.
curls and confidence
It all begins with an idea. Maybe you want to launch a business. Maybe you want to turn a hobby into something more. Or maybe you have a creative project to share with the world. Whatever it is, the way you tell your story online can make all the difference.
Don’t worry about sounding professional. Sound like you. There are over 1.5 billion websites out there, but your story is what’s going to separate this one from the rest. If you read the words back and don’t hear your own voice in your head, that’s a good sign you still have more work to do.
Be clear, be confident and don’t overthink it. The beauty of your story is that it’s going to continue to evolve and your site can evolve with it. Your goal should be to make it feel right for right now. Later will take care of itself. It always does.