Radical Black Joy

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