Black Joy
Black History Month reminds me to practice Black joy, which necessitates self-love and authentic living. I can be my worst critic and I’m unlearning that toxic attitude with authentic, self-love behavior. During this month (needs to be every month), I love myself differently because I’m accepting of my everythings. When I’m tired, I honor my need with rest. When I find something funny, I let my laughter roar. When I have to sneeze, I ah-choo unapologetically. There’s no playing small or pressing myself little when I’m living that authentic self-love.
In “The Gifts of Imperfection,” Brené Brown’s writes, “Happiness is tied to circumstance and joyfulness is tied to spirit and gratitude.” I’m often happy (more accurately: I’m often moody, one of which is happy) and am finding that joy rests in my heart more this month because I am grateful for where I am, how I got here, and where I am going. I spent the other day talking to my grandmother for an hour and all I kept thinking was “Wow, I’m blessed to come from her.” I love this month because I learn of accomplishments and I am reminded that I am from a people, who were resilient, courageous, nurturing and filled with spirit. Black joy!
Over the summer, Bettina Love and other activists openly named and discussed the spirit-killing that happens in our schools and in our communities. It’s real. It’s present. And this month, I want to honor Black joy that revives, replenishes, and restores spirits. That too is real and present and can be found everywhere. There is an abundance of Black joy and I am actively seeking it, celebrating and honoring its presence in me in all ways.
