I know it’s been a while since we last spoke. Here, let me get your coat.
Shake the chill from your bones and leave the weight of the world at the door.
Speaking of the door, there is a shoe rack next to you. Go ahead and remove your shoes. I have some footies you can slip into. I hope you like the color black.
I took the liberty of roasting the coffee beans with a whisper of cinnamon and French Vanilla cream. I hope that’s okay.
Sit. Let the loveseat cradle you. Relax yourself. You are home. I’ll open the curtains so the light can spill in on us.
Here’s your coffee. Let your hands wrap around the warmth of the mug, and the heat seep into your skin like an unspoken promise—exhale as long as you need.
The world outside can wait. Here, in this quiet space, there is no rush, no burden too heavy, only the sound of our voices, the comfort of shared silence, and the rich laughter of coffee poured into porcelain.
Let’s drink deep and savor the moment—just you, just me, just the steady rhythm of being.
Now that you have your mug and are snug like a bug in a rug, here’s what I’ve been up to lately…
This has been a constant question in the back of my mind. It is not something anyone has asked of me personally, but something that the subconscious, always overthinking part of my brain asks when it wishes to second-guess itself. And, in the rebuke of these thoughts, I answer:
“Why not joy?”
I do not mean always being happy when discussing cultivating a spirit of joy. No one is always joyful in the basic sense of the word. I do not mean toxic positivity or whatever that’s supposed to mean.
In the same way that we embrace anger, grief, and frustration (which are normal and have their place), we can also embrace more joy and gratitude. If sadness and depression suck our bones dry and drain our life force, then joy and gratitude can be a powerful life-saving nourishment.
As I’ve said in Black Joy: “Nobody talks about society’s addiction to Black trauma / how much more profitable it is to talk about pain than poems/depression than joy.”
This constant cycle of death and war is draining to the soul and rotten to the bones. Where do we find or hold onto our sanity without joy? Have we forgotten that it has always been here with us? If enslaved people found joy, why not us? Or do we believe we are that special of a generation that we can survive without it?
In “The Role of Joy and Imagination in a Revolution,” author Marii Herlinger writes: “White supremacy culture values objectivity, overworking, and neglecting self-care — joy interrupts that. White supremacy culture teaches us to be individualistic, self-serving, and distrustful of each other — love interrupts that. Therefore, joy, imagination and love are revolutionary tools which actively defy capitalism and white supremacy.”
Sounds like a page out of Tricia Hersey’s book!
Speaking of Hersey, in the same way that resting more does not make one lazy, nor is it the same thing as being idle (you can be well-rested and still do the work), more joy does not make one blind to the atrocities of the world. On the contrary, it can help one to see things more clearly by stepping outside of the chaos. As Jaiya John puts it, “It can be a revolutionary act of love for yourself and others to not let yourself be sped up by the pace of a toxic, anxious, frantic, desperate, traumatized culture. Stay slow, my friend. Everything beautiful in you is gestating.”
This year, our poetry contest theme is joy, so I want to give you more to consider as you pen your entry!
The Latin word for Joy is gaudium, meaning to rejoice. Think of a time when you found joy in the unexpected. How did that make you feel? In what ways did you rejoice?
I cannot wait to read/hear your masterpiece!
We accept entries from October 21st through December 1st!
We have enough people who are beautiful. We need more who are brave. We have enough people who are popular. We need more who are passionate and purposeful. We have enough people who are wild. We need more who are wise. We have enough people who are famous. We need more who are faithful. We have enough people who require rewards. We need more who require respect. We have enough people who are too afraid to fail. We need more who are courageous enough to fly.
You can listen to this poem on TikTok, and be sure to subscribe on YouTube!
I’ve been on vacation, touring four different cities in Spain. (Almoradi, Alicante, Madrid, and Guardamar.)
One interesting thing we noticed is how the stores close in the middle of the day.
In some parts of Spain, businesses take a few hours of break in the afternoon. They actually close their stores, and you won’t be able to go in until after the break.
They call this a Siesta, which means “a midday or afternoon rest or nap.” It comes from the Latin sexta, the 6th hour after dawn. The Siesta was a traditional break for agricultural workers in Spain and Italy, usually taken at noon to avoid the intense heat of the midday sun.
Imagine going to work and then taking a nap after lunch to be refreshed and ready for the evening hours.
This made me think about how other countries prioritize rest compared to America’s “no sleep” philosophy. Spaniards are so rejuvenated after the Siesta that many stay up all night, and some restaurants do not close until midnight.
And I mean they have a time! Card tables are out, children are running around, and the city is buzzing with life. The people seem content and joyful.
Meanwhile, we are over here exhausted, overworked, and stressed out.
We can use this as a lesson and appreciate breaks more whenever we need them, not just when society says it’s okay.
Let us refill our cups as needed to ensure we have everything we need to continue.
Nobody talks about society’s addiction to black trauma. How much more profitable it is to talk about pain than poems, depression than joy.
Like we don’t have feelings just bad experiences turned into songs of sorrows and spirituals of reaching heaven cause there can’t be no freedom here on Earth for Black people.
Maybe this world still doesn’t consider us human enough to be happy someone hand society a roadmap for getting to know black people.
Tell them they can find us laughing even when life is lifeing cracking jokes and turning sadness into praise. Tell them we are not just guns and gangs.
Our hope does not hang on by string on some cracked-out corner or trap house Tell them how we dream. Big Mama musta had mustard seeds underneath the mattress cause she moved mountains. Food and faith ain’t never been hard to find. We gone eat.
Talk about our love our sense of community our building our builders our beauty.
We’ve had a wild ride here in this country But it was not all bad.
Together, we forged a world of our own found solace in the cracks made meals from scraps and carved out our own sense of enjoyment and purpose.
Tell them about how the cells of a black woman saved the world and the genius of a Black man lit it up. Talk about how we bless everything we touch.
Tell the whole truth that we are not made up only of pain.
Joy lives here, too.
You can listen to this poem on TikTok and YouTube! I’m @yecheilyah on both.
Black History Facts is back! If you’ve been waiting for a signed copy, this is your chance to get your hands on it. We are back in stock. Go now to: https://www.blkhistorybook.com/.
The PBS Blog 