In Defense of Black Joy
Laughter Will Save Your Soul
The rebellion will come with a laugh. A full-throated, hearty, goose-honk of a laugh. Snorts and all. Laughter is defiant. More obstinate than a fist. Reminds us why we’d raise a fist in the first place.
The first place I went after my vaccination was a ‘Black-and-Asian-Solidarity’ event in the thick of the city. Stories were told, tears were shed, plans were made. I left feeling lighter than I had in weeks. The next day, I went to a park where a group of black friends had dressed as fairies-actual, mythological fairies with wings and horns and crowns-and laughed until I cried. We danced, hugged, remembered those we’d lost. I left feeling slightly more healed.
We find communion in suffering and struggling. Black parents say “be presentable” in an effort to stave off the spectre of death, but death is coming, whether we sag our pants or wear three-piece suits every day. Death is more real to us than the gods in our grandmother’s church or the greens our mamas cook. You’re born, you love, you ache, you die. We know this.
“…….but that’s everybody?” you might say. You’d be right. No human, no matter how wealthy or intelligent they are, has figured out how to eliminate the aches of existing. Of being human. Except we have. We’ve found ways in every place we’ve been dragged to and…
