"I have a decades-old memory of me swaying to music in a 1970s-style shopping mall and being sharply reprimanded by my mother, who felt that a Black person dancing in public was undignified and reinforced racist stereotypes. I was maybe eight years old. Too young to fully understand the implications of her admonishment, I hung my head from the weight of my mother's shame projected onto my lanky little body."
"I was acutely aware of public policies that restricted our public expressions and freedoms and had witnessed countless incidents demonstrating our disproportionate risks. Within my lifetime, the penalty for a Black person perceived to be misstepping in public had never been more clear than it was in the final, excruciating nine minutes and twenty-nine seconds of George Floyd's life."
"It is not enough to say that joy is already woven into our classic and contemporary texts. There is a difference between creating real or figurative traumascapes with glimmers of joy and laying down joy as a narrative foundation. When joy becomes the premise, the place upon which we build our realities in literature and life, new possibilities within and beyond our communities arise."
A childhood incident shows an elder reprimanding public dancing to avoid reinforcing racist stereotypes, linking public comportment to survival and dignity. Later awareness ties that admonition to systemic limits on Black public expression and the mortal risks exemplified by George Floyd's murder. The basic expectation of safety in public is necessary but insufficient. Public joy should be expanded and centered, not treated as occasional relief amid trauma. Making joy the foundational premise for Black narratives and public spaces can unlock new possibilities within and beyond Black communities and counter prevailing traumascapes.
Read at The Walrus
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