This Black History Month we’re highlighting joy. Tell us: What does Black joy mean to you?
Happy Black History Month, Kansas City friends and family.
We’re doing something different this year. We want to focus on joy. And we need your help.
Tell us — using the form below — what Black joy means to you. Please submit a photo that shows what Black joy looks like in your life. We will collect these responses and publish them in an upcoming package about how Black joy is experienced in Kansas City. We won’t publish a response without speaking with you first. We want to make sure that we’re including voices from across the metro area, so please share this with your friends and family.
The last day for submissions is Feb. 14.
When The Star’s race and equity editor Trey Williams asked me to write this call out introducing this endeavor, I was excited to write something that would give myself a little bit of joy. I spent the next few days, however, struggling to find inspiration. It’s been a long two years (going on 400) and moments of joy feel hard to come by.
My first thoughts in looking back over 2021 were overwhelmingly negative. It was a tough year, filled with personal and work-related trauma.
That trauma makes an impact. It can make it hard to get out of bed in the morning. Hard to go to work. Hard to simply exist in this world.
That’s why celebrating our joy matters.
I spent the year documenting every single day (OK, most days) with a short, one second video. And as I looked back, I realized Black joy was everywhere.
Black joy was me spending the first Sunday of the new year painting picture frames to hang in my new apartment. It was the family video call spent roasting each other with one of my younger brothers who had just joined the Marines. It was the day spent with my Papa touring historical sites in Kansas City, Kansas, and the delicious dinner that followed with him and my Nana.
Black joy was the quiet evenings I spent at home reading. The immaculate energy I felt writing about the empowering owner of Starr Luvly Bodies. The thoughtful conversations with the owner of the Black-owned bookstore in my neighborhood, BLK + BRWN.
Black joy was one of my college friends and her new husband dancing to “Swag Surfin” at her wedding.
It was the freedom I felt after chopping off probably 10 inches of hair. It was the triumph after only killing one basil plant the whole year — keeping the other ten mostly alive.
Black joy was the peace I felt sitting in a kayak on a Colorado lake. It was the exhilaration I felt (and the happy tears) watching the U.S. women’s soccer team take on Korea. Black joy was trying out indoor climbing with wonderful coworkers and finding an incredible group of friends to play soccer with across the city. It was decorating the Christmas tree with my mom and youngest sibling and sitting at the table with wine in hand playing cards with my family.
Black joy is anything and everything we want it to be — you can’t put it in a box.
Black joy is unlimited.
We want you to send in a story with a photo on what Black joy means to you.
In times when it’s hard, and often feels impossible to find joy, we are on the search for it. Send us your submissions that capture Black joy means to you! We may publish what you send us. A reporter or editor may contact you for additional information.
In the meantime, don’t forget to celebrate Black joy throughout the year — not just in February.
