Spokane Black Voices

Hair–entwined, resembling tree roots, skin--replicating nature’s soil, eyes--embracing the night sky, radiating our galaxies.

I’ve heard stories: books, histories documented to humiliate and conceal black joy.

Our skin and hair, classified as

“unfit”

“unprofessional”

"nothing but a mess”

Constant daily reminders of how inhuman we look.

What once was styled for an escape route and buried with rice in case malnourished, is now a garden filled with memories and laughter.

Watching the older generation be withered from their beauty empowers our generation to embrace mother nature’s charm and live our life to the fullest.

Black joy is that feeling of being surrounded by the people of our community.

That feeling of looking at how far our brothers, sisters, mothers, families and friends have come to make all that we can do now possible.

That feeling when all you can do is look around and find others who are just like you,

People who resemble you,

Resemble the same history as you,

Resemble the same experiences as you.

Black joy is a feeling that lives within you.

Alima Tambwe is a senior at Rogers High School. She is from Bujumbura, Burundi, and has lived in Spokane for eight years.

Her Name is Joy.

Where are the places you seek her?

I think lately she’s been hard to find.

I come across her as the women of my past,

Have before.

When the days are long and hot,

I hear her in their songs.

I breathe with the same nose,

My Father’s Family has shared for generations.

When I brush my curly hair,

She’s combed in there too.

I see her in the mirror,

Big brown eyes and brown skin

Although I tend to forget about these gracious gifts,

Black joy has given me, she returns.

Arms outstretched like summer,

She’s everywhere.

And comes back with the force of the sun,

As it rises and sets.

Where do you find black joy?

TaeZhanae Hays-Cormier is a junior at Rogers High School.

Joy is not just found in success, but it is found in my deepest failures.

Not just beauty and perfection but insecurities and displacement.

I was given this gift from God not just for myself but to share with others.

Joy is not lost but is kept with perseverance. Not just delights and pleasure but with grit and triumph.

I’ve been given trials and tribulations. I’ve been given trauma and distaste. But most importantly I’ve been given power to overcome. I’ve been given joy. An everlasting power that never leaves.

I know hurt and pain, but I know love and care.

I know abandonment and manipulation, but I know God is always there.

I know perseverance and determination can be exhausting but the reward of getting through it is the best rest of all. I know that tears can feel like an ocean and that you’ve been swimming as this “strong independent black woman” for so long but what’s you strongest is your power to hold on. Joy is not dependent that’s why it’s there regardless of the storm.

So let me tell you again. Joy is not just found in success but in my deepest failures too. I know that happy or sad I can still laugh. I know mad or glad I know there’s joy that I still have.

Donalda Brantley is a senior at Rogers High School.

Black Joy can be put down and killed. Black Joy can be diminished like it is nothing and everything less than anything human. But Black Joy is something to be proud of, something to shove in the faces of hatred and inhumane behavior towards people of color.

Black Joy is the hair on my head, the features on my face, the voice that says I am here. Black Joy is the very ground I walk on that was built from nothing and came from the black Joy spawned many years ago. Black Joy is the pattern on my back imported from Africa and shipped from the minds of very fragile and creative people. My people.

Black Joy is the people I came from, the people who expressed their feelings and exercised their rights to freedom. Black Joy is the kitchen I cook in. Black Joy smells like the comfort of soul food made from the sweat and blood and nothing else but love for anyone and everyone who can get their hands on the wholesome taste of heaven, something greater than words itself. Black Joy smells like the spices and herbs brought in from the spiciest and most exotic places on earth. Black Joy smells like the castor oils imported from Jamaica and the Shea butter found along the dry Savannah belt near west and south Africa. Black Joy smells like the Mongongo oil that immigrated from subtropical Southern Africa.

Black Joy is the traditions we celebrate and legacies we carry and pass on one after another, again and again. Black Joy is the love we have for one another. Black Joy is the unspoken loyalty shared amongst those identifying as black or African.

Black Joy is sounds like the streets of hip hop and R&B joined on a freeway, connecting and vibing. Black Joy sounds like Brandy, Carl Thomas, Angela Day, Fantasia, and Leela James. Black Joy sounds like SWV, TLC, Boys II Men, Brian Mcknight, Jaheim, Aaliyah, Beyond, and Alicia Keys. Black Joy sounds like John Legend, Tens, Ayra Starr, OutKast, Trey Songz, Usher, Keith Sweat, Prince, D’Angelo, Lucky Daye, Maxwell, and Mary J. Blige. Black joy sounds like Kevin Ross, Erykah Badu, Neyo, Monica, Coco Jones, Charlie Wilson, The Temptations, Sam Cooke, Ashanti, Keyshia Cole, Soul for Real, and Michael Jackson. Black Joy sounds like mornings and nights, silence or filled with voices sharing their life’s work and what makes them happy.

Black Joy is watching people in your family and community making a name for themselves in a dog-eat-dog world. Black Joy is paying attention to what others who look like you and are around you create something of their own for others to notice and applause. Black Joy is watching your siblings who look like you and are around you learn what you learned around their age, that their identity is Black Joy and can be discriminated against but not taken away for good, and not without a fight.

Black Joy is me and you. Black Joy is us altogether, beating the odds and systems placed against us for so many unfit reasons, but hand in hand, nonetheless. Black Joy is the chants and noise from organizations and movements fighting for those who cannot fight for themselves. Black Joy is churches and temples filled with adults waiting for their hearts to be touched and kids watching and playing, confused but present, aware yet unaware of the entirety of what is to come along with the truth. Black Joy is the stories and experiences shared to keep memories and spirits from years ago alive and living. Black Joy is the folk tales and lessons taught to us in life in order to keep our knowledge and belief of our God’s and spiritual beings, whether in or minds, hearts, or in person. Black Joy is the civil rights and freedom we fought for.

Black Joy is Black people expressing their own Black Joy because Black Joy is Black joy. All our battles, won or lost, are our representation of the start of Black Joy. Black Joy is who I am and what I represent formerly and in my community. Black Joy is me taking time for myself and distributing myself to those who deserve it and those who are rightfully in need of a second chance. Black Joy is knowing my worth and allowing others to recognize out too, not to build my ego but to instead show an example of who they can be, what they can accomplish and what representation they can portray so that they can express what black Joy is to them. Black Joy is old and young, small or big. Black Joy is living as one, knowing that everyone belongs to themselves thanks to those who have come before us.

Black Joy is thanks given to those who have went to war for their future family not knowing if what they did was enough, but little do they know that it was enough because now we get to have black joy as our own.

Melissa Pirie is a sophomore at Rogers High School.