Black Kid Joy
When you think about the Black babies we are raising today, you can't help but acknowledge the pure joy they radiate in every room they enter. We can learn from them.
One of my favorite parts of motherhood is creatig the new traditions that give my daughter a little bit more than what I had growing up. That’s the point of it all right? It’s our job to make sure these babies are not only prepared to play the game, but to understand what it means to enjoy life from a space of gratitude.
It’s our appreciation for the “little things” in life that keep us going, so we teach that to our kids so they too, can be amazed by the wonders of nature. We’ve wrapped up the “Seven Days of Black Poetry” series, but I felt MeraBaid’s submission was going to be the perfect one to give us just a little bit extra to carry into next week.
Not weight, but hope.
When I Have Grandkids We’ll Look Back and Call It Joy
Written by MeraBaid
Joy comes in the morning
running down the hallway
eye crust and hungry bellies
Sugar cereal is easy, Saturday morning cartoons and so many commercials, saying let yo mama know you need the newest barbie doll and her dream house, pepto abysmal and plastic and blonde, even in Black. And you don’t wanna hear her Al Green tunes, so shut the door and learn later how Grandaddy sat on a porch quiet from January 1st to Christmas. Grumble about grits in that black cast-iron pot that sat on the stove all day, Bigma leaving it there at the buttcrack of dawn, before anyone woke up, an offering to the ancestors, we’ll call them Jesus. A sacrifice of all she had left foiled up across the kitchen every evening and holiday, the magic of a culinary Santa. I had Tony the Tiger, Happy Meals on the daily, holiday feasts fed by Negro spirituals, and no bedtime. Never a quiet minute in the house, the news telling me what to think, sitcoms telling me what to believe, Martin telling me what was funny, but I didn’t laugh, just sat there watching, my 10 year-old mind wondering why Pam was so beautiful but called every ugly name under the faded sun, like the sepia photos my aunt would scribble “bitch” over in red ink or scratch out their faces in her crack-fueled rampages, but we don’t talk about who didn’t pose for the camera, who took the pictures or why the memories needed my aunt’s rage-baited pen. We didn’t talk about Pam’s beauty, just laughed and over-relaxed our kitchens.
Here I sit on Saturdays, passing pictures to my kids, of family I know but don’t know, and stories I’ve graphed on a digital family tree, but still can’t plot out the points, so I tell my stories, the sickly sweet of it, the grainy grits of it, the sat-all-day-on-the-stove unappreciated of it and pull them into the garden to grow the foods Bigma grew up on, the turnip greens that keep reseeding, the collards that sprout up only when you forgot you sowed the seeds, the okra-kids always going through growth spurts, the melon I can’t grow past the size of my fist. Work them not for their labor or to go backwards, but to attach history like a forgotten appendage, re-member it to our lineage, undiagnose it as poor people’s work, give it to them as currency, tell its stories together, its a line dance, a freestyle, oxtail stew. Watch them bring in the harvest, chop the fruits of our labor, laugh their heads off as we sing the Jackson 5 and Lauryn Hill and Willow. Watch them beam with the joy of unsecret stories, knowing how, being able to; a mom who isn’t worn into the ground unwatered, too schooled to teach. One who has been forced on a spoonrest long enough to taste the roots of inheritance wafting through the kitchen. Send them kids off to bed before the news blasts its statistics across our images and asks us to pay for ‘em.
Quick Reminder
The Blackstack Family Reunion ticket sale will end of May 1st, 2026, and the hotel cutoff is May 19, 2026. If you are interested in the booking link for the hotel the link will be sent to you once your reunion ticket it purchased.
The final schedule will be shared once the final count of guest is confirmed. However, we have a weekend packed with events and workshops in the Bay Area the weekend of Juneteenth. Can’t wait to meet y’all, if you are coming let us know in the comments to connect with each other!
Here is the link to get your ticket: https://www.theblackstack.org
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wow, this was such a beautiful poem! thank you for your words