On the subject of black happiness, I found out recently that I'm going to be a father.

This has caused me to reflect a lot on this.

I had a very bad relationship with my father.

not like "He was mean sometimes".

Like I broke his jaw once and then never spoke to him again.

I struggled with this as a young man.

I think by, and large I found my way to happiness in a lot of different and meaningful ways.

But for a long time I wouldn't even consider the prospect of fatherhood out of my own fears, and insecurities on the topic.

I remember once, right after the big fight I had with my pops my Aunt had tracked me down where I was staying for a bit.

I don't really remember the conversation, but I do remember at one point her saying.

"Wow. You know you sound just like him when you were that age".

It was probably the most devastating thing anyone has ever said to me.

It was devastating because the easiest thing to hear was that he was just an asshole. That he didn't care. That he didn't want to be anything else.

But that wasn't what it was, or at least not all of it.

The reality was he was just a scared kid, who had the whole world thrown at him and couldn't handle it.

He could never find his way back to the other side.

None of that is to say it excuses anything he ever did.

I'm the last person who would ever do that.

I've always believed that regardless of what the world does to you, it's still important to not reflect that back on the world.

But it's one thing to *think* that.

It's another thing to do it.

I reflected that conversation back to my aunt recently, and she didn't really remember it.

However, she did say "You just felt like a bomb of anger, just waiting to go off".

Which of course. I was.

And as devastating as those words were to hear, they were so so important for me.

Because it forced me to realize that if I was going to be happy, that I couldn't just wait for it to come.

It made me realize that I'd have to fight for it.

I didn't know how to do it.

I was just this vibrating ball of rage. Almost all of it justified.

And yet I just had to learn how to let it go.

And then step by step, to the best of my ability carve out this like little sliver of happiness every day.

And I don't know if I could have done it without the people around me, who day by day refused to let me slide down a pit of despair.

When I was younger, I thought i was just lucky.

As a got older, and I got a better perspective on things.

I realized that's just what we do as a community.

All the Jokes. All the Music. All the Dancing.

All of these things are just things we do to survive in a world that doesn't want us to exist.

Sometimes. Hell. Maybe more often than not: It's not enough.

It certainly wasn't for my father.

But sometimes it is.

And that's the beautiful thing about black joy to me.

Because like. It shouldn't exist.

But it just does. and it just like makes me so happy to see it in other people.

And to bring this meandering thread home.

I used to be TERRIFIED of being a father, because I was so afraid I would pass on that legacy of pain.

And now as I reflect on it. I'm so so over grateful to have the opportunity to pass on the legacy of JOY.

Obviously, to the best of my ability.