When I first started writing as a preteen, I had a goal to write my first novel by 30.

With fantasy as my genre of choice, I awed at how authors used words to transcend time and space. I wanted to capture that magic somehow and take people on journeys far beyond our galaxy.

Funny how the universe works. I’m 31 now and while I haven’t authored a book, almost a decade in journalism has me feeling like I’ve written an anthology on the trials and triumphs of the human experience. It’s an interesting space where I get to analyze what’s happening and foresee what’s to come. In that spirit, we see a lot of Black celebrations on the horizon in 2024.

To be clear, Black joy isn’t a trend like you see on social media. It’s a birthright – an everlasting energy we tap into whenever we feel the weight of oppression. This is a legacy passed down by our ancestors. We’re nurturing it for our descendants.

With that being said, here are the ways I foresee us adding to the legacy of Black Joy this year.

Time to get lit and be loud with it

We stayed booked and busy this year. Naw, I mean literally when it comes to our literacy. Our audience didn’t just give flowers, but whole meadows to Black-women owned bookstores on our Instagram back in December. This energy is needed considering how hard some politicians and their followers were coming for our history and storytelling in 2023 with book bans and school curriculum changes (side-eyes Florida), then have the caucasity to try to rewrite the narrative so it makes white people more comfortable.

In typical Black fashion, we refuse to let that happen. So let’s erect more radical little libraries in our neighborhoods. I’m seeing more book clubs and swaps centered on Black storytelling. Bring on the community teach-ins that echo with the same impact as the Freedom Schools in Mississippi. May the nonprofits dedicated to teaching our children how to read be blessed with financial abundance.

We come from a long line of Black literary geniuses who’ve woven our identity and heritage into their storytelling. Our stories have not been written in vain.

Resistance is joy

I’ve never been prouder to be an Alabamaian than on Aug. 5 – the date of the infamous Riverfront Brawl in Montgomery, Ala. When white platoon boat owners attacked the Black co-captain of a riverboat, Black crew members and witnesses of the assault leapt and swam into action to protect one of their own. The memes and hilarious commentary entertained us for days. But I was more pleased with the Alabamaians who added context to what that moment meant for a city where enslavement ships undocked human cargo on that same riverfront.

Zoom out from that viral moment and you’ll see how the present pulses with the Black power of the past. When calls for reparations by those whose labor set the foundation of this country and others goes unheard, then rage becomes the orchestrator of justice. Enslaved Africans overthrew a French regime to secure Haiti’s independence on Jan. 1, 1804.

I’ve witnessed how people leaned into a restorative form of resistance in 2023. Hundreds of Black and brown queer dancers brought the ballroom scene to the same Brooklyn gas station where Black gay dancer and choreographer O’shae Sibley was stabbed to death in July. Sibley’s murder spotlighted the increasing violence against Black transgender and gay people, but mourners used voguing to celebrate Sibley’s life and the liviness of Black queer culture. The Black skater community initiated the same game plan last January by hosting vigils and roll outs in an effort to reclaim the joy of Tyre Nichols after he was murdered by Memphis Police. We are recognizing loss by amplifying the way we live.

Black resistance extends beyond the boundaries of our own nation, especially as the dehumanization and genocide continues in Gaza, Congo and Sudan. There’s a long history of Palestinians and Black Americans working together as siblings against similar oppressions. Boycotts have been issued against companies profiting from the violence. So, if we aren’t drinking Starbucks, what local Black-owned coffee shops can we support? If we aren’t nibbling on McDonalds, is there a Black-owned burger joint that’s been waiting on our coins?

Divesting from systems sustaining oppression gives us the opportunity to invest in spaces and places that will nurture and empower our communities. We have the power to create a new reality that will sustain us and that comes from the powerhouse of resistance, according to Black Joy social media producer and archivist MacKenzie River Foy.

“Joy is the natural byproduct of claiming your power and knowing your worth,” Foy said. “When we refuse premature death for life, exploitation for cooperation, domination for care – when we dare to say that we deserve better than this – joy follows. And it’s infectious.”

America’s mixtape if Black AF

Blues. R&B. Gospel. Rock and roll. No matter what music genre you fancy, I can assure you the roots of the sound were planted by Black artists who didn’t get the honors they deserved until long after their deaths.

So when I see Black creatives like Andre 3000 taking full ownership of his artistic journey by releasing an album that was absent of his iconic rap bars but showcased his flute and instrumental abilities, I was here for it. It also made me curious. If Black people are the inventors of America’s soundtrack then how do we continue to experiment with music? I see more artists following Andre 3k’s footsteps.

But I also see us reclaiming space in genres that once kicked us out – but in a way that doesn’t sacrifice our Black identities. Black artists in the country music space have been trickling into my FYP lately. Alaskan Reyna Roberts made sure to explore the full spectrum of her personality through music with her debut album “Bad Girl Bible Vol. I” last year. And she has created quite the success for herself in Nashville. Virginia native Shaboozey has created an anthem of hope for many with his latest single “Let It Burn.” He’s been Rubik’s cubing different genres to make his own sound in the country space for years. The Black alternative rock space is giving the same energy. Give me Baby Storme performing “This City Is A Graveyard” at the Grammys!

Now, this isn’t the first time we fuse different sounds to create new genres, but I’m excited to see how we shake up the airwaves this year.

The ancestors are with us

A pattern that became clear to the Black Joy team is that y’all love connecting with your aunties, uncs, big mamas in the afterlife! We’ve hosted a few virtual events educating our community about how we can tap into the superpowers of our lineage. Those events sold out quickly – even when we offered extra tickets on Eventbrite. The popularity speaks to our communities desire to connect friends and fam who have entered into the next life.

This momentum won’t die down in 2024 as our community continues to curate spiritual practices on our own terms. Those of us who grew up going to church every Sunday, Wednesday, New Years, you name it, may have found love and community in these spaces. Unfortunately, the church has also been identified as a perpetrator of trauma for a lot of us as those with ill-intentions spew criticism and control from the pulpit. This has pushed people out of the church and onto a journey of individualizing their own spiritual experiences – including learning about our ancestors who work things in our favor alongside our higher power. It’s comforting to know that when we interview for that new job, when we leave that toxic relationship or we are celebrating a new chapter of our lives, that we are not entering these rooms and situations alone.

Learning about our ancestors can also help us navigate our own lives. We may learn how our grandmother found peace through gardening and start practicing it ourselves. Our auntie who manifested abundance using orange peels may have given us the literal recipe for success. Danielle Buckingham, a Black Joy reporter and co-founder of the Hoodoo Plant Mamas Podcast, said learning about our ancestors is essential to our well-being.

“Celebrating our ancestors is also celebrating the most beautiful parts of ourselves. All that we are is because of them. So, honoring them is a self-love practice,” Buckingham said.

Balancing self-care with community care

In her book “All About Love,” the late Black feminist and poet bell hooks writes, “I am often struck by the dangerous narcissism fostered by spiritual rhetoric that pays so much attention to individual self-improvement and so little to the practice of love within the context of community.”

To be clear, this isn’t a knock on our journeys of learning how to put ourselves first. Black people – especially Black women – have been known for being the mules and pillars of our communities. The burnout is real and we need space to nurture our emotional, spiritual and mental health.

At the same time, the balance of self-care and community care is an important human need. Young adults are struggling with loneliness, according to a 2021 study by Cigna Healthcare. Even in the self-love posts I see on social media, people are looking for solidarity in the struggle in the comment section. What’s also caught my eye is how people are tapping into their interests and hobbies to find a village, whether that be through Double Dutch, traveling or even sowing together. It’s important that these spaces for us and by us to avoid code switching and microaggressions.

I see these connections deepening in 2024. Now, this doesn’t mean we ditch effort to take care of ourselves. We can create a community without being codependent. But I think it is important to heal the isolation the pandemic and the digital age forces us into. So step out with your homegirls, heal with your homeboys, or revel in a celebration of Black queerness. When it feels like the world has forgotten about us, know we got us!

A renaissance of the imagination

Microaggressions and discrimination have always been threats to the expression of our Blackness. But something I have learned while writing stories for our community is that the imagination is the genesis of liberation. In order to obtain freedom, we have to envision what that looks like for us.

This is where Afrofuturism enters the chat. This creative expression empowers reimagines our past, empowers our presents and sets our future by using elements of science fiction and fantasy. We witnessed a lot of this as we stepped out in our glittery and extravagant outfits for Beyoncé’s renaissance tour. Halle Bailey’s performance as Ariel gave us the ability to imagine ourselves as mermaids. Black Fae Day, which pushes for positive Black representation in the fantasy space, increased its popularity with a feature in Allure.

This abundance will overflow into 2024, but in a more localized and intimate way. With the Tony-award winning musical “The Wiz” still on tour and heading to Broadway in late-March, the hype won’t die down at all. The hangouts may not lead to large crowds, but it’s giving Afrofuturistic family cookouts, weddings and birthday parties. We’ll also be thinking about how we can personally use Afrofuturism to embolden our own past, present and futures.

Nurturing our inner child – and our descendants, too!

One thing about Millennial and Gen-Z folks, we love breaking intergenerational curses.

One way we are addressing our traumas is by breaking away from hustle culture and pausing to observe our inner worlds. That includes connecting with our inner child either through some form of play or even journaling. When we give our inner child space to express themselves, we discover the wants and needs that went unmet during our upbringing. So grab the coloring books, dolls, video games or however else you had fun as a kid. When we indulge in these moments, we learn to become the caregiver we needed in our childhoods.

Engaging in this process will not just benefit us. When we reparent ourselves, we also become better parents for our children. We are the new adults and we practice conscious parenting in our households. We don’t engage in verbal assaults or spankings to get our children to do what we want them to do. There are other more respectful means to teach loving accountability that doesn’t lead to the suppression of emotions. We don’t force our children to hug or kiss family members as a sign of respect. We teach them how to speak up and uphold their boundaries so they can learn to respect themselves. When parents learn how to communicate and trust their children, we create environments of liberation within our households — something we cannot promise them in the outside world.

But one thing about it, the days of teaching our children respectability politics are long gone cause our kids are gonna know how to express their authentic Black selves without apologies. I’m excited to see how Black parents continue to create new healing cycles in their lineages!

Thanks for peeping into the future of Black joy with us. We’re excited to see how your own joy adds to this legacy.