Part One: Joy is My Protest

In the darkest times across human history, people have persisted and survived. We have clung to the parts that make life worth living, choosing survival over succumbing—choosing to be with the ones we love, to create art, to make love, and to build families, all in spite of circumstances dictating what should become of us.

Some of us go most of our lives living for other people. We think about what our parents want, so we do it. We think about what our partners want, so we do it. We worry about what our communities will say, so we don’t do it. We do or don’t do all these things that are the opposite of our desires in reaction to events that haven’t happened yet; to realities that exist only in our imagination or in alternate timelines.

What if now, like our ancestors before us, we looked at the present circumstances and simply said “No”? “No” to giving up on future plans. “No” to losing the ability to dream for happier, longer, more fulfilling lives?

There are so many valid reasons and hours of doom-scrollable content trying to convince us to give in and give up, be defeatist, and live nihilistically. I choose to remain in faith that everything that is mine is here, on its way, and will never leave me.

I’m not a religious person, but I choose to align myself with a higher purpose. More often than not, I feel that purpose when I’m in community watching live music.

When my brain was still mushy and developing, the feeling of being in the mosh pit and singing until my lungs gave out, literally hiding in the crowd from my mom trying to take me home because my band hadn’t come on yet — filled me with joy, wholeness, and expansion; a feeling people cite experiencing when giving birth, falling in love, or being in church.

Having been baptized as a Catholic but raised in a Southern Baptist-style church, I recall the rituals of getting dressed up, patiently but excitedly waiting for the music portion of the service, then grabbing something to eat with my family.

As an adult, my ritual looks pretty similar except now my church is the concert hall.

Music and community are healing, powerful, and transformative forces for the individual and the whole that drive socio-political movements and affect change.

Throughout the Black resistances (e.g., enslavement, Jim Crow, Harlem Renaissance), the Black Church has historically been a place for activism, healing, and has served as the meeting ground for American history’s most prominent leaders. These places have been so effective in building communities, they have often been the target of hate and violence in times of unrest.

“During the height of the 1960s, the black church served as the major epicenter for many approaches to the freedom movement. As a result, many of these churches were bombed, dishonored by violence, and attacked by opponents of the civil rights movement. In response, the black church recharged itself through communal and collective singing.” — Shana Mashego (2024)

As our marginalized communities brace for impact in the years ahead, we will seek and form deeper connections with others. We’ll seek safety and security for our physical bodies and our emotional and spiritual wellbeing. Across all socioeconomic statuses, Black and brown women see the poorest health outcomes and have developed methodologies to self-soothe and uplift each other. Black Americans specifically have a legacy of spiritual healing, tracing back to African roots and has evolved as it has been exposed to Eurocentric ideas of religion and medicine. “Healing then, in an African American socioreligious conceptual framework, seeks to restore and achieve balance,” says Stephanie Y. Mitchem (2024).

When the stage lights shine onto the crowd, and we’re all singing and swaying together I feel most at peace in my life — restored and balanced. At times I’m so overcome with such a large wave of peace and pleasure, it feels religious. To learn that my happy place is an expression of my legacy of community-seeking and healing brings me comfort for the times ahead.

My retreat to music, community, and joy is — and forevermore will be my protest.

In the coming parts, we’ll break down the music of the Black Church and how its influence spreads far beyond the pews. In the meantime, enjoy the companion joy-filled playlist.

APPLE MUSIC PLAYLIST