Black Joy Series #1: Roots of Joy

An act linked with resistance throughout the centuries, Black Joy is the theme we are exploring as part of a new series on VERO: the Black Joy Series.

February 2021 -- The past year has been a period of prolonged heaviness and collective pain for Black communities all over the world as social media feeds and news bulletins have brought countless examples of the systematic and societal mistreatment of Black people to global attention.

Amongst the pain, racial injustice and trauma, there has been Black Joy and other powerful affirmations of Black excellence.

An act linked with resistance throughout the centuries, Black Joy is the theme we are exploring as part of a new series on VERO: the Black Joy Series. We commissioned four writers and artists from the VERO Community to pen personal essays, published weekly during the month of February, about what they see Black Joy as being, what it means to them and to wider society, the social rituals surrounding it and its personal history.

In this opening essay, London-based songstress Abi Ocia describes the joy that stems from - and is continually renewed by - the shared ritual of a mother helping her daughter with her hair in what she describes as an "unorthodox hair tutorial". We hope you enjoy "Roots of Joy" as much as we did, and keep an eye on VERO Featured throughout the month of February for more essays from the Black Joy series.

Abi Ocia

‘Roots of Joy: A Tutorial’

Sat on the floor between my mother’s legs, my arm begins to ache from holding a concoction of oils for distribution in my hair. The familiar dull ache of my neck sets in while she works her way around my coily crown. The gentle hum of the radio and the soft whisper of another sitcom re-run on the television, provide the perfect soundtrack for this precious moment. With every brushstroke, every parting, every braided rope of hair, I find the softest reminders of Black joy. My mother has always helped do my hair. Even now in my late twenties, I cheekily ask for her assistance only to bask in the quiet intimacy of the moment. From the detangling, to the deep conditioning, to the styling - Black joy cocoons the occasion. Allow me to take you on a bit of an unorthodox hair tutorial, where I will use each of the above steps to give you a glimpse into this uninterrupted joy.

A crucial preparatory phase in this routine is detangling. After arming yourself with your weapon of choice, we begin work combing through the hair from tip to root. Taking it section by section, we tackle the toughest of knots, making sure every strand has been seen to by the clarifying embrace of a brush. Countless times my mother wrestled with my mane to get days of playful knots out. The delicate tugging and pulling wasn’t without moments of slight discomfort. However, even tender headed I was quietly aware that the laboring was necessary to achieve the final goal - hair that was easily managed. Black joy too has this clarifying effect. It combs through the tangled tensions and injustices Black folk have historically combated. The pervasive knots of a society that often silences the Black narrative diminish in the presence of Black joy. Filled with unique and celebratory elements of ‘Blackness’, Black joy provides a bountiful refinement in resistance to a white-washed gaze. My mother was not simply brushing my hair, she was helping it return to its refined and unentangled state.

“The thing about Black joy is that it is soul deep. It permeates to the roots.”

— ABI OCIA

The head massage

The head massage that usually accompanies this next stage has marked it as a personal favorite - deep conditioning. Using whatever conditioning products you have at your mercy, we apply this all over the hair, coating each strand with its restorative goodness. Like clockwork, I crack a smile under thickets of hair, as my mother warmly works her hands through my needy roots. There is something intoxicating about the moment; something that goes beyond the physical and instead wraps itself around my whole being. It is usually at this point she begins to ease into things. The noise of the radio and television progressively quieten, and a thick medicinal silence surrounds us. I am reminded of a rare sense of joy birthed only from the simple exchange of my mother tending to her fledgling’s crown. The thing about Black joy is that it is soul deep. It permeates to the roots. There it begins to work its healing alchemy, restoring and revealing an authentic, natural shine. As any good conditioner, Black joy saturates. Like my mother’s favorite gospel song on a Sunday morning, it washes over you, preventing any kind of unnecessary breakage in times of trouble. It all starts at the roots.

“We can laugh, cry, mourn, celebrate, create and innovate in the collective strength Black joy presents. No one is a ‘loose end.’”

The final hairstyle.

Choosing a final hairstyle isn’t always easy. The beauty of textured hair is that the possibilities are endless; perhaps why this next step, protective styling, is truly remarkable. As a child, I would dread the beloved ‘doo-doo’ plaits my mother would occasionally give me - a few giant plaits that adorned my head in a lawless manner, commanding and comical. My mother’s insistence on the protective nature of such a style meant I would begrudgingly comply with the choice. To this day I still marvel at all the wonderful things my hair is capable of doing. I relish encountering other textured beauties with hairstyles crafted for the heavens. Yet behind the sheer finesse and majesty of all the styles on offer, there is something to be said about how protective and kind they are to hair.

Whatever the choice, the styles embody a secure collective cultural presence to behold. Black joy provides a communal safety and protection in a society that often berates and abuses our distinct differences. It envelops every braid, every canerow, every twist, the list goes on. The ‘doo-doo’ plaits of my infancy were shielding my hair from the frivolity of the outside elements. Protective styles do just that, they protect. Delicately bringing in every loose end, they provide strength and promote growth. In the refuge of Black joy, there is a similar sense of safety. Mimicking that of a mother’s love, Black joy nurtures and defends. Concealed inside the beauty of such styles, Black joy bellows with the vigor of endurance. We can laugh, cry, mourn, celebrate, create and innovate in the collective strength Black joy presents. No one is a ‘loose end.’

“It is in the beauty of our authenticity that Black joy erupts.”

This brings us to the final step in our tutorial - the ‘mirror check.’

Eyes wide, find yourself in front of a well-lit mirror and begin a careful dissection of all you see. In my younger years, a sprint to the nearest shiny surface to get a glimpse of my mother’s handiwork was always imminent. Impatiently running my hands over my head before arriving at my final destination, I would try and guess what the mirror would reveal to me. Would I like it? Would I adore it? Would I detest what I saw? Would I be beautiful? There I would meet myself innocently staring at my crown, not yet knowing the full potential it held, but deeply aware of a mother’s love that had been poured into every detail. There are many lessons to be learnt in front of a mirror, yet this one is simple. Black is beautiful. It is in the beauty of our authenticity that Black joy erupts.

I didn’t always know what I was staring at was beautiful. Growing up in a society that placed textured crowns in a steep second place to the domineering weight of white-washed beauty standards, such thoughts were frequent. But Black joy acts as a swift reminder that there is no competition in the uniqueness of you. In Black joy there is absolute agency over limitless showcases of beauty, a display of uniqueness unbound. Returning to the mirror now, I find a fierce power in every intricate detail I witness. Tracing the outline of my audacious mane, the words of Maya Angelou’s ‘Still I Rise’ groan over every coily strand. Thankful to my mother for years of laboring love over my crown, I recognize the deep, warm glow of Black joy that embers within; a joy that is undefeated.

A joy that is indeed, excellent.