Today, my joy is heavy. Today my joy is a fight. Today my joy is taking my sweet time getting out this bed. Is a soundtrack to keep me moving through my morning routine. Is an occasional coffee with enough sugar to count as dessert before dinner. Is a quiet day at work when I didn’t have much to say anyway. Is seeing my favorite coworker and cracking jokes that sound like slang to the coworkers who don’t look like us. Is recognition of our effort to be skin folk and kinfolk. Is this fire outfit. At minimum, I know I’m looking good. Is the outright tenacity that almost always accompanies a heartbreak. Is a flexible lunch break. Is me, minding my business. And you too, minding your business. Is a swift rest of the day and coming home to a home that is soft enough to pad my landing. On days like this, my joy is here merely because of the stereotypes I am trying to resist.
I cannot be angry again today.
What makes my joy Black Joy is that it is withstanding the reality of the statistic. For example, a family member I love dies of an asthma attack, and I can’t be sure if it was just genetics or industries suffocating our lungs in redlined communities. I do know Princeton claims both of these are links to all this struggle in our lungs. How convinced our bodies are in attacking us - too similar to the young men I love at risk of public execution because the closest thing they had to father figures were gang members, and I wonder why on earth, when being given such a choice, they would choose a statistic over joy.
I got to keep going.
I pull myself out of bed with a mantra that says, “I am an example.” This is proof that my skin is not my narrative even when it is true, I am often the only one in the room. Where all weapons are drawn but my own and I am still told not to resist. Left hanging from the mouth of a man who cannot pronounce my name. But knows all the ways to say he struggles to see past my race. Which means on days like this, when I am mourning or tired, I really do need the space I am asking for. It means, yes, I will be upholding my boundaries with you today. I will be protecting my rest and my neck with you today. My joy is here despite these petty offenses that have nothing to do with if my skin is tinted. So you better believe it’s here in the midst of these statistics, baby. Because even when I am low, I know my coworker gon’ come by and crack them jokes. I know the morning coffee is gon’ be on point! I know I, myself, am looking quite on point. And minding my business! And Kungfu Kenny on them statistics!
Oh, I tell you, baby.
Oh, today, my joy is a fight!
Jewel Rodgers (she/her) is a 2025 Nebraska State Poet nominee, a two-time Omaha Entertainment and Arts Award nominee for Best Performance Poet in Omaha, and a three-time TEDx speaker. She is also a 2022 Union for Contemporary Art Fellow, a 2023 Andy Warhol - Populus Fund Grantee, and a 2024 Blackberry Peach Poetry Slam finalist. An interdisciplinary poet, performer, and visual artist, Jewel is also an urban engagement specialist, youth coach, and spatial practitioner in the Midwest. Alongside her artistic practice, Jewel is working toward reshaping the built environment. After earning a Master’s in Real Estate Development (New York University) and completing a Bachelor’s in Business Administration (University of Nebraska-Lincoln) as a Buffet Scholar, she continues toward the long-term goal of co-creating our community through mindful spatial practice. She currently creates and maintains privately held spaces for the public as the founder of the resident-led group PlaceMade, which creates community amenities as an interim solution to blight. She led the completion of Tierra Park (a pocket park at 2413 Spencer St) and Caden's Corner (a skate ramp and community garden at 3703 Florence Blvd) and plans to continue this work longside others.
