Leaning on the Laughter of My ForeMothers
We defy the odds when we laugh. There is so much power in a Black woman’s laughter. It is healing salve for the souls of all who experience it, hear it, and cause it.
Ateira Griffin is the Founder and CEO of BOND, Inc - Building Our Nations Daughters. Read below as she details the power of Laughter.
I have been fascinated with the future and specifically 2020 since I was a child. A true Black girl sci-fi fan and 80’s baby, I always knew this year would be special. It was the year I would turn 35 (I did), have all my ish together (mostly true), and be living in the future with flying cars (can’t win them all).
But listennnnnnn, special is not the adjective I would use to describe 2020 unless you’re talking about the Black grandmother “That child is special” kind of special.
Maybe unusual. Bizarre. Peculiar. Or the Black woman’s favorite: something else.
2020 has been - something else.
For me, as a Black woman in these here (never been) United States, the something else was on top of the everything else we deal with on a daily basis simply because we dare to exist. Black women have felt every emotion possible and some we didn’t know existed long before 2020. This year was the straw that broke the camel’s back, per se. The year we decided to let everyone know how we have actually been feeling behind the mask we have been wearing for over 400 years as a silent social mandate.
Black women have felt every emotion possible and some we didn’t know existed long before 2020.
While working to create healing spaces for Black women I noticed that I, like many others, took my mask down this year. I refuse to hide my thoughts, feelings, emotions, and experiences for anyone - especially those who have never valued them. At first, as expected, this meant not hiding my pain, anger, hurt, or frustration. Then I stopped hiding my sorrow, apathy, or disapproval. Next was my lack of shock, love for my people, and love for myself. Finally, I reached a point that taught me a valuable lesson.
Ateira, celebrating her 35th, with her sisters Tiera, Erica & Juanita in Grafitti Alley Baltimore, MD.
Photo Credit: Matthew Sams @justinpersective
Makeup: Ciara Hall @cbeauty_mua1
Not wearing this mask also meant refusing to hide my joy and laughter.
I discovered this juicy nugget of wisdom in the early morning hours of a summer day this year. It was 12:45 am as I stared into the blue light of my phone in a completely dark room. Tears streaming down my cheeks and I could not stop....
Laughing.
Oh, you thought I was about to say crying?
There were some nights where these tears represented grief and sorrow. But not that night. That night my sisters and I shared one of the funniest moments with each other we had in a long time.
I know you want to know the inside joke, but let’s just say it had something to do with dating in the age of COVID. I could write a whole piece about this topic, maybe later.
After I finished crying laughing and my loud cackles settled down to low intermittent chuckles, I thought about how even through text messages in the midst of a global pandemic and another uprising for racial justice my sisters and I were able to share deep, doubled over, tear-jerking, rib and ab hurting laughs with one another. This was special. Some might say magic.
How, with everything going on, was this possible?
Why did it bring me so much joy to share this laugh - which almost felt like a secret stolen moment - with my sisters?
Where did this innate ability come from and what made it feel so special?
Then it dawned on me, we haven’t always been able to share these moments openly in this country. Black women haven’t always been able to laugh freely.
We have had to steal moments of laughter and joy in the midst of loss, sorrow, and abuse since we landed here. Even through the darkness of all these things, we still found those moments. So my sisters and I simply tapped into our foremother’s ability to channel joy in spite of it all.
We defy the odds when we laugh. There is so much power in a Black woman’s laughter. It is healing salve for the souls of all who experience it, hear it, and cause it.
I find home in laughter with other Black women. It’s like a warm hug after a cold day. In my opinion, when we laugh in spite of all we face, we are not the only ones laughing. Each laugh we release has thousands within them bubbling up from generations of a compressed yearning for joy, releasing like a stream of fizz from a shaken soda or popped champaign. One Black woman’s laugh is the collective overflow of our foremother’s effervescence laughter.
I imagine when I laugh my grandmother is laughing with me because it’s her laugh too.
Ateira (age 5) and her grandmother, Veronica Morton.
Our laugh is loud. I mean really loud. The kind of laugh that makes everyone stop and look for the person laughing in the movie theater (when that was a thing). She would throw her head back and let out the loudest series of chuckles. I laugh just the same.
I will not hide our laughter.
I also imagine middle school Ateira laughing when I laugh now. The little girl who loved books and math more than anything. Who was often told not to be too silly in school and had to learn the seriousness of life too early.
Then I see my mother laughing. Doubled over with joy, free and not wondering what anyone is thinking of her. Enjoying her full self, without a care in the world.
Finally, I hear the laugh of my great grandmother’s. Deep in their bellies as if they pull their laughter from the very ground they walk on channeling the energy from everything around them.
I will not hide our laughter.
Whether in a board room, in front of possible funders, or at a virtual holiday dinner next week, me and my foremothers’ laughter will be seen and heard. The chuckles, cackles, snickers. Knee slaps, heads thrown back, claps, and “woo’s”. We’ll all be there. Passing our healing for all who are open.
This lesson in laughter and joy has fed me in some of the darkest times this year. I am grateful to have learned how to love us unapologetically with one of the most uncommon tools. I will continue to honor our foremothers by sharing it with other Black women, especially for the rest of the year and during the rest of my life’s journey.
And if someone looks at me funny - I’ll channel the great Maya Angelou and say:
“Does my haughtiness offend you?
Don’t you take it awful hard
‘Cause I laugh like I’ve got gold mines
digging in my own backyard.
Yes, 2020 sure has been something else. But we’ve got something for it! Ha!
Want to connect with Ateira on her journey? Follow her on social media @AteiraGriffin. Want to learn more about her work and collective spaces for BIWOC and Black Single Mothers? Find more information at https://linktr.ee/AteiraGriffin and www.mdbond.org.
Photo details for the first photo: Photo Credit: Matthew Sams @justinpersective Makeup: Ciara Hall @cbeauty_mua1