LOUNGIN’ Goes Live
One night, right as my healing club’s weekly sound bath session was ending, Shannon (the sound healer/practitioner) invited everyone to write down the first word that came to mind. She handed out pens and Post-Its, gently placing them next to us as we lay in the dark.
The word the I wrote was “Community.”
I came home and taped the Post-It to the mirror in my bedroom. It is still there.
I’ve been obsessively thinking about community these days. Who do I want to be in community with? How am I showing up in the various communities I am a part of? What is the role of community in this chaotic political environment we are in?
I don’t have the answers to those questions yet, but what I do know is that community is and will be an important part of transforming our very broken world. Community is the reason why I felt called to create Toogood. It feels energizing and safe to be with others. I feel joyful and connected in community. Resilient. Hopeful. Sturdy and strong. Able to meet this moment with all the wisdom of my ancestors.
My recent birthday was the perfect excuse to organize an in-person gathering for Toogood’s first event. Thanks to our grant from the Peace and Justice Studies Association, we’ve had the funds for to sponsor a story circle for some time. And my heart says the time is now. I invited a few Black women I know to gather for storytelling, connection, and to look at photos of our loved ones.
The invitation to Loungin’: Stories of Black Women and Joy
*Photo Credit: John W. Mosley, Four Women at Chicken Bone Beach c. 1960s
I was overwhelmed by the responses from the women I invited. Here is what they said:
“This sounds like the Sankofa sanctuary my soul needs.”
“I’m in need of communion spaces.”
“I hope its ok, I invited two of my friends! We are all looking for opportunities to commune with other Black women.”
I am grateful to create a space for community and connection for Black women, particularly at a time that feels so out of control. Coming together to share stories about our loved ones and focus on joy is not just healing for us, it is healing for past and future generations.
Loungin’: Stories of Black Women and Joy meets in a few days. I can’t wait to share our observations and joy with you!
toogood gets funded
Though Toogood was a nascent idea in the summer of 2024, I began laying the groundwork for the projects to come.
Though Toogood was a nascent idea in the summer of 2024, the groundwork for projects to come was already in motion.
In late spring, my amazingly supportive doctoral dissertation advisor suggested that I apply for a grant from the Peace and Justice Studies Association (PJSA). I had submitted Loungin’ as a project for a coveted fellowship a few months before, and was rejected, but still wanted to pursue the idea. I could think of nothing more I wanted to do than sit around with a group of Black women looking at photos of our ancestors and talking about joy.
I submitted the application without attachment to the outcome. My meditation practice (along with aging) have taught me to let go of expectations because what is for me will come eventually. I also find it valuable to share my ideas with diverse groups of people, even if the answer to working with me is a no.
I was at an outdoor screening of Purple Rain (shout out to His Royal Badness, Prince Rodgers Nelson) when I received the yes from PJSA! It was an exciting and encouraging affirmation of the importance of creating space for Black women to engage in dialogue, healing, and memory work.
A month later, I received notice that I had been awarded a professional development grant from the Center for Cultural Innovation. The grant supported my participation in the Advanced Institute offered by UC Berkeley’s Oral History Center. I spent a week in August 2024 learning the methodology, history, and practice of oral history and participated in a small group where I workshopped Loungin’ as a project focused on history and memory. The feedback I received was invaluable and I have already started one-on-one interviews for Loungin’ with our first in-person story circle to come soon.
A deep bow of gratitude to the Peace and Justice Studies Association and the Center for Cultural Innovation for investing in this work and for believing that Black women’s stories and knowledge are worth preserving.
WElcome, Fam!
Thank you for finding your way to Toogood Stories. I am so glad that you are here.
Thank you for finding your way to Toogood Stories. I am so glad that you are here.
Toogood was inspired by a photo of my grandmother that I found among my most prized possessions, conveniently stashed in a green plastic IKEA bin buried deep in my closet.
The undated photo (which I think was taken sometime in the early 1970s) was intriguing for many reasons. My grandmother was on a bike, looking incredibly young and carefree, during a vacation in Ogunquit, Maine. I have never known my grandmother to ride bikes nor have I truly seen her at rest, as she has spent most of my life cooking, cleaning, working, and worrying about someone or something. The photo evoked many sensations in my body (my shoulders dropped, my jaw loosened and my breathing slowed) and I started to wonder about all the ways my grandmother, elders and ancestors, and Black women in general, experience joy and leisure. What does joy feel like in our bodies? What does it mean for us to see images of Black women at play (riding bikes, in gardens, in nature)? How do Black women pass on their experiences of joy to one another? And, most importantly, what can those experiences of joy and leisure teach us about our own freedom and liberation?
Since then, I have been trying to interview my grandmother to help me answer some of these questions. It has been difficult to get clarity, although she did say she remembers the photo (her exact words were “I look stunning!”) and that she and my late grandfather used to ride bikes everywhere they could. Between my grandmother’s photo and photos of Black women I discovered on social media (check out the images from Chicken Bone Beach in Atlantic City from the 1950s and 1960s), I began to think about a space for dreaming, exploring, and documenting the vibrant stories of our ancestors, elders, and those of us who are youngish/young-at-heart.
Toogood is that space. It is emergent and ever evolving. My hope is that our work continues to utilize different mediums (oral histories, photos, poetry/prose, visual art, performances and installations) and becomes one of many digital libraries and repositories for archiving the magic, wisdom, and narratives of Black women—past, present, and future.