The Dangers of Black Girl Magic and Black Boy Joy

How Joy Becomes a Revolutionary Act in a World Determined to Dim Our Light

You’ve probably heard the phrases Black Girl Magic and Black Boy Joy. If you haven’t, then you really need to get out more. However, because I like to sneak in a little learning between jokes and sarcasm, let me give you the definitions.

Black Girl Magic (noun): /blak gurl maj-ik/ — The radiant confidence, resilience, and excellence displayed by Black women and girls, celebrating their unique beauty, creativity, and achievements despite societal challenges.

Black Boy Joy (noun): /blak boi joi/ — The unapologetic happiness, pride, and self-expression of Black men and boys, embracing their individuality, strength, and brilliance in the face of adversity.

Beautiful, right? These terms sound so wholesome, like little brown-skinned cherubs with soft afros frolicking in a park. It’s the kind of imagery that should warm even the Grinch’s cold heart. But guess what? There’s a reality where the Grinch’s heart stays two sizes too small (which, honestly, would likely lead to cardiac arrest—but I digress).

So, why are Black Girl Magic and Black Boy Joy "dangerous"?

A Joyous Resistance

For over 400 years, Black people in America have endured chattel slavery, second-class citizenship, and now the fantasyland known as the “post-racial society” (pause for laughter). Given this generational trauma, you’d think joy would be in short supply. But nope! Despite what Fox News (Faux News, if you will) might suggest, Black folks have historically been some of the most joyous people on Earth.

Our culture—actual culture, not the co-opted, watered-down stuff packaged and sold back to us—brims with joy. Music, art, dance, poetry, and yes, the food (don’t even get me started on the food) radiate happiness born of resilience. Imagine turning discarded scraps from the plantation into a cuisine so soulful it now headlines fine dining menus. If that’s not joy, I don’t know what is.

The Real Danger

Here’s the kicker: How do you break a people? You strip away their joy. Worse, you convince them to abandon it themselves. It’s a psychological sucker punch, and it’s particularly sinister when it targets Black men.

For generations, Black men have been told they aren’t allowed joy. Toxic masculinity—that term we hear tossed around—has seeped deep into our culture. Men don’t cry. Men don’t show weakness. And, heaven forbid, men don’t frolic.

But why not? Why shouldn’t Black men—and women, for that matter—reclaim their joy in all its forms? Whether it’s belting out Defying Gravity from Wicked (don’t lie, you know you’ve done it) or skipping through a park without a care, joy is a revolutionary act in a world that tries to deny us that humanity.

The Power of Joy

Joy is life-saving. It’s the defiant smile in the face of oppression, the laughter that echoes louder than hate, the unyielding belief that we matter. Joy connects us to something greater—our ancestors, our culture, and our collective spirit.

Even during the darkest days of slavery, Jim Crow, and today’s relentless attacks on Black lives, we have found joy. It isn’t easy. Sometimes it feels impossible. But it’s there. Joy is what keeps us grounded—and alive.

So here’s my challenge to you: Find your joy. Embrace it. Celebrate it. Frolic like no one’s watching and sing show tunes at the top of your lungs (just not in the theater—I paid good money, and I don’t need to hear your off-key rendition).

As for me, I’ll be out there frolicking and probably singing Defying Gravity. Join me, or don’t. Just find your joy—and don’t let anyone take it away.