For some people, monsters are not a myth. Monsters are walking, breathing entities who inspire fear and hatred for simply existing. African American men have been perceived as a monster; the works created reclaim the semblance of my humanity. Racist connotations are placed on children at birth, who come to accept these negative biases attributed to them through popular culture, media, and the nightly news. What I sought was to find the everyday joy that these monstrous entities partake in.

 Black joy is not a singular moment, highlighted in the media; it isn’t the record of achievement. California State-Fullerton, African American studies professor, Mei-Ling Malone explains, “Black joy is an act of resistance. The whole idea of oppression is to keep people down. So, when people continue to shine and live fully, it is resistance in the context of our white supremacist world.” To me, Black joy is positive moments within the mundane, when we forget about the crushing realities surrounding us and experience happiness in the small things. At the end of the day, even those labeled as monsters and degenerates are re-humanized by happiness.

How most identify a moment of black joy is an primarily associated with positivity but how does that ideal hold when confronted with hard times? During the course of this series I wrestled with memories or media I enjoy that feel as inherently negative but I still think of fondly. One of these stories is what I built several of the works around the stealing of bicycles. Growing up I loved riding bikes, there was an inherent freedom that they provided. Time and time again my bike would be stolen, and I would be punished for it. Eventually, I got tired of it and started stealing them inflicting the same damage that had been done to me. A couple of times we would sneak out at night and go hunting with each of us taking two. The ones I kept I would take into my basement and like a little chop shop rearrange the parts and build my own custom bike. One night three of us went out and with a pair of bolt cutters acquired a pair of bikes each. Growing brazen I snuck onto the porch of a house that was still clearly awake. I snapped the first link but when I broke the second the chain holding them together dropped to the wooden porch with a loud rattle. I heard the inhabitants rush to the door, and we all scattered as they pursued in a vehicle with a loud. I ran for blocks almost being caught as I laid in the shadows of a vacant lot. I eventually made it back to our meeting point with those bolt cutters hidden in my basketball shorts. After that I had little desire to steal bikes but, it was some time before I learned my lesson, if anything I would escalate from these petty crimes.

This isn’t a story that I’m necessarily proud of but I do look back on events like these with a kind of fondness. During this difficult period of my life, I found small joy not in the act itself but in the bonds between myself and those who I was with. At the time we embodied that notion of future super predators; little monsters running through the night. What we were doing wasn’t right but, we were still just children.

A staple of my work is the use of fluorescence illuminated by black light. The bright lights draw the viewer in but upon closer examination what’s depicted might be displeasing.  In my work the connection to black light is metaphorical, through utilizing ultraviolet light. Ultraviolet light is always present but, also invisible as it resides just below the visible light spectrum. It is a perspective that is forgotten at best or foreign altogether. My concept of blacklight acts as a representation of the African American perspective through my own experience. Even though ultraviolet light is always present, and we cannot see it specifically it still exists. Blacklight is utilized as a perspective shift between the majority’s white dominant viewpoint and that of African Americans. The work I create is meant to operate in both black and white light environments to demonstrate that the white dominate perspective is still the majority so the minority needs to navigate both worlds, but the subtle nature and nuance will only be understood by individuals with an understanding of a Black environment.

What I seek to do in this body of work is find moments of black joy within my own life and apply a warped sense of perspective that may be applied to the black body as something monstruous. One might see a person on vacation while others see a potential threat. Through my work, I have woven a narrative that sets the stage for my Black Frankenstein. From systematic oppression set in place centuries before my birth to personal experiences or exterior expectations seek to appropriate and celebrate the existence of this monster despite being surrounded by violence. This is not to make light, pass on trauma or benefit from the suffering it is to find the joy hidden within and accept oneself