Every season of childhood should be filled with unadulterated joy, but for Black children, this often comes with an unwelcome side of judgment. Whether it’s summer vacations, back-to-school style, or holiday celebrations, expressions of happiness and abundance are frequently met with scrutiny. The underlying assumption? That style negates focus, or that having nice things means a lack of discipline or academic drive.
The Persistent Policing of Black Joy
From photos of family trips to videos of kids dancing, the narrative often shifts from celebration to questioning. “Does he care about his grades?” “I hope she knows her ABCs.” This isn’t just harmless commentary; it’s a cultural script that attempts to shrink Black children before they even have a chance to fully shine. It perpetuates a harmful stereotype that joy, abundance, and achievement are mutually exclusive for Black kids.
Unlike other children who are often free to simply exist and play without needing to justify their experiences, Black children are frequently told they must overperform—be straight-A students, perfectly behaved, and endlessly resilient—before they can “earn” what should be a birthright: joy, leisure, style, and freedom.
Pushing Back Against the ‘Twice as Good’ Standard
As Black women—mothers, aunties, teachers, and caregivers—we recognize the damaging legacy of this script. Many of us were raised with the “twice as good” mentality, where survival and sacrifice were presented as the only paths to success. However, today’s Black millennial mothers are actively challenging this narrative. They are raising children who are grounded and abundant, teaching them that joy is not conditional but essential.
The DMV: A Hub of Black Abundance and Grounding
This dynamic plays out across the country, but it holds particular resonance in the Washington D.C. metropolitan area (the DMV). This region, a nexus of Black abundance, power, and culture, has shaped generations. With affluent and culturally rich communities like Charles County and Prince George’s County in Maryland, the DMV showcases visible Black success. This abundance, however, also brings its own set of tensions, prompting parents to navigate raising children with access to privilege while ensuring they remain grounded, grateful, and resilient.
Organizations like District Motherhued, founded by Simona Noce Wright and Nikki Osei-Barrett, have emerged as vital communities for Black mothers. Growing from a small gathering to a nationwide network of over 45,000, their initiatives like The Momference and the District Motherhued Society provide platforms for crucial conversations about joy, privilege, and grounding.
Raising Children with Abundance and Values
Three mothers from the District Motherhued community—Latisha M. Roberson-Marke, Noémie V. Gaines, and Lauren Anderson—share their approaches to raising children in abundance without apology. Latisha emphasizes coupling access with responsibility, using childhood sayings like “Money doesn’t grow on trees” to teach gratitude. She ensures her daughter Sydney earns privileges through chores and good grades, while also actively participating in community service. For Latisha, privilege is a blessing, not a guarantee, and exposure to experiences like traveling to Paris or flying first class is framed as normal, not taken for granted. “Bougie doesn’t mean unprepared,” she asserts, highlighting that kindness, respect, and strong values are paramount.
Noémie V. Gaines rejects the notion that Black children don’t deserve softness and joy. She believes that providing a lifestyle of security and confidence, rooted in identity, compassion, and resilience, better prepares them for the world. Her family practices gratitude daily through reflections and community service, aiming for alignment rather than perfection. Noémie’s core message is that a child’s worth is tied to who they are, not what they possess.
Lauren Anderson, raising her daughters in the affluent DMV area, balances privilege with perspective. Her daughters attend private school and are surrounded by affirming spaces, but grounding begins with faith and storytelling, connecting them to their ancestors’ resilience. Lauren challenges the idea that hardship is the sole builder of character, stating that strong values, clear identity, and faith are equally crucial. She also teaches adaptability by setting limits, ensuring her daughters learn to navigate disappointment.
Protecting the Right to Joy
These mothers demonstrate that raising grounded and abundant children is not a contradiction. They are intentionally cultivating resilience alongside joy, gratitude alongside abundance, and perspective alongside privilege. The policing of Black children’s joy is a manifestation of respectability politics—an unfair expectation that they must be perfect to be worthy. However, Black children do not need to earn their joy; it is their right. Their laughter, leisure, and luxury are not conditions to be met but fundamental rights to be protected.
As a community, we must champion the idea that abundance is a birthright for Black children. Joy is preparation. Joy is resilience. Joy is freedom. It’s time to dismantle the harmful script that suggests Black children must struggle to be worthy of happiness and embrace the truth that they deserve it, unconditionally.
What are your thoughts on raising Black children in abundance? Share your experiences and perspectives in the comments below!
