While America Is Falling Apart, Prom Was Never the Problem

On Black Joy, Medical Distrust, the Browning of America, and Why Some People Are More Offended by Celebration Than Real Crises

In a country where hate is running rampant, where people are losing jobs, homes, and sometimes even their lives… where families are trying to figure out how to afford groceries, gas, healthcare, and survive another week… where there is an active conflict involving Iran escalating global tension and instability… it is always interesting to me when someone chooses that moment to speak so passionately about communities they clearly know nothing about.

This unhappy-looking white woman decided “hood proms” and “baby mama culture” were worth her outrage.

And honestly, I have questions.

Are you unhappy with your life? Bitter? Jealous of somebody else’s joy? Because what would possess someone to speak with such venom about people they clearly do not understand?

Especially in a country currently obsessed with performance politics and spectacle.

People are struggling to survive, yet somehow we have enough energy and resources for unnecessary ballrooms, celebratory arches that disrupt protected flight zones around DC, political theater, and endless distractions while everyday Americans are drowning.

But Black children dressing beautifully for prom? THAT is the emergency?

Please.

First of all, “baby mama culture?”

Interesting.

Funny how language created within Black culture is constantly mocked, borrowed, repackaged, and weaponized by people who neither respect nor understand the communities behind it.

And while we’re here, let’s talk facts instead of stereotypes.

Black women are among the MOST educated demographics in this country, yet we remain some of the least protected, least respected, and most underpaid.

Less Black women are having babies young because many of our daughters are choosing education, careers, healing, and financial stability first.

And for those navigating reproductive health challenges, let’s stop pretending there are not serious issues happening within our healthcare system.

A doctor once suggested I consider a hysterectomy because my iron was low.

My iron was low.

Not “let’s explore every option.” Not “let’s figure out the root cause.” Not “let’s try alternatives first.”

A hysterectomy.

And I know I am not the only Black woman with a story like that.

There are too many Black women — especially younger women of childbearing age — being pushed toward permanent procedures only to later discover there were other options available.

So no, Black women’s distrust of the medical system did not come from nowhere.

It came from lived experiences. It came from history. It came from generations of Black women realizing our pain is often minimized while our bodies are overmanaged.

And let’s stop acting like fear surrounding Black and brown life does not exist in this country.

More than a decade ago, articles were already discussing “the browning of America” — the demographic shift happening as younger Black, Hispanic, Asian, and multiracial populations continue growing while the white population ages.

People have been terrified of that shift for years.

And what have we watched happen since?

Voting rights challenged.

Representation erased.

History rewritten.

Division amplified daily by aging leadership determined to hold tightly to power while polarizing the country in the process.

So forgive me if I do not take lectures about “hood proms” seriously.

If seeing Black joy on your feed bothers you, social media literally gives you the option to scroll.

Use it.

The observation that prom culture has become more elaborate is not offensive by itself. Proms HAVE become bigger, more curated, and more extravagant across many communities.

That is not unique to Black people.

The problem is assigning dysfunction specifically to Black celebration.

The problem is seeing Black children beautifully dressed, deeply loved, loudly celebrated, and deciding that must somehow reflect brokenness instead of community.

No.

Sometimes it reflects sacrifice. Sometimes it reflects pride. Sometimes it reflects a neighborhood coming together to make sure a young person feels beautiful, worthy, and seen.

And since we’re defining things…

“Hood” is short for neighborhood.

Everybody lives in one.

Yours included.

So while you are busy policing what happens in ours, maybe spend a little more time examining what is happening in yours.