The shiny mahogany table glistens in the sunlight of New Year’s Day.  Black-eyed peas and collard greens rest in the center of the round table in glass bowls engraved with flowers.  My mother, father, and three sisters share their goals for the New Year, glowing as the sunlight creeps through the blinds and illuminates the room.  We relish the delicious food of last night’s preparation, excited to continue this tradition.  We celebrate our Blackness.  

To me, Blackness is strength and struggle.  Blackness comes from everywhere — every continent and country — and it is impossible to characterize this community as a monolith. Blackness will travel:  on screen, in government, into every community, and all over the world.  We are diverse, strong, and powerful.  We all have different customs, cultures, and practices in every nation.  For example, plantains are a pillar of the Caribbean, and West Africa has a million ways to prepare rice.  

In all cultures, food is a staple.  There are always gatherings with food, leftovers, and the love and laughter that comes from breaking bread.  For African Americans, food has historical significance.  Most of the food we eat can be traced to the backbone of this nation:  the trans-Atlantic slave trade.

This meal — black-eyed peas and collard greens — comes from the American South. The black-eyed peas represent good luck.  The collard greens, folded like money, symbolize wealth. The meal we eat at New Year’s comes from slavery.  The beans and greens were the “poor” foods that slave masters didn’t want to eat and gave to the enslaved people.  As we enter the New Year, each part of the meal represents progress and continuation.  This meal was never about eating; it was about the bravery and perseverance to continue under the most barbaric practice of history.

Trudging through the pain and suffering of slavery, the enslaved people had the strength to keep going and celebrate the new year with hope for a better future.  The tradition of eating this New Year’s meal is a reminder of that hope and resilience.  It’s a testament to the human spirit’s strength.  

With this hope for the future, my ancestors funneled their spirit through my family’s New Year’s traditions.  My memories of New Year’s Eve as a little girl are unmistakably clear.  Then, I never understood the importance of this dinner’s preparation or the distinct methods my father used. I just hungrily watched in the kitchen.  My father, however, spent hours on his feet, making sure everything was perfect for the holiday.  The beans simmered in the pot, collard greens cooked over the stove, and his cornbread recipe was down to a science.

My father would always say his collard greens needed an extra level of careful precaution.  He followed every step like his life depended on it.  He told me, “Listen here, you can’t grow impatient.  Never skip anything.  There’s no substitute for excellence.”  

He would take the biggest knife in the house, make careful cuts around the core and remove it.  Then, he washed them, paying close attention to removing all of the grit and roughness.  He would rinse them once, twice, and strain them last.  Then, he dried them, placed the leaves on a cutting board, and chopped them into bite-sized pieces.  My father did this with ease.  He’s swift with his knife; he knows every edge, and how to be careful.  He always knows what he’s looking for:  the finest greens on earth.

This determination can be seen in every part of the meal.  Unsoaked black-eyed peas take hours to cook.  I can remember when my father was moving the black-eyed peas from the bag into a bowl, taking it to the freshly cleaned sink, turning on the silver faucet, and waiting patiently as the pot filled with water.  Then, it would sit on the countertop for six hours, soaking up everything it could.

My childhood followed the same process.  My family would get me dressed, bring me to the bookstore, and let me soak up all the words.  I was saturated in love, nurturing my growth and capabilities.  These opportunities were mine to take.

This is how I grew up: surrounded by knowledge and hungry for more.  My entire family was like this too.  They were quick on their feet, knew their way around every obstacle, and never gave up.  They were set on success, and this drive was infectious.  It spread to everyone they met, like the seasoning of the greens, only perfected by meticulous preparation. The drive they had was something that was carefully crafted over the years.  They had a sixth sense that enabled them to navigate through life’s tricky waters.  It came from diligent work and dedication, and it was something they had passed down to me. 

I saw this discipline as an example of resilience and strength — something my ancestors had to have to survive.  These values are the pillows that I rest on after a long day.  They’re the pillars that make up the foundation of my home.  They’ll be the cane I walk on when I can’t stand by myself anymore.  This diligence fuels every step I take, preparing me to take on heavier and heavier loads in life, bearing the weight of my ancestors’ pain.

This was Blackness to me :  striving for success and appreciating my ancestors.  I saw the power of knowledge and the crucialness of being a lifelong learner through the books I read.  I wanted to use my knowledge, to be a leader in my community, and be a role model.  There should be a box on the census that reads “black-eyed peas and collard greens” because nothing else truly captures what makes up my household.  Black-eyed peas aren’t just a tradition:  they’re my identity.

Black-eyed peas and collard greens are a part of my Blackness.  The beauty, resilience, and power of Blackness were set on a plate and passed onto me in this New Year’s tradition. This is not only a physical tradition, but an emotional one.  

This New Year’s tradition is a reminder of the strength of my ancestors and the power of Blackness.  When I sit at the table, the hearty broth of collard greens dances on my tongue and raises my spirits.  My place in history perfectly aligns with my ancestors. We are stars coming into place in the sky, shining beacons of hope overlapping throughout history.