Thee Quest for BlackJOY: A Story of Return and Reclamation
Hey love,
Welcome. However you found your way here, I'm glad you’re with us.
Thee Quest for BlackJOY began quietly—almost like a promise whispered to myself in the deep, tender moments of grief. In 2020, I lost my father while simultaneously navigating the isolating, surreal landscape of the pandemic. I was swallowed up in it all—caring for him, facing the world’s relentless demands, and managing a tidal wave of grief. And yet, life continued. But my spirit was stretched thin. I needed something else—something more. I needed space to grieve. Space to remember joy. To dream. I needed to find beauty again, even when grief felt all-consuming. That’s when it came to me—this vision, this seed of a project.
I didn’t know what form it would take then, only that it had to be something that could hold both my grief and my joy. It had to be a way of staying tethered to joy, even when the world was telling me I shouldn’t. Writing became my anchor, a tool for survival. A way to honor the parts of me still alive with laughter and possibility.
And so, Thee Quest for BlackJOY was born—not as a performance, but as a practice. A sacred space to hold grief and joy, resistance and rest, in one breath. It became both a question and a journey—a quest for joy in a world that so often feels bent on erasure. A place where we could remember the parts of us that know how to dream and how to laugh, even when it feels impossible.
Why This Work Exists
I began writing Thee Quest for BlackJOY in 2022, unsure of what shape it would take. I knew that grief was something I was deeply familiar with—and that I wasn’t alone. So many of us—particularly Black folks, queer and trans folks—were carrying heavy burdens, loss, and exhaustion. Yet, we kept showing up. We kept creating, loving, and giving. But I didn’t see spaces that truly reflected the complexity of that truth—not just our anger, not just our resistance, but our joy, our silliness, our softness. Our right to rest. I wanted to create a space where we didn’t have to earn joy, where it was simply ours.
In many ways, Thee Quest for BlackJOY is an offering—not just to my ancestors, not just to my communities, but to the younger version of me who didn’t know how to articulate joy as resistance, joy as remembering, joy as our birthright. Because when you’ve been taught that your very existence is a protest, joy becomes the most revolutionary thing you can claim.
What It’s Become
In 2023, the project stepped out into the world for the first time as a staged reading at the HOT! Festival in NYC. I had no expectations other than to share what I had made, to test the waters. But what happened next blew me away. The room was intimate—people I didn’t know, coming together to witness a story about Xio, a Black woman spirit being who learns she’s an alien tasked with saving her dying planet by collecting Black joy. It was messy. It was raw. It was cosmic and deeply human.
And when the show ended, people stayed. They lingered. They cried. They hugged me and shared their stories. They told me they saw themselves in the work. They told me they, too, were seeking joy even when everything around them was telling them they didn’t deserve it. In that moment, I knew this was bigger than me.
2024: A Return and a Remix
With support from the Lower Manhattan Cultural Council and WoW Cafe Theater’s Festival of Joy and Resilience, Thee Quest for BlackJOY returned in 2024—this time as a live, immersive cabaret-ritual. The space transformed into a sacred garden. We layered in new collaborators, expanded sound, visuals, and storytelling, and invited audiences to step into the work in deeper ways. This wasn’t just a show to watch; it was an experience to participate in.
We created an interactive environment—a living garden of community reflection and care. Audiences didn’t just watch the performance; they contributed to it. They wrote poems on black tiles, reflected on their joy and grief, and added their dreams to the Possibilitrees Garden. It became a place where both grief and joy could co-exist as necessary, sacred, and transformative.
In this iteration, Xio wasn’t just on a mission to collect joy for her planet—she was already on Earth, gathering it through connection. Through song, movement, and shared storytelling, the work became an invitation to enter a space where joy wasn’t something we had to seek—it was something we could create together.
2025–2027: What’s Coming
Looking ahead, Thee Quest for BlackJOY will continue to grow, evolve, and expand. This is a long-term project—rooted not just in art but in collective memory, ritual, and dreaming. Here’s what we’re building for the next few years:
🌴 Black Joy Imagination Vacation – May 2025
This spring, we’re taking Thee Quest for BlackJOY into public spaces—specifically, the heart of Bed-Stuy, Brooklyn. Supported by The Laundromat Project’s 2024 BedStuy Create & Connect grant, BlackJOY Imagination Vacation will be a public art installation that invites people into a space of collective dreaming and remembering. Inspired by my visual series Reimagining BlackJOY, the space will transform into an interactive garden where community members are invited to contribute their own reflections—what they’re grieving, what brings them joy, and what they imagine for the future.
The installation will be activated by a series of public events, including an opening conversation with photographer Amy Touchette and mayoral candidate Paperboy Prince, a community storytelling session called Let Em Cook, and a closing Blooming Brunch. It’s a space to gather, to grieve, to laugh, and to dream together. Because sometimes, joy feels far away. But what if we didn’t have to go anywhere to find it?
🌏 MELT Festival – Brisbane, Australia – July 2025
In November 2025, Thee Quest for BlackJOY will travel internationally for the first time—performing at the MELT Festival in Brisbane, Australia. This is a significant next step. How do we bring the heart of this deeply personal, community-rooted project to a new landscape? How do we share joy across borders, languages, and cultures, without losing the essence of what makes this work sacred and intimate? We’re still figuring that out, but one thing is certain: this is an invitation to listen, to adapt, and to co-create with new communities. What new stories of joy will emerge?
📚 Ritual Archive (2025–2026)
We’re also building a Ritual Archive—an ongoing collection of materials, reflections, and process pieces that document how we arrived at this work. It’s about memory. Legacy. Leaving a trace of how we got free.
🌀 Community Workshops & Creative Labs
Throughout the year, we’ll offer workshops rooted in joy practice, ancestral connection, and improvisation. These are spaces to explore joy as a practice, even when life feels uncertain or heavy.
The Heart of It All
Thee Quest for BlackJOY isn’t just a project—it’s a prayer. It’s my offering to my ancestors, my younger self, and my community. It’s an altar built from grief and joy, from resistance and rest. It’s an invitation to step into a world where Black life is whole, soft, seen, and celebrated.
But it’s also an invitation to you. To show up. To participate. To make room for joy, even when things aren’t perfect. This work is not just mine. It’s ours.
How You Can Be Part of This
This project is built with love and care, slowly, intentionally. It’s sustained by a small but mighty group of artists, healers, and believers. If the work resonates, here’s how you can support:
- Show up to a performance, a workshop, or a ritual.
- Spread the word. Send this to someone who needs it.
- Follow along. Sign up for updates. Peek behind the scenes.
- Contribute what you can. Every bit helps us pay artists, make space, rest, and dream bigger.
Thank you for being here. Thank you for witnessing. You’re already part of the story.
With love, art, and gratitude,
C.Joi Adams Sanchez (A.K.A Notorious R.B.J)
Artist/Curator/Producer/Dreamer
