Moraya Seeger DeGeare Reflects On Black Joy Felt From Matcha Thomas - Code Switch Relaxed
/
Editor’s Note: After ALBB began producing the first review of Matcha Thomas in a more traditional format, one reader was too excited not to write about Matcha Thomas after going there more than a few times, and especially after experiencing with a friend. She reached out to ALBB asking if she could write about her experience. We encouraged her to lean in, and looked forward to what she wrote. Below please find a review from an experience point of view of Matcha Thomas by Moraya Seeger DeGeare.
Written By Moraya Seeger DeGeare
I want to share with you a moment in time on Main Street. The Black joy that was created as the paths crossed of Black folx all converging in a search of delicately delicious Matcha, to pull up to support Black female business owners. I think a deeper thirst was quenched by having a moment of belonging as we spoke, our unique expressions of Blackness only gave us each deeper connection, instead of divide. If only for a few glorious minutes, instead of feeling othered, we found a place that welcomed us as essential as the air.
“Does she have Celiac also? Seeing gluten free Back folk always excites me. Food allergy people, you know what I’m talking about. ”
I both want to share my rainy afternoon with you and keep it hidden to protect it. I don’t want someone else’s opinion to spoil it. How do you capture Black joy in the written word? Probably the same way you put sunshine in a bottle...You can’t. I can’t capture it because the joy of today was in the simplicity. We are just existing out here having tea nestled between a Black barbershop and gentrification - expensive condos.
I walked down Main Street in Beacon, NY into Matcha Thomas, my five year old hopping, a wiggly, tired baby on my hip, and a dear friend slightly twirling in a purple, iridescent, rain poncho they just got from a new thrift store in town. We awkwardly hold up traffic as we make our way in and start reading the menu aloud. The Black woman who enters with us double checks that everything is gluten free. This is the first moment in my mind when I multi-task talking to my kid and acknowledging my people, a little tingle as I glance around. Does she have Celiac also? Seeing gluten free Back folk always excites me. Food allergy people, you know what I’m talking about.
As we take up space and order, we laugh with these Black women. Our laughter expands and yet that feeling of are we being TOO much never comes. I feel my body brace for the discomfort to happen anyway. It doesn’t. I’m okay. It’s the alertness I always carry for when I need to code switch to be safe, for when I need to tell my Black child to come closer instead of being curious. My brain starts to say that’s not needed here and part of my body doesn’t know what to do with this relaxed feeling. The woman who walked in with us smiles with their eyes behind the mask and shares, “as I was walking behind you down the street, I was like ‘are they going where I’m going?’”
I know those words sound simple, but it was the way she said it. It was the is this happy group of Black humans and giggle kids headed into the same direction as me? As we meet this wonderful, intuitive astrologer and tarot card reader, the energy and excitement only goes up. We laugh. My friend invites her to Beacon’s Juneteenth celebration, saying, “we are having a celebration of Black joy, will you come?” Business cards are exchanged. Yes, let’s gather community and organize on Black joy, not just Black pain and murder. I don’t want to trauma bond. I want to celebrate your existence.
“As we take up space and order, we laugh with these Black women. Our laughter expands and yet that feeling of are we being TOO much never comes. I feel my body brace for the discomfort to happen anyway. It doesn’t. I’m okay. It’s the alertness I always carry for when I need to code switch to be safe, for when I need to tell my Black child to come closer instead of being curious. ”
As we sit outside at an adorable green table and try all the new treats, moment after moment like this roll in with abundance. I turn to my friend genuinely curious: “Is this normal for you? The continual deep connection to strangers?”
We meet Black moms who quickly tell us their stories as they run to get kids from t-ball, about moving to Africa, IG handles are exchanged for future hiking playdates with our Brown children.
It’s not just that I saw the likeness of me reflected here. It’s that I truly, genuinely made new friends even if we connected for just a few moments. I also chuckle now because in the moment it doesn’t cross my mind that who Justice McCray and I are probably does impact the magic that is happening, not just our Blackness. We both love collecting people’s stories: I’m a therapist and Justice is many things including organizer, future city council member, writer, and storyteller. I’m sure our craving for understanding and healing the world around us added to how we befriended strangers, I know it adds to our friendship.
I grew up in Beacon, born at home in a cabin on the mountain my grandparents built in the 50’s. My parents met on the school bus in elementary school. My father, a high school basketball star. Beacon is a town that has had mixed families and kids growing up here for generations. That’s important. My Black grandmother was an artist and worked at Talix (what is now that big building with the Black fist and Pride flag currently). I say this tiny bit of history to say, this is my home town and yet what happened today I had not experienced here before as an adult raising a family here.
Growing up appreciating the closeness and connectedness of small town life, I spent much of my childhood with my grandparents. Grandparents that everyone knew: The Seegers. My childhood experience in Beacon was that everyone knows your family and says hi to you in the Post Office. I think many kids who grew up here would actually say the same, as you walk around town someone knows you or your aunt and they have an eye out for you. For me it was often my proximity to whiteness, to fame that would have someone saying hello. Today at Matcha Thomas, it was my Blackness.
The week before, I read an Instagram Story that Katie from A Little Beacon Blog posted saying, ”an MTA media relations spokesperson I’m speaking with while researching an MTA Police story, who lives in NYC and has visited Beacon as a tourist, responded to my mention of BLM protest marches: ‘There is a Black community in Beacon?’ I didn’t know how to respond execpt by saying ‘Of course there is a Black community here!’”
It truly gave me pause. Wow, this town that was historically, beautifully rich in diversity. I would say Beacon was even known as a Black town, especially compared to the nearby sundown town of Cold Spring. Now it’s known as a place Black people don’t exist? It made my whole body tense. Am I no longer welcome here? Is this not a place for my Brown children?
“For me it was often my proximity to whiteness, to fame that would have someone saying hello. Today at Matcha Thomas, it was my Blackness. ”
So to have this moment of pure joy of Black people just existing and living and clearly craving more connection to each other, I could not help but smile, breathe deeper, even laugh. As I sipped my Mango matcha boba, Brown baby nibbling a cookie, I watched with a deep appreciation as this friend, a queer non-binary Black human talks Juneteenth, Black joy, and running for city council. My 5 year old tucked next to them listening, experiencing the happiness of Blackness in community. It was this moment that I wish was captured on film, so I can go back and savor it.
The owners of Matcha Thomas have intentionally cleansed and called in a deep healing energy. They have cultivated a space that in the most delicious way gives room to celebrate the intersectionality of humans. I inhaled it instantly as I walked in the door.
Later that evening, we strolled down Main Street, my baby now snuggled in a carrier on my back waving and saying hi to folx as we passed. The rain started to mist down on us and my 5 year old son quietly catches raindrops on his face…
Singin' brown skin girl.
Your skin just like pearls.
The best thing in the world.
I never trade you for anybody else.
