My most comfortable Easter outfit ever 🥰 wearing these comfy clothes, reminded me of childhood Easter outfits that were less than comfortable. Come with me for a trip down Black people Easter memory lane…

I grew up in the 70’s and 80’s in the Black Baptist church where Easter Sunday was synonymous with a fashion show. Finger snaps, please! Each year, Black men wearing the finest of suits, even as they worked in menial labor jobs all week. Black women styling in coordinating suits, hats, shoes, AND purses – can I get an “Amen” in the comments if you remember your grandma or grandfather looking that good!

We kids looked cute, too. Uncomfortable, but cute. Back then, Easter seemed like a lot of work…

The preparation for Easter Sunday began early on Friday or Saturday morning when my mom would wash our hair. Then, either she or my grandma would pull out the hot comb from the drawer next to the stove or under the oven.

For those who know what I’m about to say next, know that I’m still working off the Hot Comb PTSD with you 🤣

I’d sit in a plastic kitchen chair sweating. For the next eternity (that’s how it felt), all I’d hear was “Be still,” “Don’t move,” “Hold your ear so I don’t burn it” and my favorite: “Stay still. That’s why you got burned.”

Mom or grandma would heat the metal comb on the stovetop. (Yes. You read that right. Welcome to Black Hair 101) That nuclear temperature hot comb would pass through my dry, not quite 4C hair saturated with Blue Bergamot hair oil.

Excuse me…grease. Blue Bergamot Hair grease. That’s what we called it.

How did my hair NOT go up in flames?

Grandma would say, “Honey, it hurts to be beautiful.”

We may cringe at those words now. But 40 years ago, there was a hope that Black women had in getting ready for Easter Sunday that they wanted to pass along to us.

These were Black men and women who’d grown up before and after Jim Crow segregation. My parents, grandparents, and their friends were still fighting for respect, their humanity, and livable wage.

Easter was an expensive sacrifice for Black church people back then. Even as a kid, I knew that my mother saved up for the Easter holiday. She would put dresses on lay layaway at Lerner at the mall. I remember going with mom to pick up our Sunday suits. They were packed in fancy cardboard boxes. She’d take us to buy new Sunday shoes – always a size bigger since we’d be wearing them for awhile after the holiday.

While I stand in my comfortable clothes today (which included jeans, something I never could’ve imagined as a kid) I’ll never forget the Easters of years past.

Even now, I can hear the voices of the church mothers and fathers singing in celebration of the risen Jesus in their fine Easter clothes.

Those years planted the importance of honoring the sacrifice and to prepare for the celebration of the resurrection.

While we don’t need a coordinated suits or fancy clothes to honor Jesus’s resurrection, perhaps, it’s a good time to set aside a moment to honor Jesus in your heart. Say thanks. Even if it’s been a long time since you’ve talked to him, say thanks, always.

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