When you’re Black, the world either wants to kill you, save you, or pity you. Our joy isn’t a hot commodity, and when we make others face their guilt or shame for perpetuating that our joy isn’t a priority, we are further on our own. To me, it seems to come down to agency over joy, especially the joy of Black femmes/women. But my suffering isn’t for sale. Society must stop “deciding” how much someone is worth and start believing that people are owed joy, food, care, and opportunity.