7 Things R and B in the Park Taught Me About Community

I don’t remember the first song DJ Nasty Sho played. What I remember is how I felt during his set.

I remember the first hug. Actually, I remember a lot of hugs.

That’s what stayed with me after spending an afternoon at R&B in the Park in Hattiesburg.

There were vendors, DJs, entrepreneurs, an outstanding live band, and enough good food to make you rethink your diet.

But what I left thinking about wasn’t the entertainment.

It was the people. It was the conversations.

It was the feeling that community—real community—is still alive if we’re willing to invest in it.

Legacy Sounds Like More Than Music

One of the first things that caught my attention had nothing to do with the stage.

I watched Mike Swiff doing something far more important than mixing sound.

I watched him teach.

As a father, he wasn’t just showing his son how to connect cables or balance audio levels. He was passing down a craft. He was sharing the art and science of being a sound engineer, inviting his son into a profession built on skill, patience, and excellence.

Some families pass down heirlooms. Others pass down businesses. That afternoon, I watched knowledge become part of a family’s legacy. It reminded me that one of the greatest gifts we can give our children isn’t simply what we own—it’s what we know.

A Parking Lot Became an Economy

As I walked through the park, I watched something else happen.

Empty spaces became opportunity.

Parking spaces transformed into restaurants, retail stores, gathering places, and small businesses.

I know for certain that Fairley’s Wings & More sold out—not only from their food truck but also at their brick-and-mortar location, which was less than a mile from the park.

That doesn’t happen because people simply show up hungry.

Success didn’t happen because Fairley’s had the best location. It happened because people intentionally chose to spend their dollars with someone from their own community.

I also spent time talking with Saint, a tattoo artist and clothing designer whose Black Sheep Hunting Club T-shirt caught my attention. On state, Kujho was wearing a Fitness Junkies Support Club jersey, another one of Saint’s apparel pieces

Those weren’t just shirts.

They were conversation starters.

Standing under Saint’s tent, our conversation wandered from entrepreneurship and business practices to the importance of being a good listener, building authentic relationships, and investing in community.

That’s the beautiful thing about spaces like this.

You never know which conversation will become your next collaboration.

The Older We Get…

One of my favorite moments wasn’t planned. I ran into a brother from Jackson that I probably hadn’t seen in more than a few years.

We laughed. Caught up on life.

Talked about our children and the sports they play. Then we laughed again about something every parent eventually realizes.  We don’t get to do all the things we used to do anymore.

Now our kids have become our hobbies. And honestly?

I wouldn’t trade it for anything.

Those are the conversations you can’t schedule.

They’re reminders that while life changes, genuine people don’t disappear.

Sometimes they simply wait for the right place to reconnect.

Let’s Talk About How We Can Help Each Other

The night before the R&B In The Park, I was running sound for Black Male Town Hall organized by Southern Poverty Law Center’s Mississippi Office. After the event, I spent time talking with Cocky McFly of the Vibe Controllers.

We talked about our networks.

About collaboration.

About supporting one another.

Then he said something that’s been stuck in my head ever since.

“It’s cool to kick it, but let’s talk about how we can help each other.”

That one sentence may have summarized the entire weekend.

Networking shouldn’t end with exchanging business cards.

Community shouldn’t end with taking pictures together.

Relationships become meaningful when we intentionally ask one another: “How can I help?”

Villages Don’t Have ZIP Codes

As I continued walking around the park, something unexpected happened.

I didn’t feel like a visitor.

I didn’t feel like an outsider.

I felt at home.

Honestly, it reminded me of Tougaloo Alumni Weekend—except this was Hattiesburg.

I saw a few Tougaloo alumni in the mix.

I caught up with Deanna, a Tougaloo Alum and former Lady Bulldog Basketball player, who shared details about an upcoming adult field day she’s organizing.

I reconnected with another Tougaloo Alum, who expressed interest in partnering on future events after realizing she had mixed up the dates for our R&B, Ribs & Rosé event in Gulfport.

Meandering through the park, I discovered “Da Bruhz” rocking a Dad Gang cap and chilling with his wife and daughters. This guy is in the military and stationed nearby. I was able to recommend places for him and his family to visit the next time they’re in Coastal Mississppi.

Throughout the day, I hugged people I’d known for years.

I met people I hope to know get to know better soon.

That’s when it hit me.

Maybe villages don’t have ZIP codes.

Maybe they’re built wherever people choose to keep showing up for one another.

Community Doesn’t Happen by Accident

Walking through R&B in the Park reminded me that events like this don’t simply happen because someone creates a flyer or books a DJ.

They happen because people consistently invest in relationships.

They require commitment.

Consistency.

Time.

Trust.

That’s the recipe.

That’s the Black Joy formula that’s always been there.

Commitment.

Consistency.

Time.

Trust.

Every one of us belongs to a village.

The challenge is making those villages more connected.

Lately, I’ve been thinking about the relationships growing between Jackson, Hattiesburg, Gulfport, Mobile, New Orleans, and communities beyond.

We should be talking about that more.

Celebrating it more.

Building it more intentionally.

Because the stronger those connections become, the stronger all of our communities become.

Let’s Keep Being Villagers

People sometimes worry about overlapping networks.

I don’t.

To me, overlapping networks simply mean the degrees of separation become smaller.

Somebody knows somebody who knows somebody.

That’s how opportunities travel.

That’s how businesses grow.

That’s how jobs are created.

That’s how mentors find young people.

That’s how communities organize and survive today.

So let’s keep being kinfolk.

Let’s keep being cousins.

Let’s keep being Unks.

Let’s keep being aunties.

Let’s keep being OGs.

Let’s keep being Tee Tees.

Let’s keep introducing people who need to know each other.

Let’s keep supporting Black-owned businesses.

Let’s keep showing up for one another.

Let’s keep building bridges between Jackson, Hattiesburg, Gulfport, Mobile, New Orleans, and every community that believes relationships matter.

The beautiful thing about bridges is that they don’t erase where we come from. Jackson is still Jackson. Hattiesburg is still Hattiesburg. Gulfport is still Gulfport. But bridges allow us to celebrate what makes each community unique while making all of us stronger together.

Because when the music stops…

Community is what remains.

And maybe that’s what R&B in the Park was really celebrating all along.

After all, “Love thy neighbor as thyself” isn’t just a commandment.

It’s a community development strategy.

Check out more of what I saw throughout the day.