This block party inspired me today | 014
How the St. James Joy Party became one of my favorite things about life in Brooklyn
Two of the most soul-filling moments I’ve had since moving to Brooklyn have happened at the St. James Joy Party, in Clinton Hill. My friend, Dayee, invited me to my first one last April. I didn’t know what to expect, but what I found was a thriving celebration of everything I’ve come to love about this city: the rawness, rhythm, resilience, and radical joy permeating the streets.
This year, I returned with my camera ready, hoping to bottle some of that magic. Here are a few spontaneous moments I captured:
A kid on shoulders, dancing with earmuffs on, with not a care in the world. This kid’s gotta have some fun parents!
These women were the moment. The one on the left, in the “I am the vibe” t-shirt came to deliver, and the crowd received every ounce of it.
I felt no agenda or pretense from the crowd, just people of every age, race, and background dancing and connecting through the music.
The Heartbeat of St. James Place
What’s beautiful about St. James Joy is that it didn’t start as a spectacle. It started as a way to cope with the early darkness of the pandemic.
In March 2020, as the city stood still and uncertainty filled the air, the Vill family—Gail, Jo, Chelsea, and Chad—brought music to their block. It began with a whistle and a bell during the 7pm cheer for essential workers. Then came the turntables and speakers. Then the neighbors. From a five-minute jam grew a full-blown block party.
They called it St. James Joy, and that’s exactly what it was.
Five Years of Joy
What began as a nightly lifeline has become a beloved tradition. This spring marked the fifth anniversary of the St. James Joy Party. Five years of open streets, soulful dance music, and strangers becoming neighbors.
And it’s grown beyond the block, too. DJ legends like Louie Vega and DJ Spinna have dropped in. It’s been covered by NPR and New York Magazine. But through all the noise and attention, the soul of it has stayed the same: a family-powered gathering rooted in care, connection, and celebration.
This is what Brooklyn does so well. Ordinary people turning sidewalks and stoops into stages; isolation into invitation; music into medicine. I want to keep inviting more of this joy into my life.
Do you want to invite more of this kind of joy into your life?
What’re ways you can transform unfortunate or unforeseen circumstances into sources of joy? For yourself and the community around you?