Easter Sunday

“Easter Sunday” is the quieter half of a shared memory—laughter, dominoes, dancing, fellowship. After church, we celebrated life, God, and each other. Moments like this feel deeply personal, yet inevitably political. In our own homes and backyards, we create joy that defies the narratives placed on us. This is a photo of a lived experience—an assertion of belonging. We are often seen as the antithesis of American identity, but what if this is our America? How long must we exist here before we’re no longer seen as Bastards?