Joy Is Part of the Resistance

Johanna Olivas
5 days ago
4 min read

What the Benito Bowl halftime show reminded me about belonging, nervous system relief, and why I create spaces for BIPOC to exhale.

Bad Bunny Superbowl LX halftime performance. // CREDIT NBC

The Benito Bowl halftime show didn’t just entertain me - it reminded me what it feels like to be reflected back.

As a daughter of immigrants from a large family, I grew up with joy woven into everything. Joy in the kitchen. Joy in the music. Joy in the way stories get told: loudly, lovingly, with hands and heart. Joy as a survival language. Joy as a form of care.

And still… we’re living in a time where simply existing in a Black or brown body can feel politicized.

Where our communities are treated like problems to be managed like immigrants who don’t belong, like we have to prove our right to be here. Where ICE terrorizes neighborhoods and families carry a constant, quiet fear in the background of daily life.

And even with all of that—we still find each other.We still laugh. We still dance. We still love. Not because we’re ignoring what’s happening, but because joy is how we keep our humanity intact.

What existed was a shared pulse. A thousand little “me too” moments. A feeling that BIPOC joy can be expansive, mainstream, undeniable—and still rooted in culture and truth.

This is what it feels like to be reflected back.

The vibration of being seen

There’s a difference between being present… and being safe enough to be fully present.

When you live under systems that constantly scan, stereotype, and police BIPOC bodies—when you’re navigating workplaces, classrooms, neighborhoods, or even wellness spaces where you’re “the only one”- your nervous system adapts. It learns to brace. It learns to stay vigilant. It learns to anticipate.

And sometimes we don’t realize how much we’re holding until something lets us let go.

Watching the halftime show, I felt a softening.

A loosening.

A deep exhale.

Not because everything in the world is suddenly okay, but because for a few minutes, we got to experience what our bodies deserve more often:

Joy without apology. Pride. Celebration without translation.

Joy is part of the resistance

This is what I keep coming back to: Joy is part of the resistance.

Because in a world that benefits from our exhaustion, our disconnection, and our shrinking—joy becomes a refusal.

Refusal to disappear. Refusal to only speak in survival. Refusal to let the story be only pain.

Joy doesn’t erase grief. Joy doesn’t bypass the truth. Joy doesn’t pretend.

Joy is something else.

Joy is what helps us return to ourselves. Joy is what makes space for breath again. Joy is what reminds us we’re still here—still feeling, still creating, still loving, still alive.

And for many of us, joy isn’t just an emotion—it’s an ancestral inheritance.

Why I create spaces for BIPOC to exhale

This is exactly why I do what I do through Luna Serenity.

I create spaces—through sound healing, breathwork, meditation, cacao, and ritual—where BIPOC can experience that same deep exhale on purpose.

Not just once at a concert. Not just when we get lucky.

But as a practice.

As a remembering.

As a return.

Because a vibrational shift isn’t always loud. Sometimes it’s subtle.

Sometimes the shift is:

shoulders dropping
jaw unclenching
breath lengthening
tears moving
laughter rising
the body finally saying, “I can be here.”

And when that happens in community—when we witness each other in softness, in power, in truth—that shift becomes bigger than the moment.

It becomes medicine.

A micro-practice: the joy exhale

If you’re reading this and you feel tired… or braced… or like you’ve been carrying too much for too long, try this:

Place one hand on your heart and one hand on your ribs.
Inhale through the nose for a count of 4.
Exhale slowly through the mouth for a count of 6–8, like a sigh.
Repeat 3 times.

Then ask yourself gently:

Where have I been shrinking and what would it feel like to take up space with ease?

What kind of joy is my body craving-not to escape, but to come alive?

What I’m inviting you into

This reflection is personal—but it’s also the heartbeat behind what I’m building.

It’s why I’m hosting my Joyful Awakening Retreat in June—a space designed for restoration, connection, and joy that is rooted.

Joy that nourishes. Joy that steadies. Joy that helps us remember who we are beneath the noise. If you’re feeling called to experience this kind of exhale in community, I’d love to share the details with you. And if you’re a leader or decision-maker looking to support your team’s wellbeing: I also offer workplace wellness experiences—breathwork, sound meditation, and nervous-system supportive practices that help teams regulate, reset, and reconnect.

Reach out if you want to learn more about: