The Black Manhood Dos And Don’ts For Thanksgiving
Thanksgiving is America’s most hypocritical holiday, and I say that with love.
It’s the one day we all collectively agree to pause and “give thanks” while consuming enough sodium to personally deliver our tidings of gratitude to Jesus and simultaneously pretending like we actually enjoy the company of our extended families.
It’s one of the few days when, as a Black man, you’re obligated to wear all of your identities at once. Dutiful son, dedicated brother, distant cousin, and maybe drunk uncle. You might walk out of your front door as the duly respected head of your household and wind up sitting at the other other adults’ table at Aunt Nona’s house.
But once you cross a certain threshold of Black manhood, Thanksgiving carries its own unique set of cultural responsibilities. Some of us are tasked with going up into the attic or down into the basement to dig out the extra tables and chairs. Others might have to be the family Uber and go pick up elderly relatives. If you’re lucky, you might get to play bartender and DJ all day. But there are also those of us who tie on an apron and get busy in the kitchen ourselves.
One thing is for certain, once you hit a certain age and until you reach a much bigger age, you’re going to be responsible for something; it’s its own rite of passage.
Whatever your role, you must accept it with grace and enthusiasm because you’re deep in the game now. You’ve graduated from being an accessory to being an integral part of the main event. And that brings a heightened level of expectations.
But fear not, Black man, here are some tips to help you not just survive, but dominate this year’s Thanksgiving day festivities, from the morning prep to the last of the to-go plates. Here’s a quick list of Dos and Don’ts to keep you on the right side of the family reunion.
DO: Know Your Culinary Assignment (and Stay in Your Lane)
If you’ve been asked to cook, cook what you know. Thanksgiving is not the time to experiment. Ain’t nobody trying to hear, “I saw this on TikTok” while watching you attempt to make a chitlins soufflé with a Flamin’ Hots crumble.
If you’re the mac and cheese guy, be the mac and cheese guy. Accept that and excel at that. Don’t suddenly decide you’re the brisket whisperer because you watched three episodes of Chef’s Table and went to Rodney Scott’s twice. If you’re a turkey fryer, stay a fryer. If you’re a turkey smoker, stay a smoker.
Black Thanksgiving meals run on reputation. One culinary misstep can set you back years. Aunt Brenda still talks about the time Felicia lost her mind and brought that quinoa dressing in 2016 (we spent half of dinner trying to pronounce it). Don’t be that person. Don’t be that man. Master your signature dish, execute it flawlessly, and humbly accept your flowers.
DON’T: Touch Another Man’s Grill, Deep Fryer, or Smoker
This is federal law in most Black households.
If you’re a guest at someone’s home and another man is running point on the meats, respectfully, keep your distance. You can offer compliments, supervision, or moral support, but do not pick up his tools or utensils. Don’t adjust the temperature. Don’t lift the lid. And, for the love of God, don’t offer unsolicited advice like, “You ever thought about making dressing with quinoa?”
Let that man cook, literally.
You’re a guest, so unless someone is actively on fire, the best thing you can do is back away slowly and sip your drink. The sanctity of grill jurisdiction must be respected.
DO: Observe the Prevailing Religious Tradition of the People You’re With
We get it. You’re not into organized religion anymore and, ever since that brief dalliance with that earthy woman back in undergrad, you ain’t on that swine. You’re spiritual, with a civilized palate, and you read books about your chakras and drink a smoothie every morning.
But for one day out of the year, you’re gonna act like you got a church home and respect them neckbones in the collards.
Nobody came here for a lecture on your enlightenment, and the people who prepared the meal put more love in it than bacon grease. Accept it and enjoy the moment.
DON’T: Over-Bless the Food
If they ask you to bless the table before the meal, congratulations, my brother. You’ve reached a rare space where you are respected as a leader within your family. They’ve entrusted the spiritual safety of the meal in your hands, and you are their collective representative to God for this occasion.
But, yo. You’re just saying grace, homeslice. Don’t try to be the guest pastor. Nobody came to hear you preach. We are hungry, and the Lions’ game is about to go into the fourth quarter.
You got 90 seconds to give thanks and praise, but then we gotta eat.
DO: Secure Your Plate Strategy Early
Black Thanksgiving is a strategic operation. Once the food hits the table, the clock starts ticking.
There are two key phases of the game: the first plate and the to-go plate.
The first plate must be heavy enough to signal enthusiasm, but not to the level of gluttonous irresponsibility. You’ve gotta be respectful enough to try a sampling of a little bit of everything while still focusing on your mainstays. So, for every heavy-handed serving of yams or greens, you gotta save a little room for your new sister-in-law’s unvetted potato salad or your niece’s vegan cream corn.
But the to-go plate is where you’re gonna put in the work. There are no alliances, allegiances, or courtesies when it comes down to the one for the road. That’s where you load up on your favorites and don’t even bother worrying about leaving something for somebody else. Now, this plate must be constructed in secrecy, away from judgmental eyes, and sealed like state secrets because you can’t let anybody judge your joy. Nobody has to know that you’re fitna go home and get busy with a plate full of greens and scraped-off marshmallow topper.
DON’T: Drop-In & Carry-Out
There’s a time in life when you can be a little footloose and fancy-free, and the people around you get it. Every young man (or woman) needs to experience the structured irresponsibility of knowing where you’re supposed to be, but trying to squeeze that in with all the places that you want to be. So, on Thanksgiving, when Little Lonnie stops through for a second, kisses his mama on the cheek, gives a cursory update on his life, and then packs up a plate for the road, we get it.
He’s got places to go and people to see. The streets need him. Rumble, young man, rumble.
But not you.
Once you hit a certain stage in life, you owe at least one hour of face time for every helping of food you take. Why? Because everybody knows that you’re too old to be out here runnin’ around and carryin’ on and, at this point, family is its own destination. You might as well get comfortable and ask what you can do to be helpful, because you’re probably at your destination for the day.
But, on the bright side, now you get to sprinkle the young’ns’ pockets on their way out the door and say something like, “Don’t hurt ‘em, now” as you fully embrace your Unc Era.
DO: Bring a Bottle, Respectfully
Not everybody’s family is cool with alcohol at the function, so know who you’re rocking with first before you bust up in the door with a handle of Crown and a jug of Paul Masson, asking where the party at.
Know your audience and act accordingly. If you’re going to a Thanksgiving dinner where there’s assigned seating, hard tableware, and cloth napkins, bring a bottle of $25+ wine. If you’re gonna spend an extended period of time out back watching someone fry, smoke, other otherwise exotically prepare a turkey, you’re good with some beer. But if it’s a get-in-where-you-fit-in with the Chinet plates and at least three people eating while standing, roll that Henny grenade in there, son. Make it interesting.
But, just like with any food you might be thinking about preparing, Thanksgiving is not the time to start trying to change the game with the booze.
Yes, YOU might like those hazy and hoppy IPAs, but that might not be the move for the crowd. Sure, you really enjoy French 75s and want to play family mixologist for the night, but who’s got time for you to be in the way, making simple syrup or taking up all the ice? And, yeah, we know about them THC-infused beverages you found at the wine shop, but Meemaw’s vision ain’t what it used to be, and do you really want to see what happens when she reaches for the Canada Dry and gets a ganja ale instead?
DON’T: Start Debates You Can’t Win
Not that you don’t have the intellectual capacity to win them. Nah, you smart. But not everyone at the function cares about your peer-reviewed data analysis of a given topic and subject matter expertise based on experience.
Thanksgiving conversations run more on vibes than veracity, and you have to remember that you’re there for the vibes, not to change anybody’s mind.
Maybe, when you were younger, you’d want to spar with your people over politics or religion or whatever cultural wind was kicking up controversy. But you’re older now. You value peace over performance, turkey over turbulence.
You already have enough drama going on in your life to be out here picking inconsequential fights with people you might not see again until a repast. Embrace the moment and, if it starts getting heated, you be the one to turn the temperature down with a well-timed dad joke or, if you have to, a loud enough belch that gets you poked in the ribs.
DO: Take a Nap
Because it is your right as a man to, once a year, sit in a comfortable seat and nod off as a symbolic moment of thankfulness for all the work you’ve done up until that moment.
You’ve earned it.
DON’T: Let Everyone Else Do All the Work
While you may not be the spry action figure of your youth, you’re also not an elder yet, and so your labor is integral to the success of the day.
You’re in your prime example-setting days, and the young’ns who see you clearing plates, cleaning up, and helping to get Uncle Butchie’s walker set up are going to internalize that behavior and step up when it’s their time. And that’s what this stage in life is all about.
You’re in this liminal space where your ability and your energy are still aligned. Yeah, you’ve lived some life, but you’ve got plenty more ahead and you still have more potential than you have past. You’re setting an example for some, but you’re also showing others the fruits of their labor. Don’t take that for granted.
Where you are, your words are important, but your actions tell your story better. Lean into it and embrace it because, before you realize it, somebody’s grandson is going to be helping to get you into the car.
At the end of the day, Thanksgiving isn’t about the turkey, the sides, or even the score. It’s about the moment. The rare occasion when three generations of your people occupy the same space, telling the same stories, eating the same dishes, and arguing the same arguments you swore you wouldn’t revisit.
At this stage of Black manhood, your job isn’t to control that chaos, it’s to anchor it. To laugh when the yams catch fire. To mediate when the spades table gets too competitive. To sneak your kid that extra piece of pie because they’ll remember that moment years from now.
Thanksgiving is the great American performance of togetherness, and you’re part of the cast, the seasoned pro who knows the cues, the lines, and the timing.
So pour yourself a glass of something brown. Take that nap. Tell that joke. But before you do, pull your kids close, look around that table, and take it all in.
Because one day, they’ll be the ones on the sofa, shaking their heads, saying, “Remember that time you brought that quinoa casserole?”
And you’ll smile, because you know the truth: you might not have nailed every dish, but you cooked up a legacy.
Corey Richardson is originally from Newport News, Va., and currently lives in Chicago, Ill. Ad guy by trade, Dad guy in life, and grilled meat enthusiast, Corey spends his time crafting words, cheering on beleaguered Washington DC sports franchises, and yelling obscenities at himself on golf courses. As the founder of The Instigation Department, you can follow him on Substack to keep up with his work.
SEE ALSO:
Correction vs. Cruelty: Why Getting Punched In The Face Matters
