It’s prom season again….and I’ve come to the realization that the game has truly changed,
This is the time of year when sequins shimmer brighter than dreams, and the group chats are flooded with everything from nail inspo to party bus bookings. But somewhere between the prom-posals with fireworks and the custom suits lined with anime art, I found myself whispering the same prayer over and over again: Lord… when did prom turn into the Met Gala?
Now don’t get me wrong—I love a good celebration. I love seeing our kids shine, stepping into adulthood with confidence and a whole lot of cologne. But whew! This generation has turned prom into a full-blown production. We’re talking helicopter arrivals, professional stylists, private photographers and weekends at a Galveston beach house. I saw one kid get out of a luxury car holding a live python. A python.
Back in my day—the late ’80s glory days—prom was still special, but it wasn’t a movie premiere. We rolled up to Al’s Formal Wear, grabbed a basic tux or a lacy tea-length dress, maybe spritzed on some Cool Water cologne. Then we’d head over to Transco Towers (you know the one with the waterfall) for our photos, posing like we were about to be in Jet magazine.
And you know what? It was magical.
We didn’t need drone footage or designers flown in from Atlanta. We had moms with hot glue guns, and cousins who could do a mean French roll. We didn’t have prom “capsules” on Instagram or outfits inspired by Pinterest. We had photo albums from Walgreens and memories that still make us smile.
But here’s the thing: We created these extravagant teens.
We really have.
We were the ones who wanted “more” for our babies. We wanted them to have what we didn’t. So we added a little sparkle here, a little extra there. Suddenly, a nice dress wasn’t enough—it had to be custom, couture and preferably covered in Swarovski crystals. And promposals? Please. If your child isn’t popping the question with a marching band and a banner over I-45, are they even trying?
So yes, I’m writing this as the very mother trying to book a last-minute limo, calling around to see if Auntie Cheryl can sew sequins onto a tuxedo jacket while I Google “how to make a corsage from scratch.” I’m in the trenches with you. Fully invested. Slightly stressed. Extremely proud.
Because when I really think about it, these kids are doing what we always prayed they’d do: dare to be bold, creative, expressive and joyful. Their version of prom might look different from ours, but it’s still that one unforgettable night where Black excellence gets dressed up and dances like nobody’s watching.
So go ahead, babies. Rent the yacht. Wear the LED-lit dress. Just make sure you still stop by Transco Towers for that photo.
We’ll be in the parking lot, crying and clutching our purses.
Signed,
A proud mama with rhinestones in her car seat and a $300 floral bill on her CashApp.
