Black Planter Party
Hella Bee’s
Oakland
Feb. 24, 2024
I know a few people my age who are parents to human children, but I know many more who are plant parents — that trendy term for people who proudly nurture their houseplants as if they were human kids or pets.
Have you ever cooed, “Who’s a good plant? You are!” to your houseplants, happily rewarding them with the oxygen they thrive off of? Ever had to schedule a friend or neighbor to stop by to water and check in on your plants whenever you were out of town? Or been grateful for having spent some quality time in the sun with your plants, gazing at them with pride and wonder at how well they’ve grown?
Congratulations! You may be a proud plant parent.
I was happy to find a kindred, plant-loving community at the Black Planter Party near Lake Merritt. It did sort of feel like a playdate for plant parents. Before I even walked in, I knew I was in the right place. People strolled out of the venue wearing big smiles, cradling plants of all shapes and sizes in their arms. And, to ensure that all kinds of families were happy, human kids were even allowed into the event for free.
The event was organized by the Black Planter Party Oakland and Hella Plants Market to celebrate Black-owned plant businesses (“Black Plantpreneurs”). Hella Bee’s, the venue hosting the event, was elegantly decked out in lush plants of all kinds, with one free plant for each guest to take home. Mingling among the food stalls, people ogled the beautiful, living displays. There was a soil bar, a “propagation station,” interactive activities like terrarium building, and plenty of food and drink. There was even a plant-themed “throne” for selfies. I was definitely in my element.
I listened to one vendor as they advised a customer on the best plants and moss vitamin powders for their needs. I ogled all the beautiful plants, and wondered how many I could reasonably carry with me on BART. I drank in the good, green-thumb vibes on the first gorgeous, sunny warm day after all the rainstorms in the past week.
It was a wonder I made it out with only one plant to bring home. With a wide smile on my face, I debated which of the beautiful plant babies I wanted to adopt. Pothos, that hearty breed, similar to the very first plant I nurtured? A money plant, with its pointed oval leaves, meant to bring good fortune to those who tend it? A no-nonsense cactus, of the kind that I learned the hard way not to touch, even in the spots where it looks smooth and harmless?
I went with a Song of India, its tall, stately leaves jutting out like green fireworks from the enriched soil. The wind picked up outside. I made sure to shield it from harm, noticing that one long leaf had already been bent halfway. I found myself stopping to sit by the lake to rest, then taking out my phone to snap a photo of my new plant. “You are so precious,” I cooed, like the proud parent I was.
