Work Makes Life Sweet

by Chinedu Udeh

When I first encountered the phrase “work makes life sweet” in bell hooks’ Sisters of the Yam: Black Women and Self-Recovery, I nearly threw the book across the room. The idea that work could somehow be a source of joy and sweetness felt almost laughable. How could work be “sweet” when Black women, especially, are often burdened by the weight of caregiving and laboring for others, with little recognition for our efforts?

In the chapter titled “Work Makes Life Sweet,” hooks reflects on her childhood, surrounded by Black people who truly enjoyed their work. She explains that they were often self-employed, “living off the land... doing odd jobs here and there.” hooks goes further to note that “any task becomes sacred when we do it mindfully and with care. Southern Black traditions taught us the importance of working with integrity, irrespective of the task.”

This idea made sense. As a first-generation American with Igbo parents, I learned work was not just a means to an end; it was a reflection of who we were. No matter how small the task, we were taught to approach it with care and pride, because it represented our family. Work, in this context, was honorable and meaningful—an extension of our values and identity.

However, “flowery” language about work feels hollow. In a capitalist society focused on squeezing as much productivity out of workers as possible, at the lowest cost, the notion of work as sacred feels disconnected from reality. For Black women, who learn early on that we will be expected to work and care for others, we often overextend ourselves, leading to burnout.

For me, burnout manifested not just in exhaustion, but in an obsessive need for control. I found myself trying to control every minute of every day, carefully planning systems and projects to ensure success. My reward was a successful school community, but I was left with little memory of the journey.

bell hooks notes that “the ethic of work is central to Black survival in a hostile environment,” but also warns against internalizing the false belief that productivity defines our worth. The pressure to be constantly productive led me to hyper-focus on results, leaving little space for joy or reflection. I realized that I was missing the moments—those first days of school, those triumphs of student achievement—because I was always too busy planning the next step.

The pandemic, as it did for many of us, forced me to pause. Suddenly, I really couldn’t plan and control. I had no choice but to be present. In this forced stillness, I realized that work alone couldn’t provide a sense of fulfillment. I had to reclaim joy, not as an outcome, but as an experience in the now. I had to rethink what it meant to engage in work with intention, purpose, and loving care.

As I reflect on my leadership journey, I realize that the most important lesson has been the shift from constant planning to embracing the present. True leadership, for me, is not about making it to the finish line at all costs. Leading well means building systems that honor our humanity, allowing us to arrive fully present and whole, with sweetness for ourselves and those we serve.

In this way, hooks’ idea that “work makes life sweet” is not about constant labor. It’s about finding for ourselves work that brings sweetness into our lives—work that is rooted in community, in care, and in a deep connection to ourselves. This is the work that allows Black women to thrive. This is the work that builds a future where success is measured not by how much we produce, but by how fully we live.