As a brother who grow up in the USA (United Streets of Atlanta,) the history of cigar smoking runs through my veins like the rhythm of a soulful Toni Braxton melody. It’s a journey that intertwines with the very fabric of my culture, connecting me to my roots and the resilience of my ancestors.
I imagine them, back in the days of old, tending to the tobacco fields under the scorching sun of Africa. Their hands worked the soil with pride, cultivating the sacred leaf that would one day find its way across the Atlantic, carried by the winds of fate and the waves of history.
In the tumultuous days of slavery, cigar smoking became more than just a pastime—it was a symbol of defiance, a way for black men to assert their humanity in the face of oppression. With each puff of smoke, they reclaimed a sense of agency, refusing to be defined by the chains that bound them.
As the years passed and freedom rang out across the land, cigar smoking evolved into a celebration of culture and community. From the jazz clubs of Harlem to the juke joints of New Orleans, it was a ritual of fellowship, where stories were shared, dreams were nurtured, and bonds were forged in smoke-filled rooms.
Today, in the bustling streets of Atlanta, cigar smoking remains a cherished tradition, a nod to the past and a celebration of the present. In the dimly lit lounges Cam Newton’s Fellaship or the Red phone booth in Buckhead and corner barbershops, patrons gather to indulge in the simple pleasure of a fine cigar, their laughter mingling with the fragrant smoke as they toast to life’s blessings.
As I take a long draw from my cigar, I can’t help but recall the words of Andre 3000, whose music echoes the fiber of Atlanta. “Smoke it like a player, puff, puff, give,” he once said, encapsulating the essence of the cigar-smoking experience… he could've been easily talking about something else. In those words, I find a mantra for life—a reminder to savor each moment, embrace each puff, and share the joy with those around me.
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