Knuckle Heads

They crowd together in the frame, leaning, joking, nudging, each one trying to outshine the other in the way only boys can. Their expressions are loud even though the drawing is quiet. One grins wide, another squints with mischief in his eyes, another looks like he is about to burst into laughter. You can almost hear the noise — the teasing, the shouting, the play fighting, the brotherhood.
 
In Knuckle Heads, LaKeem catches the beautiful chaos of Black boyhood. The kind of energy found on porches, sidewalks, school yards, and church parking lots. These boys are trouble in the best way. Not harmful trouble, but the kind that makes memories. The kind that reminds you of cousins, neighbors, best friends who became brothers. Their wildness is innocence. Their joy is survival. Their togetherness is culture.
 
Through loose, layered lines, LaKeem shows how Black boys grow inside community. How even in their silliness, they are shaping each other, learning confidence, learning humor, learning how to take up space without apology. Knuckle Heads is not just about play. It is about the early roots of brotherhood, the kind that creates men who remember where they came from.