Though I began writing stories and poems at a young age, it wasn't until Sophomore year of college (after a 4-year writing hiatus), that I dove in headfirst. I attended a conservatory-style acting program, so in its earliest forms, my work pulled intensely and almost singularly from that world. It was performative. It was based in the body, the voice. Theatre work necessitates the deep study of language and its relationship to the human body, so I feel that was my first, and is to this day, the most influential educative force in my poetic work.

For a while, I only wrote, and shared work at coffeeshops. Then, somewhere along the way I began to step into focused spaces. A mesmerizing spoken word spot in downtown Syracuse. A spoken word organization a part of my university. To hear the heartbeat of the city through this community of poets brave enough to spill their truths. I listened. That was education. I shared work too, but it wasn't the same story, it wasn't: write, and share, and write, and share… it was: listen, listen, write, listen, share.

Alongside this performativity, I began to study the page. How to write a poem that lives its fullest life on the page, not in the body? I weaseled my way into two poetry college courses, sat in on any possible readings, attended workshops regularly. After college, I took several workshops by a radiant organization, Winter Tangerine. They taught me the value of reading others' work with regularity, encouraged a playfulness, and provided the space to explore my own Blackness among Black people and queer folk.

Through the darkness of the pandemic lockdown, I remember finding light in my writing process. There was suddenly room to dive even deeper. To study craft. To read more. To develop routine. To love it more each day. I am grateful for this.

These days I find my poetic & performative work woven amongst my work as preschool teacher, and the perpetual search for balance in living an artful life.

Cheers.