Interview
wE ALL SHIMMER SOMETIMES, TOO: aN INTERVIEW WITH pORSHA oLAYIWOLA ON ART, IDENTITY, AND THE BLACK AND QUEER EXPERIENCE IN AMERICA
BY dINA fOLGIA, eLIZABETH mOSOLOVICH, & aMANDA sPADEL
October 2020
In the modern age of poetry, the idea of the classic "Great American Writer" has been wildly reimagined. Spoken-word and slam poetry have become platforms for marginalized voices to speak candidly about issues of race, religion, politics, and creed, offering a chance for revolutionary writers to expand their craft far beyond simple words on a page. Nobody knows this better than 2014 Individual World Poetry Slam Champion Porsha Olayiwola, whose debut poetry collection i shimmer sometimes, too tackles many of these tough topics, displaying them through a more personal lens.
Originally from Chicago, Olayiwola is the current poet laureate of Boston, where she now resides. Her poetry has been lauded as “a testament to black womanhood” and “rooted in afro-futurism,” making her point of view decidedly unique among modern poets. Olayiwola describes herself as black, queer, “womanist,” and a hip-hop feminist, drawing on her intertwined identities to give her poetry a rich resonance with a broad spectrum of readers.
Glassworks conducted an interview with Olayiwola to gain a better understanding of how her experience as a queer black woman in America has shaped the way she writes and performs. In i shimmer sometimes, too, Olayiwola discusses concepts pertaining to the black experience in America, adding her perspective to an ongoing conversation about inclusiveness and diversity.
Originally from Chicago, Olayiwola is the current poet laureate of Boston, where she now resides. Her poetry has been lauded as “a testament to black womanhood” and “rooted in afro-futurism,” making her point of view decidedly unique among modern poets. Olayiwola describes herself as black, queer, “womanist,” and a hip-hop feminist, drawing on her intertwined identities to give her poetry a rich resonance with a broad spectrum of readers.
Glassworks conducted an interview with Olayiwola to gain a better understanding of how her experience as a queer black woman in America has shaped the way she writes and performs. In i shimmer sometimes, too, Olayiwola discusses concepts pertaining to the black experience in America, adding her perspective to an ongoing conversation about inclusiveness and diversity.
Glassworks Magazine (GM): You are the current poet laureate of the city of Boston, and boston.gov lauds your work as "rooted in Afrofuturism." Do you agree with this label, and if so, how do you think your writing fits in with this genre?
Porsha Olayiwola (PO): Yes, I identify as an Afrofuturist. I love to think about living my life in a way that allows me to plan for a future I want to see. I have begun to rethink and reshape the ways in which I organize and create with other folks. In my writing, Afrofuturism has granted me the space to insert more magic, more joy, more imagination into the stories I tell. I’ve also used it to latch on to painting the horror/sci-fi realities of living life in a marginalized body. There is freedom in that. If I could classify, I’d say that’s where this poetry collection exists, it's a dystopic Afrofuturistic poetry collection. Who would have thought?
GM: i shimmer sometimes, too will be your debut collection, but you previously made your mark as a performance poet. In fact, you were named both the 2014 Individual World Poetry Slam Champion and the 2015 National Poetry Slam Champion. What were some challenges you faced in going from spoken word poetry to printed poetry?
PO: Most of my challenges have been from outside audience and readers. Poetry, as we know and understand, is a genre that has been historically white and consistently elitist. Writers and readers still hold performance poetry in a light that is far away from what we deem academia, literature, or publishable. That’s my most difficult challenge: making a mark in a poetic world where my writing straddles the genre line.
GM: In poems such as "Un-named," "Notorious," and "Water," the Afrofuturism motif seems to drive meaning. History, along with creative narrative, is woven into these pieces. Can you tell us more about how Afrofuturism and Afrosurrealism can influence positive impact or change in America?
PO: You have to think at some point someone wrote the Bill of Rights, the Constitution, the Preamble, and all the laws. Those were really just words that someone dreamed up about the future, and they came into practice, because of power, of course. But perhaps, if I name my future, write the future I wish to see, perhaps it will give others permission to do the same. I think an Afrofuturist landscape calls for equity, love, counter memory, and undoing some of the damage years of colonization, oppression, genocide, and slow violence, to grant us a peaceful trajectory counter to the one written already in our names.
Porsha Olayiwola (PO): Yes, I identify as an Afrofuturist. I love to think about living my life in a way that allows me to plan for a future I want to see. I have begun to rethink and reshape the ways in which I organize and create with other folks. In my writing, Afrofuturism has granted me the space to insert more magic, more joy, more imagination into the stories I tell. I’ve also used it to latch on to painting the horror/sci-fi realities of living life in a marginalized body. There is freedom in that. If I could classify, I’d say that’s where this poetry collection exists, it's a dystopic Afrofuturistic poetry collection. Who would have thought?
GM: i shimmer sometimes, too will be your debut collection, but you previously made your mark as a performance poet. In fact, you were named both the 2014 Individual World Poetry Slam Champion and the 2015 National Poetry Slam Champion. What were some challenges you faced in going from spoken word poetry to printed poetry?
PO: Most of my challenges have been from outside audience and readers. Poetry, as we know and understand, is a genre that has been historically white and consistently elitist. Writers and readers still hold performance poetry in a light that is far away from what we deem academia, literature, or publishable. That’s my most difficult challenge: making a mark in a poetic world where my writing straddles the genre line.
GM: In poems such as "Un-named," "Notorious," and "Water," the Afrofuturism motif seems to drive meaning. History, along with creative narrative, is woven into these pieces. Can you tell us more about how Afrofuturism and Afrosurrealism can influence positive impact or change in America?
PO: You have to think at some point someone wrote the Bill of Rights, the Constitution, the Preamble, and all the laws. Those were really just words that someone dreamed up about the future, and they came into practice, because of power, of course. But perhaps, if I name my future, write the future I wish to see, perhaps it will give others permission to do the same. I think an Afrofuturist landscape calls for equity, love, counter memory, and undoing some of the damage years of colonization, oppression, genocide, and slow violence, to grant us a peaceful trajectory counter to the one written already in our names.
"But perhaps, if I name my future, write the future I wish to see, perhaps it will give others permission to do the same. I think an Afrofuturist landscape calls for equity, love, counter memory, and undoing some of the damage years of colonization, oppression, genocide, and slow violence" |
GM: Some of your poems such as "Ursula :: Hotel Poolside" and "Tangled A.K.A Rapunzel A.K.A. Long-hair-don't-care-and-What" discuss personal battles such as self-image and body image. How do you think writing poetry and sharing personal stories shapes our understanding of ourselves as writers/performers and as human beings?
PO: I think of writing and reading as a share. The more the speaker reveals themselves, the easier the reader can see themselves, and vice versa. I also don’t think of these as personal or intimate stories. I believe, again, these issues address not a problem the speaker finds with themselves, but rather tackles the issues the world has with their body, and image. Identity is political and personal. |
GM: According to Button Poetry, your book is a testament to "black womanhood". In what ways did your own identity shape the decisions you made while writing this book?
PO: I’m not sure how to answer that question. In part because identity doesn't just shape the book, it shapes everything, how I move and operate in this world, what I wear, who I am strolling with and what I ate for breakfast. Of course my intersecting identities, black, fat, queer, masculine-of-center-presenting, all intersect at every point of my existence. Oh, and in the book too.
GM: Many of your poems speak to the experiences of continuously oppressed communities in America, such as “Water," "The Joke," and "Unnamed." Do you think sharing poetry and other creative works can impact these communities, and other communities, when they read or encounter your work?
PO: Yes. I write for myself. But I also write for my people. I write to live forever, and so that no one will ever one day say myself and my people were not here, we did not take count, we did not have things to say. History is often told by the victor. I am hoping my work tells a different victor’s tale. When I think of others reading my work, I am hoping they can see themselves, that they are able to identify with some small portions. And if folks do not see themselves reflected in my work, that’s okay as well, I hope they see me. Seeing, looking, understanding is how we make the world a better place. How we embark on a radical present where love is at our center.
PO: I’m not sure how to answer that question. In part because identity doesn't just shape the book, it shapes everything, how I move and operate in this world, what I wear, who I am strolling with and what I ate for breakfast. Of course my intersecting identities, black, fat, queer, masculine-of-center-presenting, all intersect at every point of my existence. Oh, and in the book too.
GM: Many of your poems speak to the experiences of continuously oppressed communities in America, such as “Water," "The Joke," and "Unnamed." Do you think sharing poetry and other creative works can impact these communities, and other communities, when they read or encounter your work?
PO: Yes. I write for myself. But I also write for my people. I write to live forever, and so that no one will ever one day say myself and my people were not here, we did not take count, we did not have things to say. History is often told by the victor. I am hoping my work tells a different victor’s tale. When I think of others reading my work, I am hoping they can see themselves, that they are able to identify with some small portions. And if folks do not see themselves reflected in my work, that’s okay as well, I hope they see me. Seeing, looking, understanding is how we make the world a better place. How we embark on a radical present where love is at our center.
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GM: In the editing process, it’s no secret that oftentimes writers have to make hard decisions regarding their work. Was there anything you wanted to or did put in the book that was later cut from the final version?
PO: No! Honestly, in the final hour, a friend had to talk me out of cutting seven poems. Seven. I cut only three instead. Was happy to see them go. That’s my favorite part of the writing process, editing. GM: All of your poems have very unique form. The form seems to be meaningful in its own sense, especially in poems such as “Footnotes" and “God is Good All the Time.” Can you tell us how you began experimenting with form to create substantial meaning in your poetry? Would you agree that form can make a huge impact on poetry and the memorabilia it leaves for the audience? |
"I write for myself. But I also write for my people. I write to live forever, and so that no one will ever one day say myself and my people were not here, we did not take count, we did not have things to say. History is often told by the victor. I am hoping my work tells a different victor’s tale." |
PO: As a performance artist, I’m experimenting with form on stage all the time. It was easy and exciting to translate that to the page. I like to think of a form as doing things to shape the poem, adding to what has already been written. I like to think of it as a great score for a film, background music. You don’t need it to write poetry, but when you use form, and when you use it well, my god, what music it adds to the script, what overlapping or contrasting story does the form reveal. I am fascinated with physical form and traditional forms of poetry.
GM: You have also produced theater projects, such as “Black & Ugly as Ever.” You are currently working on SPIRIT, an “Afrofuturist and Afrosurrealist” theater project with Marshall "Gripp" Gillson. What is that experience like? How is that different/similar to your choreopoems and your written work?
PO: “Black and Ugly as Ever” is a one-person theatrical choreopoem. All the vignettes in the piece were written, performed, and featured me as the subject. Some of the vignettes in the production are actually written in a poetic form, and so, “Black & Ugly as Ever” was much like some of the work I had been doing with the exception of the topic (beauty standards), and its intent to be performed. I had a lot of fun co-writing and co-directing “SPIRIT.” Unlike “Black and Ugly as Ever,” “SPIRIT” was a collaborative project in every sense of the word. It was invigorating to world-build, character develop, and then to have others bring it to life. Even more so, it was exciting to produce a magical theatrical piece, with an incredible co-author and an outstanding cast who went above and beyond to give my words and my story a life off the page. What a magical experience. I’ll be forever grateful to “SPIRIT’s” original cast for making my work better than I could have dreamed it. I believe in saying people’s names, so forever gratitude to Chey Harvey, Ashley Davis, Tammy Hubz and Wdzidzor, and my co writer, Marshall Gilson.
GM: You offer many different writing workshops for adults that touch upon themes of memory, culture, privilege, and self-love, such as “NOSTALGIA, SANKOFA, & RECLAMATION” and “GLORY: ON RADICAL SELF-LOVE.” How has your participation in these workshops changed you as a writer and performer? What influence has that had on your written work?
PO: I consider these futuristic workshops. I love them because truly, I love working with other writers, inspiring them, and in turn, being inspired by them. It's incredible to see what folks come up with. The world is filled with an unbelievable amount of talent and teaching is an honor. Usually the work is so good, or just good enough that I am eager to get to a notepad following a workshop. Not because of me, but because of what folks generate from the process.
GM: You have also produced theater projects, such as “Black & Ugly as Ever.” You are currently working on SPIRIT, an “Afrofuturist and Afrosurrealist” theater project with Marshall "Gripp" Gillson. What is that experience like? How is that different/similar to your choreopoems and your written work?
PO: “Black and Ugly as Ever” is a one-person theatrical choreopoem. All the vignettes in the piece were written, performed, and featured me as the subject. Some of the vignettes in the production are actually written in a poetic form, and so, “Black & Ugly as Ever” was much like some of the work I had been doing with the exception of the topic (beauty standards), and its intent to be performed. I had a lot of fun co-writing and co-directing “SPIRIT.” Unlike “Black and Ugly as Ever,” “SPIRIT” was a collaborative project in every sense of the word. It was invigorating to world-build, character develop, and then to have others bring it to life. Even more so, it was exciting to produce a magical theatrical piece, with an incredible co-author and an outstanding cast who went above and beyond to give my words and my story a life off the page. What a magical experience. I’ll be forever grateful to “SPIRIT’s” original cast for making my work better than I could have dreamed it. I believe in saying people’s names, so forever gratitude to Chey Harvey, Ashley Davis, Tammy Hubz and Wdzidzor, and my co writer, Marshall Gilson.
GM: You offer many different writing workshops for adults that touch upon themes of memory, culture, privilege, and self-love, such as “NOSTALGIA, SANKOFA, & RECLAMATION” and “GLORY: ON RADICAL SELF-LOVE.” How has your participation in these workshops changed you as a writer and performer? What influence has that had on your written work?
PO: I consider these futuristic workshops. I love them because truly, I love working with other writers, inspiring them, and in turn, being inspired by them. It's incredible to see what folks come up with. The world is filled with an unbelievable amount of talent and teaching is an honor. Usually the work is so good, or just good enough that I am eager to get to a notepad following a workshop. Not because of me, but because of what folks generate from the process.
"I like to think of a form as doing things to shape the poem, adding to what has already been written...You don’t need it to write poetry, but when you use form, and when you use it well, my god, what music it adds to the script, what overlapping or contrasting story does the form reveal." |
GM: i shimmer sometimes, too explores a plethora of culturally important themes that are relevant to a large readership. If there was one thing you would like readers to take away from your collection, what would it be?
PO: I shimmer sometimes too, as a writer, as a queer person, a black person, a woman, as a fat girl, as a child from the south side of Chicago, I shimmer sometimes too, in mental health, and in entering the publishing world of poetry, I shimmer sometimes too, even in all my glamour, in all my magic, I shimmer too, and so do you. So don’t we all. |
Read more about Olayiwola's work at her website
Read our review of i shimmer sometimes, too by Associate Editor Amanda Spadel
Read our review of i shimmer sometimes, too by Associate Editor Amanda Spadel
