My storytelling abilities took root in Washington, state. I grew up isolated and lost in what W.E.B. Du Bois would call a “sea of white,” being the only Black kid in my class from kindergarten through sixth grade. I started writing poetry when I was in fourth grade. The writing world became my haven, and poetry became a tool for both solace and introspection. Through this art form, I discovered a unique mode of self-expression, akin to conversing with myself in a cryptic language. Each word I selected carried the weight of specific moments – capturing times, places, events, and emotions with precision. These words acted as triggers, transporting me back to moments of pain, joy, sorrow, and confusion. My fascination with the potency of language only grew stronger as I continued to lose and rediscover myself playing this secret game—the game of time travel.

As a time traveler, I discovered early on that my writing would center teachings from Ancient Khement and employ the reminder to “Know thyself.” My identity as an artist took form when I stopped silencing myself and engaged with retrieving ancestral knowledge, veneration, and self-authority. I blossomed into my authenticity despite the adversity I faced growing up in predominately white spaces. My desire to liberate, eradicate, and take up space disrupted the systemic agenda that questioned my intelligence and critiqued my ability to be creative. Therefore, the purpose of my writing is to evoke Black liberation because I believe the preservation of Black stories rooted in joy, agency, and freedom is at a deficit. So every time I pull out my pen to write, I ask myself this question: 

“What would it look like if us Black folx continued to hold, teach, and tell our own stories?”

In my poetry, I explore notions of Black identity, agency, and spirituality, to reclaim what was lost for Black Americans during our cultural genocide. Black personhood, aliveness, and humanity are at the core of poems like, “Waterbed” which speaks to the constitution’s violation against Black humanity due to the 3/5ths clause. Also, poems like “Entry/Chorus” call upon the evocation of spirits who built the United States and ask the consumer to pay homage to Black heritage. Then, there are poems like “The Navigator,” guiding Black folx back to their roots as we investigate the first religion to create all religions and openly honor Olodumaré. 

Poetry for me, is ritual. My work connects to a lineage of healers in my ancestry and calls upon the Asante Sankofa tradition that “recognizes our past to inform our future.” I pray and pour intention into my work as I write in the vein of James Baldwin, Audre Lorde, and Alexis Pauline Gumbs—using magickal incantations, queer liberation, and Afro-surrealism, to convey the stories of my people. At its core, my work addresses the cultural erasure of Black Americans and is deeply inspired by hoodoo conjure, “woo-woo” spirituality, and the ritual of the Haitian revolution.