My stories are offerings of radical imagination intended to function as small parts of an ancient, expansive, awe-inspiring tradition of world-shaping, created by and for black femmes. My imagination is rooted in the shared experiences of those who have resisted and continue to resist colonial violence. The spirit of revolt that enslaved peoples used to survive their trauma has been passed down through blood, bones, and prayer. It is in that spirit that I try to live. The result is a storytelling aesthetic centered in community, blackness, gender defiance, and, above all, joy. Often blackness and femmehood are relegated to the constraints placed upon it by whiteness and the patriarchy, which deliberately enmeshes both identities in suffering. And though I cannot deny that suffering often enters the black and femme experience, I also know that blackness, femmehood and black femmehood are places of unabashed and undeniable power and freedom. Such freedom consistently rejects the societal realities of anti-blackness with the intrinsic reality of our dignity, capacity for happiness and the depth of our immeasurable worth. The duality of these truths, the presence of systemic dehumanization and our intrinsic humanity, is the driving force behind my work.

We are all interconnected. The entire world is a giant network of living organisms shaping each other’s existence for better or for worse. And at the risk of being twee, art really does imitate life: I don’t believe it is possible to be a good artist and not participate in some form of collaboration. Even if (for some horrible reason) one took on every creative and administrative role imaginable in the theatrical process, eventually one would have to hand their work over to at least one collaborator: The audience. I prefer to share my work with as many collaborators as the project demands, allowing those meant to shape the work to shape it with their whole self, as true compatriots in the creative process. When possible, I tend to be incredibly discerning with my creative and technical teams so that I can confidently work in partnership with those around me. I prefer to be in spaces where there are experiential authorities, but there is a fluidity in hierarchy. Which is to say, I like for everyone’s voice to be equally valued, with those who are experts in their field being afforded the appropriate deferment. In my experience, this creates room of trust and efficiency that still allows for diversity of thought and an air of experimentation. One of the reoccurring themes in my narratives is understanding oneself as a small but vital facet of a greater whole and often I get to see this theme is manifested when I work in deep collaboration with other brilliant artists, allowing my work to be further shaped by their genius and input, my work just a small facet of a greater project.

I don’t believe in simple truths and so I rarely engage in simple plots. I am interested in the expansive, in the other-worldly, in the fantastic. I write for the quirky black girls who read too much Octavia Butler (if there is such a thing) and don’t get paid nearly enough for their brilliance. I am interested in working in, through and beyond our black, queer, femme trauma, creating narratives that requires us and those who loves us to be present and willing to work. I love stories that envision complicated, nuanced, and markedly better futures. I love writing about people who survive apocalypses to build new worlds. I love writing about people who magic cures to societal illnesses. I dabble in sorrow, but the main ingredient of all my stories is hope.

I deeply believe radical imagination is a vital part of creating a future in which the marginalized and the subjugated are free. I deeply believe that theatre gives us an avenue through which to embody said radical imagination. The only art worth creating is art that demands that its audience feel, especially now, in a time and place where we are being ordered to be numb. I am happy to add to a canon of freedom-work that dares to imagine, dares to feel, dares to be, in all the fullness we can manage. And I dare to create, with all the audacity of my ancestors and with all of the joy of their resistance.