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Nijla Mu'min  is an award-winning writer, performer, and filmmaker whose feature film Jinn premiered at the 2018 SXSW Film Festival and won the Grand Jury Award for Writing. She has written and directed episodes of Blindspotting, Insecure, Swagger, Queen Sugar, and more. Nijla Mu'min is an award-winning writer, performer, and filmmaker from the East Bay Area. Her filmmaking is informed by poetry, photography, fiction, music, and dance. Named one of   25 New Faces of Independent Film by Filmmaker Magazine in 2017 , she tells stories about Black girls and women who find themselves between worlds and identities. Her debut feature film, Jinn , premiered at the 2018 South By Southwest Film Festival, where she won the Special Jury Recognition Award for Writing. Jinn , a New York Times Critic’s pick , was released in November 2018 and is currently streaming on Amazon. Her short films have screened at festivals across the country. Her filmmaking and screenwriting have been supported by the Sundance Institute, IFP, Film Independent, Women In Film LA, and the Princess Grace Foundation. She’s written for the Starz series Blindspotting , the Apple series Swagger , and directed episodes of  HBO’s Insecure, Hulu’s  Wu-Tang: An American Saga , Apple’s Swagger , and OWN’s Queen Sugar and  All Rise . She is currently developing her second feature film Mosswood Park , as well as a debut collection of poetry and prose essays. Her poetry has been featured in Aunt Chloe, The Temz Review , The Boston Review , and Mythium Literary Journal . She is a 2013 graduate of CalArts MFA Film Directing and Creative Writing Programs, and a 2007 graduate of UC Berkeley, where she studied in June Jordan’s Poetry for the People Program. Noor FADE IN:  INT. SUBWAY - MORNING  A crowded subway train headed for Harlem. PASSENGERS are pressed up against each other. Bodies bounce in unison. A BLACK MAN holds an iPhone and stares at the screen: an international broadcast plays. PEOPLE flood the streets in bloodied clothing. Some chant. SOLDIERS in riot gear rush into the crowd, wielding batons and guns. The man concentrates on the broadcast.  The train makes an abrupt stop, jolting him forward. He rises and exits. With his seat empty, we see NOOR, sitting several rows back, a slender 29-year-old black woman with deep-set brown eyes.  The train roars to a stop and she gets off. She walks with the mass of PASSENGERS, up the slimy subway steps. Sunlight hits their tired faces.  EXT. BUSY STREET - MORNING  Noor paces down the busy street. Several POLICE OFFICERS patrol the block. They talk into their radios. Noor's arm grazes one of theirs as she walks past.  INT. WOMEN'S CLINIC - MORNING  Noor enters a small clinic. WOMEN are packed into connected seats, waiting to be called. "The View" blasts from the overhead television. A chubby WOMAN with sweaty hands, looks away.  Noor walks into the reception area of the clinic. Her coworker, DEBORAH, types something into a computer. She turns around.  DEBORAH  Hey girl.  Noor sits at the reception desk.  NOOR Hey.   She sifts through files on her desk.  DEBORAH  We got a busy one today. Lots of last-minute appointments.   Noor looks out into the sea of people.  A woman, GINA, 31, walks into the clinic and approaches the reception window. Noor smiles at her.  GINA  I'm here for a nine-thirty appointment.  NOOR  Can I get your ID?  Gina rummages through her purse and hands it to Noor.  NOOR (CONT'D)  You're thirty minutes late. The doctor may have canceled it. I'll check.  Gina appears anxious.  GINA  I really need this appointment.  Noor looks at her.  NOOR  I'm sure you do, but we have a full day and a twenty-minute hold policy for late appointments.  Noor gives an agitated smile. The woman appears to be sweating now.  GINA  If I don't get this appointment, I may lose my baby --  NOOR  Okay, you can go have a seat and I'll let you know.  Noor looks at the line forming behind her.  GINA  I need to know now!  NOOR  Ma'am, please have a seat. I will check soon. Thank you.  GINA  You don't have to be so fucking rude. You don't know what's going on --  NOOR  I'm sure you'll be fine.  GINA  I won't if I lose this damn appointment.  NOOR  One moment.  Noor gets up and walks to the back. Gina stands at the desk, sweating.  INT. DOCTOR'S OFFICE - CONTINUOUS  Noor stands at the door of a doctor's office, staring at a clipboard with various names on it. Gina’s name has been crossed out, but Noor writes it back in.  INT. WOMEN'S CLINIC RECEPTION AREA - CONTINUOUS Noor walks back to the reception area.  NOOR  Turns out we can fit you in. Now, please have a seat and fill out these forms and bring them back when they're complete.  GINA Thank you.  Gina walks off, still looking at Noor. Noor avoids her glare. Deborah turns to Noor and pats her on the shoulder.  DEBORAH  You okay?  Noor nods, and schedules the next PERSON. A RESIDENT NURSE walks out of adjacent doors and announces the next patient.  RESIDENT NURSE  Diana Gomez.  DIANA GOMEZ looks up. A MAN holds her hand in the next seat. They walk toward the nurse with worry in their eyes. The doors close behind them.  EXT. NOOR'S PARENT'S BROWNSTONE - LATER  Noor unlocks the door to a house and enters.  INT. NOOR'S PARENT'S BROWNSTONE - AFTERNOON  Noor enters a well-decorated, spacious living room. Framed photographs of young Noor in pigtails and a yellow graduation cap and gown, line the walls. Next to them are photos of a young man who resembles Noor. There's an elaborate prayer rug spread out on one side of the floor.  Through the kitchen doorway, Noor sees her mother SHERON, dancing around the kitchen in hot pink rollers and a pink terry cloth robe, while washing dishes.  The faucet runs and hot steam rises into the air. Sheron turns around and notices Noor standing there. She tries to compose herself. Noor laughs.  INT. NOOR'S PARENT'S BROWNSTONE KITCHEN - CONTINUOUS Noor enters the kitchen.  NOOR  Am I interrupting something?  SHERON  Oh no, baby. Just getting ready for tonight. Me and the ladies from the salon are going out.  Sheron walks over to the stereo and turns down the R&B song. Noor smiles.  NOOR  Okay Mom, I see you.  SHERON What's up?  NOOR  Can I get the recipe for the bean pies you used to make?  Something comes over Sheron. She looks away.  SHERON  Yeah. NOOR  I texted you about it, but you didn't respond. I want to surprise Darren, you know? He's been working so hard lately --  SHERON  When is he ever not working hard?  NOOR  Mom, I didn't come over to argue.  Sheron goes to a drawer and pulls out an aged, crumpled piece of lined paper. It is more than ten years old, with grease marks on it. She hands it to Noor.  SHERON  It's all there... And don't go too heavy on the sugar, mash the beans really good --  Sheron is interrupted by the entrance of NASIM, 22, and YUSEF, 58, two good-looking black men in exact resemblance to one another, except one is older.  Yusef has a nicely-shaped beard and wears a black and gold embroidered kufi cap. Nasim kisses his mother and Noor on the cheek. He sets some bags on the counter.  YUSEF  A-salaam-a-laikum ladies.  Sheron doesn't return the greeting. Noor does.  NOOR  Wa-laikum-a-Salaam daddy.  SHERON  Nasim, some girl called here earlier for you.  Noor smiles.  NOOR What girl?  SHERON  Said her name was Jojina.  NOOR  Ooh Jojina, sounds cute! Is that Spanish?  Noor looks at Nasim, who doesn't seem too delighted.  .  NOOR (CONT'D)  Oh, she’s calling the house phone? That’s some throwback high school love affair-type stuff... She must really like you.  He smiles, softly.  YUSEF  What happened to the nice girl from the masjid that Rasheed introduced you to?  NASIM Dad, I told you. She can't even see me unless her pops is in the same room damn near. I can't get down like that.  YUSEF  It's the Islamic way, Nasim.  Sheron shakes her head, laughs.  SHERON  Yeah...I bet the way we met was the Islamic way too, right?  YUSEF  That was different, Sheron. You know that.  Noor and Nasim laugh at their parent's disagreement. Nasim checks his cell phone and walks briskly to his room. Noor starts getting her belongings together.  NOOR  Later y'all. Gotta get home.  SHERON  Bye, baby.  INT. BROWNSTONE HALLWAY - CONTINUOUS  Noor walks past Nasim's room on her way out. She overhears him talking to someone on the phone.  NASIM (O.S.)  Why’d you call my parent’s house though??!.. Wait, don't hang up. I'm sorry. I'm still thinking about what we did last night...    Noor's eyes widen. She's not supposed to be hearing this. She looks confused and curious as she exits.  EXT. SUBWAY STATION - MAGIC HOUR  Noor reemerges from the subway cellar with a mass of PASSENGERS. She carries some grocery bags. An OLD WOMAN hobbles up the stairs next to her, breathing heavily. She can't make it up the stairs. Noor offers her hand. The woman takes it. They walk up the stairs together.  OLD WOMAN Thank you.  NOOR No problem. Noor looks at the woman, then paces down the Brooklyn street, and into a brightly decorated bodega with a sign that reads "House of Hafiz."  INT. BODEGA - EARLY EVENING  The bodega is alive with CUSTOMERS and chatter. SCHOOL KIDS in patterned uniforms grab at bags of Hot Cheetos. A WOMAN jumps and knocks down a roll of toilet paper from atop the beer freezer. A MAN enters, yelling out an order to the deli.  MAN  Give me a turkey sandwich, extra mayo! Extra pickles! You know how I like it.  Noor picks up a few beers, and heads to the front. RAMI, 32, an attractive Palestinian man with a sculpted face and piercing, deep-set eyes, stands at the register.  He laughs with an OLD BLACK WOMAN in a roller set.  OLD BLACK WOMAN  When we gon' go out Rami?  RAMI  I don’t know, Mrs. Johnson. I’m not sure you can keep up.  She hands him some money. Noor looks at him, noticing just how effortlessly sexy he is.  OLD BLACK WOMAN  I can keep up, honey.  Rami laughs, handing her a lottery ticket.  OLD BLACK WOMAN (CONT'D)  I’ll be back. For your fine ass. Hmm, hmm hmm!  Rami can’t hold back a smile. Noor is amused. She giggles.  RAMI  Noor, haven’t seen you around lately. How are you this evening?  NOOR  Long day at work. But I’m good.  Noor fumbles through her purse to retrieve some cash. She hands it to Rami.  RAMI The light. NOOR What? RAMI  That's the meaning of your name. The light --  NOOR  I knew that, but thanks for reminding me.  RAMI  Did I ever tell you that my sister's name is also Noor --  NOOR  No, you didn’t.  RAMI  Any woman with that name, I regard very highly --  An older good-looking Arab man, HAFIZ, comes from the bodega storage room and taps Rami on the shoulder.  HAFIZ  Snap out of it Rami. We got a line going!  RAMI Sorry.  Rami looks at Noor, deeper this time, and returns the ID.  RAMI (CONT'D)  Have a nice night.  NOOR You too.  Noor exits. Rami still stares at her.  EXT. BODEGA - CONTINUOUS  Noor looks back at Rami, and giggles. She walks off smiling to herself, a little turned on.  INT. APARTMENT KITCHEN - EARLY EVENING  Noor stands in the kitchen. She presides over a counter of cinnamon, nutmeg, eggs, navy beans, vanilla, brown sugar, and other baking essentials. She stirs the batter for a bean pie.  DARREN, 30, enters in slacks and a dress shirt. He opens the refrigerator and pours some water.  DARREN Hey.  NOOR  Hey babe, how was work?  He takes a beat.  DARREN Good.  Noor scoops some bean pie batter into a spoon and walks toward Darren. Tries to touch his arm.  NOOR  What's wrong?  DARREN Nothing.  NOOR  I stopped by the store. Got some stuff for dessert tonight.  She holds the spoon closer to his face.  NOOR (CONT'D)  Here, taste this.  She smiles. He opens his mouth and tastes the batter.  DARREN  Almost tastes like my grandmother’s sweet potato pie.  He walks away, leaving Noor holding the spoon of bean pie batter.  NOOR Almost?  DARREN  Not sure what you want me to say. It’s good.  She looks out of the open kitchen doorway as he loosens his tie and walks toward their room.  EXT. STREET - EARLY EVENING  Nasim tries on knitted kufi caps at an outside vendor. He looks at himself in a mirror.  NASIM  Ay, you got this in blue?  HASAN, an Arab man, with an orange beard, nods. He unpacks a blue kufi cap and hands it to Nasim.  HASAN  I got anything you need. What you need? You need bean pies? I got them from the Nation of Islam men in Harlem --  NASIM  Naw, those bean pies are stale as shit. Don't try to play me like last time, Hasan.  Hasan smiles and massages his beard. Nasim continues to look at himself in the blue kufi cap, admiring his baby face in the mirror.  INT. APARTMENT LIVING ROOM - EVENING  Noor sits on the couch watching TV, extremely bored. A live NYC anti-police brutality protest illuminates the screen.  Noor turns it off, uninterested. Darren is consumed with typing something on his laptop, across the room.  Noor puts her face in her hands and sighs. The doorbell rings. She gets up to answer it.  INT. APARTMENT HALLWAY - EVENING  Noor looks through the peephole. She smiles and opens the door.  NASIM  What's up, sis?!  Noor and Nasim hug. He wears the blue kufi cap he just purchased.  NOOR  I wasn't expecting you.  She takes his coat and leads him to the kitchen.  INT. KITCHEN - EVENING  On the counter, two bean pies sit on wire cooling racks, covered in saran wrap. Droplets of moisture cling to the saran wrap. Nasim walks forward.  NOOR  Nasim, who's that girl you were talking to on the --  He instantly cuts her off.  NASIM  Is that.... I fucking love you right now, Noor. For real.  He leans in, inspecting the pies. Grabs a knife on the counter and tears the plastic wrap off the top of one. He shovels some pie into his mouth. Burns his lip.  Noor smiles, happy that someone enjoys her pies.  NOOR  Nasim, they're still hot.  NASIM  You think I care? No, really. I haven't had a good bean pie since mom stopped making them. Remember that?  NOOR  Yeah, I do.  He continues eating the bean pie, dropping crumbs onto the counter.  NASIM  The ones they sell down on 125th don't even touch this shit, Noor.  With each bite, he gets more excited. Darren enters the kitchen.  DARREN  Hey Nasim, what’s up?  They give each other a pound.  NASIM  Nothing much man... You taste this bean pie my sister made?  DARREN  Yeah, I did. It’s good... Do you think you guys can quiet down though? I'm trying to get some work done.  NASIM  On a Friday night? Y'all ain’t gonna go out?  Darren turns around.  DARREN  We went out last weekend.  NASIM  And?... Who stays in the house doing work on Friday night?  DARREN  People with careers.  NASIM  You need to loosen up, man. Take your lady out, dance, eat some of this here bean pie --  He holds some pie to Darren. Darren refuses.  DARREN  We done here?  NOOR  Don't talk to my brother like that, Darren.  DARREN  Well your brother should learn to come by when he's invited.  NOOR  He can come by whenever he damn well pleases.  Nasim, sensing Darren's anger, inches closer to him.  NASIM  We got a problem, man?  NOOR  Nasim, it's okay. Darren just had a rough day at work, that's all.  Darren walks briskly out of the kitchen. Nasim and Noor stare at each other for a brief moment.  NASIM  What the fuck is his problem? Noor avoids the question, and looks away.  NASIM (CONT'D)  I always knew his ass was uptight, but that's just too much --  NOOR  Look, it doesn't matter.  NASIM  Y'all don't do shit anymore. Every time I call or come over it's the same thing. I wanna see you happy Noor.  NOOR  Look, I said it doesn't matter. Just drop it.  The look in her eyes says the conversation is over. They stand in silence for a beat.  NASIM  Come out with us tonight.  Noor looks uninterested.  NOOR Who's us?  NASIM  Me and my boys. The Lux lounge down in Bedstuy. My man is spinnin'. It's gonna be a nice crowd. Some sexy ladies I'm looking to --  NOOR  Okay, I don't need all the details, Nas.  NASIM  You haven't been out in like decades.  NOOR  Yes, I have.  NASIM When?  Noor thinks to herself.  NOOR  Me and Malikah went to that gallery last Friday.  NASIM  A gallery?! You need some bodily contact, sis. Some sweat and shaken' in your life. And if any nigga try to push up on you, I got you sis. Come on.  Nasim does his best little brother pouty face at Noor.  NOOR  Okay, I'll go. But I gotta get ready.  Nasim gives her a once over.  NASIM  Yeah, you do.  Noor pushes him.  NOOR  Shut up Nas!  Nasim grabs a last piece of pie.  NASIM  You need a ride?  NOOR  No, I'll meet y’all there. I'm gonna catch a Lyft.  NASIM  Let me take some of this here bean pie for the road, though.  He puts the pie into some foil. They exchange a quick hug.  NASIM (CONT'D)  I'm out.  He exits.  INT. BODEGA - LATER  Rami stands at the cash register, reading a magazine. Two POLICE OFFICERS enter, with their walkie-talkies blaring. One Officer receives an urgent dispatch.  The officers rush from the bodega. Rami watches them as they exit.  INT. NOOR'S BEDROOM - CONTINUOUS  Noor admires her body in a full-length mirror. She wears only panties and a bra. She runs her fingers across the top of her breast, causing goosebumps. She smiles at herself.  Darren walks in, and glances at her body.  DARREN  Noor... I lost my job today.  NOOR  What... What happened? I thought you said --  DARREN  I lied. I didn't want to say anything with Nasim here. That’s why I was irritated --  NOOR  I'm sorry. We'll figure it out. With my income we'll be okay.  DARREN  No, we won't.  Noor seems distracted, though Darren needs support. She looks at her phone.  NOOR  I really have to go meet Nasim now. Let's talk later.  Darren looks disappointed as she leaves the room. For a brief second, we see his eyes glaze over as if he might cry, but he holds back.  INT/EXT. BODEGA - CONTINUOUS  Rami grabs two turkey and cheese hot pockets from the freezer and a beer. He puts them in a small paper bag. Hafiz stands on a ladder, restocking toilet paper.  HAFIZ  Nine AM tomorrow. No sleeping in!  LOUD VOICES can be heard from outside the bodega, startling the men. Rami goes to look.  EXT. BODEGA - CONTINUOUS  Several POLICE OFFICERS surround a BLACK MAN two blocks down from the bodega. Rami watches, his vision obscured by all the chaos.  INT. NOOR'S PARENT'S BROWNSTONE - CONTINUOUS  Yusef prostrates as he makes salat in the living room. The light is low, accenting the glittered strands of fabric on the prayer rug.  He brings his hands up to his ears to recite the first verse.  YUSEF  Allah-u Akbar.  EXT. STREET - CONTINUOUS  Noor hears a GUNSHOT as she waits for a cab. It shakes her. She looks down the street, where she sees several PEOPLE gathering.  Noor dials Nasim's number as she walks toward the commotion.  NOOR  (into phone)  Nasim! You better answer the phone. I'm almost there. I don't feel like  waiting in no long ass line. Can your DJ friend let me in?  She ends the call. Noor sends Nasim a text message. She calls again. No answer.  She talks to herself, worried.  NOOR (CONT'D)  Come on Nasim.  A large group of people line the corner near the bodega. Some are in a frenzied commotion. There are police cars lined up along the sidewalk.  Noor squints her eyes, confused by the scene. She stands outside of the commotion, then calls Nasim.  Noor sees a WOMAN crying on the corner. Reluctant, Noor nears the crowd. She pushes through PEOPLE. She finally reaches the front of the crowd. An ambulance siren comes from a block away. A ring of POLICE OFFICERS engage in a heated dialogue with several PEOPLE.  On the ground lay a Black man, face down, with blood streaming from his side. He does not move.  Noor jumps back from the initial sight of him. She can't see his face.  Noor looks closer at the man. He wears a blue kufi cap. Noor begins to breathe heavily. She drops her phone.  She walks closer to the body. She bends down and looks into the man's lifeless face. There's a hint of a smile there.  Nasim's smile. She touches his hand. Two police rush toward her.  POLICE OFFICER  Move away, Ma'am!!  She refuses.  NOOR Nasim.  She falls to her knees next to her dead brother. She looks up to see RAMI in the crowd, watching her. They lock eyes.  Noor is copyrighted and registered with WGA-West. Fire. We go to sleep to fire. We wake up to it. I don’t see it anymore, but I know it’s there. On the news. In the souls of us. I’m at Costco buying in bulk, waiting for the next smoke cloud to cover the mountains. I’m in an n95 mask, and folks are eating large beef hotdogs and laughing outside as I push my big cart through the parking lot. Maybe laughter is the only thing we have left. laughter through our confused lungs. Air that seems fresh and fine until we’re coughing specks of ghost homes from our mouths. Our noses burn with the smell of ash in a grandmother’s hands. The house she raised her whole world in. Her family’s cove. I want to hug her. Place the sweet potato pie back on the counter. Caress a lover’s hand on the couch. call the cousin to see if he’s on his way over. The roads are just chalk now.  But you can still hear us singing through the smoke. held. I hold. onto the body I have. In the doctor's office, studying pictures of livers and fallopian tubes on the wall, thin white paper wrapped around me. My mind sings When will it be over ? When will these white walls release me back into summertime. daisy dukes in the Bay. The air was wet & foggy & silver to the touch. I am held. I hold onto the memory of C-- asleep next to me. how he took off his glasses, then kissed me on my forehead. My baby. Him. My island sweetie. I am held by the whispered prayers of my grandmother sprinkling nutmeg in the sky. I am held. Even if I lose part of my body in this twisted medical complex. I hold onto the breath of my father, making Fajr prayer in the morning. how I used to wake up, after nights running wild on Adeline, to hear his recitation. I am held by his love in the sky. I hold my stomach as it aches into the rivers. If my womb must be cut, I hold light in my eyes. I am held. Detroit  I wear this love for you  like an exoskeleton  an armor on all sides  your laughter slips through my mouth  you resemble Malcolm from the side  as you drive  in that black cap and glasses  I wait in the car   while you make salat in the masjid because I did not bring a scarf.  Then I remember that Malcolm proposed  to Betty in this city  over a pay phone so I don’t need flowers just your hands it’s raining and the streets are wider than dreams we drive through the neighborhood  of your youth  your house, three times bigger  than my childhood  Hayward apartment where I read all those novels about love. Is this a movie? where I arrive to reclaim you  I flew to Detroit to get my heart  broken then hugged back together again in a sports bar eating honey-slathered biscuits  as the Lions lift and slam into the ground  bones broken, despite heavy armor I just keep leaning into the hour  me, a steely flower opening up because I don’t want to leave you-  clapping for a team I never clapped for  holding on for a city I thought I might move to  at one time my exoskeleton, hardened  by the weight of unreleased love  THE INTERVIEW This interview was conducted between Nijla Mu'Min and Jae Nichelle on February 21, 2025. It’s exciting to have both poetry and a script excerpt here since you’ve said in interviews that your poetry background influences your filmmaking. Do you also find the opposite true now that writing scripts has influenced how you write poetry? That’s a good question. I started writing poetry when I was a teenager. Then when I was in college at UC Berkeley, I was a student teacher poet in June Jordan’s Poetry for the People Program. My immersion in that program and my study of different poetic traditions really informed my voice as a writer, and later as a screenwriter/filmmaker. Studying and teaching poetry allowed me to strengthen my use of visual imagery in writing, brevity, clarity in language, capturing complete dramatic events, pacing, metaphor and rhythm. These are all elements of my screenwriting and filmmaking as well. I do find that some of my poetry, especially my prose, can mirror dramatic writing for the screen. In both my film writing and poetry, I am concerned with building a world and telling a distinct story, with specific details and active movement. So, I think there’s a fluidity across all of my writing.  Your poem “Fire” addresses living with the constant threat of fires in Los Angeles, yet it ends with “But you can still hear us singing through the smoke.” What’s keeping you hopeful these days? Love keeps me hopeful. The love inside of me, and the possibilities for love in my life. I experience love when I sing. I feel whole and complete when music covers me.  Noor is an incredible script, and you are premiering the short film version of it this year! How was the process of distilling the story into this shorter format? How do you feel? I feel really good about the short film version of Noor . I’m ready to premiere it for audiences. The short film actually consists of some of the first act of the feature script that it’s based on, so it wasn’t challenging to adapt the story into a short film format. However, during the edit, we had to work to make the short film stand alone, and we experimented a little. The short film really captures Noor’s agency as a woman, her yearning, her sensuality, and her light.  So, the short film introduces us to the characters and the world of the feature and ends on an inciting event/cliffhanger that will hopefully have people wanting to see how the feature film unfolds.  Noor, as well as many of your other films (like your short film Jinn), has received many awards. Appearance on The Black List’s Muslim List, winner of The Athena List competition, and a Sundance Talent Forum pick are just a few of them. What impact do you feel these accolades and recognition have had on your career? Those accolades have definitely boosted my profile and recognition as a writer/filmmaker, but I’ve had to put in so much work outside of them, in order to have a career in this industry. This is truly one of the most difficult careers to pursue, especially when trying to tell stories that aren’t considered readily “commercial” or “mainstream.” I’ve been on a continual mission for the last 18 years to make poetic, complicated, hopeful and emotional stories about Black women and girls that show worlds we’ve never seen, and get to the heart of humanity. I’ve been told my stories don’t sell, don’t matter, and aren’t needed. I’ve also seen packed, sold-out audiences in tears from my films. So, while I’m so grateful for the accolades and awards, I’ve really had to fight to keep going, build community, get to know people, fundraise for my work, sacrifice my personal life, stay up late nights, pitch to people, face continual rejection, stand on faith and keep going by any means necessary.  What’s a lesson you’ve learned from a mentor that you’ll never forget? I learned a lot from one of my mentors Reggie Rock Bythewood, who was the showrunner for Swagger, a show I wrote and directed on. I’m not sure I learned lessons, so much as I really appreciated and learned from the example he set as a storyteller, showrunner and human being. He ran such an inclusive, beautiful writers room for Swagger, allowing all voices to be heart and respected. It felt like we were all family in that writers room and I learned so much about building a sense of community. He would also say that having “swagger” was about having a cause bigger than ourselves and that always resonated with me. The art we were making in that show was so much bigger than us, and bigger than basketball. It was about uplifting and humanizing the Black community, particularly our youth.  You’ve worked on both drama series like Queen Sugar  and Wu-Tang: An American Saga , and also in comedy with Insecure . How do you navigate writing or directing for these very different genres and picking up the tone of a show? Most of the shows I’ve directed have been one-hour dramas, with the exception of Insecure , (and Blindspotting , which I wrote for). When I direct a show, I go deep into the world and the characters of the show, and come to the job ready to honor the vision of the showrunner, while also bringing my voice to the story. It’s a delicate balance and one that I enjoy. I was already a fan of most of the shows I’ve directed, so I was pretty familiar with the tone and pacing of the shows before getting the job.  What parts of your upcoming projects are you most excited about? I’m excited to continue exploring different social justice issues through intimate, character-driven stories. I have two projects coming out — a comic book and a short film, that deal with reproductive health and reproductive justice for African American women. And I’m excited for audiences to experience my work in theaters, during screenings. We need more of that. I love sitting with audiences as they watch my work, seeing and feeling their reactions, their whispers, their tears, their laughter, and their love.  If a food critic was coming to your city, where would you tell them to eat? Well, I am from the Bay Area, but I live in Los Angeles so I’ll provide a few places:  In Oakland, there’s a restaurant called MUA. I always love the food, the vibe, and the decor there when I visit home. In Los Angeles, I really enjoy Bacari Silverlake and Two Hommès in Inglewood. One is Mediterranean fusion, and the other is African-inspired.  How can people support you these days? People can support me by following my work, boosting it online, attending screenings when they’re announced, and loving themselves and others. We are also doing a fundraiser to finish post-production on Noor. Contact to learn more at www.nijlamumin.com . Name another Black woman writer people should know.  People should definitely know Nadra Widatalla, a talented film and television writer. ### Torch Literary Arts  is a 501(c)3 nonprofit established to publish and promote creative writing by Black women. We publish contemporary writing by experienced and emerging writers alike. Programs include the Wildfire Reading Series, writing workshops, and retreats. Donate to help Torch amplify Black women writers.

Tatiana Johnson-Boria (she/her) is the author of Nocturne in Joy (2023), winner of the 2024 Julia Ward Howe Book Prize in poetry. She's an educator, artist, and facilitator who uses her writing practice to dismantle racism, reckon with trauma, and cultivate healing. She's an award-winning writer who has received fellowships from Tin House, The Massachusetts Cultural Council, The MacDowell Residency, and others. Tatiana completed her MFA in Creative Writing at Emerson College and teaches at Emerson College, GrubStreet, and others. Find her work in or forthcoming at The Academy of American Poets, Ploughshares, Kenyon Review Online, among others. She's represented by Lauren Scovel at Laura Gross Literary. Notes on Conception I thought I needed to be something else for you to stay. Less cavernous. Less unwell. Less reeling from my childhood. Less inhibited. I thought it would be impossible for you to exist inside of me. Who am I to ask for another to grow from me? What makes me any sort of fertile root?  Once there was nothing but a desire for someone to love something else, alive. This is another way to say I had a mother once. Or another way to say I have some semblance of a mother.  I believed I was good enough for this. As she believed she was. We believed we were capable and responsible and loving enough for what we drew in our own minds. What makes that possible? What makes it possible that you have a beating heart, that beats faster than the one I carry? How are you so far ahead yet so unborn?  There is a beginning and growing I wish upon you. There is a life that is yours alone. You cannot exist without the ending before you.  Your grandmother laughs the first time I tell her I am pregnant. The conversation happens over the phone. “Really?! Really? ” She’s in disbelief. “Wow, wow, wow.” She says and laughs some more.  The laughter settles in me while my body changes. I have headaches and can’t get out of bed. I feel an exhaustion that I’ve never felt before. I spend way too much time on the bathroom floor, trying to survive the nausea. Is this what it felt like for my mother? There are no pictures of my mother pregnant. Sometimes it feels as if I am not real. What was spoken before I knew any semblance of her language? Before truly understanding the cadence of my own voice, the restlessness in hers. What must it have felt like to be one with her? Intertwined and without escape.  After I share the news about the pregnancy, she stops calling for weeks. This pause of us connecting is familiar, yet I still ache from it. I find myself bleeding the morning before teaching a writing class. This is when someone else takes over, a different version of me emerges and teaches the entire three-hour class, knowing something is terribly wrong.  After the class, your father and I drive to the emergency room. He doesn’t want to believe something is wrong, he is upbeat and positive. “I read online that sometimes bleeding happens…what kind of bleeding is it? Is it a lot? Is it spotting?” He’s earnest and innocent. He wants to be right. Something in me knows that he isn’t. It’s a Saturday afternoon, and the drive to the hospital is smooth and fast. I stare at each red light we encounter, willing it to change. I am powerless and I know it. When we arrive at the emergency room, we wait in a short line, it moves quickly. “What brings you in?” the front desk nurse asks. “I’m pregnant, but I’ve been bleeding,” I say, afraid of what’s coming out of my mouth. The nurse checks us in. The emergency room is filled with masked people. A young white family with a toddler, an ice pack pressed against their forehead. A woman trying to negotiate being seen with the nurse at the front desk. Us, holding our breath, waiting to be called. When we’re called, we wait in a small room with another nurse. “Congratulations!” she says. “Bleeding happens sometimes, they’ll figure out what is going on. You’ll be okay.”  I don’t believe her. Like your father, I know that she too, is wrong. She takes my vitals and tells me and your dad to wait to be called. It’s loud in the waiting room and the time moves slowly. We wait for almost two hours.  “We’re going to do an ultrasound,” the vitals nurse says. “Sometimes we don’t see anything on an ultrasound because you’re still early, but don’t worry.” She’s so certain and I don’t know why. We walk to the ultrasound.  I lay back on the table while the technician slathers jelly on my stomach. “I’m just going to press a bit, just let me know if anything is uncomfortable,” she says. We sit in silence as the technician moves the ultrasound wand across my abdomen. “We may need to do an internal ultrasound as well, but the doctor will let us know,” the technician says.  I sigh. I’ve experienced this before when my primary care physician was worried that I had fibroids. I dread the experience. We wait some more. She returns five minutes later. “Okay, let’s do the internal ultrasound. Is that okay?” she says. I nod yes.  She readies another ultrasound wand with lubricant. “Okay, do I have your permission to insert this wand for the internal ultrasound?” She is so formal in her asking. I nod yes. I try to think about anything else while she moves the wand around capturing images. It’s over in what feels like a few moments. She leaves the room again. I get dressed. We move to another room. We wait some more. Soon the doctor arrives.  “Okay, we aren’t seeing anything on the ultrasound…but that happens sometimes this early.” My heart sinks.  “Let’s do some bloodwork today to check your HCG levels, if they increase then things are okay. If not, then the pregnancy is no longer viable.”  I know my womb is empty. That the baby that was there, left before I even got to see it for the first time. No one says you’re no longer pregnant. Everyone is so careful with their words, yet I know there’s a truth no one is saying. I get the blood test, and my HCG levels are concerning. “Come back in two days for another test,” the doctor says.  We leave.  In the days following my HCG levels continue to drop while my body continues to bleed. I lay on the bathroom floor wailing until I can’t speak anymore. I don’t think then about having to tell my mother. I don’t want to believe it. There are mysteries in my body. Everyone pretends it's normal and I can’t. There are pregnancies that didn’t continue. I want to scream that there is a pain inside me even when this same pain exists for others. I want someone to know I bled something away. There may never be a birth. And what of me then? I tell your grandmother the news over the phone, more than a month after the miscarriage. “Oh, no, no suh” she says. Then she’s silent. I am too. “What happened?” she asks. She’s concerned.  “I don’t know… they don’t know,” I tell her. Deep down I know this must somehow be my fault.  “Okay,” she says. More silence. “I’ll call you back later. Bye.”  She hangs up the phone. When I first became pregnant, I knew that I could not be happy. There was no reason not to, but most of the things that I strive for are difficult. Arduous. Seemingly undeserved.  My mother once said she felt amazing when I was growing inside of her. It’s the only story I have of her pregnancy with me. It feels like a myth. When I grew you and the others, I felt untrusting of my body.  When I became pregnant again, this time with you, I wanted to be happy. I wanted to exist in a joy of having never lost.  Everyone journals, yet my language for you and the ones before you is different. It rejects prose, it rejects reflection, it rejects the parts of me that try to harness it, that try to write it down.  Carrying you has transformed my tongue. There is nothing and everything to say. It is a secret yet a thing I want to scream. Your presence in my body is a restraining impulse. I push out words and they aren’t the right ones. In the bath, I forget that my body aches, but I can feel you inside of me swimming. Pushing against the womb, reminding me you’re still there. I don’t want to admit that I have been depressed today. I don’t want to admit that my happiness is just as intangible as when there’s no baby inside of me.  I can’t eat or drink anything because the nausea is consuming. I spend my mornings lying on the couch until the last possible second before a work meeting. I’m grateful to work in a way that lets me log onto a computer and not leave the house. Only one person at work knows I’m pregnant, and she is understanding. Sometimes I lay on the couch in the afternoons as well. The fatigue hits my body at inconvenient times. I can fall asleep instantly, the whole thing is compulsory.  One afternoon after sleeping, I notice a white light floating above me. I know it’s them, the ones before you. The glowing light hovers and floats away from me. I must be going crazy.  I don’t look away from it. My eyes follow it as it keeps gliding across the room. I’m home alone. Its presence feels familiar. I vow to keep this moment to myself, but I’m telling you because maybe you saw it too. You were with me; you were inside of me. We experienced it together. The light flew to the door and out of the window. I never saw it again. I should think of them more. It feels easier not to because you are forming. Do they know I’ve stopped thinking of them? Have I stopped? Or have I just been thinking more of other things? When I find myself trapped in sadness about the things I’ve lost or the things that have left me, it’s strange to know that you might feel it too. You are closer to me than any person might ever be. I am afraid you’re already knowing me before I’ve begun to know you. We drive to see you, to see if you’re still there. It’s August and we are hoping your heart is beating. I try not to think of how empty my womb might be, yet I believe you are there. I don’t know why. On the ultrasound, a moving line shows your heartbeat. It’s 143 RPM. We get a picture, and you are a small amorphous shape in a larger black circle. You are alive. We’re in disbelief. Your dad drives us to work. He leaves the parking lot as the AC finally blows cool air. I look to his face and notice it changes. I tell him to pull over.  We park in an empty spot and he turns off the car before crying. I watch him cover his face. “I can’t believe it,” he says. He can’t believe you’re alive. I’m still processing but watching him weep reminds me of the way your presence can wring us from the inside out, even when you are still forming.  Your father stops and stares ahead, a smile grows on his face. I look out the window. There’s a playground with toddlers running around. I want to believe that you’ll be like one of them someday, running with endless energy. Something makes it hard for me to conjure this image. I smile anyway.  “That’s going to be us,” I say.  Your father looks at me, he holds my hand. ### Torch Literary Arts  is a 501(c)3 nonprofit established to publish and promote creative writing by Black women. We publish contemporary writing by experienced and emerging writers alike. Programs include the Wildfire Reading Series, writing workshops, and retreats. Donate to help Torch amplify Black women writers.

Alexis Pauline Gumbs is an award-winning author of nonfiction and poetry. Her most recent book Survival is a Promise: The Eternal Life of Audre Lorde  (FSG) has been named a Publisher’s Weekly  Top 10 book of 2024 and a Time Magazine  must-read book of 2024. Photo credit: Sufia Ikbal-Doucet Alexis Pauline Gumbs is a Queer Black Troublemaker and Black Feminist Love Evangelist and an aspirational cousin to all sentient beings. Her work in this lifetime is to facilitate infinite, unstoppable ancestral love in practice. Her poetic work  in response to the needs of her cherished communities has held space for multitudes in mourning  and movement . Alexis’s co-edited volume Revolutionary Mothering: Love on the Front Lines (PM Press, 2016) has shifted the conversation on mothering, parenting, and queer transformation. Alexis has transformed the scope of intellectual, creative, and oracular writing with her triptych of experimental works published by Duke University Press ( Spill: Scenes of Black Feminist Fugitivity in 2016, M Archive: After the End of the World   in 2018, and Dub: Finding Ceremony, 2020.) Alexis is a 2023 Windham-Campbell Prize Winner in Poetry. Her book Undrowned: Black Feminist Lessons from Marine Mammals  won the 2022 Whiting Award  in Nonfiction. Alexis was a 2020-2021 National Humanities Center Fellow, funded by the Founders Award, and is a 2022 National Endowment of the Arts Creative Writing Fellow. Her most recent book Survival is a Promise: The Eternal Life of Audre Lorde  (FSG) has been named a Publisher’s Weekly Top 10 book of 2024, a Time Magazine must-read book of 2024, a Guardian book of the week, and was longlisted for the Carnegie Medal in Nonfiction. *note from Alexis Pauline Gumbs: Each of the following poems is for the painter Alma Thomas.  The footnotes reference the paintings that inspired the poems and in relevant cases the page where you can find them in the catalog for the Alma Thomas retrospective Everything is Beautiful.  theology all of us women held in pieces by our clothes standing on the cobbled gravestones of our names and the light pink world around us a shattered sunrise shaded what we did to our eyes looking for stars we are blood we are rain we are gold bow before us standing tight and close against the cold once upon a time there was a drum it woke us once upon a time  there was a barn we found it once upon a time there was a night we broke it with our gifts* * Three Wise Men, 1966 Acrylic on Canvas, 36 ½ by 23 ½ in. study in sistering this is how light works your face my face lean back into the triangle of sun and reach don’t look away your face my face our tilted heads one smile and reach don’t look away how much i love you our tilted heads one smile framed by the green that knows how much i love you a million leaves framed by the green that knows i am never leaving a million leaves a million stays i am never leaving lean back into the triangle of sun a million stitches million stays that’s how light works* * “Alma and Sister Maurice” 1922/23 Caption by John Maurice Thomas “Alma and Sister Maurice.  The costume made and designed by my Mother.  Picture made in the back yard of our home in DC.” p39 a ceremony for thicker skin first the red dirt they let me breathe it the basins the rags boiled and scrubbed Saturday nights then the gauntlet of weekday Georgia forcefield training a repeated decision  to escape the hanging tree you must grow bark and never bite the hand the land with all its mineral advice would line our pores with memories and salt the lubricated dinners lined us too warm from the inside the thin petaled flowers they planted in a circle but not before they let me touch  the roots* *  Reverse of Antares (detail 1972) and Reverse of The Eclipse (detail 1970) where the ground seeps through the back of the canvas.   Fig 6 and 7 p 98 on being blue I “There is little to make a black officer feel blue; other than sadness…”*  Karl Osborne  (a black NYPD officer and student of Audre Lorde) i learned to call you from underneath and the signal went up in all directions i learned the ocean had hallways where a sound could get lost and the signal went up in all directions and i sunk ever further where a sound could get lost this was my hiding place and i sunk ever further surrendered to depth this was my hiding place this was my peace surrendered to depth i forgot my name this was my peace in blue i forgot my name in the hallways of the sea in blue i learned how to call you** * Audre Lorde Papers, Box 82, Folder 2.  ** Untitled 1977 Acrylic on paper, 22 x 30 in  #169 p 318 on being blue II for Detective Capers and Patrolman Wright (two of the black NYPD officers shot and killed by white NYPD officers in the 1970s) i am the sea monster press my hands into waves they become sharks and sinking ships and this is why i’m blue and this is why i’m strong and this is why you don’t see me at night red lights warn in whispers from my breast  and both my knees i brace myself against the sea as if  it’s ground as if i’m free as if there’s any solid earth for me* * Blue Night (At Sea), 1959 Oil on canvas 40 x 30 1/8 in #155 p305 THE INTERVIEW This interview was conducted between Alexis Pauline Gumbs and Jae Nichelle on Dec 13th, 2024. It’s an honor to read these pieces from your forthcoming project Primary , which honors the painter Alma Thomas. Can you speak a little bit about how this project came to be? What drew you to her work? I was really just living my Black feminist life.  I was in Nashville for the great Black feminist literary theorist Hortense Spillers’s retirement symposium at Vanderbilt and I remembered that the lesbian feminist photographer Joan E. Biren had advised me to go to the Alma Thomas retrospective “Everything is Beautiful” when it was in Thomas’s hometown of DC, but I missed it.  And so the morning after the symposium my partner and I went to the exhibit.  Right away I knew I was going to need much more than one morning with her work.  There were so many synergies.  Her interest in the cosmos, her work as an educator.  And honestly, I needed time to wrap my head around how in the world a Black girl born in Columbus Georgia in eighteen ninety-one at the height of lynching became one of the most influential theorists of color in contemporary art. What does color even mean when you are a Black girl born in the nadir of blatant racism in the U.S. South? And so I challenged myself to write inspired by her work every morning. Indefinitely. And I found so much.  Her colors took me to so many places, especially in my own childhood and adolescence. The flowers outside my childhood home, my fun-dip and skittle sugar era, my dark lipstick dreams.  But I also started to develop a listening for her life as an art teacher, a community member, an oldest sister (like me!), and a trickster. “Theology” is inspired by Thomas’ painting “Three Wise Men.” You nod to the vibrant colors of the art piece in the poem while simultaneously subverting the story of the wise men. I’m wondering how your relationship to Thomas’ work has felt from poem to poem. Is there tension? Synergy? Surprise? YES!  All of those things are there.  My method has been to surrender and to listen.  I don’t approach the work trying to say something about  the painting with the poem.  The poem is an artifact of what happens when I allow myself to welcome the unexpected associations that her colors and shapes bring to my body, mind, and spirit. I free myself from any mandate to make sense.  Often it was not until I went back and read the poems (after about a year) that I started to almost understand them. Alma Thomas deeply studied the emotional and spiritual resonance of specific colors.  This was core to her practice as a color theorist.  She also intentionally infused her paintings with “energy” and my job was just to move out of my own way, open my heart, and allow it to find me.  Many of the poems in the manuscript are almost maps for where that energy met me.     “On being blue I” begins with a quote from the papers of Audre Lorde, which makes this work feel like it is in conversation with your new book Survival is a Promise: the Eternal Life of Audre Lorde. How are you feeling now that this biography has made its recent debut into the world? For sure.  While I was writing these poems I was also doing the layers and layers of work that resulted in Survival is a Promise .  I wish I could sit and listen to Audre Lorde and Alma Thomas in an actual conversation.  Especially since they were both such impactful educators.  In fact, that epigraph is evidence of Audre Lorde making space in her classroom at John Jay College of Criminal Justice for her students, police officers in this case a Black police officer who had been shot at by his own white colleagues, to theorize what “blue” meant to him and to them. The poem is accountable to that work.   And how do I feel now that Survival is a Promise is actually in the world? It feels like what Beautiful Chorus says “gratitude brings room for more things to be grateful for.”  Survival is a Promise  is a work of gratitude for Audre Lorde and sharing it in the world has expanded the field of gratitude.  The events celebrating the book have been such sacred spaces of love and possibility.  It’s like exactly the inspiration and care that I have experienced from Audre Lorde’s work and her impact through her students…exactly the inspiration that made me want to write a biography that brings her to even more people IS the quality of the response to the book in our communities.  It also is a commitment to anyone who didn’t already know that I am ready to bring Audre Lorde into the conversation at ANY time. You once mentioned that your first three books came “ from the same decision ,” which was to write daily using the words of three scholars. What decisions have you made recently that currently inform your work? Well, I am still in the decision to write daily, which was an admonition from an early mentor asha bandele, who was also a student of Audre Lorde! And it was my community writing teacher Zelda Lockhart who really provided the structure to learn for myself what makes it possible for me to write every day no matter what.  But the decisions to engage in a particular project feel like answering my own attraction.  My own curiosity and queer desire because I really never know what is going to happen inside the work.  The work is teaching me.  Right now in my daily practice, I am inside a decision I made for my daily writing to engage my curiosity about my ancestors.  I am learning so much.  What’s the oldest piece of clothing you have? Why have you kept it this long? I have a lot of old clothes.  For a long time, I could still fit into clothes from my literal childhood, but I have finally come into my thickness so that’s not an excuse anymore.  Praises!   But I do have an archival adornment practice of wearing old clothes.  I think my oldest articles are T-shirts that my grandparents wore.  My grandmother’s NAACP shirt and my grandfather’s logo shirt for the hotel my grandparents founded, Rendezvous Bay Hotel in Anguilla.  They are both blue and I love the feeling of accompaniment I get when I wear them.  You’ve been part of several organizations, projects, and initiatives including UBUNTU and the Mobile Homecoming Project. What work are you currently excited about? So much!  I’m excited about the technology company that my partner Sangodare started.  It’s called QUIRC which is a combination of the words queer and circuit.  It’s about bringing our communities together through this polymatching innovation Sangodare invented that can facilitate us finding each other and transforming the world on purpose.  It blows my mind that Sangodare actually created a technology that makes our work in the Mobile Homecoming project of intergenerational queer black feminist liberation accessible to everyone on the planet as a mode of relation. (more at quirc.app ) I’m also excited to be part of the visioning council for The Embodiment Institute’s new retreat center in North Carolina.  All of it is about being present and profoundly connected to each other.  What are your favorite places to spend your time in Durham? On my office floor.  I have a rug that’s like the ocean.  I really love our home and the sweet small gatherings we have there with our community.  And then we live a couple of blocks away from Tierra Negra, the farm at Earthseed, a Black and brown land collective that Sangodare and I helped to found. I love being on the farm.  I love being in the barn (which is also where I get to participate in Mama Ruby’s West African dance class.). And I also love Duke Gardens.  It feels like part of my reparations to benefit from the WILD amount of money they pour into curating those gardens.   How can people support you right now? Honestly, it would feel supportive if people offered their prayers and magic for my uncle.  I have an uncle recovering from brain surgery right now that is the first thing that came to my heart.  Please send positive energy his way and to my whole family.  And it is tangibly supportive for folks to support our ongoing queer listening and community building with Mobile Homecoming at mobilehomecoming.org .  And of course please read Survival is a Promise  (or listen to the audiobook…it’s me reading it!) we need Audre Lorde as much as we ever have.  Name another Black Woman writer people should know. Well of course I already said Audre Lorde, asha bandele, and Zelda Lockhart.  There are so many.  But I’ll say Cheryl Boyce Taylor, another student of Audre Lorde and mentor of mine. Such a beautiful writer and an example for me of how we can bring writing to every day of our lives. ### Torch Literary Arts  is a 501(c)3 nonprofit established to publish and promote creative writing by Black women. We publish contemporary writing by experienced and emerging writers alike. Programs include the Wildfire Reading Series, writing workshops, and retreats. Donate to help Torch amplify Black women writers.

Latest News Mar 27, 2025 Torch Literary Arts Awarded AWP Writing Organization Award This is the first-ever Writing Organization Award by the Association of Writers & Writing Programs, which is awarded to literary organizations based on the legacy of writing organization advocate Kurt Brown. Read More Mar 17, 2025 Torch Literary Arts Recognized at the Ireland House During SXSW with Prime Minister of Ireland Micheál Martin Torch’s “Writers Across the Diaspora” program in partnership with the Irish Consulate, Culture Ireland, and Texas State University was highlighted. Read More Mar 11, 2025 Celebrating Women’s History Month and International Women’s Day This year’s themes of moving forward together and accelerating change reinforce Torch’s mission to ALWAYS support Black women writers and the stories they share. Read More Mar 7, 2025 Torch Raises over $6,000 during Amplify Austin Campaign Joining over 700 nonprofits for one of the largest giving days in Central Texas, Torch raised over $6,000 to amplify Black women writers worldwide. Read More Feb 10, 2025 Help Torch Raise $10,000 during Amplify Austin’s 2025 Giving Campaign! For the third year in a row, Torch is participating in Austin’s metro-wide giving day to merge the Black women literary community with the wider Austin giving community. Read More Feb 10, 2025 Wintergreen Women Writers Collective and Torch Literary Arts Partner to Host Welcome Table Talks Series featuring Black Women Writers The two literary organizations dedicated to creating community for Black women writers will host a series of talks over the next three years thanks to funding from the Mellon Foundation. Read More Jan 31, 2025 Celebrating Black History Month by Acknowledging Black Women Writers and Their Contributions to Literature Torch is using this year’s Black History Month theme “African Americans and Labor” to highlight the literary work we do to share our voices. Read More Jan 24, 2025 Torch Literary Arts Announces 2025 Spring Season Torch’s 2025 Spring Season is full of community collaborations, readings, writing workshops, and more to empower and encourage Black women to continue telling their stories. Read More Jan 10, 2025 Torch Literary Arts to Open Applications for the 2025 Torch Retreat on February 3rd The Torch Retreat will host its third annual writing retreat for Black women writers at the Colton House in Austin, Texas from July 20-27, 2025. Read More Jan 3, 2025 City of Austin Cultural Arts Division Awards Torch Literary Arts the Thrive Grant along with Other Cultural Arts Organizations in Austin The Cultural Arts Division awarded $13 million in funds to local arts and cultural organizations for a second year with Thrive and Elevate grants. Read More Jan 3, 2025 Torch Literary Arts Announces Retirement of Board Member Dr. Omi Osun Joni L. Jones Dr. Omi Osun Joni L. Jones joined the board in 2023 bringing her expertise as an artist, performer, author, and scholar to help support Black women writers. Read More Jan 3, 2025 Welcoming the New Year with Love and Community Taking the time to thank you all for your support in 2024 and share exciting news for 2025 Read More Dec 12, 2024 'Tis the Season for Gifts & Giving Find out how to support Torch and our community sponsors and supporters this holiday season! Read More Dec 4, 2024 Torch Surpasses Fundraising Goal for 2024 GivingTuesday Campaign Joining one of the largest international giving days, Torch surpassed its fundraising goal of $5,000. Read More Nov 22, 2024 Torch Literary Arts Celebrates GivingTuesday with Community and Board Matches, Ignite the Night, and More. Torch is joining millions around the world participating in the global generosity movement on December 3, 2024. Read More Nov 22, 2024 Torch Announces the Nominations for the Pushcart Prize Six Torch Features, Erica Frederick, A. E. Wynter, Sydney Mayes, Chidima Anekwe, Chyann Hector, and Mon Misir, are nominated for their respective works. Read More Nov 15, 2024 Torch Executive Director and Features Named as Brooks Living Legacy Honorees 20 Torch community members were named Living Legacy Honorees Read More Nov 1, 2024 Torch Literary Arts to Celebrate and Amplify Black Women Writers During the 2024 Texas Book Festival Over two days, Torch will host poet, essayist, and novelist Morgan Parker and Los Angeles Poet Laureate Lynne Thompson, and embark on a literary book crawl showcasing the works of the organization’s previous features. Read More Oct 18, 2024 Torch Literary Arts Welcomes New Team Members Thanks to capacity-building funding, Torch adds a Creative Content Associate and Administrative Fellow to the Team. Read More Oct 7, 2024 Celebrating National Book Month with Torch Literary Arts This October, Torch is celebrating National Book Month with Torch Day, an inaugural international program, and much more! Read More Sep 6, 2024 Torch Announces the Nominations for the Best of the Net Nine Torch Features were nominated for their works in creative nonfiction, fiction, poetry, and visual art in Torch Magazine. Read More Sep 5, 2024 Torch Literary Arts Receives National Book Foundation Grant The National Book Foundation awarded Torch funding from the Capacity-Building Grant Program. Read More Aug 30, 2024 Torch Announces the Nominations for the O. Henry Prize Two Torch Features, Felicia A. Rivers and Lydia Mathis, are nominated for their respective short fiction stories. Read More Aug 29, 2024 Torch Literary Arts Releases 2024 Fall Season Torch’s 2024 Fall Season includes international poets, a screenwriting panel, workshops on character building and memoirs, the Wildfire Reading Series, and more! Read More Aug 2, 2024 Celebrate Torch’s 18th Birthday & Our Mission to Amplify Black Women Writers Our wish this August is to gain 18 new monthly recurring Torch supporters & more! Find out how to celebrate our birthday with events, well wishes, and donations. Read More Jul 19, 2024 Torch Literary Arts Welcomes Erin Waelder to the Board of Directors Erin was welcomed to the board in June, bringing her extensive background in development communications. Read More Jul 12, 2024 Torch Literary Arts Receives Poetry Foundation Grant Torch Literary Arts (Torch), a nonprofit organization dedicated to amplifying Black women writers, will receive funding from the Poetry Foundation. This is the nonprofit’s second year receiving funding from the foundation. Read More Jun 28, 2024 Torch Literary Arts Receives Burdine Johnson Foundation Grant This is Torch's third year receiving the grant that serves Central Texas arts, education, historical preservation, and environmental sustainability causes. Read More Jun 5, 2024 Celebrate Pride Month by Amplifying Queer Black Voices At Torch, we recognize the many impactful contributions that queer Black women writers have given us and wish a Happy Pride to all those celebrating! Read More May 31, 2024 Torch Feature Yael Valencia Aldana Receives Pushcart Prize For the second year in a row, a Torch Feature has received a Pushcart Prize for their amazing work published in Torch Magazine. Read More May 24, 2024 Torch Literary Arts to Receive Grants for Arts Allocation from the National Endowment for the Arts This is Torch's second year receiving funding from National Endowment for the Arts. Funding will go towards artist honorariums for retreats, workshops, panels, and readings. Read More Apr 12, 2024 Torch Announces the 2024 Retreat Fellows Eight fellows were selected to attend the second annual retreat for Black women writers at the Colton House in Austin, Texas from July 21-28, 2024. Read More Apr 11, 2024 Torch Literary Arts Welcomes Dana Weekes to Board of Directors Dana Weekes was welcomed to the board in March, bringing her extensive background in law and policy, and commitment to creation as self-care. Read More Apr 5, 2024 Celebrating National Poetry Month with an Ode to Poets Every April, Torch is elated to celebrate the Black women who put words to feelings by celebrating National Poetry Month Read More Mar 22, 2024 Website Updates: New Transparency Documents, Including Three-Year Strategic Plan Torch Literary Arts updates website to include transparency documents including IRS Form 990s, Annual Reports, and the 2024-2026 Strategic Plan. Read More Mar 8, 2024 Celebrating Women’s History Month and International Women’s Day Torch Literary Arts acknowledges and celebrates the many literary contributions of women to history and the wonderful Black women writers across the diaspora. Read More Feb 16, 2024 Torch Literary Arts Opens Applications for the 2024 Torch Retreat The Torch Retreat will host its second annual writing retreat for Black women writers at the Colton House in Austin, Texas from July 21-28, 2024. Read More Feb 9, 2024 Celebrating Black History & Futures 24/7, 366 days This Black History Month, Torch acknowledges the importance of amplifying Black women writers year-round. Read More Jan 30, 2024 Austin Community Foundation Announces Torch Literary Arts as one of The Black Fund Grant Partners The Black Fund’s recognition of Torch Literary Arts as a grant partner allows Torch to continue hosting special events for Black women writers in the Austin community. Read More Jan 26, 2024 Torch Literary Arts Unveils 2024 Spring Season Torch’s 2024 Spring Season is full of workshops, panels, an interactive literary cooking event, and much more to help Black women writers share their unique stories. Read More Jan 16, 2024 Torch Literary Arts Announces Transitions to 2024 Board of Directors This year’s board transition includes the retirement of former board chair, Florinda Bryant, and elections of new board chair, Dr. Sequoia Maner, new secretary, Stephanie Lang, and new board member, Shannon Johnson Read More Jan 9, 2024 Culture Ireland Awards Torch Literary Arts Funding to Host Irish Poets Torch will use the Culture Ireland funding to host Irish poets Nithy Kasa and FELISPEAKS for interactive writing workshops from October 1-7, 2024. Read More

< Back Torch Literary Arts Awarded AWP Writing Organization Award Brittany Heckard Mar 27, 2025 This is the first-ever Writing Organization Award by the Association of Writers & Writing Programs, which is awarded to literary organizations based on the legacy of writing organization advocate Kurt Brown. AUSTIN, Tex., March 27, 2025 – Torch Literary Arts (Torch), a nonprofit organization dedicated to amplifying Black women writers, is making history! Just announced yesterday, the literary organization was awarded the first-ever Writing Organization Award by the Association of Writers & Writing Programs (AWP) . “Being one of the first literary organizations considered for this award is an honor and testament that our work to amplify and build community for Black women writers is necessary,” said Torch founder and executive director, Amanda Johnston. “Winning the award from AWP and being named among other important literary organizations shows Torch’s reach and national impact.” The AWP Writing Organization Award recognizes writing conferences, festivals, centers, and other organizations that serve the writing community. The new award was started to honor the legacy of poet Kurt Brown. Other finalists for the award included Brink Literacy Project and Macondo . The award was announced at the 2025 AWP Conference & Bookfair occurring in Los Angeles from March 26-29, 2025. The conference gathers thousands of writers, teachers, students, publishers, and more. It is also an exciting reunion for Torch community members including Features, Fellows, and workshop attendees. AWP’s mission is to amplify the voices of writers and the academic programs and organizations that serve them. The association is committed to members and the literary community, preserving writers’ intellectual property, and their staff. The nonprofit was established in 1967 by fifteen writers across thirteen creative writing programs. You can learn more about AWP at awpwriter.org . About Torch Literary Arts Torch Literary Arts (Torch) is a 501(c)3 nonprofit established with love and intention in 2006 to publish and promote creative writing by Black women. We publish contemporary writing by experienced and emerging writers alike. Torch has featured work by Toi Derricotte, Tayari Jones, Sharon Bridgforth, Crystal Wilkinson, Patricia Smith, Natasha Trethewey, Elizabeth Alexander, and others. Programs include the Wildfire Reading Series, writing workshops, and retreats. Help TORCH continue to publish and promote Black women writers by donating today. About AWP AWP is a professional association of creative writers and writing programs. AWP provides support, advocacy, resources, and community to nearly 50,000 writers, 550 college and university creative writing programs, and 150 writers’ conferences and centers. The AWP Conference & Bookfair is the annual destination for writers, teachers, students, editors, and publishers of contemporary creative writing. It includes thousands of attendees, hundreds of events and bookfair exhibitors, and four days of essential literary conversation and celebration. Media Contact Information: Brittany Heckard Communications Associate bheckard@torchliteraryarts.org (512) 641-9251 Previous Next

< Back Torch Literary Arts Recognized at the Ireland House During SXSW with Prime Minister of Ireland Micheál Martin Brittany Heckard Mar 17, 2025 Torch’s “Writers Across the Diaspora” program in partnership with the Irish Consulate, Culture Ireland, and Texas State University was highlighted. AUSTIN, Tex., March 17, 2025 – During the SXSW Conference over the last week, executive director and founder of Torch Literary Arts, Amanda Johnston, welcomed Prime Minister of Ireland Micheál Martin to Austin, Texas for Ireland House. Torch was recognized as a local cultural partner by Robert Hull, Consul General of Ireland for their hospitality during the inaugural Writers Across the Diaspora programming. During the SXSW programming, Amanda represented Torch Literary Arts as a cultural partner, proudly welcoming Prime Minister of Ireland Micheál Martin along with Mayor Kirk Watson. She read some of her own work as well as work from Nithy Kasa , a visiting Congolese-Irish poet who visited Austin last year. Torch’s relationship with Ireland is years in the making, starting with funding from Culture Ireland to start the inaugural Writers Across the Diaspora program with Texas State University. The program officially launched on October 9 with visiting poets Nithy Kasa and FELISPEAKS . The two poets spent a week reading and hosting workshops in Central Texas. The Ireland House activation took place during SXSW in the heart of Downtown Austin at Marlowe from March 9-11 and included nearly 20 events, panels, film events and more. Prime Minister Micheál Martin’s visit to Austin is part of his St. Patrick’s Day program in the United States. You can learn more about Ireland House at SXSW here . For more information about Torch’s Writers Across the Diaspora program, you can watch readings from our visiting Irish poets here . You can keep up with Torch programming by visiting torchliteraryarts.org/events . ### About Torch Literary Arts Torch Literary Arts (TORCH) is a 501(c)3 nonprofit established with love and intention in 2006 to publish and promote creative writing by Black women. We publish contemporary writing by experienced and emerging writers alike. Torch has featured work by Toi Derricotte, Tayari Jones, Sharon Bridgforth, Crystal Wilkinson, Patricia Smith, Natasha Trethewey, Elizabeth Alexander, and others. Programs include the Wildfire Reading Series, writing workshops, and retreats. Help Torch support Black women writers by donating today. About Culture Ireland Culture Ireland, a division of the Department of Tourism, Culture, Arts, Gaeltacht, Sport and Media is responsible for the promotion of Irish arts worldwide through specific grant programmes. We also create and support opportunities for Irish artists and art organisations to present and promote their work at strategic international festivals and venues. We develop platforms to present the richness and quality of Irish creativity to international audiences through showcase events in key arts markets including the Edinburgh Festivals and Venice Biennale, as well as various special initiatives. Previous Next