The South is gonna always have something to say and as a Black Southern writer from Mississippi, I’m standing on that forever and always. Author, poet and co-organizer of the Griot and Grey Owl Black Southern Writers conference, Khalisa Rae would 100% agree. In fact, we talk in-depth about why Black Southern writing matters, the challenges of organizing a conference and what she hopes folks, especially writers and creatives, will gain from the conference.

Why did you choose Durham as the place for the first Southern Black Writers Conference?

Well, the obvious answer is that we live in Durham. My husband and I are both poets and we decided to plant roots here and to commit to making this our home for the next 10 plus years, and we love Durham [and] we really wanted to make sure that the place where we call home, other people can call home too.

But the deeper meaning behind why it’s special and why Durham is a perfect place to have it is because of the history of the legacy of Black writers and artists that have lived here and that have come before us. Durham’s history when it comes to Black Wall Street and Pauli Murray and so many dynamic folks that have come through North Carolina that are activists or that are creators or writers. I just feel like Durham is such a hub for cultural immersion and for the arts and just has such a dope, innovative Black art scene that’s doing some things that I haven’t seen anybody else [doing].

Black August in the park happens here, which is like an all-Black festival in the park where thousands of people, Black folks come out. We have communities that are several hundred years old of Black folks. It’s called the West End community. We have a whole gala where hundreds of people come out just to watch poetry and they pay $500 per ticket to see poetry. I don’t know where else people are doing some of the things that the folks in Durham are doing.

And then we have such dynamic literary leaders in our city, black artists that are just phenomenal, like Alexis Pauline Gumbs, Adrienne Marie Brown, Tracy Deonn. I could go on and on, but I just think we are innovators when it comes to the Black arts [and the] Black literary [scene].

What do you believe is unique or special about being a Southern Black writer?

I did my thesis dissertation about this, so I’m super passionate about it. For so long, we have been told by the white canon that as a Black Southern writer, your voice is undervalued, underrepresented. Not academic, not proper, not in the literary canon and not worthy of being studied or learned about and not worthy of being labored over. A lot of people don’t even use Black Southern writing as examples in the class to edit and to study or to critique or to award with awards.

And so  I did a lot of study about how not only is that a lie, but I think the special thing about being a Black Southern writer is that we are literally carrying on centuries old tradition. The original people were griots. The original people were storytellers. The original people, the natives and the African people told their people’s stories. They told folktales. And that essentially is the storyteller, the griot that turned into the spoken word artist that turned into the slam poet, you know? And so, I think that, we are literally carrying on a precious legacy as Black Southern writers. And it’s a shame that we have been lied to for hundreds of years being told that our voice isn’t special or important.

As a Midwesterner that now is a Southern writer because I’ve been here for longer than I lived in the Midwest. I’ve been in North Carolina for 20 something years. I get really excited when people are rooting for you to not be seen, not be heard. And then we get the opportunity to be like, nah, but actually like, we are that good. We are dope. We are everything and more. When I was in school, I had to make a list of famous writers that actually were born in the South. And that’s the thing that people don’t tell you, is a lot of folks like Nikki Giovanni, claim the East, but their roots are in the South. They are Black Southern writers. So I think what makes us special is we’re literally everywhere and we are in a legacy of some of the greatest griots, some of the greatest writers.

What must the space have for you as a Southern Black writer to feel held and cared for?

Before I enter into a space, I want to know that the folks putting it on have done work around folks’ needs. What are their accessibility needs? What are their emotional, physical, personal needs? Have you done research about who we are as people? And what things might be triggering to us? How much work have you really invested into getting to know me if I’m showing up to this space to offer you my gifts and my talents? That’s really important to me.I think that’s what’s so special about what we’re trying to create with Griot & Grey Owl. Every year we attend the Southern Fried Regional Poetry Slam. And when I say held—safe, seen, heard—when we first started going that is exactly what we felt and that’s actually what inspired Griot & Grey Owl.

[At the Southern Fried Regional Poetry Slam], it was intentionality down to the minute detail of how they served you food, intentionality down to us pairing in groups and having us get to know each other and talking across the table and tearing down barriers and walls. You can tell a lot of intentionality went into that feeling of making you feel like you were at home. That’s what I need in spaces and that’s what I want to give to others.

The last little thing I’ll say is, something that I’ve experienced at one of the conferences I went to is I felt really alone. There were other Black folks there, but I kept feeling alone. And I think the thing that makes me feel safe is if there is a mentality around, there should be no person left behind, that everybody is a part of the community. There’s not a clique, there’s no cool crowd. We’re here to really share space and build community.

What were some of the challenges of planning this conference, especially as someone who is living with chronic illness?

A lot. I think the first thing, of course, is that allowing it to be okay for me not to be able to do everything. As a Virgo, we are excellent planners of things, but I think we also have control issues and don’t know how to let people help us. And so I think that when you have chronic illness, you literally do not have a choice, but to let people help you. It is a capitalist mentality that I think is ingrained in all of us that we are an island. That we do it all ourselves, that we only can do it right, and that we don’t need anybody’s help. Every day, living with chronic illness, I have to fight against the capitalistic mentality that I need to rush, that I need to do it now, and literally, I still fight that every day.

The other thing for me, the biggest thing is giving myself grace. My husband and I are literally only two people and there’s no way as, as cute as people like, especially Black folks, like to make it sound real cute when they’re like, “I’m a team of one. I ain’t got no team. It’s just me.” Me and Eric have had conversations like, “Nah, we good off that. I don’t want that award.” So, that’s been a challenge. To give ourselves grace that it just might not get done right now. And maybe we need to add some extra hands. Maybe we need to invest a little more money in a broader team or hiring somebody.

I think also navigating conflict resolution has been a challenge too, because when you are working with that many vendors and that many people and that many speakers, you have to be on a lot. And when you’re struggling with both mental illness and chronic illness, being on is not possible a lot and hasn’t been possible for me. And so I think, one of the other challenges for me has been to name what’s going on with me [and]  to not be ashamed to [send an email saying] “I don’t have the stones right now. I have nothing to give. I literally just got out of the ER.” And being okay with that being my lived experience and allowing people to give back to me what I need.

I’ve seen that tenfold, where I sent out my mass email about being sick. Everybody responding back has been like, “is, it’s okay. It’s going to get done. The conference is going to be great. It’s going to be fine. We gon’ be alright.” And so I think that that has been beautiful. When I’ve been honest and upfront and authentic about what’s going on with me physically and mentally, people have shown me that grace back.

What event at the conference are you most excited for people to experience?

So, the first thing is a poetry slam. Duke is sponsoring a poetry slam Friday night and that joint is gonna be fire. Some of the best poets are on our roster. So, that’s going to be cool. And me and my husband haven’t thrown a poetry slam in a minute. And so, we love that. We love the competitive nature of slam. So that’s going to be fire.

And then Saturday night, similarly, we have really dope spoken word artists coming to do a showcase. I love when I get to sit back and do nothing. That’s probably why I’m excited about those because I get to just watch people do what I love. But then also I think it’ll be a great time for people to be like, Wow. When we say Black Southern writers are super, super talented on another level, I think performances and readings do a great job of showing the average person what we’re capable of. So, I’m excited about those two things.

What do you hope Southern Black writers leave with? What do you hope they gain?

The hope and the intention has always been that people leave with one, a greater sense of self. I hope that the folks that come who are writers and creators leave with a greater sense of confidence and excitement about their work. Because far too often we are beat down about our work. And so I hope that people leave being like, nah, I’m literally all that. And this has just shown me that I’m not only all that. But I don’t have to feel alone anymore. I hope people feel like they are a part of a greater community.

If they’re just an audience member. The main thing that I hope they takeaway is how special and dynamic and important Black Southern writers are and I hope they give us some shine time, some money, some opportunities. That’s what I hope. I hope the lay people, maybe some folks with power will come to the conference and see somebody spit. And I hope that that leads to somebody getting an amazing opportunity.

Before we end, do you have any final thoughts or anything you wanted to share that we didn’t get a chance to discuss?

One misconception we’ve heard from people is like, “Well, y’all are poets. Is this for poets?” And the answer to that is no. I want to go on record and say that, actually, I write in all genres. And I think that that’s why I purposely wanted people like Minda and Mahogany and Terrance and Tyree and Destiny to be in the space and I wanted them specifically to teach because we all write in all genres but people like to pigeonhole us and say that we’re one genre. Many of us started as poets [but] have been very successful in all genres.

I also want to just encourage people to not be intimidated. We’ve heard that a lot of people are seeing our roster, and they’re intimidated by the space a little bit, or they think that it’s only for certain kind of people. And so I just hope through reading this or hearing this, they know that they are welcome and that we want them to come and that this space is literally for everybody from the beginner writer to the most seasoned writer.