Still We Write: Jaha Zainabu On Black Poetry, Bipolar Disorder, and Why She Writes Every Day
“I know for sure that when I leap, I will land right in God's palm,” poet Jaha Zainabu said as she chatted with BET for National Poetry Month. For Zainabu, poetry has never been just words. It has been a calling, a lifeline, and a way to release the truth.
In her Still We Write conversation, the Black poet, visual artist, and mother reflected on a lifetime of writing and the power of finally seeing herself in the work of another Black woman on the page. “I was, like, wait, what? You can sound like a Black woman, and that’s poetry,” she said of first reading Nikki Giovanni in 1986 when she was in the 11th grade. “And from then on, I was a poet.”
Zainabu said she was “always” going to be a writer; as a child she kept journals and even imagined herself as a future literary force. “I started this journal called ‘My Famous Stories,’ because I was going to be a famous writer, so what else would the book be called, right?” she laughed. It was in those journals where Zainabu stood up to her bullies. “In real life, I was not doing that. I didn’t have hands like that. In my famous stories, I was a superhero. I was Wonder Woman.”
Jeans by Jaha Zainabu
There comes a point in a woman's life
When we stop to ponder yesterday
The transformation from then to now
The people we've met and been along the way
The prompt of the musing
Comes in an array of fashion
An old photograph
A familiar scent
Or the recent exodus of a lover
Whose footprints led us to the father
Whose humanity broke our hearts first
Spring cleaning is when it happens to me
When finally I give those favorite pair of jeans
Fashionably faded perfectly at the knee
To the local Goodwill, Salvation Army, or my favorite niece
This time I will not convince myself
That one day they will fit again
Or make my butt look quite the same again
These jeans will not ever kiss these lips
Or hug these cheeks again
The beauty finally
Is that I don't want them anymore
They are not quite big enough
To hold the woman I am today
These jeans belong to a girl
Whose favorite song
Had more to do with
How she could move to the bass
Than what she could learn from the lyrics
And she wore them well
Model thin with flawless skin
A good girl who compromised
Until sacrifice became her addiction
I am not so flexible
These are her jeans
They don't quite fit me
Not anymore
As her artistry matured, so did her understanding of what it meant to use her voice. “I will go back to heaven poem-less because I will leave them all right here. I don't know that I will be back again, so I don't have time to not read and absorb all of the books.”
“I don't look at days as one more day. I look at days as one less day. I don't have time for what I had time for,” Zainabu said of her urgency for living and sharing her art.
The 56-year-old wordsmith balances discipline with a playful freedom in her art. She’s dedicated to sharing her words. “Discipline will get you further than inspiration,” she said, explaining that she writes every day. Literally…every single day. She’s one of those lucky few people who doesn’t believe in writer’s block. “There’s always something to write about,” she said. Zainabu puts out one ebook each month. She shared that she released her 15th ebook for National Poetry Month on 4/30.
That discipline is part of how she manages life with bipolar disorder, something she spoke about with honesty and clarity. She said, “I have had three stints in the psych ward. The mania has taken control.” Still, Zainabu has built a practice that keeps her connected to her purpose. “I am in gratitude every day,” she said.
Zainabu asked her godmother, fellow poet V. Kali, why do artists, especially writers, “go through so much,” and she said Kali told her, “because you’ll tell it.” And Zainabu admitted, she most certainly does “tell it,” she tells everything: the good, the bad, and the ugly.
“Stories are still being passed on. We are always in a time where our ancestors are leaving the planet. And with the death of them, is the death of how we did things, it’s the death of how we pressed air, it’s the death of how we made biscuits and gravy, it's the death of how we mopped a floor. It's the death of those things, but if we are still writing, we are still living.”
It’s deeper than craft. “Writing connects me to spirit,” she said. For Zainabu, writing is both personal and communal. “If I write about my bad day, I’m writing about yours too.” Poetry has given her the room to let it all out and follow in the footsteps of Toni Morrison and Giovanni, sharing her truths as a Black woman as a means to connect to a higher power, but also to the Black women just like her. Zainabu doesn’t see herself as a poet carrying the torch of those great writers, but rather warmed by its glow.