Faylita Hicks (pronouns: she/her/they) is a queer writer, mobile photographer, and performance artist. The author of HoodWitch (Acre Books, 2019), they have recently received 2019 Best of the Net Nominations for poems in the Cincinnati Review and The Matador, and a Pushcart Prize nomination from Tahoma Literary Review. They are the Managing Editor of the Austin-based literary journal Borderlands: Texas Poetry Review. They are a 2019 Lambda Literary Writing Retreat Emerging LGBTQ Voices Nonfiction Fellow, a 2019 Jack Jones Literary Arts “Culture, Too” Gender/Sexuality Fellow, a finalist for Palette Poetry’s 2019 Spotlight Award, winner of Catapult's Inaugural 2019 Black History Month Workshop Scholarship, are a 2020 Tin House Nonfiction Winter Workshop participant, and recently offered a Vermont Studio Residency. She received her MFA in creative writing from Sierra Nevada College’s low-residency program and lives in San Marcos, Texas. She is on Twitter @FaylitaHicks and currently at work on a memoir.

Tom Simpson: Right out of the gate, HoodWitch is exploring and dismantling binaries. The opener, "About the Girl Who Would Become a Gawd," surfaces the zeroes and ones of binary code; it evokes structures and algorithms that have the power to consume and define us. What are the poems unearthing, and revealing, about possible paths to freedom?

Faylita Hicks: I think about what freedom might mean for me, or others, a lot these days. To me, it's the ability to move freely throughout the world, as my authentic self, with dignity and respect, and without the fear of retribution. For this particular poem, and throughout most of the book, I am seeking my authentic self. If I am tired—I want to be tired. If I am angry—I want to be angry. If I am broken—I want to be broken. At least for a little while. I think that society sometimes pressures people who have recently experienced trauma to rush through their pain, sadness, or anger. The need to maintain production schedules and/or maintain public status quos often forces people to hide their pain or not address it directly.

As a Black womxn, a queer person, expressing any of my emotions, living in them without apology, is a freedom. Grieving for the Blxck womxn, loudly and often, is a freedom, one that is particular to my era. After Emancipation and Civil Rights, the fight for our dignity and respect continues, but thanks to the accessibility of social media and the ease of communications between global communities, this time in American History will be remembered as the time Blxck womxn finally got a little space to turn to themselves and mourn their losses. The last two decades have seen Blxck womxn hyping each other up, loving up on their bodies, minds, and spirits, imagining what the future might look like once we finally get free of this society. It has been a time of reclamation of the self, that is a freedom.

We don't need, and shouldn't seek, trauma to find strength, but strength can be found after trauma. There is a freedom in discovering this immutable truth for yourself.

TS: The cover art for the book is spellbinding (pun intended?). How did it come to be, and how did you find it?

FH: My publisher, Acre Books, was phenomenal in helping me create this book intentionally. I requested that the cover artist be a Black artist and they helped me contact several potential artists as a result. When they sent me this image, I balked at it. I quickly closed the screen. My reaction was sudden and visceral—but I knew why. It made me uncomfortable because the image looked like me. It reminded me of every one of those private moments of pain I had tried to hide.

The cover of the book, "Bullseye" by Tyrone Geter, is an image that shows a Black womxn who has obviously experienced something that has left in her a state of disquiet. But there is a freedom in the way she stands, staring the viewer in the eye, not turning away from this public moment or her private pain. Tear streaks and tousled hair, she has never been more determined to live. That is a freedom I understand and wanted to embrace in this book—so I had to choose it.
It's funny because I hadn't told too many people my reaction to the cover when I first saw it, but my mother immediately looked at it and was like "It looks just like you." In many ways it does—but I think it's every Black womxn we're seeing here.

TS: You've got a killer spoken-word EP, Onyx, that accompanies HoodWitch. Tell us about how the artistic vision for that set of tracks emerged.

FH: Surprise! I rap too! Lol, I do actually. The beats, produced by Pool Boi Blu, were originally intended for a hip hop project I was trying to work on before the book. Once I started editing the book, all other projects just took a back seat. After the galley was finished, I decided I wanted to do something fun to celebrate the book and thought Onyx (which is part of the original title for the manuscript that became HoodWitch), would be a great way to do it. I wanted to set the vibe for HoodWitch.

TS: You also edit Borderlands: Texas Poetry Review. That's such essential, urgent work.

FH: Borderlands has been a welcome change of pace. As a writer, I've submitted to countless journals, magazines, and other publications. I'm grateful for every publication and editor whoever took on my work and helped me to start realizing my dream of writing for a living. When I saw the opportunity being advertised on Facebook, I knew it was my turn to give back in this way to my literary community. As an editor, I have the chance to help encourage someone else on their writing journey. It's a humbling experience. I've spent so many years reading collections that have been developed over months and years. Now I get to read fresh, new work that will become a part of projects in the future. I get to get a peek at new trends and see where the hive mind is on certain issues. In many ways, the editing process is therapeutic for me. I get some coffee, throw on some lo-fi, and look for the words that could save me.

TS: At the dawn of a new year and a new decade, what do you find most life-giving? Whose art, and what visions, sustain you?

FH: Visual artists that are giving me life right now:

1. Lina Iris Viktor, whose royal blues, onyx, and actual gold paintings are teaching me more about what it means to find beauty in the dark.

2. Tyrone Geter and his praise of the historically complex yet brave Black womxn through pencil, charcoal, and paper.

3. Jesse Krimes, whose installations focus on crime in rural counties.

Musicians who are getting me lifted:

1. Beyoncé is much more than a cultural icon, she is making historic leaps when it comes to visual art, collaborations with organizations and foundations, and cash investments.

2. Lizzo has reminded me just how dope it is to be a big Black femme and I can dig it.

3. Ama Lou is from London and she's dope. Please listen to her!

Writers who make me jealous right now:

1. Kiese Laymon lets me know that there are bigger and better ways to talk about experiences like mine. I'm crying every two minutes and I'm okay with that.

2. Natalie Lima is coming for y'all's necks and I can't save you! Really though—the work is raw and aware. Gah!

3. Luke Johnson. Just go ahead and write the name down. Oh—gentle destruction!