Dive into the transformative power of storytelling and self-discovery with Prof. Mecca Jamilah Sullivan in this latest episode, where we unpack the nuances of black feminist thought and its impact on literature and life. In this captivating conversation, Prof. Sullivan, a renowned author and Professor of English at Georgetown University, shares her inspiring journey as a writer and scholar, delving into her works like Big Girl and The Poetics of Difference, which celebrate black women and queer identities. From her early inspirations from literary giants like Toni Morrison and Audre Lorde to her exploration of Harlem’s cultural tapestry and the importance of journaling, Dr. Sullivan illuminates the ways in which writing can be a tool for personal liberation and social change. Join us as we explore themes of self-care, the fluidity of reading formats, and the revolutionary act of simply being present, with invaluable insights into the power of language and the importance of making space for ourselves in the world. This episode is a must-listen for aspiring writers, educators, and anyone passionate about literature, social justice, and the stories that shape us.
Music courtesy of Dealer’s Choice Sound Recordings, Inc.
Music artist: djezi
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Writing Must Have A Sense Of Joy: On Black Feminist Narratives And Liberation With Prof. Mecca Jamilah Sullivan
Our Bodies Are For Joy, Pleasure, And Power For Ourselves
We’re in for a real treat on the show. We have Professor Mecca Jamilah Sullivan. Dr. Sullivan is the author of the books. She is the author of Big Girl, which is a New York Times Editors’ Choice and winner of a Balconies Fiction Prize and the Next Generation Indie Book Award for First Novel. She is also the author of The Poetics of Difference: Queer Feminist Forms in the African Diaspora, which is a winner of the William Sanders Scarborough Prize from the MLA. She is also the author of the short story collection Blue Talk & Love, which was the winner of the Judith Markowitz Award from Lambda Literary.
Dr. Sullivan has earned honors from Bread Loaf, the Institute of Citizens and Scholars, the Mellon Foundation, the Center for Fiction, the NEA, and many others. Originally, Dr. Sullivan is from Harlem, New York City. She’s a Professor of English at Georgetown University in Washington, DC. Dr. Sullivan talked to us about, certainly, her writing, journaling, and self-care. Angela, as we take this, we are at the beginning of summer. Are there any self-care practices that you want to incorporate this summer?
Absolutely. Self-care and healthcare, I call it health style. I love summer. When you talk about your favorite season, summer is my favorite. We’ve got the long days, sunshine, and we can throw the beach in there. I’m planning to get that in. To be outside. Self-care, for me, is moving, always. Dr. Sullivan talks about, which I loved and which you guys will get to read, trying new things. Dance is one of them. I love line dancing.
Do you have a fan? We’ve got to get our fans.
I don’t have my fan yet, but I’ve got it down. I don’t have an actual fan. It is the movement of picking something different to do, like taking a hip-hop class. I’ve done that. I’ll do more of that this summer. I liked the self-care practice that she mentioned of being present. I love to take pictures. Unfortunately, I have so many pictures on my camera and computer that take up most of the memory. It’s shameful.
I love pictures, but I have found that I’m trying to be more in the moment and enjoying what I see in front of me instead of always trying to take a picture of it. I do see value in photos because it does bring back good memories, but trying to be present for me means sometimes putting the camera down and enjoying it. Those are two self-care practices I’m trying to branch out and do things in terms of movement that are different. How about you?
In terms of being present, one of my favorite expressions is, “This is a happy moment.” If I am somewhere with someone and there is a joyful moment, I say, “This is a happy moment,” to bring us back to the present. It’s also my way of being grateful for this moment.
You’re imprinting that on those around you as well. I’ve heard you say that, and it does make you pause and appreciate where you are in that moment.
As we talk about some self-care practices that I am going to incorporate going forward, or this summer in particular, it’s going to sound strange, but vacation. I have not been as good at scheduling my vacations. I have time off, but then I do a bunch of other stuff, or I’m like, “I need to do this one thing for this project,” or, “I need to send this email or do this thing at home.” I have scheduled my vacation. It does involve a beach, so I’m super excited about that.
Where are you going?
I’m going to San Diego, if you can believe that.
We’ll have to talk offline.
We will. I will be spending five days at the beach in San Diego, and then later on in the summer, I’ll be doing CME, Continuing Medical Education, in Boston. I haven’t spent a whole lot of time in Boston. Those are my self-care plans for the next few months.
If we talk enough, I can adopt one of your self-care plans. That’s on my list. I haven’t done that. I love that. During our conversation with Dr. Sullivan, we found out that she was doing some of the same. That is an inspiration, as well as the entire interview. She’s a dynamic speaker. She’s genuine and authentic. She had so much to share, such as a laundry list of books and authors to read.
We are anticipating a lot of information to share and hope that you enjoy it as much as we do. Without further ado, Dr. Sullivan.
We are so excited to have Dr. Mecca Jamilah Sullivan here with us, an accomplished writer, wordsmith, and woman of such powerful wisdom and words. I had the pleasure of meeting her back at old stomping grounds, Georgetown, when she moderated a panel brought to us by the women of BRAVE, another incredible organization of young, powerful women of color who bring an incredible experience to those around them on campus.
I was impressed and came back and told Sylvia, “We would be so blessed if we could get Dr. Sullivan on the show to give us her life experiences.” I know you have so many accolades, Dr. Sullivan, but on the show, we like to know the story behind the person. We would love for you to share whatever was on your heart. In the beginning, we typically start by asking you what shaped you and how things began for you in your journey as Jamilah and a journey as a writer and a scholar.
Early Sparks: Discovering The Joy Of Writing
First of all, I have to say thank you so much for inviting me to be part of the show. That event where we met at BRAVE was such a powerful event. It was organized by women of color students at Georgetown. I’m a professor of English at Georgetown. To connect with alums like yourself was fantastic. I was saying earlier that you asked phenomenal questions, so I remembered you. As soon as you emailed me, I was eager to be part of the show. Thank you. Sylvia, it’s wonderful to meet you as well.
In terms of my start as a writer, for me, it began very young. I feel fortunate to have been well supported by educators, but also by my family. I knew from a pretty young age that I wanted to be a writer. It was through reading that I realized that writing was something that I could even do, and that writing about Black girls, Black women in our lives, and our bodies was something that one could make a life out of.
I was reading Toni Morrison, Audre Lorde, and Jamaica Kincaid. These are all writers who write about Black girlhood, although they’re not necessarily writing for young Black girls. I was fortunate enough to discover their work in my mother’s library. I say library, but I mean on her bookshelf. She had this amazing archive of Black women writers and Black feminist writers.
When I was still reading Baby-Sitters Club, Nancy Drew, and all these writings for young girls, I was also reading The Bluest Eye and For Colored Girls. These works showed me again that writing was a thing I could do, and that writing about the experience that I was having at that moment as a young Black girl was also a way to spend one’s life and make one’s living. I then started learning about how education plays into that. I had a phenomenal fifth-grade teacher who encouraged me to journal every day. In fact, that was one of our assignments. She had us journal.
In fifth grade, that’s wonderful.
Shout out to Amy Cassell. I’ve written about her because she was such a profound influence on me, both as a writer and as a teacher later on. She had us journal, and then she would collect our journals and write these little comments on these little Post-it notes. That helped me to recognize not only the importance of developing a practice as a writer, but also thinking about a reader. I had a reader early on who was invested in my work and was giving me feedback. It was all positive feedback, but we need that as well as writers. It was those early experiences that made me realize that writing was what I wanted to do, and that writing was possible as a life path for me.
I hear the freedom as a young girl to be able to read what you wanted to read. A common thread that goes through a lot of our episodes is that there’s usually one incredible person who shines that light on your talent and tells you, “This is something that you could do.” That’s beautiful.
Do you still journal?
Not as much as I should.
No shoulds on this show.
I love that. Not as much as I would like to, and not as much as I plan to in the near future. The academic schedule is one that is challenging. It’s so varied. Every day is different on an academic schedule. It depends on your teaching schedule. It also depends on what your writing deadlines are and what committee meetings you have. It has been challenging, especially in the last couple of years, to maintain a journaling practice.
I’m fortunate enough to be doing a lot of traveling. I’m on the road, talking about my books and my work. I know we’ll talk about self-care probably in a minute, but I’ve worked out a regular workout schedule in terms of my physical movement practice. It has been harder for me to integrate journaling on a regular basis, but it is the summer. We are chatting at the very start of summer for me. This is the time when I tend to get back into regular journaling practice. I’m so excited about that.
Can you explain how your journaling helps your writing?
Yeah. In so many ways. I used to have 1 notebook that was a journal and 1 notebook that was a catchall for life things, to-do lists, and whatever, and then I had a separate notebook that was where I collected ideas or phrases that would come to me in my creative work. At this point, these are all one book. In fact, I have three of them. There is one in each of my purses. I have a big notebook in a bag. They are all of the above. I think of them as an archive of everything that’s on my mind.
When I journal in that book, it’s very helpful because it helps me to distill what I’m working through, what I’m thinking about, what I’m feeling, and what is something that will become material for the creative project or the research project that I’m working on. It becomes almost like a drafting space for whatever other pieces of writing will come next for me, which is why it’s important for that to be a regular practice. Especially as thinking people and thinking women feel, there’s a lot going on internally. Having a space where you can sort it all out and begin to mold it into whatever it will become is helpful. I’m looking forward to getting back to having that as a regular feature of my day-to-day.
I don’t want to fail to mention all that you’ve done and then go into my next thought. In terms of your books, I know you wrote Blue Talk & Love, which was your first, The Poetics of Difference, and then Big Girl.
Big Girl was a New York Times Editor’s Choice and winner of the 2023 Next Generation Indie Book Awards for First Novel. I had to say that.
Thank you.
That was in mine as well. Along those lines, you mentioned Toni Morrison. That’s who I caught in the beginning. Who were the other writers or thinkers who shaped your early worldview?
Literary Mentors: Shaping A Worldview With Tony Morrison & Ntozake Shange
Toni Morrison is a big one, for sure. Ntozake Shange, who was the author of the choreopoem, For Colored Girls Who Have Considered Suicide When the Rainbow is Enuf. Her, Toni Morrison, and Jamaica Kincaid are the folks that I discovered very early on as a kid. I was reading their works. I was fortunate enough to meet and get to know Ntozake as a student. She became a mentor and a friend, in fact. That was profound and powerful for me.
Audre Lorde is somebody whom I didn’t discover. I didn’t delve into her work until a little bit later. I was a teenager. As a Black lesbian feminist, poet, scholar, and theorist, her work has helped me distill some of my ideas and articulate them as powerfully and succinctly as possible. She expands my understanding of what I can do as a writer.
She’s somebody who writes in so many different genres, who tackles ideas about difference, power, and identity in interesting, complex ways. She loves language. She believes in the power of language. All of those things were influential for me as I was developing my thoughts as an adult and developing my writing as an adult. There are so many. I feel like I want to shout out all my writing friends as well. Having peers or people who are coming up with you as a writer has been profound. Those relationships have been important to me as well.
Can you expound a little bit upon the mentorship that you received? We talk about that. Often, we negate that fact when we’re talking to young, young people. How did you find the mentor, or how did she become part of your life, and how did you identify her as one of your mentors?
This is a great story. I haven’t gotten to tell this story. I was a fan from childhood. My mother, in fact, was a big fan. The choreopoem, For Colored Girls, first came out in 1975. At that time, my mother was in her twenties. That was a profound text and a profound moment for her and for Black women. It went to Broadway, this profound exploration of Black women and our bodies. There’s a lot of discussion of sexual assault and sexual violence, which we still haven’t been able to have fully as a culture.
I was a Shange stan all my life. I had the good fortune of meeting her. I can’t remember which happened first, but there was a conference in her honor at Barnard. She was an alumna of Barnard. I was invited to give a talk at that conference, knowing that she would be there. I was terrified but thrilled and excited. We got to speak afterward, and she said nice things about this little talk that I had given. That encouraged me to continue to nurture that relationship. We had lunch that day. Simultaneously, a dear friend of mine was a mentee of hers, and her daughter was becoming a friend of mine. It was an interesting parallel of the intellectual and creative connection, but also real, personal, human links and ties.
It was meant to be.
Journaling becomes like a drafting space for whatever other piece of writing will come next. Share on XThe universe was conspiring.
Thank you, universe, for that because that relationship did become foundational for me in my sense of possibility of what writing life could be. I love that you asked how I identified her as a mentor. I truly didn’t. I wouldn’t have dared to identify her as a mentor at that time in my life. I wish I had, in some ways. I wish I had been the bold one to say, “I would like for you to mentor me.”
It happened to work out that she said nice things about my work, and we had all of these personal connections. I had the opportunity to be of service to her. We were living in the same area at the time in Brooklyn, and she needed some errands run. I was able to run those errands, and it gave me a chance to sit with her in a more intimate way.
She identified me as a mentee. She was interviewed, and she said, “I want you to know. I told them that you’re my mentee. They might be calling you.” I said, “Thank you for that. It’s such an honor.” I also had the opportunity to help organize her homegoing service. She passed in 2018. That, too, was a profound experience for me, being able to honor in a deep, personal, but wide-reaching way the impact.
It was a full-circle moment.
I have so much gratitude for that whole relationship. The ability to be part of planning and arranging her home going was incredible.
That is beautiful.
You mentioned that she identified you as the mentee. If you could go back and say something to yourself at that point in life, what would you say?
I would probably say what I did say at the time, which is like, “Thank you.” I was living in and experiencing gratitude. I remember where I was at that moment. When we were on the phone, I was in a little cafe in North Carolina, working on the book that would become The Poetics of Difference. In that book, I write about her work.
I remember sitting in this little coffee shop, having this incredible moment where this person whom I have admired and who has shaped my writing is understanding and identifying me as somebody who is tasked with taking this legacy forward. It’s this beautiful moment of gratitude, not only for being seen and that sense of community with her, but also with clarity. It was like, “You are now part of a trajectory. You are part of a lineage. That means there’s work to do.” That helped me to feel galvanized, motivated, and supported in doing the work that I wanted to do. What I would say to myself is, “Pay attention. Go ahead and do what you need to do.”
Harlem’s Cultural Tapestry: A Birthplace Of Literary Inspiration
Talk about Harlem and growing up in Harlem. Certainly, it has such a history when we talk about Black culture. Talk about how it influences your writing.
In so many ways. I’m in the Dominican Republic. I grew up in the Western part of Harlem, right between Harlem and Washington Heights, Sugar Hill.
It has a huge history.
It has so much history. There’s the literary history of Harlem. I was fortunate enough to grow up in a family where books were prioritized. We had books all over the place. I knew about Zora. I knew about Langston. I also was growing up in the late ’80s and into the ’90s when hip-hop was coming through.
The Sugarhill Gang.
The literary culture of Harlem and the literary history of Harlem were both a matter of my historical grounding in the neighborhood, and also my current moment of growing of age, where I’m hearing hip hop coming in through the radios and the windows. I’m buying my little bootleg cassette tapes. New York, in general, is a global city. Harlem is a global multinational village. It’s an Afro-diasporic village.
Where I was, I got to hear merengue in addition to hip hop. I got to hear Bachata. I got to hear lots of reggae. There were multiple languages being spoken, especially Spanish. The confluence of the Black American cultural history and language of Harlem that I grew up in, and then the influx and influence of all of these other Black diaspora languages and cultures has shaped my storytelling. It shaped my perspective as a writer.
I’m a Black American writer, but I’m thinking constantly about diaspora connections. The Poetics of Differences is about Black women and Black queer feminist writers across the diaspora, and drawing links to how we use language in different ways to make comments about politics and power in the US, the Caribbean, Europe, and the African continent. All of that comes from growing up in Harlem. There’s no chance that I would be who I am if not for that early experience.
In your book, Big Girl, you are telling about how things have changed in Harlem. Can you tell us a little bit about that?
Big Girl, I think of it as a novel about bodies, women, and queer people. I always say it is about the paths we take across generations to make space for ourselves in the world. It follows this character, Malaya Clondon, from the time she’s eight years old to the time she’s a teenager. She is a big Black girl growing up in Harlem. It takes place from the very late ’80s through the mid to late 1990s. This is a moment where Harlem is changing.
Malaya is coming of age. She’s growing up. She’s constantly being told that her body is wrong. Her body is this contested space, but Harlem itself is also a contested space. Gentrification is happening. Small mom-and-pop businesses are disappearing. We’re starting to see larger chain restaurants and stores crop up. That changing landscape of Harlem is an important backdrop for Malaya’s own sense of the changes happening within her and her family. In the same way that she’s trying to figure out how to claim her body for herself, Harlem is a real mirror for that because residents of Harlem are fighting back. They’re fighting against gentrification and trying to negotiate the changing meanings of the neighborhood.
For me, Big Girl was an interesting and fruitful way to think through, like, living through the experience of gentrification. This is something that’s happening in cities all over the globe. Since it’s a neighborhood with such a history, and it’s a neighborhood that has such a strong cultural identity, those changes were pretty palpable. You felt them very quickly when these historical institutions would suddenly close because a GNC is cropping up or a new HMV record store is coming up. It was important to me to write about that experience.
Crafting “Big Girl”: The Genesis Of Malaya’s Story
You brought up Malaya. I can understand that you grew up in Harlem and how that becomes relevant in your writing. How about Malaya? Where does the character come from? How do you come up with the characters in your book, as a writer who has not done any fiction?
I always say Malaya’s story is very similar to mine. There are lots of places where our stories overlap. Harlem is one of those geographical places. There are many experiences that she has had that I have had, and many experiences that she has in the book that are drawn from experiences I’ve had. There’s also a lot of difference between us. That’s where the fun of creative work comes in for me, imagining a character who experiences things and goes through things that I may have gone through, but maybe handles them differently and looks at the world a little bit differently.
Where she comes from is my experience, but then, as a character takes over. And the fun part is getting to learn about this character who’s separate from me. She has a little edge to her. She’s a little spicier than I was at that age. Yet, at the same time, she’s quiet, so her spice is more internal. She has this inside narrative exploration of what she wants to say, what she thinks, and what she feels. She’s quick-witted, but she takes her time in expressing herself. I wasn’t quite that way when I was a child. There are certain differences between us, but that’s where the joy of fiction writing comes in for me. It is learning about the world of the story through the characters.
You mentioned the gentrification of Harlem. I’m from Inglewood. Inglewood has become a very different place. We will obliquely call them the changes in Washington with the new president. There’s a huge trial that shall remain nameless that talks about Black bodies, music, and Harlem mite, as I think about this.
We don’t claim everybody.
All skin folk are not kin folk. I understand. What does Black feminist thought offer us in this tumultuous moment?
Black Feminist Thought: Navigating Tumultuous Times
I love this question. We think about the concept of intersectionality, which is a term that is used more frequently in common discussions. You’ll see it in memes and GIFs. It’s circulating on social media. One of the many things that Black feminism offers us is a framework of intersectionality that is useful in both our personal and our political lives.
Reading gives us a sense of our interests, who we're writing with, and our thought partners. It shows us literary and imaginative communities that help us feel seen, held, and witnessed. Share on XFrom a Black feminist standpoint, intersectionality, which is a Black feminist concept, originates in the work of legal studies scholar Kimberlé Crenshaw. She’s using this as a way to describe the particular influence and impact of both race and gender-based oppression on Black women. Often, you’ll hear the term being used to be like, “I got red hair, and I’m from Oakland. I’m allergic to nuts.” That’s intersectionality. It’s not that. It’s about the dispersion of power and how it impacts our lives in multiple ways.
Black feminism offers us this framework to think about the nuances of what power does in our lives. It gives us a way of thinking against that, talking back to that, and working against that creatively and politically. Scholars like Crenshaw give us a language for what people like Audrey Lorde, bell hooks, and Alice Walker have been saying for decades.
The experiences we have as Black women are influenced by racial and gender-based oppression, also by classism, homophobia or heteronormativity, cissexism or transphobia, ableism, and fat phobia. All these voices and structures shape the world that we live in. We have power within those structures to name them, teach one another about them, and make choices in our personal lives that combat, resist, and ensure our survival.
You mentioned the state of the world, both in terms of what’s happening politically in Washington and what’s happening culturally in courtrooms in New York and elsewhere. Black feminism gives us a way, first of all, to think about how those two structures fit together. The systemic, policy, and structural concerns that we might think of as separate from the lives of our hearts, minds, and bodies are not, in fact, separate. Black feminism gives us a way to historicize those connections and then think about how we can move in that context. To me, it’s always the time for Black feminism, but certainly, now is the time. I’m glad that we’re hearing a resurgence in conversations about Black feminism for that reason.
Dr. Sullivan, I have to say we’re nowhere close to being halfway through with this interview, but I feel like I would have loved to have been in your class. I remember my mandatory English course at Texas A&M, and I could not wait for it to end. I’ve heard you in person. Everything that you speak about, the language that you use, and the passion that you have, I feel like I could have been a writer if I had taken your class, a writer of even fiction. Along those lines, what advice do you have for emerging writers who want to tell stories that maybe challenge the dominant narratives and think, “Maybe I could, but I’m not sure.” What’s the advice that you give?
Advice For Emerging Writers: Finding Joy And Challenging Narratives
First, I need to say, you are a writer. You’re a writer of fiction. In some ways, that’s the advice that I would give to a writer at any stage. Write, and don’t hesitate to write. Don’t be afraid to write. Figure out how you write best. By that, I mean figure out what kind of writing interests you most. I’m a firm believer that, especially if writing is not your job, it has to involve some sense of joy.
Audre Lorde has said, “Poetry is not a luxury.” She talks about how our relationship with feeling is crucial in any action we want to take in the world. Writing can help us do that. If you have feelings or thoughts about things, committing them to language is itself a political act. Sharing that language by writing it down and either sending it to your homegirl or publishing it in a major press, whatever the case may be, that, too, is a political act. It starts with doing it, feeling the feelings, having the ideas, trying to commit them to language, and trying to find the best way to express them.
I would also say reading. Even in this conversation, it’s very difficult for me to talk about writing without talking about reading. That is partly because reading gives us that sense of what we are interested in, who we are writing with, who our thought partners are, and who our literary or imaginative communities are. That helps you to feel seen, held, and witnessed, especially if you’re writing about experiences that are not widely accepted or widely celebrated in the conversation.
For me, it is writing about big Black queer women and especially big Black queer children. This little girl, Malaya, is not a celebrated figure in dominant American culture. I needed to create a culture of literary heroes who would understand why I wanted to celebrate her. I would constantly read the works that would nourish me as I was writing that book. I would say to anyone who is thinking about beginning a life as a writer, “Do the work. Write, but also read and figure out who you need to be reading to feed the writing practice.”
Summer Reading Picks: What’s On Prof. Sullivan’s List?
Summer is here. I think of summer as one of my favorite times, if I have vacation, to curl up with a good book. What’s on your summer reading list?
I like this one. My reading list is always miles high. I’m reading Nnedi Okorafor’s new book, Death of the Author, which I recommend for anybody who is thinking about a writing life. It’s an interesting, complex, sci-fi, fantastical exploration of this disabled Black woman writer. I don’t want to give too much away.
No spoilers.
It comments on a lot of the things that we’re talking about, what it means to be a writer, and what it means to set up a writing life, especially in a context where intersecting oppressions are shaping your life experience. I recommend that one. I am also reading Ocean Vuong’s new book. I’m blanking on the title. Everyone is talking about it, so I had to grab a copy of it. It is a new novel. I don’t want to mess up the title.
I am reading James. Percival Everett’s James is the reimagining of Huckleberry Finn. It came out a few years ago, but this is the thing with an academic schedule. You’re mostly reading what you’re teaching or reading what you’re lecturing on. I had the time to finally delve into James and read that and many more. My to-read list is super high, but that’s what’s on top.
Quick question. Any thoughts on audiobooks?
Yes, I do have thoughts on audiobooks. I cannot understand any reason to create barriers to literature in any way. If audio is how you get your reading in, yes to audio. Go for it. I do feel like the economics of it are complicated. When we start offering books on audio for free and in ways that complicate it for authors, especially for authors who are either self-published or who are published on independent presses that need those resources, that makes it more complicated.
To me, there’s the paradigmatic question of, “Is audio listening-reading?” I’m like, “Absolutely.” If you are encountering words, if they’re making you think, if they’re changing the way you move through the world, it counts as reading. Even if it doesn’t count as reading to whomever, do it anyway. There’s no reason to create barriers, cultural or otherwise, to people accessing literature. That’s my opinion. What do you think?
I’m still reading. Honestly, a lot of mine does come from audio because of the life that we live. It’s so challenging. Some of my time to read is when I’m in the car or if I’m on a walk. I may take notes, so I feel like I’m still engaged and certainly learning. Sometimes, I feel like a fraud if I don’t have, literally, that paper in my hands. That is my favorite way to read, but my books will stack up if I don’t do some of the audio.
I feel the same way. I have many books in hardcover, on audio, and on Kindle. If I want to read it, I’m going to find a way to read it, and that is in whatever way is most convenient. We’re living in a world where materiality or the physical thing of the book is wonderful. For many of us, that’s the preferred way to get into a story, but our world is increasingly less material. We have to acknowledge that and accept that. I’m here to say I don’t think that you’re a fraud for listening to audiobooks.
Thank you. I will take that as my indication that I’m doing the right thing because it’s coming from you, and I respect your thoughts.
I like a book, though. I go to the Brave + Kind bookshop in Atlanta, or I go to Charis Bookshop. I meander around and I buy the book. Granted, there are some lists that I look at sometimes to decide, “I need to buy this book,” but oftentimes, it’s that interaction in the bookshop. You’re like, “This cover is beautiful.” It’s like buying wine for me. I like a book, but they do stack up at home.
Stacking up at home is, I think, also a beautiful thing. Sylvia, I’m so glad you said that because we do need those physical spaces. First of all, like both of you, I enjoy the pleasure of holding a book in my hand. I enjoy turning the page. I’m a sensory person, so I like the smell of the paper. Is it a glossy cover, or is it a matte cover? I’m into the bodily experience of the book. I also know that not everybody is that way. There’s that accessibility issue as well. We need the physical space, and we need other ways to access literature.
I appreciate, Sylvia, what you said about the bookstore and the library as spaces of discovery. You’re wandering in and maybe think you want this one book, but because of the way that these spaces are arranged and artistically curated, next to the book that you’re looking for might be the book that is looking for you. You get to pick up both, and you get to feel them, sit with them, and see and discover. We need both. I wonder if maybe there’s a distraction tactic at play that pits these two ways of reading against one another. The idea that you have to choose whether physical texts or audio texts are better may be an anti-literate move to make us feel like we’re frauds if we try to read one way or another.
It’s also very American because it’s always either-or. I’m trying to incorporate and in the second half of my life because it’s neither nor either.
It’s all of the above.
A shout out to libraries and librarians who are a wealth of information as far as what the next book you can consider. If you could have everyone read one book, and I know this is a tough question, is there one book that you’re like, “Everyone should read this.”
It is a very tough question, and I have two answers, if that’s okay.
I like that.
My friend is always talking about how I always say, “And also.” The one book that I would recommend that everybody read is Audre Lorde’s Zami. She calls it a biomythography. It’s a self-narrative. It’s a version of her life that’s multi-genre. It’s a memoir, but it also, as the title biomythography suggests, incorporates myth. There are elements of fiction.
There's no reason to create cultural or other barriers to people asking about literature. Share on XLorde is a poet, so there’s a lot of poetry. There’s song. It’s this multi-genre-crossing text about her life as a fat, Black, ambidextrous, half blind, mother of two, feminist icon. That text stirred something in me at a very early age and has continued to stay with me and make me think differently about all the things we’re talking about, like difference, power, identity, and the power and meaning of language.That’s my one answer.
Another answer is you need to read the book that gives you direction, the book that you’ve always been curious about, the book that you’ve always been thinking, “Maybe I should read this,” and the book that people keep telling you, “You would like to read this,” or, “You read this. For many of us, we have these relationships with authors and with texts that we think we have an idea of what this book is, but we haven’t gotten around to reading it.
Read that book that might give you direction and chart the next steps of your path in life, in your work, and in your thinking. I believe that’s in mind for a lot of us, and we haven’t gotten around to reading it. I believe that reading that book might be the pathway toward a longer, deeper relationship with reading and with writing that might be fruitful for all of us.
Maybe Big Girl?
Also read Big Girl.
Was there a book like that for you?
The book like that for me was Zami. I remember hearing about Zami, and even hearing about Lorde. She’s a figure. Probably a lot of folks have this relationship with her. I have to give a shout-out to Alexis Pauline Gumbs, whose incredible biography of Lorde came out. That has helped crystallize this resurgence of real, serious attention to Lorde.
She’s a name that comes up often, but many people haven’t had the chance to explore and encounter her. bell hooks is another one who we hear the name. There’s also Hurston. It’s not, to me, coincidental that a lot of these figures are Black women writers with themes we may know, but whose work we may not have sat with, encountered, and taken in. That’s something that I hope we all do.
Weaving A Fabric Of Influence: Reading Recommendations & Current Projects
You are weaving this fabric of a beautiful tapestry of what has shaped you, what you would like to read, and what we can read. I honestly cannot wait for a show note so I can make my list. I’d like to know what you’re working on. Are there any upcoming projects you’re excited about?
Yeah. A couple of things. I realize that this episode will come out after this event, but I still want to mention it because there may be a recording. WorldPride is happening in DC in 2025. It’s happening as we speak. It goes until June 8th, 2025, I believe. As part of DC WorldPride, I will have the opportunity to be in conversation with the phenomenal Black South African photographer and visual activist Zanele Muholi.
We will be doing a talk to celebrate Muholi’s book, Somnyama Ngonyama, which is an incredible photo essay of self-portraits with these bits of text by writers, many of whom we’ve mentioned in this conversation. It’s a beautiful series. We’re having this conversation to celebrate the second volume of the book at the National Museum for Women in the Arts in DC.
When is this? What is the date?
This is May 28th, 2025.
Can people still get tickets, or is it free?
It’s free, and tickets are available on the museum’s website. It’s the National Museum for Women in the Arts. I’m so excited about this conversation and looking forward to it. Zanele and I were talking about this as we were planning the discussion and thinking about how, more than ever, or as much as ever, this is the time to recognize that pride is about more than a party or a parade. Pride is about a political movement. It’s about a radical gathering. It’s about radical creative expression. The beauty of Black people and the beauty of Black queer people is revolutionary. Our art is revolutionary. I’m excited about this conversation.
I mentioned that even as our episode will come out after the discussion, there may be a recording and certainly some evidence online of what went down. I hope people will get into that. Creatively, and I’m keeping it close to the vest, but I’ll say it’s a novel that’s about Black queer history. It taps into a lot of the things that we’ve talked about, like history, legacy, lineage, diaspora, and the power of language in defining and redefining who we are in the world.
You have an open invitation when the book comes out to come back. We can further discuss your latest work.
I would love that.
Self-Care As Self-Ownership: Movement, Presence, And Joy
Before we get you out here, we always ask about self-care. Earlier in our conversation, you alluded to journaling and exercise as a part of your self-care regimen. Can you elaborate a little more?
Yeah. The first thing that comes to mind when I think about my self-care practices is my movement practice, which shifts depending on time and place. Most often, it’s a workout of some kind every morning. Sometimes, that’s dance. For a long time, I was doing kickboxing, which was great. I was doing Muay Thai, which was wonderful. I like to not even challenge myself, but treat myself to exploring different forms of movement.
Treat yourself.
We often think about exercise, first of all, as an imperative, as a burden, or as something that’s meant to change us and change our bodies. It is shifting to thinking about a movement practice that’s about new experiences. Discovering my body’s capacities and discovering what feels good to my body has been transformational. A lot of that comes from writing Big Girl.
The character in Big Girl comes to a similar conclusion. Not to spoil too much, but her story trajectory is trying to figure out how to own her body, understand her body, and understand our bodies as sources of joy, pleasure, and power for us rather than objects of desire, ridicule, or control for others. Incorporating that into a movement practice has been self-care for me.
The other thing that I’ve done more regularly and consciously is something that seems super, but it’s very basic. It is being present. Let’s talk about meditation. Meditation is a struggle for me because as soon as they’re like, “Focus on your breathing,” I’m like, “My breathing is gone. Let me breathe. Don’t think.” You’re supposed to let the thoughts pass by.
Note them and let them go.
You can acknowledge them and let them go.
That is a struggle. I’m not going to say it doesn’t work for me, but it is something that I struggle with. What I am able to do and what I have been able to cultivate a practice of is being in the moment, noticing the moment, and noticing how I feel. A lot of it has to do with beauty. Noticing what is beautiful in my surroundings and spending time looking at it, feeling it, hearing it, tasting it, or whatever the case may be, has been grounding. It’s a helpful reminder that time is our most valuable resource. This moment is our most valuable moment. It’s the last time we’ll ever have it. It sounds woo-woo, and it is woo-woo, but it’s also real.
It’s true, though.
It’s so true.
We’re all dying, some of us faster than others.
Time is our most valuable resource. This moment is our most valuable moment. Share on XThat’s it. We’re also all living, right?
Yes.
That’s the part.
That’s what this moment offers us.
I love everything that you mentioned. In lifestyle medicine, instead of focusing on exercise, which tends to be a bad word for a lot of people, it’s physical activity. I love the concept of moving. Exactly what you said is what I try to tell patients. Identify things that you like to do, not what somebody else is telling you to do. Whether it’s dance or kickboxing, those are beautiful. It is things that are a gift to yourself to learn.
It could be a nice nature bath or being out and walking in nature. If you don’t like nature and you have allergies, then walk inside or go to the mall. Don’t stop in the store. There are so many things that we can do. If you think of it as a gift to yourself, something you’re giving yourself, then it’s more attainable. It’s something that you want to do versus something that you have to do. Thank you for that. That’s beautiful.
For me, it is about recognizing that our bodies are our own. There are so many structures and locations in the world that want us to feel that our bodies are not for us, and that our bodies are for others. Our bodies are our own. We get to enjoy them. We get to care for them. We get to use them. We get to make use of their power. That’s what that practice does for me.
Dr. Mecca Jamilah Sullivan, we thank you. How can our audience follow you?
You can find me in all the places. I’m @MeccaJamilah on Instagram. I’m still on Facebook. Shout out to the Millennials. I’m still trying to make it work. I’m on other platforms as well, but Instagram is pretty much the place where I do most of my engagement. I’m pretty easy to find. My website is MeccaJamilahSullivan.com. I’m around. I’m in these streets, so I look forward to talking to you. I’m outside, especially this summer.
Enjoy the rest of your weekend. We are so grateful that you took out time to be with us. We’re grateful for the work that you’re doing to empower women, women of color, and queer women, and sharing joy and love. That’s what we like to do on this show. We are very grateful. We can’t wait to hear about the project that’s under wraps. You have an open invitation, so we can learn more. Until we meet again, may you be well.
Thank you so much. This has been fantastic.
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Sylvia, what an amazing interview. We were so honored to speak with Dr. Mecca Jamilah Sullivan. I, from experience, knew that she is dynamic in terms of what she has to say. It comes out effortlessly. She had so much to offer.
You were spot on.
Thank you. I have a list of things that I want to read.
Her author list.
It goes back to things I am meant to read when I was a teenager and young twenties, to newer works, including all of hers. She has so much to share in terms of pearls of wisdom. I’ll let you go first. Tell me what some of the things are that you were able to take away.
My book list has probably increased at least threefold. As I think about it, I’m like, “I haven’t read a whole lot of Audre Lorde. I haven’t read Jamaica Kincaid.” There are people that I intend to read that I haven’t quite gotten to. One of the things that she talked about is reading the book that someone says to you, “Maybe you might enjoy this.”
Our co-author and sister friend, a friend of the show, Jessica Osborne, is an awesome person who recommends books for me. In fact, Denise, her sister, sent me a book. She was like, “Have you read this?” My book list has increased. Dr. Sullivan talked to us about writing, not just for the purposes of creating a book, nonfiction, or fiction, but writing must have a sense of joy.
Our internal feelings, we convert them to language, and then that language is certainly the things that we share with our friends, our loved ones, or the world in the form of a book. Finally, my favorite expression that I learned from you, which is from Parks and Recreation, is treat yourself. We want to treat our bodies with a form of movement that feels best for our bodies. There are so many takeaways that we learned from Dr. Sullivan. What resonated most with you?
I was full at the end. There are several things. The one that you mentioned in terms of recommending books for others. I admittedly will tell you that some of the books on her list were things that I was meant to read when I was a teenager, and things that I had on my list when I was in my twenties. There are new things that still haven’t been read. I’ve found that there are certain things that if I read them and I tell my daughters about them, then they’ll read them. For me, it’s always in terms of that mom feeling of, “I educate myself to help educate my kids.”
You also share stuff with me. You’re like, “I read this.” I’m like, “Let me read this as well.” It works.
I do in terms of friendships, but with the times that we’re living in, there’s so much that we should not forget in a lot of the literature that’s out there. I’ve got a big reading list. One of the other things that she talked about was journaling. What I got from the conversation is that I have permission to write everything in my day planner.
That is where I write my to-dos, but sometimes my ideas are in there. I’m like, “Where should I jot this down?” It’s your day-to-day journaling. If I can keep it in a more confined space, then I may get all the tasks done. I liked that idea. I do know the value of journaling. Making it part of your daily practice can make a difference in so many things in terms of organization.
When I think of journaling, I’m like, “I have to write down my feelings like a diary.” I have morphed journaling into a list of things. My gratitude practice, which I certainly talked about already, is that I make a simple list of the things that I’m grateful for. I also know that in my journals of dreams or future projects, it’s a list of things, like, “I’d like for my home to look like this. I’d like to go to this beach. I want to enjoy this experience.” I want to open up the word of journaling that it may not be anything formal. I do use my Notes section on my phone as well to keep track of ongoing things that I am interested in. I want us to play with the word journal.
Your definition of journaling is a valid point. It can be different for everyone. Lastly, I love her character, Malaya, in the book that she wrote, Big Girl, and how she addresses her adolescent weight, her body image, and family expectations. It is another light shined on what we sometimes do in our community, body shaming, and how we still have a long way to go, particularly from what I hear from patients. I do find it’s a little bit of a hard thing to balance in terms of being a physician, because you never want to shame anyone. I always encourage women to celebrate their bodies. What are your thoughts there?
What I would add is that we are going to be grateful for where we are. Dr. Sullivan reminded us that our bodies are a source of joy, pleasure, and power for ourselves. If we can remember that, then that allows us to embrace where we are. We’re all growing and aging, if we are lucky, and that gives us an opportunity to make those tweaks. We know the things that we do now impact the future. Our bodies are joy, pleasure, and power for ourselves.
I love that. We’ll end on that. I loved that sentiment. We take something from every interview that we do. That will be my final takeaway. I appreciate you bringing that up as well.
We want to thank all of our readers, or if you’re watching us on YouTube. Please share, like, listen, follow, and subscribe. If there are topics that you’d love for us to talk about, please don’t hesitate to reach out to us at our website, BossLeapPodcast.com.
Until we meet again, may you be well.
May you be well.
Important Links
- Mecca Jamilah Sullivan
- Big Girl
- The Poetics of Difference: Queer Feminist Forms in the African Diaspora
- Blue Talk & Love
- The Bluest Eye
- For Colored Girls Who Have Considered Suicide When the Rainbow Is Enuf
- Death of the Author
- The Emperor of Gladness
- James
- Zami
- Somnyama Ngonyama
- @MeccaJamilah on Instagram
- Mecca Jamilah Sullivan on Facebook
- Boss Leap Podcast on YouTube
About Mecca Jamilah Sullivan
Mecca Jamilah Sullivan, Ph.D., is the author of the novel Big Girl, a New York Times Editors’ Choice and winner of the 2023 Next Generation Indie Book Award for First Novel and the Balcones Fiction Prize. Her previous books are the short story collection, Blue Talk and Love, winner of the 2018 Judith Markowitz Award for LGBTQ Writers from Lambda Literary and The Poetics of Difference: Queer Feminist Forms in the African Diaspora, winner of the William Sanders Scarborough Prize from the Modern Language Association.
In her writing, she explores the links between language, imagination, and bodily life in Black queer and feminist experience. Her stories and essays have appeared in Best New Writing, The Kenyon Review, Callaloo, Feminist Studies, American Fiction, Prairie Schooner, Crab Orchard Review, TriQuarterly, GLQ: Lesbian and Gay Studies Quarterly, American Literary History, The Scholar and Feminist, American Quarterly, Public Books, Ebony.com, TheRoot.com, BET.com, Black Futures, The Cut, and others. A BBC Radio 2 Book Club pick and a New York Times Paperback Row selection, her novel Big Girl was named a best books feature by TIME, Essence, People, Vulture, Ms, Goodreads, Booklist, She Reads, The Root, Library Reads, Glamour UK, Vogue France, and other outlets.
Sullivan is author of the introduction to Sister Love: The Letters of Audre Lorde and Pat Parker 1974-1989, edited by Julie R. Enszer, and several other collected and anthologized works. Her writing has earned support and honors from the Bread Loaf Writers Conference, the Institute for Citizens and Scholars, the Mellon Foundation, Yaddo, Hedgebrook, Millay Arts, the American Association of University Women, the Center for Fiction, the Schomburg Center for Research in Black Culture, and the National Endowment for the Arts. Born and raised in Harlem, NY, she is Professor of English at Georgetown University and lives in Washington DC.