Nnenna Loveth (they/she) is an Igbo lesbian poet, dancer, and facilitator who tells stories of liberated Black matrilineal futures. They are utilizing the relationship between dance and poetry to explore themes of Black sapphic intimacies, mother-daughter connections, Odinala, and healing from christian-colonial missions. Her work has been published with Game Over Books, Button Poetry, Voicemail Poems, Beestung Magazine, etc. When Nnenna is not creating, they are somewhere being romanced by the trees. Please follow their journey on Instagram @pleausre.as.compass Villanelle for all my Bitches After Cardi B’s Salute. I love all my sad bitches, mad bitches and bad bitches. I love my bitches with cargo shorts and hightop fades. I love my red-lipstick lesbian leaving-bite-mark-bitches my brolic play-with-me-if-you-want-to-type bitches my honeyed drawl-dripped accent bitches my bitches skin dark, sweetened by the sun's serenade. I love my Naija-babe-diaspora-roll-deep-bitches my only-drink-coconut-water-bitches, laid under palm shade. I love my boughetto bitches. I bought brunch with stamps—still am gonna feed all my bitches. Chop life ooo! Accept sweetness no less than lemonade. Shout out to my strong right hand bitches press’n for juice still, when lifes’ lemons some sour bitches. Learn from me and my bitches. Look at us promenade sundressed and gold-dripped, I know we some bad bitches. Let the world watch me and my bitches glide on concrete. Toes-ten, painted painted the shade a man's blood. Can’t afford red bottoms and we still some fly bitches. Souls so rich every sidewalk sings salute, the real bitches! ### 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.

Banchiwosen Woldeyesus (she/her) is a Black woman, short fiction and nonfiction writer. She has sworn to read books slowly. So she pretends she has all the time in the world, so she can read this story at this moment, so she can savor each story she’s reading, so she can pay attention to small things she might have missed if she read the story fast—like the way a writer describes the feather of a dead warbler in a short phrase. Her work appears in The/tƐmz/Review, SmokeLong Quarterly, which has been nominated for the Pushcart Prize, and midnight & indigo. Her debut story collection, The Town Under the Mountains: Stories, will be published by the University Press of Kentucky in the New Poetry & Prose Series on May 18, 2027. She publishes craft essays, short stories, flash stories, book recommendations, and curated reads on This Precious Dark Skin, her Substack newsletter. She’s a Submissions Reader for Narratively. 1960 E.C. At the old tree that stood tall in its foreboding presence, the wives found her body. In the dark afternoon, they stood on the scratchy grass on naked feet, facing the body. One of their husbands jumped on a wooden chair to bring the hanged girl down, but the wives said quietly, “Not touch her.” Their husbands crossed themselves; their wives had never given them orders before. The silence that surrounded the old tree was louder than the swaying of the old tree’s branches. The wives didn’t know what the strange silence meant. They were about to speak when the wind blew hard, and they shivered and lowered their heads. The wind that blew was old, older than the old tree, older than the mountains that surrounded the town, and they couldn’t speak. When they walked by the old tree and the wind blew harshly they’d wanted to do something that disturbed the old wind, like saying no to their husbands, to not look so small because of the old wind, but they were never strong enough to fight the blow that came from the old wind, the wind that blew like it wanted them to walk past the tree without saying a word. The wives looked up, looked at their husbands. The wind still blew hard, but their husbands stood taller, and they didn’t shiver like the old wind was them and they were the old wind. The husband on the wooden chair ignored the wives and reached for the dead girl in the tree. The wives were used to this, being ignored by their husbands, but they heard a frantic voice in their heads when she came to them a few days ago while they gathered in one of their huts for a coffee ceremony, a frantic voice that begged them to talk to her father, to beg him to change his mind about giving her for an arranged marriage. We all married this way, they told her. When she left the hut, head down, they’d stared at her. She was a girl they had known since she was a baby, but at that moment she was a girl they didn’t know. To ask for something that had never been done in town before, they didn’t know girls could do that. One of the wives put both her hands on the husband’s back, who stood on the wooden chair, and pulled him down. Then the wives repeated, “Not touch her.” They touched their lips reverently, like this was the first time they realized they belonged to the lips that could say NO to their husbands. The wives didn’t speak when they brought the girl’s body down from the tree. They wanted to move her away from the tree but decided to wash her body there, under the old tree, in the place where the town men sat to decide on the fate of girls, in the place where they would see what their silence cost them when they walked around town every day. When the wives washed their hands with water from a bucket of water one of them brought to the tree, the husbands said, “Not done before, we wash our deads inside huts.” The wives continued washing their hands. The husbands did not leave right away. These were men who were used to their wives obeying them and now they stood shaken, the steady ground under their feet betraying them, and they stared at their wives, the same way they would stare at the purple flowers that would grow in the place where the old tree used to stand, the flowers who dared to grow and make themselves at home in the place they considered their place. The wives removed the netela the girl wore on her head, then they paused. They didn’t turn around to look at their husbands, but they waited for them to leave. The husbands did not leave right away. The air around the wives suffocated them, and the girl’s body smelled bad, and they wanted to quickly wash her. But not while their husbands stood behind them. When they waited for their husbands to leave, they didn’t know how many minutes passed. The husbands did not move, waiting for their wives to obey them, to be who they had always been, silent town wives, the same way the boys in town would come a year later to the place where the old tree used to stand, who wouldn’t accept that the old tree they used to climb was gone. The husbands turned and walked away. The air changed. For a few minutes the wives just breathed in the new air. Then they removed the long skirt the girl wore, gently. When they washed her body from head to toe with water and leaves of white eucalyptus trees, and when they covered her body with a cotton cloth, they were quiet, and even their cries had no sound. * The next morning, before the sun appeared above the mountains, the wives buried the girl under the tree. They dug the cross they made out of two long sticks above her grave. When the sun appeared above the mountains, their husbands walked toward the old tree, and the wives knew they were coming to take the girl’s body to the mountains. The husbands stopped in front of the cross, then they crossed themselves. “This not done before, we bury our deads in the church.” The wives looked their husbands in their eyes and said quietly, “She buried here, she stays here.” The silence that surrounded the old tree was louder than the swaying of the old tree’s branches, louder than the old wind. The wives didn’t know what the silence meant. The husbands ignored their wives and said, in thundering voices, “We bury the dead in the church.” “We know.” The wives said. The husbands shook their heads, and they were about to speak when the girl’s father, who stood in front of them, asked, “Why?” The wives were startled by the question the girl’s father, who was the eldest elder in town, asked. An important question, a man had never asked them before. All the questions the men in their lives asked them were not important, like what food they prepared for them. They were startled by the fallen elder’s old face, by the fallen stooped shoulders; in one day he’d aged a thousand years. Men in their town, when their daughters died, the wives could never tell what they felt, if they felt loss over their losses. They were startled by his dark eyes that looked at them as if . . . as if waiting for them to answer. Waiting for women to answer an important question; they didn’t know men could do that. The elder was acting strangely, and they didn’t know if where they stood, at the old tree where his daughter hanged herself, was why. The men in their town, including their husbands, were like the black flowers found on the edges of town, the black color not changing for thirteen months, every year. But now, when the elder asked again, “Why you buried my daughter here?” and he waited for them to speak, the men in their town wore another color, and a terribly too too late thought shivered them. If they’d spoken to him, if they’d gone to his hut or the old tree where he always sat with the town men and told him about his daughter who cried on her knees, this man, this elder who wore another color, maybe . . . they could not believe they were thinking this, maybe he would have listened to them. “So we see—” the wives paused, looking at the elder and their husbands, “what we did when we walk around town, when we walk past the tree.” The silence came again, louder than the swaying of the old tree’s branches, louder than the old wind. “You saying,” their husbands shouted, pointing at the tree, “our fault?” “Yes.” Their voices came out quietly, but they knew they were heard; they’d spoken at the same time. “Not our fault!” This, not caring about girls, was familiar, old, as old as the old tree where they stood, as old as the mountains, their husbands behaving like themselves, their husbands wearing the same black color. But now the wives wanted the unfamiliar, something new, a color they had not seen in their husbands, not the old, old black color that made them keep shouting, “Not our fault.” “She not wanted arranged marriage,” the wives said, “she not wanted to marry at sixteen.” “But that our tradition.” Their husbands were quick to answer. “We not know why she did what she—” They stopped talking for a second. “We dig the grave and take her to the mountains.” The wives looked at the top of the mountains, at the church found there. “She stays here,” they turned to their husbands, “you not dig her.” The silence that surrounded the old tree was louder than the swaying of the old tree’s branches, louder than the old wind. * Days later, when their husbands left their beds and tiptoed out of their huts at night, the wives followed them. At the old tree, their husbands stopped. Kneeling at the grave was the elder, the girl’s father. Their husbands were going to dig the girl’s grave; this was the only thought that came to their minds, and they pulled up their long skirts from their feet, and they were about to run to the tree when what they saw next stopped them. To show any emotion for girls was something the town men never did, and yet their husbands knelt behind the girl’s father. The wives knelt. They’d walked on the familiar scratchy grass and touched it all their lives, but at that moment the grass they touched didn’t scratch at their naked feet, didn’t scratch at their hands. At the old tree, their husbands stayed, kneeling at the grave for a few minutes, and their husbands under the foreboding tree looked small. They stared at their husbands, and for the first time in their lives the feeling of smallness that breathed down on their shoulders when they looked at them didn’t breathe down on them. They smelled the grass and the night air and the mountains, and they didn’t know what a bright color smelled like, but they could swear, even put their right hands on their hearts, then make a cross sign with their forefingers, that they were that sure they smelled a bright color. The next morning, in a coffee ceremony, in front of the town people, they would tell their husbands what they saw at the old tree the night before, and their husbands would tell them, looking them in their eyes, in voices that threatened to never speak of it again, “You mistaken, you not saw us.” And the wives would know their husbands would hide the bright color from the town people, and even from themselves. Weeks later, city people came to the town to visit the old mountains and the old tree, and they asked the wives about the cross under the tree. They were about to speak when they saw their husbands walking toward the tree. Waiting for their husbands to reach the tree, the wives didn’t speak. When their husbands reached the tree, their eyes spoke to them, in that familiar way, in that old way, to stay silent, and the old wind blew harshly, threatening to blow away their new selves, and the wives shivered, swallowing what they wanted to speak about. But then they turned to look at the old tree and heard the last words the girl spoke to them: I not want to marry, I not want to marry. They’d wanted to say no to their fathers, no to their husbands, all their lives, but this want, they never spoke of it to each other. But there she was, on the last day they would see her alive, next to the burning fire in one of their huts, kneeling on the wooden floor in front of them, speaking out loud her want, and they didn’t know what to say to a want they never said out loud even to themselves, and even when she kept crying, kept repeating the strange words I not want to marry, I not want to marry, there they were, standing still, staring at the girl whose want mirrored theirs, the girl who burned with a want that burned more than the burning fire next to her, and they—they stayed silent, they didn’t move toward her, they didn’t pull her up from the wooden floor, they didn’t dry her tears. Now the grass under their feet burned them as they stood on a burning fire. They turned to look at the city people. “A girl,” they said quietly, “h-hanged herself here.” The silence that surrounded the old tree was louder than the swaying of the old tree’s branches, louder than the old wind. “She dead because of us.” The old branches of the old tree swayed with their old rhythm, high in the air. And the silence of their husbands was terrifying. Any minute now they would tell the city people their wives did not know what they were saying; they would shout at them to behave like the town wives they were, but they remained silent, and in that looooooong silence the wives, slowly, learned what the strange silence meant. What they were doing after they found the girl’s body- they—they were the reason for the silence. Shocking their husbands into silence, a silence that disturbed the old tree, a silence that quieted the old wind; they didn’t know they could do that. Then the old tree’s old branches bent, swaying downward like they’d lost their old rhythm, like the silence that quieted the old wind became a violent thing that made the branches lose their old rhythm. In the coming months, when the wives would keep speaking about the dead girl under the old tree to more city people, the old branches would bend all the way to the grass. When the last branch would start bending the wives would sit facing the tree but the old wind would blow harshly like it wanted the last branch to stand where it’d stood for centuries, tied to the old tree, high in the air, and the wives would watch the branch the whole day and it would not fall to the grass that day and they would come and face the old branch and the old tree, their shoulders up, for months until the last branch would fall on the grass, until the old tree, without its old branches tied to it, would no longer look like a foreboding old tree. ### 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.

Babs Gons was the poet laureate of the Netherlands from 2023 to 2025 and the author of Doe het toch maar. Babs Gons is a Dutch writer, spoken word performer, and host. For decades, she has been a driving force behind numerous poetry stage initiatives. Gons made her debut in 2021 with her poetry collection and has since published several books and won several prizes for her work. She has been presenting her work for years at festivals, in museums, debate centers, on radio and television, and has traveled with her work to South Africa, Sudan, Curaçao, Suriname, Colombia, Italy, Hungary, and Brazil, among other places. Gons was the Poet Laureate of the Netherlands from 2023 until 2025. The selection committee of the Poet Laureate praised Gons as "one of the most appealing poets the Netherlands has right now, with a voice full of fire, burning and warm, both on stage and on paper. She is a poet who knows how to give passionate and committed words to what is going on in this day and age, in a society that she, full of conviction, connects with poetry." Could you be black for us on Wednesday? hello we would like to invite you onto our stage as a woman would you like to be black during our event this Wednesday we have a show and are looking for people like you your type on our show on our stage in our magazine in our debate a little less feminine please tonight and we’d like to book you for Saturday a little less on the dark a little more on the light a little more like the average, normal for the tone of our show we’re looking for a little angrier more foam at the mouth and more pointing of fingers could you be sexier? could you smile more? could you could you could you give us more global issues a little #MeToo a bit more single mom more absent dad bad childhood don’t emphasize it too much and in between the lines some trauma we’d like it if you wear a dress a headscarf, a dash of Badu, soulful don’t you have some more angry black woman a little more woke unapologetic not too much just uncomfortable enough for the audience to snap their fingers clap will you bow for us? we’ll skip you for now we already have someone like you we already have enough of your type thank you maybe another time we had hoped you’d be a little younger more feminine more left-wing more right-wing a little whiter, blacker a little more a little less visible don’t get angry we’d love to have you on our show on our stage in our magazine in our debate to talk about that anger of yours we’re actually very interested don’t get angry we’d just love to you actually fit so well we’d like to talk about that anger please we would love for you to don’t get angry we mean well Translated by Fannah Palmer do it anyway do it anyway tell yourself in those moments when you don’t know what you’re doing it for why for weeks, months sometimes even years you keep chewing on a mouthful of sound why you’re trying so hard to translate the images in your mind to tell stories that force their way out through your skin do it anyway occasionally whisper into the mirror when you see how those late nights the stooping posture the loneliness the bright lights and badly ventilated dressing rooms leave their traces on your body on the skin of your face how time and again you’re faced with the judgment of anyone whose eyes keep snagging on what they’re seeing anyone who simply feels the need to make and think something of you and to share that wholeheartedly with the rest of the world do it anyway even though they’re making fun of your art cutting down on your work think you’re a leftist’s fancy think you should just act normally do it anyway tell yourself whenever you’re tempted to go and do something with which you’ll be sure you can pay next month’s rent and your son can go to college do it anyway, repeat that to yourself whenever you realize once again you will never change the world with a handful of artfully constructed sentences not a single war will you settle with them no heart will not break because of you you won’t be able to write away the woman next-door’s loneliness nor heal a loved one’s rotten disease what then, for heaven’s sake, is it worth? do it anyway even after, you’ve knocked on closed doors till your knuckles bleed build your own houses don’t wait to be invited throw your own party do it anyway get out of bed on those mornings when exhaustion deadens your hope and your limbs even when you think the world doesn’t notice you and isn’t holding its breath for you and your stories tell them anyway just do it because deep down you know that this is the only thing allowing you to live at peace with yourself and the world Translated by Fannah Palmer Go back to your own country go back to your own country greet yourself at the border welcome yourself on your own soil your country where the dust of the earth the heat of the asphalt the noise of life come together in your own midriff go back to your own country set foot on your own soil deep within yourself lay your hand on your capital city take a long breath in your suburbs where the streets are named after your true heroes go back and be your own country know your own country always just behind your eyes tucked away just below your chest between your thumb and index finger never be a foreigner because all of this is your own country i’m going back to my own country set foot on my own lands full of tales of ancestors where the spilt blood brought forth deep-rooted oaks that hold me upright among the remnants of plantations overgrown with thistles and cover-ups let us go back to our own country make the soil belong to everyone again let everything that has been trampled on grow again upwards to the sun let us purify the air with camphor, coconut, lemon burn sandalwood and sage listen to the legends learn to listen to silence once again under the sequoia, the baobab the ceiba tree amidst the noise link the voices of those who went before us with the soil the sky the rivers come back to your own country greet yourself at the border welcome yourself on your own lands always keep your country in hand’s reach somewhere just behind your eyes in the roof of your mouth even amidst bleak concrete let your feet dance softly on the earth make sure there are always enough herbs growing in you enough sand under your fingernails that the magic of the wind can always find you that you never forget the language let the country speak to you don’t ever forget that all this is your own country know your own country always just behind your eyes tucked away just below your chest between your thumb and index finger never be a foreigner because all this is your own country Translated by Donald Gardner If you have never walked in her shoes if you have never walked in her shoes never cycled in the dark with your keys between your fingers an extra-large hoodie over your dress your high-heels exchanged for sneakers so you can peddle home as fast as possible through the night if you have never walked in her shoes don’t know how exhausting it is to have eyes and ears over your whole body the hairs in your neck warning you like alarm bells when you need to make a quick getaway always making a mental calculation, what time you have to be somewhere, when you have to leave and if you’ll get there just in time not to run in the dark not via the park avoiding groups never losing sight of your drink if you have never walked in her shoes don’t know what it’s like to avoid eye contact, to pretend to be on the phone to walk with more confidence to keep a can of hairspray up your sleeve to keep an eye via shop windows on who’s following you making a detour so your pursuer doesn’t see where you live only sometimes to face the greatest danger in your own home it’s often someone you know if you have never stood in her shoes don’t know the feeling of not being able to breathe because someone suddenly locks a door a taxi takes an unexpected turn if you don’t know what it’s like to be in her shoes don’t know what it feels like not to be listened to, not to be believed not to be helped to start a new day the following morning the fresh wounds, the damage invisible under your clothes, your skin getting through the day with a smile then don’t ever tell her what she should do what she must wear that she would have to give birth and how she should behave how to move when to speak how she her body how she her life but teach the world to love her so much she no longer needs to look over her shoulder so much she can dance when she wants go where she wants just let the world start to love her with all their heart Translated by Donald Gardner THE INTERVIEW This interview was conducted between Babs Gons and Jae Nichelle on April 29, 2026. Thank you so much for sharing these poems. I really appreciate “Could you be black for us on Wednesday?” Thinking on that subject, what things do you consider before you accept performance or writing opportunities? Has this changed over the years? With every request, I consider what motivates it. Over the years, these motivations have evolved. Sometimes requests included statements like, “Our organization is too white and too masculine; could you help us change that?” Occasionally, it felt as if genuine change was desired, but often, the push for diversity was driven by a need to maintain funding. At times, I chose to be the person who embodied that change, recognizing that a shifting literary landscape benefits me as well. However, I only embrace such opportunities when they feel sincere, and my contribution as a writer is valued. But as I said, things have changed a lot over time, at least for me. You also learn to spot insincere requests quickly. These poems have been translated into English from the original Dutch you wrote them in. How involved do you like to be in the translation process? Have a translator’s choices ever surprised you? I played a modest role in the translation of my poems, mostly because the translators encouraged my input and collaboration, which I truly appreciated. But as I said, it was modest, both translators are very experienced. I occasionally proposed an alternative word to better reflect the original rhythm and tone of the Dutch poems. Sometimes, the translator asked me to clarify my intended meaning. Translating poetry is always challenging, especially when aiming to preserve both the spirit and rhythm of the original text. When my work was translated into Portuguese and Spanish, I wasn't directly involved—even though I speak those languages, I'm not fluent enough to participate deeply. In a 2018 interview, you mentioned how far people’s understanding of spoken word has come in the Netherlands since you began Poetry Circle in 2007. What has been most exciting to see happen in your poetry community in recent years? What excites me most is witnessing how the landscape of poetry and performance poetry has truly blossomed over the last decade. In the past, I always felt the literary world here was quite closed off, with rigid boundaries around what counted as poetry. For instance, written poetry has traditionally been placed at the top of a kind of hierarchy, while other forms—like spoken word or poetry in different languages—were often sidelined, even though poetry has been an oral tradition for ages and ages. Now, I see so many poets breaking open those old ideas by embracing multilingual performances and spoken word, making poetry accessible to much broader audiences with diverse backgrounds. I love the world of poetry to be as colorful and multi-voiced as the communities we live in. Though there is still work to do, the literary scene is becoming more inclusive and inviting. After many years performing, what was your relationship to publishing when you published your first book in 2021? Was the experience what you expected? I had almost given up hope of publishing, even though I approached several publishers years before my book was released. So, when I finally got the chance to publish, I didn’t expect much. But now I can say that being published has been incredible—my audience grew dramatically. I was already a busy performer who traveled a lot, but the book took me to even more places. It’s wonderful to have so many people reading my work, and my book continues to be reprinted. There is not a week going by that I don't receive messages from readers, letting me know how much my work means to them. Crazy! End of May, my second poetry book, will be published and I’m looking so much forward to introduce new poems to the world. What was your favorite moment or project during your tenure as Poet Laureate of the Netherlands? Oh my, there were so many memorable moments, but one stands out. The final verse of the first poem I wrote as Poet Laureate was engraved at the town hall of a city in the East of the Netherlands. During its unveiling, the mayor publicly and unexpectedly apologized for the city’s involvement in slavery. It was a deeply emotional occasion that moved many people to tears. And then, the moment right afterwards, my words were revealed, immortalized in marble. Yes, that was very beautiful and memorable. What do you hope emerging writers are paying attention to? I hope new writers recognize the responsibility that comes with being a writer, stay mindful of the platform and stage they possess, and appreciate those who paved the way before them. They should understand just how powerful words can be. And also, take your writing seriously, but yourself not too much :). What’s something that relaxes you instantly? My home, my sanctuary. The afternoon sun on the balcony. Walking, be it through nature or the city; I love walking. As a poet who has traveled a lot, how do you approach performing for audiences who may not share your same language? It’s actually quite special—I’ve performed in Dutch worldwide, sometimes with subtitles projected, sometimes accompanied by a live interpreter. These experiences have been truly rewarding. Most recently, during a performance in Sweden with a renowned actress, we collaboratively developed new works based on my poems, wherein I presented them in Dutch, and she integrated the Swedish translation between the lines. Similarly, in Colombia, collaborating with a local actress was incredibly enriching. What’s wonderful is that when you invite the audience to engage with your poetry beyond just the language, something special occurs. They begin to connect with its rhythm and flow. You can listen to poetry without knowing the language. How can people support you right now? Thank you for asking this question. I would be thrilled to have my book translated and published in the United States. So, I'm putting that intention out into the universe. Furthermore, I think poetry makes this world a softer place, so I hope that people read and share poems with each other. Name another Black woman writer people should know. Two poets come to mind: Lisette Ma Neza and Danielle Zawadi are two exceptional Afro-Dutch poets who excel in performance. I eagerly anticipate the publication of their works. ### 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.

The Team Amanda Johnston Founder / Executive Director Read More Sierra Lewis Administrative Associate Read More Dana Weekes Board Treasurer Read More Dalia Azim Board Member Read More Jen Margulies Advisory Board Member Read More Brittany Heckard Communications Associate Read More Dr. Sequoia Maner Board Chair Read More Shannon Johnson Board Member Read More Hallie S. Hobson Advisory Board Member Read More Sheree L. Ross Advisory Board Member Read More Jae Nichelle Associate Editor Read More Rachel E. Winston Board Secretary Read More Erin Waelder Board Member Read More Raina Fields Advisory Board Member Read More Parneshia Jones Advisory Board Member Read More

Latest News Aug 25, 2026 Celebrate Torch’s 20th Birthday & Our Mission to Amplify Black Women Writers Our wish this August is to gain 20 new Community Impact Members & more! Find out how to celebrate our birthday with events, well wishes, and donations. Read More Jun 28, 2026 Thanking Our Funders for their Support for Black Women Writers In our 20th Anniversary year, seven major funders are stepping up to support Torch’s mission to amplify Black women writers. Read More Jun 1, 2026 June is a Celebratory Time for Black Women Writers This June, we’re celebrating queerness, Black Texans, Caribbean heritage, and lyricists who bring their magic and impact to the Torch community. Read More Apr 29, 2026 Torch Announces First Ever Nominations for Best New Poets Anthology Two Torch Features, Tiezst "Tie" Taylor and Mecca M. Miles, are Torch’s inaugural nominees for their outstanding poems. Read More Apr 2, 2026 Celebrating 20 Years of Highlighting Black Women in Poetry Torch is elated to celebrate National Poetry Month and the Black women poets in our community. Read More Mar 31, 2026 Torch Literary Arts Announces New Board Member Dalia Azim joins the Torch board, bringing her expertise in literary programming and partnerships in the Austin literary community. Read More Mar 12, 2026 Torch Literary Arts to Open Registration for “A Gathering of Flames: Celebrating 20 Years of Torch Literary Arts” on March 16th The inaugural gala and conference will feature Rachel Eliza Griffiths, Sharon Bridgforth, Patricia Smith, and Crystal Wilkinson from September 25-27, 2026, in Austin, Texas. Read More Mar 6, 2026 Celebrating Women and a Sustainable Future with Torch This year’s Women’s History Month Theme urges us to celebrate women who are taking charge in regard to sustainability, and this International Women’s Day urges us to give to gain. Read More Mar 3, 2026 Torch Returns to the 2026 AWP Conference in Baltimore For four days, Torch will join other writing organizations, writers, publishers, students, and more at the largest literary conference in the country. Read More Feb 27, 2026 Torch Literary Arts Welcomes New Team Member Torch adds a new position, Administrative Associate, to help with daily operations and support the needs of Torch Center. Read More Feb 5, 2026 Austin Film Society Joins Torch Literary Arts as New Community Partners The two organizations will amplify a series of film screenings showcasing Black women screenwriters, directors, and films that reflect Black culture. Read More Feb 1, 2026 Celebrating the Milestones of Community and History through Literary Greatness and Storytelling this Black History Month This year’s Black History Month theme, “A Century of Black History Commemorations,” urges us to acknowledge the historical impact of Black narratives. Read More Jan 29, 2026 Kicking Off 20 Years with the Spring 2026 Season Torch’s Spring 2026 Season builds on the history we've made in our 20 years of strengthening the literary community of Black women writers. Read More Jan 29, 2026 Important Transitions to Torch's Board of Directors This board transition includes the retirement of former board treasurer, Candace Lopez, election of new board treasurer, Dana Weekes, and the election of new board secretary, Rachel Winston. Read More Jan 28, 2026 Torch to Raise $10,000 during one of Austin’s Largest Giving Days Torch joins over 700 nonprofits during Amplify Austin to raise funds for Black women writers. Read More Jan 2, 2026 Celebrating a New Year with a Growing Community Taking the time to thank you all for your support in 2025 and share exciting news for 2026. Read More Dec 29, 2025 Ending the Year Strong with Community Impact and Growth Taking time to thank you all for your support in 2025 and share plans to end the year strong. Read More Dec 9, 2025 A Big Thank You to Our Major Funders In 2025, seven major funders supported Torch’s mission to amplify Black women writers. Read More Dec 5, 2025 Torch Raises $5,593 for 2025 GivingTuesday Campaign Joining one of the largest international giving days, Torch raised $5,593. Read More Dec 1, 2025 Torch Announces the 2025 Nominations for the Pushcart Prize Six Torch Features, Jordan E. Franklin, Joi' C Weathers, Imani Nikelle, Yolanda Kwadey, Jennifer Maritza McCauley, and Marchaé Grair are nominated for their respective works. Read More Nov 19, 2025 Torch Literary Arts Celebrates GivingTuesday with a Board Match, Supporter Toolkit, Giveaway, and More. Torch is joining millions around the world participating in the global generosity movement on December 2, 2025. Read More Nov 5, 2025 Torch Literary Arts Returns as a Partnering Organization for the 2025 Texas Book Festival Over two days, Torch will host poets Tiana Clark and Donika Kelly in Austin for a series of inspiring readings and conversations. Read More Oct 22, 2025 Torch Literary Arts Announces Transitions to 2025 Board of Directors This board transition includes the retirement of former board secretary, Stephanie Lang, and the election of new board member, Rachel Winston Read More Oct 15, 2025 Torch Announces the 2025 Nominations for the O. Henry Prize Two Torch Features, Jennifer Coley and Jessica Araújo, are nominated for their respective short fiction stories. Read More Oct 9, 2025 Celebrating the Second Annual Donor-Advised Funds Day Torch Literary Arts encourages families and individuals with donor-advised funds to consider supporting Black women writers and the programs we offer. Read More Sep 16, 2025 Torch Announces the Nominations for the Best of the Net Eleven Torch Features were nominated for their works in creative nonfiction, fiction, poetry, and visual art in Torch Magazine. Read More Sep 2, 2025 Torch Literary Arts Announces the Torch Center Coming Fall 2025 The local Austin nonprofit organization dedicated to building community for Black women writers will now have a physical location at the LINC of Austin. Read More Aug 28, 2025 Torch Literary Arts Releases Fall 2025 Season Torch’s Fall 2025 Season includes dynamic readings, a screenwriting conversation, book festivals, workshops, and more! Read More Aug 20, 2025 Torch Announces 2026 Dates for 20th Anniversary Celebration “A Gathering of Flames” will take place in Austin, Texas, from September 25 to 27, 2026, celebrating Black women writers and 20 years of Torch’s growing community. Read More Aug 1, 2025 Celebrating Torch and Black Philanthropy Month All August Long Torch is celebrating 19 years of community and impact with CIM goals, new updates, and more! Read More Jun 5, 2025 Celebrating the Intersectionalities of Black Women Writers June is a month full of pride for queer, Caribbean, and song-filled Black women writers and the readers who love them. Read More May 28, 2025 Torch Announces New Community Impact Member Donation Initiative The Community Impact Membership (CIM) program provides Torch’s monthly donors of at least $10 and annual donors of at least $100 with exclusive items and updates. Read More Apr 24, 2025 Torch Announces the 2025 Retreat Fellows Torch returns for a third consecutive year to host eight fellows at their annual retreat for Black women writers at the Colton House in Austin, Texas, from July 20-27, 2025. Read More Apr 1, 2025 Celebrating Black Women's Contributions to Poetry All Month Long Continuing on months of celebrating Black History Month and Women’s History Month, we’re keeping the acknowledgments alive with National Poetry Month Read More 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

Photos, video, and audio captured at Torch events. Go to link 1/1