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Happy Pride! Torch Literary Arts is dedicated to amplifying Black women writers across our intersecting identities all year long. Through online Features and curated readings and workshops, Torch celebrates Black LGBTQIA+ voices. Check out this sample of Featured writers. c.r. glasgow (doc/she/we) is a non-binary, queer, first-generation Afro-Caribbean-American interdisciplinary healing artist. c has received fellowships and support from Hugo House, VONA, The Watering Hole, Hurston/Wright, and Anaphora. doc has been the recipient of VONA’s 2021 Haitian Heritage Scholarship. Their chapbook the Devils that raised Us was longlisted at Frontier Poetry. c’s work has appeared or is forthcoming in Black Lawrence Press, Moko: Caribbean Arts & Letters, Rigorous Magazine, Lion’s Roar, Obsidian, Torch Literary, and other cross-genre spaces. Follow c’s multidisciplinary healing arts online and on Twitter and Instagram. Shay Youngblood is a writer, visual artist, and educator. She is the author of several novels including Black Girl in Paris, collections of short stories and numerous essays. Her first two children’s books Mama’s Home (Make Me A World) and A Family Prayer (Convergent) will both be published by Random House. Her published plays have been widely produced and her short stories have been performed at Symphony Space and recorded for NPR’s Selected Shorts. In 2021 she was appointed Commissioner to the Japan-U.S. Friendship Commission and serves as a board member of the Yaddo artists’ community. Her current projects include a novel in progress, a superhero graphic novel collaboration, and The Architecture of Soul Sound a multi-media performance work about architecture, memory, and the environment inspired by research in Japan, China, and the U.S. She teaches in the Graduate Creative Writing Program at City College New York. Visit her website and follow her on Instagram and Twitter. Ebony Stewart is a Black woman, an award-winning writer, spoken word artist, playwright, actress, and world slam champion. She is a Houston native and one of Baytown's finest. Ebony has a BA in English & Communication Studies and is currently obtaining her Master’s in Clinical Social Work Therapy where she hopes to work with and provide affordable therapy to artists. She is the author of The Queen’s Glory & The Pussy’s Box, Love Letters to Balled Fists, and Home.Girl.Hood. Her newest manuscript, BloodFresh, will be published by Button Poetry and released in February 2022. Her work aims to validate the human experience and provide a layered perspective of mental wellness by recalling through poetry, storytelling, and reflection. You can learn more about Ebony Stewart's work at EbPoetry.com and follow her on Twitter and Instagram. Anastacia-Reneé (She/They)is a queer writer, educator, interdisciplinary artist, speaker, and podcaster. She is the author of(v.)(Black Ocean) and Forget It (Black Radish), Here in the (Middle) of Nowhere, and Side Notes from the Archivist forthcoming from Amistad (an imprint of HarperCollins). They were selected by NBC News as part of the list of "Queer Artist of Color Dominate 2021's Must-See LGBTQ Art Shows." Anastacia-Reneé was a former Seattle Civic Poet (2017-2019), Hugo House Poet-in-Residence (2015-2017), Arc Artist Fellow (2020), and Jack Straw Curator (2020). Her work has been anthologized in: Teaching Black: The Craft of Teaching on Black Life and Literature, Home is Where You Queer Your Heart, Furious Flower Seeding the Future of African American Poetry, Afrofuturism, Black Comics, And Superhero Poetry, Joy Has a Sound, Spirited Stone: Lessons from Kubota’s Garden, and Seismic: Seattle City of Literature. Her work has appeared in, Hobart, Foglifter, Auburn Avenue, Catapult, Alta, Torch, Poetry Northwest, A-Line, Cascadia Magazine, Hennepin Review, Ms. Magazine, and others. Renee has received fellowships and residencies from Cave Canem, Hedgebrook, VONA, Ragdale, Mineral School, and The New Orleans Writers Residency. Follow Anastacia-Reneé on anastacia-renee.com and on Instagram. Faylita Hicks (she/they) is a queer Afro-Latinx activist, writer, and interdisciplinary artist. Born in South Central California and raised in Central Texas, they use their intersectional experiences to advocate for the rights of BIPOC and LGBTQIA+ people. They are the author of HoodWitch (Acre Books, 2019), a finalist for the2020 Lambda Literary Award for Bisexual Poetry. They are the Editor-in-Chief of Black Femme Collective and a new voting member of the Recording Academy. Hicks is the recipient of fellowships and residencies from Black Mountain Institute, the Tony-Award winning Broadway Advocacy Coalition, Civil Rights Corps, The Dots Between, Jack Jones Literary Arts, Lambda Literary, Texas After Violence Project, Tin House, and the Right of Return USA. Saida Agostini is a queer Afro-Guyanese poet whose work explores the ways Black folks harness mythology to enter the fantastic. Her work is featured in Plume, Hobart Pulp, Barrelhouse, Auburn Avenue, amongst others. Saida’s work can be found in several anthologies, including Not Without Our Laughter: Poems of Humor, Sexuality and Joy, The Future of Black, and Plume Poetry 9. She is the author of STUNT (Neon Hemlock, October 2020), a chapbook reimagining the life of Nellie Jackson, a Black madam and FBI spy from Natchez Mississippi. Her first full-length collection, let the dead in (Alan Squire Publishing) was released in Spring 2022. A Cave Canem Graduate Fellow, and member of the Black Ladies Brunch Collective, Saida is a two-time Pushcart Prize Nominee and Best of the Net Finalist. Her work has received support from the Ruby Artist Grants, and the Blue Mountain Center, amongst others. Visit Saida's website and follow her on Instagram and Twitter. ### 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. TORCH has featured work by Toi Derricotte, Tayari Jones, Sharon Bridgforth, Crystal Wilkinson, Patricia Smith, Natasha Trethewey, Elizabeth Alexander, and others. Programs include the Wildfire Reading Series, writing workshops, and retreats. Help TORCH continue to publish and promote Black women writers by donating today.

Torch Literary Arts is proud to announce the 2023 Torch Retreat Fellows! The six inaugural Fellows were selected by a committee from 133 applications with works in progress across poetry, fiction, and script (plays, screenplays). Torch is honored to support these writers with a week-long stay at the Colton House Hotel in Austin, TX, where they will receive dedicated time and space to rest, dream, and continue working toward their literary goals. Introducing the 2023 Torch Retreat Fellows Ashley M. Coleman is a writer, author, and music industry executive. While working in the music industry for more than ten years, she also wrote for Essence.com, The Cut, Apartment Therapy, and GRAMMY.com, among others. Her debut novel, Good Morning, Love, was released in June of 2022. Her passion, whether working with music makers or writers from marginalized communities, is in creating safe gathering spaces and providing educational opportunities for creatives. In 2017, she launched a community for Black writers and writers of color entitled Permission to Write. A native of Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, she currently resides in Los Angeles with her husband. Ajanaé Dawkins is an interdisciplinary poet, theologian, performer, and educator. She writes about the lived experiences of Black women and their relationships to each other to explore the politics of faith, grief, sisterhood, and sensuality. She has been published in The Rumpus, Frontier Poetry, For Harriet, underbelly, the EcoTheo Review, The Offing, The BreakBeat Poets Black Girl Magic Anthology, Tinderbox Poetry Journal, and was a contributing writer for the Theatre Lila theatre company. Ajanae is the winner of the Tinderbox Poetry Journal’s Editors Prize. She was a finalist for the Cave Canem Toi Derricotte and Cornelius Eady Chapbook Prize, the Frontier Poetry chapbook prize, and the Brett Elizabeth Jenkins poetry prize. She was the Taft Museum’s 2022 Duncanson Artist in Residence and is a fellow of The Watering Hole and Pink Door. She received her MFA from Randolph College and will receive her Master's of Theology from Methodist Theological School of Ohio in May. Ajanae is currently a co-host of the VS Podcast and the Theology Editor for the EcoTheo Review. You can find her in the middle of the dance floor, at the skate rink, the local winery, library, karaoke night, or in her kitchen cooking something slow. Victoria Newton Ford is a poet from Memphis, Tennessee. She is a MacDowell and Lambda Literary Fellow, and her work has been supported by Tin House Summer Writers Workshop, the Vermont Studio Center, and The Hurston/Wright Writers Workshop. She earned her B.A. in English with a concentration in creative writing from the University of Pennsylvania. She is currently working on her first manuscript about Black mothers and their daughters, captivity, and haunting. Ashunda Norris is a Black feminist multidisciplinary artist currently living and creating in Los Angeles. Her work is preoccupied with ancestral inheritance, spiritual traditions of the Black South, futuristic maroon expressions, and fugitivity. She has written, directed, and produced several short films, including her most recent multi-award-winning cinematic gesture, MINO: A Diasporic Myth; now streaming on kweliTV and The OutMusuem’s film exhibition. Ashunda’s films have screened at festivals internationally including Kampala, Uganda; Nairobi, Kenya; London, England; Berlin, Germany, and Amsterdam. Her honors include fellowships from Cave Canem, the California Arts Council, Hurston/Wright Foundation, and Brooklyn Poets. In 2022, Ashunda participated in the James Baldwin Conference as a Writer in Residence in Saint Paul de Vence, France. A proud alumna of Howard University and Paine College, the artist holds MFAs in both Poetry and Screenwriting. Ashunda loves hot water cornbread, obscure cinema, and playing UNO with her family. Learn more at ashunda.com Obinwanne Nwizu received her MA in Creative Writing from Bath Spa University in the United Kingdom. Born in Anambra State, Nigeria, raised in Atlanta, Georgia, but currently calling Harlem home, Obi is a lover of month-long international vacations, vegan food, afrobeat, and romantic comedies. When not writing, she teaches English at John Jay College of Criminal Justice, edits the stories of her friends and strangers, tries to get through her bookcase readings, and frolics around the city in six-inch heels. Her latest short story collection, “Residue,” is currently available on Amazon. Keya Vance is a San Bernardino, California native, screenwriter, and freelance photographer who uses art to challenge society to have difficult, but necessary, conversations. With humanity and vulnerability at the core of her work, she explores the dynamic nature of relationships, both the healing and destructive power of people. In 2018, Vance co-founded KayJo Creatives, an innovative media company with a mission to create community. They host engaging workshops and events that empower diverse creators at all stages of development in Southern California. KayJo Creatives is currently producing a documentary film, I, Too, which highlights a series of 100 interviews with African American men from Florida and California. These interviews ask men about masculinity, relationships, and their own identity. In February 2020, Vance was the primary investigator for a two-day multi-genre creative arts workshop, “Imagining Home: The Stories Photos Tell,” funded by Cal Humanities. Her workshop examined the historical and contemporary representation of African Americans through photographs. In 2021 she was awarded an Individual Artist Fellowship grant by the California Arts Council. Vance has a B.A. in African American Studies, has completed significant course work in the performing arts, and is currently a screenwriting MFA candidate at Loyola Marymount University. The 2023 Torch Retreat is made possible with support from the Tingari-Silverton Foundation, the City of Austin Cultural Arts Division, the Burdine Johnson Foundation, the National Endowment for the Arts, and individual donors. Learn more about how to support Torch Literary Arts at TorchLiteraryArts.org/support. 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. TORCH has featured work by Toi Derricotte, Tayari Jones, Sharon Bridgforth, Crystal Wilkinson, Patricia Smith, Natasha Trethewey, Elizabeth Alexander, and others. Programs include the Wildfire Reading Series, writing workshops, and retreats.

Camille Hernandez is a Black and Filipina author, educator, and public theologian. She writes speculative poetry about Black women’s multilayered approaches towards healing from violence. Camille is endlessly inspired by Toni Morrison’s quote, “There was a lot of activism, & I thought, 'I will publish these voices instead of marching.' I thought it was my responsibility to publish African American & African writers who would not be published, published well, or edited well." She believes that books are tangible messages left behind by our ancestors, and it is our responsibility to use their legacy to cultivate our voices and produce more works that will equip our descendants. In all her avenues, Camille uses care-centered leadership models to help people tell their stories, develop self-compassion practices, and expand their capacity for hope in order to birth new liberated realities into existence. Her debut book, The Hero and the Whore: Reclaiming Healing and Liberation through Stories of Sexual Exploitation in the Bible, will be released on November 7, 2023. Follow Camille on her website and on Instagram and Twitter. ### 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. TORCH has featured work by Toi Derricotte, Tayari Jones, Sharon Bridgforth, Crystal Wilkinson, Patricia Smith, Natasha Trethewey, Elizabeth Alexander, and others. Programs include the Wildfire Reading Series, writing workshops, and retreats. Help TORCH continue to publish and promote Black women writers by donating today.

Gail Upchurch is a writer of young adult and adult fiction. She is a 2022 Kimbilio Fellow, WINNER of the 2022 Taint Taint Taint James Baldwin Fiction Prize, a finalist for the 2022 Pen Parentis Fellowship, a 2021 Tin House YA Scholar, a 2021 Community of Writers Scholar, a finalist for the 2021 Crystal Wilkinson Creative Writing Prize, and WINNER of the 2021 Tupelo Quarterly Prose Open Prize. Gail holds a Ph.D. in English from Binghamton University’s program for writers (SUNY), an MFA in fiction from Chicago State University, and a BA in English from Howard University (The Mecca!). Gail has recent short stories published or forthcoming in The Missouri Review, Obsidian: Journal & Ideas in the African Diaspora, Tupelo Quarterly, and Taint Taint Taint Magazine and is currently at work on two young adult novels and a collection of linked short stories for an adult audience. Originally from the south side of Chicago, Gail now lives in Maryland with three kiddos and a hubs. When she’s not making up stories, she serves as an assistant nonfiction editor at Tupelo Press and organizer of the Maryland chapter of Women Who Submit; teaches composition and literature at a small community college in Maryland; and keeps up with Academy Awards buzz. Follow Gail on her website and on Twitter. The Cottage At the beginning of summer, when crickets argued at all times of day and night, Jimmy appeared on the porch of Mrs. Emily’s Vayle’s Dress Shop just as Mabel pulled blue thread through a delicate organza. Sweat and exhaustion met up together and settled on his golden face. Jimmy pushed the damp, dark curls from his forehead with back of his wrist and rapped on the wooden door frame three times. He didn’t need to do that, though. Jimmy already had her attention in the palm of his hand. “Hello, Mabel.” He waved his hand at her through the screen, which only offered the promise of breeze—the air so thick and humid you could scoop it into a cup and stir it around with your finger. “Come on in, Jimmy. Mrs. Vayle out at the beauty parlor. You can put the paper on the table there.” Mabel’s scalp sweated beneath her thick, unruly hair. She stopped stitching to cover her mouth with a few fingers. Dresses and petticoats she had sewn with her own hands crowded the walls, which upped the temperature in the shop at least three degrees. “You know when Emily—,” he stopped to clear his throat, “when Mrs. Vayle’ll be back in the shop?” “I suppose she’ll be back when her hair is done.” Mabel’s knee bobbed up and down. She couldn’t help it. Jimmy made her feel like fizz, and not because he did anything all that special. To anybody else, he was a plain boy, wiry and ordinary, holding a newspaper with one hand and a cap in the other. But to Mabel, he was someone who could pull her apart limb by limb with the slightest smile. She liked the fullness of his lips, so different from the other boys she had met in Boston since she started working on this side of town. She liked the dip right above Jimmy’s upper lip which right now was a fleshy bowl made for catching his sweat. She even liked the small, smooth keloid scar on his upper right cheek. She liked that it worried her. How long did that thing bleed? Who tended to him? What would it feel like underneath my tongue? “Right. Well, just tell her I come in to . . . drop off her paper.” Even though Jimmy spoke parting words, he sat across from Mabel and squinted his eyes. “I don’t mean to disturb you. I see you working and whatnot.” She got this feeling like somebody sprinkled tinsel in her chest. Before she could say another word, a young, dark-skinned woman approached the door holding a full-length garment over her forearm. Mabel’s heartbeat quickened as she left her stool to answer the door. “You do alterations?” From the sound of her, Mabel could tell this woman wasn’t too far from the countryside where her mother had lived as a girl, maybe South Carolina or Virginia. “I’m sorry. We don’t serve coloreds here,” Mabel said, low. The woman gave Mabel a face, cocked her head to the side. “Well, you know some place that do?” Mabel sucked her teeth. “Come back at closing. Come around back, and I’ll see what you need done.” The woman nodded her head and disappeared down the steps. Mabel breathed deeply, relieved to be rid of her. When she turned to face Jimmy, his body seemed to lean in to her. “Mrs. Vayle know you serve coloreds out the back of the store?” he asked. “That’s my business, Jimmy. And that’s my money. Mrs. Vayle doesn’t need to know.” Jimmy held up both his hands. “I understand you, Mabel. Don’t worry. I can tell you got your share of secrets. And I’m not just talking about that back door thing you doing with your colored customers.” Mabel stopped pulling the thread. “Secrets?” She covered her mouth. “Emily, I mean Mrs. Vayle, thinks it’s awfully strange you don’t ever talk about your people. I mean, everybody has people. She thinks you might have gotten turned out or something.” Mabel stopped sewing and covered her full mouth with her hand. Mrs. Vayle had talked about her to him? Mabel couldn’t lose her job. She was on her own, and she had to eat somehow. A flash of her mama came to her— skin the color of Alaga Syrup, fingers long and tough, voice as deep as a grave. She didn’t want to think about her mama because it made her miss her too much, and there was no solving that problem. Mabel had made her choice. She rose from her chair and put a hand under Jimmy’s elbow to help him up from the stool. She blinked the water away from her eyes. “I don’t have any of those kinds of secrets, Jimmy, and I haven’t been turned out.” She gently shoved him toward the door. “Now, I got to get back to this hemming.” He stopped. “Okay. Lord have mercy.” Mabel thought a few more words might be dangling on the threshold of Jimmy’s mouth, but he shut himself up. He gave Mabel a lingering look before leaving. When she sat down again, Mabel pricked her finger with the needle, forming a tiny, round drop of blood that fell on her skirt before she had a chance to suck it down her throat. She stared at that one dot of crimson spreading out into the cotton fibers. Blood was a hard stain to wash out. # By the fall, Jimmy was off to that fancy college in Poughkeepsie, New York. It wasn’t until Thanksgiving that he came around to Mrs. Emily Vayle’s Dress Shop again. When Mabel saw Jimmy all dressed up in his suit and tie, his hair clean and parted on one side, she felt her stomach wave inside. “Jimmy, you look like you washed up for a change. Is that what you’ve been learning at that college of yours?” Mabel looked to the floor, smiled. Jimmy laughed, rared back on his heels. “Now see, why do you have to talk to me like that?” Mabel stood in front of him, looked down, twisted her foot into the maple floor board. He had never just come to see her before without a newspaper in his hand. “Hey,” Jimmy said, soft. “Why are you here?” Mabel’s voice quivered. She glanced up at him then closed her eyes before sitting back in the chair. The gentle brush on her hand startled her. If Jimmy wasn’t standing there in front of her, she might have mistaken the feeling for an ant scurrying across her hand looking for an old tea cake crumb or a roaming thread from a discarded spool she used the day before. When her eyes popped open she found Jimmy’s all-grown-up body still there. He smiled, but not with his mouth. Dear God. She refused to smile back because that would mean she was sure enough crazy, that she was inviting trouble. When Jimmy touched her again, this time on the shoulder, she let her better judgment get lost somewhere between the moment he kissed her lips and when he unfastened her brassiere. # In early spring, Jimmy found a dilapidated cottage with only two rooms made to feed their bodies: a bedroom and a kitchen. They would steal away to sate themselves on every firm surface. When they bored of the claustrophobic indoors, they found places outdoors to drink one another. She plucked a blood-greedy tick from her hip after one inconvenient moment of desire in tall, prickly blades of grass. By the end of May, Mabel’s initial uneasiness about their lovemaking had waned. When Mabel got as close as she could to Jimmy’s skin, the fuzz on his shoulders, the broad back that lightly smelled of sweat and Castille soap, his warm-sticky breath on her milky neck, she only thought about how good it felt. In that cottage, under the deep blue cover of night and blanket, he plunged into her, raising her fur to meet his. During these moments, she barely even worried anymore about her nasty, graying tooth. Never worried that the curl that tightened at the nape of her neck with perspiration might betray her. And she almost didn’t waste her time anymore wondering about whether or not he thought about how her skin managed to be so tanned, like baked bread, after only a week in the sun. By summer’s end, as Jimmy prepared to go back to Poughkeepsie, a smell as simple as well-water made Mabel’s stomach curdle. She dozed at work, nearly falling off her sewing chair twice in one day. Despite Jimmy’s clumsy attempts to snatch himself out of her before finishing, he put a baby in her. “A penny for every one of your thoughts,” Jimmy said, after sneezing again. He circled her navel with the bulbs of his first two fingers. Lost, Mabel shook her head, focused on the wild ivy vine that had sprung up outside the window. She wanted to tell Jimmy everything right then and there, but how could she? She sat up with her bare back facing him. “Mabel, where are you going, honey? We still have a little time. Mrs. Vayle won’t be looking for you until nine or so. C’mon now. Don’t go. I’ll be gone in a week.” “I have to move on, Jimmy. There are some things I need to do before then.” “Alright, but let me look at you first before you go scrambling away.” He ran his dry, warm hands down the length of Mabel’s back, causing her to shiver. “I don’t care that you’ve gained a little weight. I like it. Really, I do. You were too skinny before. Now, you’re more . . . womanly.” “Please, Jimmy.” “I wish I could, but I think you’ve put some witchcraft on me because I can’t think of much else besides you. I wonder what you eat, where you go after work, who your people are.” That talk of people again. “Jimmy—” “—not because I want to tell you what to do or anything like that but because I want to know you. You and your mama have a falling out or something?” “What?” “That’s important information when you want to marry somebody.” Mabel leapt off the bed like it was on fire. “Marry somebody.” Mabel backed away from him, knocking into the chifferobe. She covered her tooth with one hand, rubbing her stinging hip with the other. He scrunched his eyebrows in toward his nose. “Careful, honey. Slow down, now. I’m not trying to marry you today or anything, but we can’t keep going around like this. Can’t stay in this little house forever,” he whispered, reaching his hands out to her. She had to get out that stuffy cottage and breathe in fresh air. She ran for the door and barely opened it before vomiting on the bushy grass that met her toes. Mabel hung on to the doorframe with abandon, the fresh breeze penetrating her skin, making her engorged nipples harden and throb. “Here. Drink this,” Jimmy whispered, holding a glass of water, pushing Mabel’s hair away from her face. “You got too hot, I think.” Mable drank and then leaned over her knees to stave off another wave of nausea. “You got yourself all worked up,” he said, taking the glass from her. “I bet you’re worried your parents are going to think I’m too poor. It’s true. I’ve been on my own since I was fourteen years old, and it wasn’t always easy for me to get by. But I’m going to be a lawyer one day. You can tell your people that. All folks tend to like me once they get to know me. And, I love you Mabel. I don’t even care if you get all fat. I’m still going to love you. You see, I can’t help it.” Jimmy pulled her in to him and wrapped his arms around her. And for a second Mabel thought she might believe him. She had just puked something thick and beige, and he didn’t flinch. Maybe they could do this another kind of way. Maybe a body is a just body is just a body. “I’m colored,” Mabel whispered into the fine hairs that lay on his chest. Time stuttered. Jimmy put a finger under her chin, tilted her head up, eyes big as two oven-warm biscuits. “You’re what?” Mabel knew by the sound of his voice it was a mistake for her to have said anything. She shook her head. “And I’m expecting,” she blurted. It was terrible news but better than the former. Jimmy put his hands on both shoulders and gently pushed her back a step, far enough to get a good look at her face. Then holding her face so she could not avert his gaze, his mouth formed the letter “W” without making a sound. Mabel worked to get her face free of his grasp, but Jimmy held her firm, his chest heaving. “You can’t say nothing more about it,” he said. “Which one? Which ‘it’?” “Lord, have mercy, Mabel, the first one. Not to anybody, not ever.” Mabel nodded. “But Jimmy—” Jimmy shushed her. “Not another word, I swear.” His eyes went soft and sad. “Lord have mercy, Mabel.” As if not saying the thing makes the thing not true, she did as he told her. For a few minutes, they stood and stared at each other. Mabel covered her mouth. A softness passed over Jimmy’s face as he pulled Mabel in to him again, lowering his arms to her waist. “I’m sorry I talked to you like that just now,” he said and held her tight, resting his chin on top of her head. Her ear against his chest, Mabel heard something deep in him crash and break, like water against rocks. “I shouldn’t have, but this a mess,” he whispered into the air over her head. After a long pause he said, “I guess I ought to tell you something.” She looked up at him. “My own mother was colored, so, yeah, you and me are in a royal-sized mess.” This time it was Mabel who pulled back. Jimmy put a finger to her lips. “Shhh.” She saw him more clearly now. Curly dark brown hair. Thick lips. Flat nose. My God. Jimmy—colored? A wave of something came over her, not nausea this time. This time it was disgust, disappointment. Mabel knew how to get a colored boy in bed with her. She thought Jimmy was something special. But no. He was caught up in his own blood story, same as her. And blood was a hard stain to wash out. ### 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. TORCH has featured work by Toi Derricotte, Tayari Jones, Sharon Bridgforth, Crystal Wilkinson, Patricia Smith, Natasha Trethewey, Elizabeth Alexander, and others. Programs include the Wildfire Reading Series, writing workshops, and retreats. Help TORCH continue to publish and promote Black women writers by donating today.

Austin, TX — Torch Literary Arts has been approved for a Grants for Arts Projects award from the National Endowment for the Arts (NEA) to support artist fees for workshops, readings, and retreats. This project will focus on creating advancement opportunities for Black women writers, as well as a retreat where participants can share ideas and receive professional advice while working on a manuscript in progress. Torch Literary Arts' project is among 1,130 projects across the country, totaling more than $31 million, that were selected during this second round of Grants for Arts Projects fiscal year 2023 funding. “The National Endowment for the Arts is pleased to support a wide range of projects, including Torch Literary Arts' programs, demonstrating the many ways the arts enrich our lives and contribute to healthy and thriving communities,” said NEA Chair Maria Rosario Jackson, PhD. “These organizations play an important role in advancing the creative vitality of our nation and helping to ensure that all people can benefit from arts, culture, and design.” "Torch Literary Arts is grateful for this vital support from the National Endowment for the Arts to fulfill our mission to amplify Black women writers. Funds will be used to pay writers and support those who wish to develop their craft." Programs supported with this grant include the Torch Wildfire Reading Series, creative writing and professional development workshops, and the launch of our 2023 Torch Retreat in Austin, TX. For more information on other projects included in the NEA grant announcement, visit arts.gov/news. 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. TORCH has featured work by Toi Derricotte, Tayari Jones, Sharon Bridgforth, Crystal Wilkinson, Patricia Smith, Natasha Trethewey, Elizabeth Alexander, and others. Programs include the Wildfire Reading Series, writing workshops, and retreats. Help TORCH continue to publish and promote Black women writers by donating today.

Smith's work has been recognized by the Sundance Screenwriters Lab and the Tribeca Film Festival and she was appointed Muse of African American Poetry for the City of Alameda, CA. Photo by Salihah Saadiq Shia Shabazz Smith is a poet, educator, and screenwriter who strives to ensure that her art and her service represent her varied communities at large. A widely published poet, Shia’s affiliations include Cave Canem Fellow, VONA, The Austin Project, and UC Berkeley’s Poetry for the People. Her honors include finalist placement for poetry and screenwriting, ranging from recognition in TORCH Literary Arts as the inaugural issue’s “Spark” to distinguished as Muse of African American Poetry for the City of Alameda. Also an experienced screenwriter, Shia has written five pilots, tens of shorts film scripts, and ten feature-length screenplays… and counting. Shia’s narrative short film, Curdled – a hilarious glimpse of what a prenatal support group of women over 40, might look like- has screened internationally at eight film festivals. The film stars Keke Palmer, Robinne Lee, and Chenoa Maxwell. Her screenwriting honors include finalist placement in the Moondance and Tribeca’s All-Access competitions, multiple advancements in the NYC Midnight Screenplay Competitions, and three-time, stage two project advancements in the Sundance Screenwriters Lab. Shia’s website documents her past, recent, and forthcoming projects. Shia is a high school teacher in a community school for students with mild/moderate learning challenges where she has taught both “Script-to-Screen” and poetry classes. Shia lives in Oakland, California, with her beautiful family and their beloved cat, T’Challa. Follow Shia on her website and on Instagram and Twitter. Curdled (excerpt) by Shia Shabazz Smith INT. INTERVIEW ROOM - DAY Near hysterics, Tara’s OTF interview. TARA You can look at them and tell they are support groupies. Waiting to tell me mom’s... dying. 6. Tara starts balling again. TARA My last several trips home, mom’s condition has been getting worse and worse. She just didn’t want to tell me. INT. MARATARA MANOR - MASTER BATHROOM - DAY SEVEN MONTHS AGO. Mara kneels over the toilet, vomiting. She doesn’t notice Tara who enters aghast. Tara immediately turns on her heels, hurries away sobbing. TARA (V.O.) She would never throw up lobster. Never! INT. MARATARA MANOR - MASTER BEDROOM - DAY THREE MONTHS AGO. Tennis outfit on, racket in hand, Tara enters excitedly only to find Mara snoring; sleep mask covering her eyes. She turns on her heels and races away, in tears. TARA (V.O.) And she slept in on a Saturday. We missed our noon lesson! Mara snores, unawares. INT. MARATARA MANOR - WALK-IN CLOSET - DAY LAST VISIT. Tara spies on Mara as Mara attempts to fasten the waist of her pants around her protruding belly. Horrified, dressed identically, Tara storms off in tears. TARA (V.O.) And all the weight she’s gained! INT. MARATARA MANOR - MAIN ROOM - DAY BACK TO PRESENT, Mara and Tara are a mess of make-up streaks and tears. TARA Pregnant? Dana hands Tara a tissue. Tara blows her nose, sobers quickly. 7. TARA She can’t be pregnant. She’s forty-three. And she’s dying. ### The Interview Conducted via email in April 2023 by Amanda Johnston Torch is proud to have published you as a feature in our first issue, Torch 2006, selected by Sharon Bridgforth as her Spark. Since then, you have continued to build an incredible career as an educator, poet, and screenwriter. What feeds your creative practice and inspires you to keep writing? Sharon Bridgforth is a sage. The universe aligned our paths at a time when I needed the sincere quality and caliber of mentorship and profound care that only she could offer. I am ever grateful for her “seeing me” and for the gift of being the first featured Spark for Torch, my beloved literary home. As I navigate my journey into screenwriting, this moment feels fortuitously full circle. What feeds me…? It’s probably not the most glamorous response but my mortality feeds my creative practice. The impermanence of moments, relationships, and people keeps me writing. Unfortunately, writing is so much a part of the fabric of who I am at this point that I couldn’t quit if I wanted to. (Believe me, I’ve tried.) But when I am not writing, there is a death of small things happening in my soul. Writing helps me to process life and explore the richness of interpretations and meanings and layers. Not to mention, I LOVE words. And I love attempting the seemingly impossible task of trying to convey meaning with this very limited supply of letters and words as symbols for what is ultimately ineffable. Using the time I have on this earth to share what I might through this medium feels like what I was put here to do. Your film, Curdled, is a funny and powerful affirmation of reproductive rights. Why was this script important for you to write? I wrote Curdled when I was in my late thirties and pregnant. I thought I was going through perimenopause and… SURPRISE! (“Peri-meno-pregnant!”) Before that, other than writing, pregnancy with my previous two children had been my greatest love and my most unequivocal joy. But when my doctor and other medical professionals kept coming at me with statements like, “Babies born to older mothers have a higher risk of (FILL IN THE SCARY BLANK),” I decided that I knew my body better than they did. Whoever this baby was and however this baby entered the world, I was blessed with their coming. I know mothering to be my greatest effort of love. So, rather than prepare for all of the uncertainties and riddle my body with worry, I surrounded myself with love and joy and remained prayerful for a safe delivery for me and our son. Initially, Curdled was simply my processing of what I had heard and seen in friends who had given birth near or post 40, as well as what I had experienced as a “geriatric mom,” which, according to the Cleveland Clinic, is “ a medical term to describe people who are over age 35 during pregnancy.” Curdled was important to me because, over the years, I realized how often I had been silenced; as a Black woman, a survivor, a divorcee, as a “past her prime” woman, and now as a mother. Until then, motherhood was the only thing I had really gotten right. (Empirical Evidence: My children are KILLING the game of life! They are outstanding humans; brilliant, beautiful, talented, kind… I digress.) At that time, during this third and final pregnancy, giving voice to my experience was intended to counter the overwhelming medical data that I perceived had an agenda that didn’t include me. My experience was important. Each of the women in Curdled represents some aspect of the beautiful and complex challenge of being a mother AND being a daughter. There is so much that is being reconciled in the transaction of pregnancy and birth. At the time, my own mother had been diagnosed with an early onset of a rare form of dementia and Curdled helped me to stand in and process all of that in the best way I knew how at the time. I am immensely grateful to the creative team and executive producers (Director Yolande Geralds, Producer Courtney Carreras, and Executive Producers Jim R. Metellus, Veronica M. Robinson, and Keke Palmer) and to the ENTIRE (overwhelmingly woman-filled) cast and crew who saw the jewel that is Curdled and contributed their remarkable talents to birth this incredible experience in storytelling and filmmaking. Without seeing and acknowledging the vast possibilities of support and love and life and genius, we aren’t adequately representing life. Curdled stars talented actors including Keke Palmer, Robinne Lee, and Chenoa Maxwell, and was directed by Yolande Geralds. What was the process like for you as the screenwriter to see your story brought to life with this phenomenal cast and crew? The entire making of Curdled was pretty incredible. To have my vision interpreted by Yolande (Geralds) was a dream. She and Courtney (Carreras), along with Lisa Love, brought together the resources and magic that ultimately became the film and my secondary education in film production. And the actors… SHEESH! I had been a long-time admirer of Robinne Lee and Chenoa Maxwell… since Hav Plenty! On top of that, for years, I actually taught an “etymology of words” unit for my students that began with “Akeelah and the Bee.” So, needless to say, I have always been a Keke Palmer fan and I have earned massive cool points with my students. It can be unusual for a screenwriter (who is not also directing) to be a part of the entire process. I went to L.A., for an initial casting process where I first met Keke and it was EVERYTHING! A week or two later, we shot Curdled over a weekend (Friday through Sunday) and I was an active member of the production team (as Script Supervisor and general “assisting”) on set during the entire shoot. I cried on the first day after we shot the first scene. I remember stopping Chenoa Maxwell during a break and telling her how funny her delivery was and how much I loved one of her lines. She said, “Well, YOU wrote it!” It was then that the entirety of the process dawned on me. I WROTE THAT SHIT! Another fun side note is that I wrote, co-produced, and ended up singing the end credits song, “Old Mama.” (Bucket list item… CHECK!) I worked on each stage of the process; from pre-production through production to post. That was a real gift. We shot in 2013 and hit the festival circuit through 2015. Since then, I have grown very close to a few of the actors and remain connected to most (whom I secretly refer to as all of the “Baby Mamas” of Curdled). Each offered tremendous talents to the film and is an incredible human in her own right. For my first film, the experience was perfection. I wouldn’t change a thing. What advice would you give to emerging screenwriters? First and foremost, the obvious: watch a multitude of movies, read a superabundance of scripts, and WRITE, WRITE, WRITE! There is no story without the tellers (writers) so be GOOD at it! Write badly until you get good at it (and you won’t know when that is, by the way). Screenwriting is both art and craft. Embrace and bask in both. Engage the art in ways that fill you up. Learn the craft the way you learn best. If you are a reader, my top three recommendations would be “How to Write a Movie in 21 Days” by Viki King, “Save the Cat: The Last Book on Screenwriting You’ll Ever Need” by Blake Snyder, and “On Writing” by Stephen King. If you are a “workshopper,” I might also recommend the book that goes along with the workshop that I HIGHLY recommend, STORY by Robert McKee. If, like me, you thrive in communities of learners, find out what classes might be available at your local community college or what film organizations exist in your town. STORY changed my life. After that, in those early years, I subsequently attended numerous screenwriting classes and workshops, then went on to take production, directing, and acting classes so that I could understand the full scope of this industry I had hoped to find a lasting career in. It changed my life. If possible, get a good mentor. As a poet, I was BLESSED to be a part of writing communities like VONA, Cave Canem, The Austin Project, and Poetry for the People where, in the company of highly regarded mentors, I was able to hone my craft and my humanity by observing and creating art that ultimately (and forever) enriched my life. By the time I listened to the advice of Stacey Evans Morgan (my mentor whom I credit for the inspiration for my entry into my now beloved screenwriting), I knew to seek out communities of people who were committed to the same journey; communities where camaraderie trumps competition and love trumps EVERYTHING. Finally, allow yourself the space to celebrate success at every level and mourn the inevitability of failures. Take risks. Fail forward. The joy and the pain will come and go. Your job, devoted screenwriter, is to keep writing, no matter what. What projects are you working on now? I recently completed a pilot for a project out of Chicago that is currently in pre-production. I also recently began working for an Oakland-based Black youth organization to write a couple of projects, the first of which is an animated series. Regarding my personal projects - the way my brain works - ideas are constantly clamoring for my attention. The ones that come through most intensely win. A couple of months ago, I woke up with an inspired thought. I am working on the first draft of it and collaborating with a partner to write it. It is, in fact, one of the best ideas I have EVER had. (I say this about every project baby; call each my favorite. Don’t tell this one.) You live and teach in Oakland. What are your go-to spots for creative inspiration? Being in movie theaters is my happy place to become inspired again and again. I LOVE catching a film at The Grand Lake Theater or The New Parkway Theater. I also love walking along the shops on Lakeshore, dancing at live music events or any gig where my drummer-singer husband plays, rollerskating at the Brooklyn Basin, and hanging out anywhere in or around the Embarcadero/Jack London Square. What music is setting the vibe for a chill Sunday morning at home? Donnie Hathaway (my October 1st birthday-mate), Lalah Hathaway, Gregory Porter, and H.E.R. If you are introducing yourself to someone through food, what’s on the menu? A Jamaican beef patty and a brilliantly tossed green salad with grilled prawns as appetizers, Thai curry chicken and veggies over rice entree, and a dark chocolate truffle OR a finely cut slice of tiramisu for dessert with a cup of oat-milk splashed rich dark roast coffee. How can people support you? Follow me on social media. Root for me and say my name. Come to readings when I have them or am featured. Watch my films when I make them. Keep kind words on your lips about me and speak them to the ancestors to guide me. Name another Black woman writer people should follow. Nijla Mumin - Nijla is hella dope. She makes courage look effortless. ### 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. TORCH has featured work by Toi Derricotte, Tayari Jones, Sharon Bridgforth, Crystal Wilkinson, Patricia Smith, Natasha Trethewey, Elizabeth Alexander, and others. Programs include the Wildfire Reading Series, writing workshops, and retreats. Help TORCH continue to publish and promote Black women writers by donating today.

We are thrilled to announce that Torch Literary Arts is the recipient of a Spring 2023 Equity in Verse grant from the Poetry Foundation! These vital unrestricted funds will help Torch grow and continue to amplify, support, and pay Black women writers. During this grant cycle, The Poetry Foundation awarded 55 nonprofit organizations over $1,600,000 in funding to increase access to poetry and support poets through providing publications, educational activities, festivals, writing workshops, residencies, and more. Congratulations to all of the organizations awarded and thank you for enriching the lives of writers and the literary community as a whole. Click here to learn more. ### 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. TORCH has featured work by Toi Derricotte, Tayari Jones, Sharon Bridgforth, Crystal Wilkinson, Patricia Smith, Natasha Trethewey, Elizabeth Alexander, and others. Programs include the Wildfire Reading Series, writing workshops, and retreats. Help TORCH continue to publish and promote Black women writers by donating today.

A place for adult BIPOC womxn and non-binary writers to come together on a biweekly basis. Torch Literary Arts is proud to announce the launch of the Torch Writing Circle! Torch is dedicated to amplifying Black women writers and growing a diverse literary community in Central Texas and beyond. We invite BIPOC womxn and non-binary writers to join us in person and virtually at this biweekly gathering for dedicated writing time to nurture their creative practice. Participants can expect to meet other writers, set individual writing goals, have one hour of quiet writing time, and a closing reflection. A writing prompt by a Black woman writer will be available for those who'd like some inspiration to get started. The circle is free, but donations are encouraged if you are able to support Torch. Please RSVP on our sign-up form here. Questions? Email: contact @ torchliteraryarts.org 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. TORCH has featured work by Toi Derricotte, Tayari Jones, Sharon Bridgforth, Crystal Wilkinson, Patricia Smith, Natasha Trethewey, Elizabeth Alexander, and others. Programs include the Wildfire Reading Series, writing workshops, and retreats. Help TORCH continue to publish and promote Black women writers by donating today.

Blanton New Grounds: Grand Opening Celebration, May 13, 2023 Torch Literary Arts joins the Blanton Museum of Art for the grand opening of the new outdoor Moody Patio & Grounds. Enjoy live music and remarks by special guests on the new Moody Patio, an art experience designed by the Haas Brothers, plus explore the new art, architecture, and gardens throughout the grounds. Self-guided family activities will also be available. The event will also kick off our new operating hours, which include staying open till 8 p.m. on Saturdays. 4 - 5 pm: Torch will curate a reading by Texas writers in the museum’s Meredith Lounge on the second floor. Limited seating; first come, first served. Click here for ticket information and to RSVP to attend. Featuring Originally from South Central Los Angeles, Eva Margarita is an Afro-Latinx performance artist and scholar. Her performance works explore ritual and grief while her critical writings explore race and the census. As an artist, Eva Margarita is concerned with grief and wake work that allows us to accompany, blur lines, and spill all over each other. Her work is guided by the principle that the rituals of everyday life offer a way of existing that acknowledges familial, scholarly, and spiritual methods of becoming. She is currently a Phd Candidate at UT Austin and a Board Director at The VORTEX Repertory. jo reyes-boitel is a poet, playwright, and scholar, queer mixed Latinx, and parent now working on their MFA in Creative Writing at the University of Texas – Rio Grande Valley, where they also serve as a teaching assistant. Their publications include Michael + Josephine (FlowerSong Press, 2019) and the chapbook mouth (Neon Hemlock, 2021). Playing with fire, their book of poetry centered on their upbringing, is forthcoming from Next Page Press in November 2023. Icess Fernandez is an educator, writer, podcaster, and former journalist. She is a graduate of Goddard College’s MFA program and the University of Houston. Her work has been internationally published in Queen Mobs Lit Journal, Poetry 24, Rabble Lit, Minerva Rising Literary Journal, and the Feminine Collective’s anthology Notes from Humanity. Her Houston-based story, “Happy Hunting”, was recently published in the Houston Noir anthology. Her podcast, Dear Reader, is based on the popular blog of the same name. Her nonfiction/memoir work has appeared in Dear Hope, NBCNews.com, HuffPost, and the Guardian. She is a recipient of the Owl of Minerva Award, a VONA/Voices of Our Nation Arts Foundation alum, a Dos Brujas Workshop alum, and a Kimbilio Fellow. She’s currently working on her first novel and finishing her memoir, Problematic. Jennine “DOC” Krueger is a mother, writer, artivist, public speaker, and educator in Austin, Texas. She has competed in world, national, and local slam poetry competitions. She holds four titles including being a member of the Killeen Poetry Slam which placed 2nd overall in the nation in 2012 and Neo Soul Poetry Slam placing 1st in group piece finals in 2013. Jennine was the 2015 season slam champ for Austin’s Neo Soul and has now coached several national teams for Austin Poetry Slam. Her poetry and dramatic works have been published in Santa Fe Literary Review, and the Sierra Nevada Review as a winner in the Brian Turner Literary Arts Prize, and her dramatic work has won Best of Fest five times in Austin’s Frontera Festival. She is now a tenured Associate Professor in the Department of English at Huston-Tillotson University with an M.Ed. from Concordia University and an MFA in poetry from Spalding University. Her current role at HT is the Inaugural Presidential Fellow for Student Engagement and Retention and she is an Emerging Teaching Artist Fellow through Mindpop and the City of Austin. Her scholarship has led her to discuss culture and comics at the National Pop Culture Conference, Wizard World’s Comic Con, virtually in the 2020 SXSWEdu conference on Teaching for Social Justice with Comics, and The Cosplay Poetry Slam at SanJapan 2021 in San Antonio Texas. Her writing has a vast range across politics, race and identity as well as across genres with children’s literature and a hip-hop musical retelling of Sir Gawain and the Green Knight (currently in development through Theatre Now New York’s National Musical Lab). Her research interests are in spoken word performance, medieval literature translations into hip-hop, social and restorative justice, and marginalized heroes in comic books and graphic novels. She is developing an anime screenplay pilot Ars Poetica that focuses on poetry and mental health. 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. TORCH has featured work by Toi Derricotte, Tayari Jones, Sharon Bridgforth, Crystal Wilkinson, Patricia Smith, Natasha Trethewey, Elizabeth Alexander, and others. Programs include the Wildfire Reading Series, writing workshops, and retreats. Help TORCH continue to publish and promote Black women writers by donating today.

Jennifer Price is a Chicago born African American mother, poet, visual artist, and librarian rooted in Macon, Georgia. Jennifer has the honor of being a member of Obsidian Literature & Arts’ inaugural O|Sessions Black Listening cohort, and she is a Teaching Artist in training through the NYC Community-Word Project. Her writing is published in the up//root collective, and publication of her collage artwork is forthcoming from the Kolaj Institute. As a creative, Jennifer leans into themes of motherhood, loss, and place and their bearing on the contingencies held within the Black woman’s identity. Follow her online on Instagram and Twitter. That’s Not Poison Ivy It’s Virginia creeper, you tell the neighbor woman. Now, go! Go forth in freedom—I have liberated you from a lifetime of believing Black folks can’t identify plants! you want to bellow to her back when her daughter’s Yorkie has yanked her paces away from your yard work. Your boy is up on the front porch chalking the cement floor, the white flies have wafted away—they are ruining someone else’s gardenia leaves with their dark paste. When you come in for water, he doesn’t see you watch him through the tall window. He’s aiming the nozzle of the insect repellent at his own face, accidentally. You don’t rush out to stop him. The sun is high and drying the grass clippings according to your plan. You and the boy are together, everything is perfect. ### 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. TORCH has featured work by Toi Derricotte, Tayari Jones, Sharon Bridgforth, Crystal Wilkinson, Patricia Smith, Natasha Trethewey, Elizabeth Alexander, and others. Programs include the Wildfire Reading Series, writing workshops, and retreats. Help TORCH continue to publish and promote Black women writers by donating today.

Born and raised in Detroit, Cieara Estelle is a writer whose stories mostly focus on multigenerational relationships, Black urban living, and womanhood. Her work has been awarded by the University and Michigan Dearborn and published in Ambassador Magazine and The Michigan Chronicle. Follow her on Instagram. Family Portrait Peaches takes portraits in her grandmother’s seafoam green living room for thirty-two dollars, so my mama hyped up her skills around the house for weeks, saying how she’s the best photographer in the neighborhood. On the walk down to Peaches’ grandmother’s house, mama’s patent leather heels clicked like little cymbals on the sidewalk as she kept talking about how Peaches could even make Don King look good on camera, that the girl was at the top of her class at the College for Creative Studies, that we should feel lucky we lived so close to such a talent. But we all know we wouldn’t have ended up in front of that worn-down wallpaper but Peaches wanted us to pretend was the “perfect neutral backdrop” if it weren’t for the price. The night before, I got up to get a cup of water and I overheard my daddy tell my mama he wasn’t paying for pictures, especially since we all basically looked the same in the ones we took a year ago except for Mel who may have grown an inch or two. So I guess mama was footing the bill, which was a stretch for mama, with her one-day-a-week job at the cleaners. Family pictures right before Thanksgiving has been a long-standing tradition for us. Dex said mama does it to show her family in Georgia, all is still well with her in Detroit and she’s not in a homeless shelter like so many said she would be when she decided to marry my dad and move up north. Not only that but she’s adamant about getting the pictures in the mail by the end of November, I told her it would be easier to just post them on Facebook, but she said posting pictures to a bunch of strangers versus sending tangible cards in the mail is two totally different things and I should know that. I mean I did know that, but I also didn’t see what the big deal was. Dex stood next to me with a smirk while humming the Jeopardy countdown tune as Peaches struggled with her tripod. “Can you stop?” she said to him, hunched over the camera, her watermelon breast covering the lens. “Dexter!” Mama shouted as she swatted his chest with the back of her hand. Mama was in her Sunday Best. A navy-blue ankle-length dress with a rhinestone collar, soft curls pinned up with swoops on both sides. The rest of us looked like her background singers. Dad in his too-tight brown corduroy suit, Dex in his baby blue button-down shirt and matching striped tie, Mel in her yellow tulle dress and Girl Scout sash draped across her small frame that she cried all morning begging to wear, and me in an itchy turquoise polyester jumper Grandma Pat gave the year before for my birthday. Peaches looked up from the camera and smiled with her tiny chicklet teeth. “Y’all looking like the ocean,” she said. “All the shades of blue and browns. Except for little mama there in yellow,” she pointed to Mel who stood in the center of everyone. “She looks like a princess sun,'' Mel laughed and pulled on her sash, making the sewn-on patches slide from her chest to back. I shook my head because even though I wasn’t sure if a princess sun was an actual thing or not, Peaches was spot on, pointing Mel out as the spoiled, get-whatever-she-wanted one in the family. “Is the yellow going to throw the picture off? I told her to wear a brown dress, but you know how kids are these days. Always got ideas of their own,” Mama said, arms wrapped across Mel as if she was prepared to eclipse the sun with her own brown arms. From what I could tell Peaches didn’t like kids at all, the only time I saw her talking to any was when she was yelling through the screen door telling them to stop popping wheelies on her lawn. But she smiled and winked at Mel and said, “ A little sun never ruined a show,” Peaches must have needed the money bad. Ms. Pauline, Peaches’ grandma, walked into the living room carrying an oversized mug that said JAW, Jesus Always Wins. She didn’t look at us or Peaches. Her burgundy sweatsuit had a bleach stain on the back of her pants that made her butt look like it was on fire. “When you gonna be done in here?” she asked as she set her mug on an end table and picked up the remote. I nudged Dex in the ribs trying to point out her butt stain but he was fixated on Peaches breasts that were still spilling over the lens. “Okay, I got it yall, stand close together,” Peaches said to us. “Girl you hear me? Don’t make me embarrass you in front of your company,” “These are my clients grandma, and just a few more minutes please,” Ms. Pauline huffed and looked over her shoulder. “Oh I didn’t even see you there Ronetta,” she said to my mother. “Peaches be having some of everybody up in here. I thought it was just one of her little friends,” Ms. Pauline and my mom were on the Sunday School committee at church together and played Bingo every other Friday. “You're fine, Pauline. I’m sorry we just wanted to get some pictures done. We can leave if it’s not a good time,” “Oh girl, don’t mind me. I just wanted to watch CNN before I start making dinner,” “Grandma ain’t nothing going to change. They voted Trump in there, might as well accept it,” “Hush child, I don’t care about that raggedy election,” Peaches nodded without looking in Ms. Pauline’s direction and I hoped their talk wouldn’t rile up daddy. “All I know is Trump is about to set black people back forty years flat!” he said, with enough bass in his voice to shake the living room. “You ain’t lying,” Ms. Pauline said, she leaned back in her LAY-Z boy; the chair groaned like it was already tired of her. Peaches angled her body away from her grandma and rolled her eyes and all I could wonder was when the pictures would be taken because I didn’t put any lotion on my legs and they were screaming from the tights rubbing up against them. “Okay, we’re ready. Stand close together and say Cheese!” We sang the word in unison and her camera flashed over and over. “Okay that’s good, we got some good ones,” “You sure? Is that it?’ “Yes, you got the thirty-two-dollar package right? That’s only one pose,” “Oh,” my mom said in a way that made me feel sorry for her. My dad put his coat on as soon as Peaches said we were done, Mel was at the door behind him and Dex’s eyes were glued to the TV. “I got you, Ronetta don’t worry y'all looking a billion bucks,” “Ronetta? Girl, she old enough to be your mama. Go to college and get beside yourself” Ms. Pauline barked toward her granddaughter, never taking her eyes off the screen. “Ms. Ronetta, I’m sorry,” “You alright sweetie, calling me Ms. anything just makes me feel old. So, when can I expect the pictures?” “Oh give me a day and I’ll send it by email,” My mom looked at me and I already knew what she was going to say. “And you’ll help me figure out how to get it printed right Tatum?” “Yeah mama, you know I will,” “Okay well, I guess we’re finished here. Thank you Peaches. I can't wait to see how they turn out. See you, Pauline,” Ms. Pauline waved as she took a sip from the mug. Mama’s mouth was fixed in a tiny smile, her eyes were relaxed, and her steps light as she moved toward the door. Mama didn’t ask for much, but this annual tradition made her happier than any cheap piece of jewelry or bottle of perfume we could give her, so I was happy to see her happy. It made the annoyance of dressing up on a Saturday and walking down to Peaches for some living room pictures worth it. ### 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. TORCH has featured work by Toi Derricotte, Tayari Jones, Sharon Bridgforth, Crystal Wilkinson, Patricia Smith, Natasha Trethewey, Elizabeth Alexander, and others. Programs include the Wildfire Reading Series, writing workshops, and retreats. Help TORCH continue to publish and promote Black women writers by donating today.

Black Mamas ATX and Torch Literary Arts organized a poetry night in recognition of Black Maternal Health Week and in celebration of National Poetry Month. by: Eniola Longe, Apr 14, 2023 AUSTIN (KXAN) — Black Mamas ATX and Torch Literary Arts organized a poetry night in recognition of Black Maternal Health Week and in celebration of National Poetry Month. ‘Breaking Water: An evening of poetry and storytelling’ was inspired by Wangechi Mutu’s Water Woman, and spoke to Black women’s physical and mythical connection to water, specifically during and around the process of childbirth. ‘Breaking Water’ highlighted the power of art to raise awareness and called others to choose change. Tova Charles, Jennine ‘Doc’ Krueger, and Qi Dada of Riders Against the Storm shared original poetry along with birth storytellers from Black Mamas ATX. Torch Literary Arts’ mission to “promote the work of Black women by publishing and promoting creative writing by emerging and experienced writers alike” aligns with Black Mamas ATX’s goal to reduce and ultimately eliminate the alarming maternal mortality and morbidity rates among Black women. Keep Reading Black Mamas ATX’s goal is to reduce and ultimately eliminate the alarming maternal mortality and morbidity rates among Black women. Through programs, increased awareness, training, outreach, and research, Black Mamas ATX is leading the charge in Central Texas to help Black mothers get the education and access to resources needed to have healthy pregnancies and birthing experiences. 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. TORCH has featured work by Toi Derricotte, Tayari Jones, Sharon Bridgforth, Crystal Wilkinson, Patricia Smith, Natasha Trethewey, Elizabeth Alexander, and others. Programs include the Wildfire Reading Series, writing workshops, and retreats. Help TORCH continue to publish and promote Black women writers by donating today.