Interview: Madi Vordenbaum
Photos: Ambre Amari
Hey Jahman and Eric, talk to me about what drew you to poetry as an art form.
E: I was always writing, I found journals some of my oldest journals and they were from back in first grade I was writing poems about Santa Claus and animals. I had never performed my poetry out loud until high school though. I was president of the theater society and they wanted us to unlock the theater to film a poetry workshop, shout out to Sharrif Simmons he was the first slam poet I ever met. He came to my school for the workshop, I was sitting in the back with a camera and I asked if I could write a poem too and he said yes. I had been filming everyone perform then when started to pack up the camera my teacher, Mrs. Latham, said, “Eric didn’t you write a poem?” She encouraged me to perform my poem so I got up and read it. Afterward, Sharrif came up to me and asked if this was my first time writing poetry and I told him it was my first time reading it out loud. He told me I need to start working with Real Life Poets at the Birmingham Public Library they’ve got workshops on the weekends. That’s where I got started. The Real Life Poets showed me about not just poetry but activism,and what it means to do work in a community. They taught me what it means to show up and support. I took that experience to college where I met Jahaman. This was 2014, we were staying up all night writing. It’s been love ever since then.
J: It’s cool to hear your story about how you got into writing because my story, in terms of poetry, starts with Eric. When he mentions going to college in 2014, that’s where my career as a poet begins. I had written poetry before that, but I didn’t call it poetry at the time. As a kid, I wanted to either rap or go to the league. My best friend at the time, Domonique, had our own rap group called Big D and Lil J. We would rap together and I loved to freestyle. Then I met Eric, one day we were walking together and I freestyle the whole walk. He was like you should try writing poems and I was just like I guess I will. That’s how it all kicked off for me.
After that, I started doing poetry on campus at different events. I got involved with the “We Are Done” organization which was working to change the name the names of buildings at the university, open the office of Diversity Equity and Inclusion, a lot of additional work that has now been rolled back due to SB129. A lot of the work I did while in that organization was performing poetry at marches. That’s where I really got started performing poetry. Even now, a lot of my poems deal with activism, talking about Black history, explaining the Black experience, and addressing different issues of racism and how they exist and function. That’s how Jahman the poet came to be.
So Jahman the rapper, the musician, came first?
J: Yes. Yes.
Eric, you’re a rapper too. What came first?
E: I was poetry first, then I started rapping. I wrote my first verse when I was 13. I was so excited I shared it with my family, I had this line: You might as well limp away like a baby calf ’cause I got skills you could never have.
When they heard that they were on the floor laughing, and they laughed at me so hard I didn’t write another verse until I moved to New York after college.
J: No, we wrote some raps for GloRilla.
E: Yeah yeah! I didn’t start taking rap seriously again until I moved to New York City. I realized I didn’t want to be an actor after four years of college and moving across the country and then I’d stay up all night going to open mics. I met up with some producers, shoutout to Eighty 8 Ty he really took me under his wing and showed me how the process worked. I’ve been singing and songwriting ever since then.
How long have you been acting?
E: Let my mom tell it since I was about three. I remember the first play I ever saw was The Wizard of Oz at the Alabama Theatre. I got so scared we had to leave but I remember seeing it and thinking “I can do that.” I was always trying to get on stage, I was very dramatic. My mom called us hams, I was always hamming it up. I really dove into acting in high school. Before that, I was like Jahman obsessed with going to the NFL. I thought I was gonna hit a growth spurt be 6”6’ and play tight end, but that didn’t happen and I ended up trying out for a musical. I got the lead part, Lamar in Godspell.
Something yall have touched on is how you’ve both blended activism into being an artist and how you can’t separate activism from your art now. I was curious, what came first for yall in life, the artist or the organizer?
J:It was organizer first for me. I saw the 1999 film Panther about Black Panther Party and was like, “Yeah these cats, Huey P. Newton and Bobby Seale, in the Bay Area of California there is something important about what they are doing.” That’s when the activist in me was born.
My parents were always big on making sure we were aware of our history, our struggle. I grew up on a fort so it was very multicultural until fifth grade when we moved to Larned, Kansas which is tiny town of about 3,000. But before that, in Fort Leavenworth, I went to Eisenhower Elementary, I saw so many diffenent cultures. Then in Larned I was one of two or three Black kids in my class I didn’t have the words for it yet but I was learning how to deal with systems of racism on a middle school level. Because on a middle school level its stereotypes, and questions that seem innocent until you grow older and see the paths and trajectory they’re informed by. I remember in high school I wanted to try out for the tennis team and they told me, “No you should try out for track you’d be good at it.” And I was like “Ok, well I’ll do both.” These microaggressions that you think don’t mean anything, have subtle impacts that can change the trajectory of people’s lives.
In 2007 – 2008 with the election of Obama, my parents had me going up saying his speech in church and different events. While I was doing the music the
activism piece was always relevant and consistent in my life.
E: I’m learning so much about you. Art was for me for sure. Both of my parents are artists. My dad he draws and paints. My mom can do anything, she’s so crafty. She’s a genius. They didn’t get to have the greatest childhoods so with me, my brother, and my sister they didn’t want to stop us from doing anything. Whatever we wanted to try they were all about it. I’ve sung in the choir my whole life. I’ve done every job you could possibly do in a church. Both Jahman and I probably have. His dad is a minister and my mom is a minister. So yeah, growing up in the church and doing plays and speeches. Public speaking has always been a thing for me. I played guitar. They never stopped pushing us to do what we wanted to do.
Like I said, I thought I was going to the NFL and when I found theater they were just like “Ok we’re not football parents anymore. We’re theater parents.” My sister and my brother also did theater so we were in plays together at different times which was cool. When it came time for college and I said I was going to be an actor, my mom couldn’t breathe for a second. She was like “Oh no, oh no.” then she thought about it for a second and was like “Ok son if you really want to do it I’ll support you.” I got an acting scholarship and joined the speech and debate team, which is where I met Jahman. Speech and debate, more than the theater department, honed my skill as a performer.
Art has always been a huge part of my life, if I couldn’t create I don’t know where I’d be. I was the type of kid who always had something to say and was curious and loud. People didn’t take that well, they weren’t trying to understand where I was coming from. They’d always react violently. Art was a way for me to figure out what I was trying to say and put my heart into it. This is the place where I am free, there’s no judgment. I’m gonna do that forever.
How has growing up in the church with ministers shaped you as a performer?
E: Public speaking engagements and the choir as I mentioned. I wasn’t good back then, but it got me up and performing. My mom was very “I’m not gonna force anything on you, but you’re coming to church until you’re 18.”
It was my first foray into organizing, that’s where I got into planning events. My mom is a wedding planner and event planner as well, I’ve done every job you can think of in event planning too. That started at church, it was the first place where I learned about community. Faith is a big part of life and spirituality. The older I get the more I see how God is playing a part in my life. I’m not in the church as often as I was back then, but I see God more than I ever did in the church unfortunately.
J: When I think about church and how it shaped me as a performer, as a human being too, I think about the idea of celebrity. My dad was a pastor of every church I’ve been and with him being the lead pastor I am always a member of the “first family” of the church. So there is a certain amount of publicity that I’ve always assumed. Whatever I have to say; my thoughts, my ideas, and my work is going to be viewed by the general public and they are not only emblematic of me they’re emblematic of the group I’m associated with. When I started creating art it was very much a public thing, my very first artistic experssions were rapping in the church performing in front of everybody.
What I’m learning now is that you can create art that isn’t for the public eye. All the art I’d created previously was to be shared and to be judged and to be reviewed. One of the benefits of that is now I’m used to it, what others feel about my art doesn’t have as big an impact on me now. I’ve been in spaces where I put together a poem I really like and did it at a poetry slam and got a low score and it’s okay, I’ve done that. I’m used to sharing my art.
Eric mentioned faith, faith has been a part of my art from the beginning. You’re hard-pressed to find a piece of my art of music without a faith element in some way, shape, or form.
I love that you’ve brought up that fear of sharing art that you’ve got to overcome to be an artist. That experience of being excited about a piece of work that then gets a low score at a slam or isn’t received well can feel so paralyzing. I’d like to read a quote by Audre Lorde on fear and hear y’all’s thoughts on it. How does it relate to you as Black men, vocal artists, and political organizers? This is from the poem “A Litany for Survival”
“When we speak we are afraid our words will not be heard nor welcomed, but when we are silent we are still afraid. So it is better to speak remembering we were never meant to survive”
J: It is better to speak remembering we were never meant to survive. That’s something that speaks to resilience. A lot of time I think of the role that resilience plays in the idea of The Flourish. We are founded on the idea that Black people are infinitely possible beings. That simply by existing we are enough. Our existence is proof that we can do and overcome anything. When Audre says, “It is better to speak remembering we were never meant to survive,” I think back to that idea. We were never meant to survive so simply existing is an act of resistance. Creating is an act of resistance. Like she said, when you’re silent it’s not like the fear goes away. So face it head-on and see what happens. Those are my first thoughts.
E: For me, I think about my journey with mental health. I’ve had a lot of issues where a lot of time could’ve been taken back if I could have opened my mouth. There were all these things my mind was telling me that reality wasn’t reflecting, it was incomplete information in my mind. Once I finally was able to speak in a safe space free of judgment I was healed. I was accepted and found connection. That’s the most important part of art and life. You are living, you are going through what you’re going through so that you have a story to tell somebody who is going through the same thing. They can’t learn unless you open your mouth and talk about what you’ve been through. The only way you’re gonna help somebody make it out of the same thing is if you can speak about your experience. That’s the main thing that comes to mind for me is that opportunity for connection.
The phrase “Black people are infinitely possible beings” is central to The Flourish’s philosophy. How does this belief shape the programs and partnerships you prioritize?
J: The theory of The Flourish started back in graduate school I didn’t want to write a paper so I decided to make a one-man show instead, they said that was cool but I still had to write the paper it just didn’t have to be as long. I had been working in Northport with The Brown House community which was primarily single-parent households. We’d go and do poetry workshops with them through our organization ASAP, Alabama Student Association for Poetry, I’d ask the kids what it meant to be Black. All of their answers were negative. How they associated their Blackness was: “It means people don’t like us” or “We were slaves.” All of their ideas of Blackness had negative connotations. We wanted to flip that on its head, what if to be Black means to be infinitely possible? That’s where the theory came from. When Eric,was the lead director, and I started working on the one-man show the theory grew as we built out the script.
We would spend hours at the crib mapping out this show, Black Enough, and how we could showcase this idea of infinite possibility. It became the crux of the show and we ended up traveling off-Broadway. One of our other directors Alexis suggested we showcase artists before the show, we named that showcase The Flourish. Then we came back to Birmingham Eric, I’ll let you take it from here.
E: It was a crazy ride. With the one-man show hearing him talk about and live this philosophy was beautiful. We got to Birmingham and the Real Life Poets invited me to perform at their 10-year anniversary at the Birmingham Museum of Art. After my performance, I met this man named Lyod who asked if I wanted to create an artist series at The Freedom House a spot off 1st Ave in Avondale. When I walked in to check it out I knew it was perfect. I was trying to think of a name for the artist series and everything I was coming up with was derivative. Then it hit me, The Flourish at The Freedom House this is perfect. From there I reached out to Jahman, to ask him about the idea. I didn’t want to copy his project but I knew it’d be perfect. Jahman was the first person to perform on the stage that night to a packed-out house. Packed out, standing room only. It was so hot.
From there, I had a connection to Birmingham. Jahman had been working up north in Baltimore learning the nonprofit game from people who’d been doing it for years. So I had the network and Jahman had the know-how and we said “Yo, it’s finally time to do what we talked about in college and put together an organization for the kids.”
As the years have gone by, in the last five years the importance of the work we are doing is more evident than ever. Especially with the way the country is going. These Black kids need to know that there are other possibilities for them besides jail, death, or becoming an athlete. There are so many more options. What we have to do is fight for these kids. We have kids in elementary school who aren’t talking about dragons and castles their asking what they’re going to eat later, how they don’t have any shoes. We have to create spaces where these kids can dream again. That’s what it’s all about.
J: That’s what it’s all about.
It’s impossible, I’d even say irresponsible, to talk about poetry in Birmingham without talking about Brian “Voice Porter” Hawkins. Can you tell me how his work and the work of his peers have inspired or impacted The Flourish?
J: One of the biggest reasons I moved to Birmingham was Voice Porter. When it came to poetry slams and how I got into poetry once Eric encouraged me to write poems was through poetry slams. I heard about this event in Birmingham called Bards & Brews while I was living in Tuscaloosa. I drove up to my first Bards & Brews in October, it was for the Read, Drink, Eat, Write slam. I didn’t know that you were supposed to do poems about food because I’d never really done slams before. I went up the first round I thought I did really well. When I got off the stage Voice pulled me to the side said, “Hey man, you did a really good job. You got a good score. Your first poem is supposed to be about food. It’s okay, it’s your first time here. I really enjoy your work, we might dedudct a point but we’ll keep you in because I want to hear more of your work.”
That was the first slam I ever won. That Read, Drink, Eat, Write Slam. Bards & Brews still does that slam every year. I came back for an event called On Stage at the Carver, and I was late – as I always am- so I didn’t think I’d make it on the open mic list. Voice remembered me and let me get on stage. It was the first time someone remembered me for my poetry. I felt like there was a home for me in Birmingham, that was cultivated by Voice. When I moved here we stayed connected and he became my mentor. We would always be at Bard & Brews, every first Friday I knew I would be at Bard & Brews. He really created a space for poetry and poetry slams in the city for adults.
E: Brian ran in the same circle as the Real Life Poets, which was founded by Patrick Johnson and John Paul. Patrick and his crew Red Light District created the hip hop scene in Birmingham. Then John Paul has always been politcally active, organizing, and wanting to help the kids. They got together with Yogi Dada, Sharrif Simmons and they would host poetry workshops on the weekends. They took me under their wing when I was sixteen and I’ve taken what they’ve taught me with me everywhere since. Now, I’ve brought it back here. We call them our OGs our progenetors.
J: It’s cool hearing Eric talk about Real Life Poets because now we are doing Word Up which they started and Voice was a part of. For me, we are here in Ensley because of Voice. He’s from Ensley and he was a big part of why I am here now. The last time we talked, he mentioned that Ensley would be a great place for the Black Arts District I’d been wanting to create. So when he passed, I asked myself what I could do to continue his legacy and continue building on the groundwork he laid. Building in Ensley became that mission.
Tell me about this space. When did this transform into The Greenhouse?
E: We have been in this space since October 2022, that’s when it became The Greenhouse. Way back it was a barber shop, I used to get my hair cute here.
J: It’s been so many things! It was once a theatre, a church for a short time. One of our producers started his music career here when he was younger. This building has gone through a lot of different iterations. That photo is of the building when it was originally built, it was named the Knapp building. It’s cool to hear the different memories they have associated with this space.
What’s your dream for this space? And for this neighborhood?
J: A space for community, a one stop shop for equity. When we think about arts we often don’t think about how impactful the arts are economically. Look at The Greenhouse for example, we host ten High Teas a year. Each High Tea features two artists, has an open mic of at least five people, every show has videographer, a photographer, someone is running sound, and these are jobs. We pay twenty artists a year off of that event alone. When we think about the community impact we talk about this mindset of “Oh nobody comes out to Ensley,” we brought over two thousand people here in the last year for events. Will people come to Ensley to watch people make music? Yes. Will people come to Ensley to see artists perform poetry? Yes. To see an artist dance? Yes. To see art? Yes. We’ve been able to prove that and change people’s perspective.
Another thing about The Greenhouse specifically is we don’t just host traditional art events. We host healing art events through yoga, we have a monthly yoga class and mental health sessions here. We hosted self defense classes, business classes on how to form your LLC. You are able to come to the arts district and learn how to build a business, how to build a brand, how to build yourself. That’s the crux of the Black Arts District, it’s a space where we can empower people to see their infinite possibility.
E: It’s crazy to me that Birmingham doesn’t already have a Black Arts District with all the Black Artists who have changed the culture forever who have come through and grew up in this city is maddening. I’m so glad that Jahman had the impetus for this and took it upon himself to create this vision. He’s got us as a team but he is definitely the driving force. He’s got a few grants already and is putting together a documentary, it’s going to be beautiful.
What are some standout moments from your work with Birmingham’s youth?
E: Our very first class.
J: What a day, what a day.
E: We were helping Ms. Lockhart’s class at Ramsay High School, Charles who is our office manager now was a student then. The model works! We got connected with Ms. Lockhart through our work with Alicia Johnson-Williams, we met with Ms. Lockhart to talk about what her students were into and what she’d like to see in an arts program. We wanted to tailor the program to what they were learning in the classroom. Our first day of class was fantabulous, the classroom was a dance studio with a mirror wall and hardwood floors. We got to spread out the kids got to write and stand up to perform in front of each other. We’ve been working with Ramsay ever since.
We had two in person classes and then COVID hit and shut everything down. But we kept doing work over Zoom, we were pretty proficient at Zoom by that time. We were one of the few organizations who was able to push through the pandemic by doing workshops via Zoom. That time period really showed us the work, we got to see the beautiful amazing side of it and the hard, tough trade of it as well. We didn’t quit, if anything it made us want to work harder.I remember Jahman and I had a real talk conversation about how we wouldn’t be seeing any money for a minute but there were more important things to worry about, we had to show up and do the work.
For the last two years we have been working with Ross-Bell Jefferson County Youth Detention Center as a way to ensure when they get out they have a job and a creative outlet as well. The first year we were working with them on music primarily through our summer camp. We have a teaching artist go into the detention center and help them make music and do design work. They are creating a calendar they’ll be able to sell and make money from those sales. We are in the process of setting up ongoing programming throughout the year. The kids are already fantastic, they just need some love and an outlet.
J: When I think about stories and standouts, Eric did a great job talking about the overall big picture so I’ll give some individual examples. Of course, Charles was a part of our first program which was four or five years ago. It’s incredible to have him from working us in that one program and then he reached out to us for an internship. He is the heart of The Flourish, the nexus, everything in terms of operations runs through him. He’s the glue. So to see how he has gone from student to coworker by the age of 21 is crazy. We went to the bank the other day and he drove and deposited the checks, I just sat in the car like a proud parent. It’s really cool to see his growth.
Another story would be Anisha, who won WordUp a couple of years ago. Recently, I was at the University of Montevallo and a student ran up to me and it was her. After she won WordUp, she told us she had switched her career path to creative writing and we were able to connect her to a recent Montevallo who shared their experience. Now she is there working toward a double major, one is creative writing. It was awesome to randomly be there and see a former student at college figuring out that part of life, she was excited to come back and work with The Flourish in the summers.
Another standout is Jacob. Jacob was a part of the very first program when I got here. What’s so special about that first group of kids I worked with before The Flourish was even officially The Flourish, those four kids are now all off doing amazing stuff in the world. Jacob works for The Flourish and we’ve been able to see him get his first apartment with the help of money he’s been made as a teaching artist for our organization. He’s been able to buy his first car, those are really cool things to be able to say we helped this man write poems when he was in high school. Now, we’re able to say we’ve helped him get his first apartment and his first car to help him fill out job applications. Stories like that where we can see the growth of the students we’ve worked with are really fun to witness. To watch them go from student to adult then to provide jobs and have them work with us, to see that impact is wild.
That is so awesome, it’s proof of the thesis. The model works!
J: Real Life Poets man, I want to highlight them again really quick. A lot of times we will get discourage by how many people are coming to workshops, as artists it becomes so easy to be like “man I tried to do this thing wanted all these people to come and only a couple of people showed up.” It makes me think of Real Life Poets. Eric, you were going there on the weekends, and the impact that has had on you. Now look at the work you are doing through ArtsCollab and The Flourish, it started with Real Life Poets. You reach one person and you never know the exponential that will grow to be. All of the kids we reach are the direct result of the work Real Life Poets did back then.
This leads me to my final question, what does success look like for The Flourish?
J: What do you think E, I’m gonna let you start.
E: Success looks like Charles. Success looks like Griselda. Success looks like our students who are off at college. Success looks like WordUp the city-wide poetry slam coming back for its fourth year. Being able to be a community hub for all these people and to give them a space where they can come truly be themselves is what success is. Getting students and teachers to work together to paint a mural is what success is. Being able to keep the lights on. I want the same thing that happened to me to happen to somebody else. Come in and their lives get changed in ways they don’t even realize until their older. I liken my life a lot to The Alchemist by Paulo Coelho, I had to go away to realize my treasure was where I left the whole time. I want Birmingham to be a better place, there is so much potential and has been for decades it’s time to tap into that and put some skin in the game. I love what Mayor Woodfin has been doing. He’s taking really dope steps, we can push it more. The culture of the city has to be healthier. In my role at ArtsCollab, we want to redesign the spirit of Birmingham. Through The Flourish we want to create a culture of freedom not of pain, trauma or fear. As a city we talk a lot about everything that’s happening in the streets, we’ve gotta give these kids somewhere to go if we don’t want them out there. That’s what I would say.
J: Success for The Flourish through my lens has taken so many iterations over the last five years. When we first started this organization we didn’t think about where we are at now. I was telling someone the other day that when we started we were touring Black Enough and traveling so much and because of COVID everything shifted. We went from primarily doing events to there are no more events we do education. Events stopped but school doesn’t. It shifted us completely. Even now, we are constantly changing. The one thing that remains consistent is that we want people to feel infinite possibilities and to know they are enough. Success for me looks like being able to see people recognize that they are enough. There are no numbers tied to what success looks like when I think about The Flourish, there are no numbers. It’s feelings, it’s the culture of freedom. When you start there, everything else follows.
You can stay connected with The Flourish via Instagram, @theflourishalabama and their website.
Be sure to join The Flourish this Sunday, January 19th, for the return of High Tea. High Tea, is an event at the intersection of class and culture. High Tea is tea time with a twist. Southern Black artists rockin’ the mic in unexpected places.