Jzl Jmz’s Local Woman, out now from Nightboat, has been described as “lush, nourishing, [and] celestial.” I would add that it’s politically potent (the poems comes form “an anarchist jurisdiction”), and incredibly seductive.
In the thick of it is the titular “Local Woman,” an amalgamation of women Jmz embodies. Hers is a womanhood contoured by acrylics, hormones, and the political anxieties of “Amerikka,” in spite of which—or perhaps because of which—she chooses “to see the beauty.”
In our conversation below we discuss Local Woman, it’s origins, and language—of which Jmz writes, “My language is church meets theater meets Tumblr meets porn category.”
—Dante Silva
Dante Silva: Who is Local Woman?
Jzl Jmz: Local Woman is the lady at the bar who looks more lusty than lovely. She is hurting & loves to see what hurts. Local Woman loves to be touched but feels made of glass. She’s Black & Transsexual. She’s vulgar & worshipped. She’s felt & feared. She’s un-aspirational but familiar & desirable. Local Woman exists in proximity to blood, flesh, concrete, & zip code. Local Woman is not a protector or protected. She is not brave or durable. She is not satisfactory but seeks satisfaction. Local Woman is an evangelist.
Dante Silva: I love the word “local,” immediate, intimate. How does place inflect the poems?
Jzl Jmz: Remember proximity. I come from a lineage whose first language was displacement. The language of locality is relative & liminal. I feel safer on my block than downtown. I feel unknown in my hometown. Locality allows me a stage to set the scene of my being. Literally, my locale is Portland, OR. But it’s also the bars, coffee shops, & bedrooms I find my shape taking. The poems exist close to reality. The only fantasies are the gestures toward music. Most of these poems fester in flesh—however fleeting.
Dante Silva: “Local Woman Is Only Devoted to One Messiah” is written, gorgeously, for Grindr. It has a cool spirituality (the “cold-brew communion,” the “White Jesus of Portland”) and humor. How did you construct that poem?
Jzl Jmz: Several poems in this collection began as attempts at prose. Local Woman was supposed to be a series of romantic vignettes. But there was too much unspeakable. This poem was a calibration of the kind of woman I wanted to be early in my transition. I wanted to believe in myself. I need to replace the understandings of faith that raised me. I don’t believe I’m a god, but Local Woman was my savior.
Dante Silva: I come back to the line, “i can talk about Life & representation all damn day but y’all covered that.” Your work is rude, raunchy, relentless—I also love the refrain, “fuck you fuck you fuck you”—and incredibly romantic. How do you hold those together?
Jzl Jmz: Being a genius while also being Black & faggot & woman makes rigor so uninteresting to me. I come from very educated—dare I say uppity—folks who lived their lives indebted to the ways they could code-switch to compel the powers that be. I hate that. I feel as brilliant as I feel sexy, as I feel hopeless, as I feel broken, as I feel blessed. There is no one code for me to communicate. I have not decided to appeal to any one audience. I’m too ancient to be new. I’m too now to be original. My language is church meets theater meets Tumblr meets porn category. I’m as sacred as fear & my mouth tries to tell you.
Dante Silva: Who are your references?
Jzl Jmz: Morgan Parker, Siaara Freeman, Ahya Simone, Bill T. Jones, Grace Jones, BbyMutha, Solange, Sade, Kelela, Cakes da Killa, Alice Coltrane, Chen Chen, Wo Chan, Fatima Jamal, féi hernandez, King Amiyah, Juliana Huxtable, LSDXOXO, S*an D. Henry-Smith, DJ MikeQ, Charif Shanahan, & my mother, Rev. Dr. Raedorah Stewart.