Interview by David Ly
2021 Dayne Oglivie finalist jaye simpson’s debut it was never going to be okay explores intergenerational trauma, queerness, and Indigeneity through intimate and raw poetry and prose. What follows is a conversation between jaye and David Ly about the experience of breaking down years of silence into their first book.
David Ly: I know you have roots in spoken word poetry. How does it influence your writing for page poetry?
jaye simpson: One could argue that my roots are in oral storytelling, but that would only be half the narrative. I came across spoken word via a Jillian Christmas Youtube video in 2014. I never thought words could flow like that until then. I began to write for the stage, with flow, tempo, and audience in mind. I studied in the theatre for nearly ten years so I infused my own theatrics into each performance, eventually finding my own voice. I wouldn’t be here without Jillian though; I got the honour of meeting her through the local slam scene and now it’s just love. I write for my own voice and ultimately for me, and spoken word/oral storytelling set me free.
DL: Could you explain the meaning of the cover in regards to why you chose the flowery imagery and the Grecian-looking statue head?
js: In part, it’s about stories living past their allotted time. To have my story told and known is to be immortal in a way, and as an Indigenous trans woman, we are often given the shortest of times among society. I want to dream myself into Eldership, surrounded by a community I helped usher in. The flowers represent the fleeting nature of my existence if not protected or nurtured. It’s a mix of wanting immortality and coming to terms with my own humanity. There’s a line in one of Bertolt Brecht’s plays that is “I am too human and too small,” and that feels accurate at times.
DL: Was there a poem that was surprisingly difficult for you to write? In what way did you find it challenging?
js: The poem “haunting: a poem in six parts” was the hardest poem in the world for me to write. It was written for a panel for the Fraser Valley Literary Festival. I think the panel theme was ghost stories, and I recall saying that I haunt many people, even though I am alive. It’s the first poem where I name a person who caused harm, and to me that was the most nerve wracking. It also led me to the most power—foster siblings messaging me to tell me that they were so grateful to see that person named. It’s also hard recognizing I was a ghost before I ever was a child to some people.
DL: I love how your book references pop culture and music so much: naming a poem after Lana Del Rey’s album Norman Fucking Rockwell! and writing poems after two of Florence and the Machine’s songs. How does their music play into your construction of a poem and what it will be about?
js: Well. One thing to clarify is I think Lana Del Rey is one of the most problematic women in the music industry, but she showed me the monstrous nature of men. Amy Winehouse was the first musician to hit me though; her songs reminded me of my mother, and specifically my family’s relationship to substances and also the Downtown Eastside. Music is such an important part of my process—I dissociate without music, lost in my own body. Also, sometimes a line in a song is so good you wish you wrote it.
DL: The way you arrange words and lines on the page makes it was never going to be okay such a dynamic read. How does page space play into the creation of your poems?
js: Y’know what? My words didn’t fall on the page like that originally. For a long time I was writing poetry in block lines, sometimes just streams of consciousness. Jessica Johns actually suggested over coffee to play with spacing. I tried and it felt so natural. I began to play with spacing as a way to provide secret notes to me when I perform, certain symbols and letters to change pace or whisper or increase volume. Little theatre tricks in tandem with the aesthetic.
DL: How did the title come to you? Were there other possible titles?
js: The first title of the collection was “the cupboards are open now,” and it was an entirely different collection. It was an absolute disaster and I am grateful it doesn’t exist. The title was meant to have a period at the end to show end in the beginning and the beginning in the end, a sort of cyclical nature of coping and healing. As a foster kid I was told hundreds, if not thousands, of times that it was going to be okay, and then I came across this comic book series and one of the lines was “it was never going to be okay,” and with that realization the protagonist came into their own power. Me realizing that it wasn’t going to be okay allowed me the ability to cope and then heal.
DL: Reading your book is such a visceral experience. It’s like the poems reach out of the pages to pull you in. If you want readers to come out with one message from your book, what do you hope it is?
js: When I was working on this collection one of the songs that played in the background for years was Kesha’s “Praying.” I wanted this collection to be a resounding cry of rejection to the script I was assigned. One of the lines is “We both know all the truth I could tell,” and that is what I want folks to know, that I reject the idea that I am an unreliable narrator and refuse to be gaslit into silence. I always dreamed some of the poems in this collection would be like Kesha’s astronomical high note that shook the world. I remember the skin rising on my arms and the tears spilling from my eyes before I even realized I was crying. I hope folks see the power I came into with this collection and that I don’t intend to stop.
jaye simpson is an Oji-Cree Saulteaux Indigiqueer from the Sapotaweyak Cree Nation. simpson is a writer, advocate and activist sharing their knowledge and lived experiences in hope of creating utopia.
they are published in several magazines including Poetry Is Dead, This Magazine, PRISM international, SAD Magazine: Green, GUTS Magazine, SubTerrain, Grain and Room. They are in three anthologies: Hustling Verse (2019) and Love After the End (2020) and forthcoming in The Care We Dream Of (2021). it was never going to be okay (Nightwood Ed/Harbour Publishing) is their first book of poetry, published October 2020.
they are a displaced Indigenous person resisting, ruminating and residing on xʷməθkʷəy̓əm (Musqueam), səl̓ilwətaɁɬ (Tsleil-waututh), and sḵwx̱wú7mesh (Squamish) First Nations territories, colonially known as Vancouver.
David Ly is the author of Mythical Man, which was shortlisted for the 2021 ReLit Poetry Award. His sophomore poetry collection, Dream of Me as Water, is forthcoming in 2022. David is the Poetry Editor at This Magazine, part of the Anstruther Press Editorial Collective, and a Poetry Manuscript Consultant with The Writers’ Studio at SFU.