We were lucky to catch up with Dara Kalima recently and have shared our conversation below.

Dara, thanks for taking the time to share your stories with us today What’s been the most meaningful project you’ve worked on?

My first three books work together as a triptych, kind of connected kind of not. They were based on trends I was picking up in the news and political discourse. The first being my Black Lives Matter book and the last being my intersectional feminism book. It’s the second one that took the most courage. See, when the discussion of the unjustified murders of Black people stopped becoming the main topic on the news, sexual assaults were. This was before #MeToo became big. The change was slow and subtle at first and I realized it was time to tell my history with sexual assault. It is not easy to talk about the men that molested you, stealthed you, and outright raped you. But I put it all in the book. I did it because I knew that if I had listen more closely all those years ago, I might have better protected myself. Understand, I’m not blaming myself for what they did, but I also just wasn’t aware of the danger I was in. I wrote it also for those in the process of healing. At one of my readings from the book, a woman left crying, then came back, apologized and explained why. It was too real, to much like her story. We hugged it out, I told her, and I write in the books of folks who let me know their story, “we are far greater than what has been do to us.” But I had to get there myself to share that with others. It may not be my best writing but it is my proudest project.

Dara, love having you share your insights with us. Before we ask you more questions, maybe you can take a moment to introduce yourself to our readers who might have missed our earlier conversations?

There’s a debate in my house as to when I started writing. I used to conveniently say 9, but in could have been as early as 7. I may still have a index card from way back when with my poems I wrote about my grandmother. My first and greatest short story was written at 9 and read to my class for story time. It was typed on a typewriter. Honestly, my favorite toys as a child were our typewriter and a tape recorder where I recorded all my stories and thoughts. At 16, I started acting, and when production season was over I picked up a pen to process the many challenges of being a teen, the end of friendships, the discovery of a half sibling, etc. At 25, I lost my sister due to breast cancer and my pen went into overdrive. I was writing about identity and family and you know that in itself is political. So, here I am now called The Community Poet by my peers, writing poetry about life always with a heavy dose of blackness and never shying away from politics. My existence is political. I write about love, my uterus, the healthcare system, my family, my assaults, my community, what it means to take up space in this skin in a society that demands I shrink. And I help others. I mentor my fellow poets, I lead a monthly workshop on behalf of Kevin Powell’s Writing Workshop. I use Natalie Goldberg’s (my teacher’s) practice as guidance when helping others. I help writers of the global majority get their books out in the world, even having been named a “Book Doula” by one of my clients. I’ve taught poetry workshops, I’ve edited books, I have done a lot but I move quietly. I currently have 3 poetry books and a memoir out of my own. The memoir won honorable mention a few years back from Writer’s Digest. I host a podcast called “On Behalf Of” where I talk to people about their respective communities. I am here to build community and to help others within my community. I have performed internationally, been on panels, Off-Broadway, in front of thousands of people. But I’m still growing, learning and just trying to bring my community with me as I do. Oh, and I”m from the Bronx, the best borough in NYC. I had to throw that in there.

What’s a lesson you had to unlearn and what’s the backstory?

Society only works when everyone plays their role, but society only grows when we push past those expectations. So the messages we will get always it to stop, to stay small, to not try. The Buddhist community will call it monkey mind. The drama therapy group will call this cop in the head. Others will call it imposter syndrome. It’s the voice internally that came from generational trauma and from external messages that have been internalized. They tell you to stop, be small, you can’t, you won’t. And then if you are an performer, you audition and don’t get called back, if you are writer you submit and get rejection letters. In one week, I got no less than 5 rejection letters. It sucked. It hurt. It shook my faith in my ability. But I shared it with my community others were getting a slew of them too. And I understood, that judges are choosing differently, my writing is very specific, and that’s fine. I then ask myself, “was my writing for a book, or magazine? Or was it for an audience?” If it’s for the audience, I pull it out of the submission rotation, if it’s for print, I keep going. I have had poems that were rejected numerous times, but I believed in them. One was accepted. It just needed the right home. There’s a million people fighting for the same recognition. Look, I have applied to the same local competition 5 times, I’ve lost 4 times so far. Even if I don’t get it this year, I am determined to win this prize one day. Just keep believing in yourself. Keep being open to feedback, keep trying. Your voice/craft will find it’s home/audience. I had to learn not to be small. So I offer to others, don’t be small.

Is there something you think non-creatives will struggle to understand about your journey as a creative? Maybe you can provide some insight – you never know who might benefit from the enlightenment.

It sounds kind of horrible to say, but non-creatives do need to know that the art is usually first. Being a creative requires discipline, practice, money, time, and more. It is an investment. And even if we are just sitting on a bench people watching or are going for a slow walk everyday, we are in the process of creating. Creating doesn’t look how you think it does. Resting is creating, reading is creating. observing is creating, creating in creating, revising is creating. It’s like prayer. And I’m not putting creating above faith, but I once heard a pastor talk about not feeling connected to God. He didn’t feel His presence, but during that time, he still prayed, still read his bible, still kept up the habits of his faith, until he could feel that connection again. That is what it means to be a creative. True creatives don’t just spit out their work and are done, it’s a practice, even if what they are “creating” at the moment isn’t their best work, they are getting the gunk out the way so they can get to the next masterpiece (that connection). And if they are in this hustle independently, then they have the business of creating to do as well. Being a creative isn’t the part-time gig we make it seem, it is our practice, it is part of our daily existence. Many of us are cultivating the gift God gave us and we take that seriously. So yeah… don’t ask us to stop and don’t ask us to show, just understand everything we do is part of the process, and please honor it.

Contact Info:

• Website: www.darakalima.com
• Instagram: darakalima
• Facebook: darakalima
• Twitter: dkalima
• Youtube: @darakalima

Image Credits
Elmer Quintero