We’re excited to introduce you to the always interesting and insightful Jasmin Benward. We hope you’ll enjoy our conversation with Jasmin below.

Jasmin , thanks for taking the time to share your stories with us today Can you talk to us about a project that’s meant a lot to you?

One of the most meaningful projects I’ve worked on is my debut poetry collection, Crying in LA: Sapphic Longing in Tongues and Tears. It was actually a backup project while another manuscript was tied up in a contest, but I was determined to birth something. I wrote most of it during a sabbatical in Mexico City, waking up early to chip away at it daily. I fell in love with procedure, ritual, and routine. I knew I was on to something when I wrote the poem “Banned” — I was crying, hands shaking, full snot bubbles. In that moment, I felt truth, and more importantly, I felt proud of myself for it.

Awesome – so before we get into the rest of our questions, can you briefly introduce yourself to our readers.

I’m Jasmin Benward (she/they), a Black, queer, non-binary, invisibly disabled multidisciplinary artist originally from Fort Worth, Texas, and raised in Atlanta. I work across screenwriting, authorship, music supervision, A&R/sync licensing, and performance as a musician under the name NAM. I’m also the founder of Create the Room, a creative and educational platform rooted in the belief that underrepresented folks deserve not only access but ownership in artistic spaces.

My journey started with a love of words, sound, and storytelling that grew into a mission: to center and celebrate Black, brown, queer, disabled, and gender-expansive voices. I have been fortunate to receive development through GLAAD, Women in Film, and Keychange U.S., among others to help me do just that.

Whether I’m curating music for film, supporting indie artists in securing sync placements, or publishing poems about tender queer longing (Crying in LA now available!), I’m always focused on connection, visibility, and legacy. I help my clients shape their narratives sonically, aligning their music with purpose, and try my best to navigate the creative industry with strategy and soul.

What sets me apart is how I fuse heart and hustle — blending craft with care, and art with impact. I want folks to know that I’m building a trail of work that honors where I come from and makes space for where I’m going.

For you, what’s the most rewarding aspect of being a creative?

The most rewarding part of being an artist? Honestly? It’s the chosen chaos of seeing how far I can push the envelope in real time — like, what can I get away with today? Can I turn a poem into a song into a scene? (Yes. Yes, I can and I fully intend to.) I love play. I love bending forms, mixing mediums, and throwing glitter at the taboo. My debut poetry collection, “Crying in LA: Sapphic Longing in Tongues and Tears” is an attempt to do just that. I’ve already determined that I can be messier, more raw, and vulnerable. I will in upcoming works.

Being a creative lets me answer my own questions — or at least have fun trying. And somewhere between the experiment and the expression, I find little pockets of truth that feel like magic. It’s like alchemy with feelings. It’s my way of transmuting my complex emotions into something else.

There’s also a tiny (not tiny) part of me that’s in it for the immortality. I want to leave stuff behind. Part vanity, part preservation, part “hey, somebody needs to know that I was here well after I’m not.” Digital footprints are cool, but I also want tangible proof — books, prints, pressed flowers, weird little audio files, whatever — sprinkled across the world like breadcrumbs with easter eggs that feed into one another and spiral out of control.

Archival duty feels sacred. Especially as a Black, invisibly disabled, gender-expansive person — our stories ought to last, too. So I keep making. And remixing. And giggling while I do it. Because it’s fun. And it’s mine. And the world is better when we fill it with fluff that says: “I lived and I dared to feel all of this.”

Is there mission driving your creative journey?

As someone who navigates multiple intersections of identity, I know what it feels like to be boxed and minimized — and I’m also aware of my power. That’s why I share my voice, not just for me, but to help others affirm themselves. If I can do it, so can you. Whether through lyrics, lessons, panels, or pages, I’m building worlds where people like me can see themselves authentically.

At the heart of my creative journey is a deep commitment to real representation— for Black and Brown folks, for those of us living with invisible disabilities, and for women and gender-expansive people who deserve to take up space boldly, without apology. I create to make room. Room for our stories, our contradictions, our softness, and our rage. Room for nuance and joy. My work spans disciplines, but my mission is simple: to disrupt erasure and amplify the culture.

My hope is that every creative risk I take helps open a door for someone else. I hope someone can find a glimmer of themselves in my work, as niche and personal as it may be, and get fired up to also have something to say to contribute to the collective in their own ways. If this concept materializes, then I have done my job.

Contact Info:

• Website: https://createtheroom.my.canva.site/crying-in-la-jasmin-benward
• Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/writeonjas/
• Linkedin: https://www.linkedin.com/in/jasmin-benward-382a5734/
• Twitter: https://x.com/benwardjasmin

Image Credits
Julien James, Jasmin Benward