Alright – so today we’ve got the honor of introducing you to Teré Fowler-Chapman. We think you’ll enjoy our conversation, we’ve shared it below.
Alright, Teré thanks for taking the time to share your stories and insights with us today. Before we talk about all of your success, let’s start with a story of failure. Can you open up about a time when you’ve failed?
My failures are littered throughout my first book, M O O N S H i N E. The book poetically weaves together moments of memoir where I self-sabotaged, self-destructed, and ultimately settled into sobriety and self-love. My story of failure began on a crosswalk when I was twenty-seven years old. On a Tucson Friday afternoon, a white man my age pulled out a gun on me as I crossed the crosswalk. I felt nothing at the moment; at the moment, I actually nodded yes. Although I lived, that moment turned my past, present, and future into an accordion and orchestrated a cacophony of my past traumas. Cleveland Clinic defines Complex Post Traumatic Disorder as “a mental health condition that can develop if you experience chronic (long-term) trauma.” One of my biggest failures was not sharing how this impacted me as a person, as a black person, and as a black transgender person.
A series of failures followed this failure; I downplayed my experience. I pretended it didn’t happen. I ignored the signs that I needed to reach out and became small. I used this moment to unapologetically medically transition as a way to “Silverline” the incident. It happened on a bright Friday afternoon. By Monday, I was teaching and rebirthing myself simultaneously. As you’ll see in the book, I was a “yes” person in this chapter of my life and became even more committed to this identity because it gave me what I desired at the time: love at any cost, love even if it was conditional.
What if this day had gone differently? I wouldn’t be here and would have left a concoction of what others needed me to be instead of who I was, whether the day had gone differently or not that Friday because I was too afraid to press charges. There is more to the story and more in the book, which you can purchase here or on Amazon (but especially in these times, support the small businesses first).
I want to talk about where failure led me, but I like to start with a precaution. Trauma isn’t a part of every trans person of color’s journey; it just so happens to be a part of mine. I think alcohol abuse has always been a part of my life. In some cases, it was the only coping tool I had learned, and other nights, it was the reason I drunkenly made it some mornings. Slowly, alcohol became a toxin and a vice that no longer served me; quickly, alcohol became a nemesis that harmed me. The book talks about this, too. People with Alcohol Use Disorder (AUD) aren’t always how they’re displayed in media. Many of us are your best friends, your lawyers, EMTs, even doctors, and, yep, poets, too. The National Institute of Alcohol Abuse and Alcoholism defines AUD as a medical condition characterized by an impaired ability to stop or control alcohol use despite adverse social, occupational, or health consequences.
There was a time when I thought admitting that I had a problem would mean I failed. However, it was the opposite; admitting I couldn’t stop drinking alone is probably one of the most vulnerable and courageous things I (and anyone) can do. I had the biggest fear that if people knew I couldn’t stop drinking on my own, even though I didn’t want to, even though I was financially stable, even though I thought I was emotionally secure and had a pretty large social circle. I felt I would be inevitably canceled, not taken seriously as a writer or professional, attacked, or worse, not believed. In reality, anyone who thinks they are above anyone else to engage in that behavior is still projecting instead of healing themselves. It wasn’t true. I drank so much, and for so long, my friends were able to say it before I did. They were able to raise funds so I could go to rehab. They saw me, wanted me to be here, and loved me unconditionally until I could love myself. I was sober for a couple of years before I hit a few bumps in the pandemic, and the fear of now failing twice came rushing back to me. They were so unbearable I would have rather (and did often) risk my life than admit I needed support. The most significant way to get rid of fear is to share it with someone else. When I shared my failure, I received support again, went to rehab again, and began to understand. Everyone’s journey is different; the first time, I gathered tools, and the second time, I learned how to use them. It takes as long as it takes, but the only failure is to quit trying to quit. This book is more profound than my failures and successes in poetic forms. It’s written proof that my life was fought for. Relapsing, collecting some months of sobriety, and relapsing, and getting sober again is proof that I never gave up on myself, no matter how hard it got. The first step in a program that keeps me rooted in my recovery is to admit we are powerless over alcohol. The first step in our program is to realize we are failing. This admission of failing to quit drinking led me to support quality relationships and permitted me to choose the work I wanted to do instead of the work choosing me. I feel so honored to be able to live this honest and sweet life of mine and genuinely feel thrilled and worth being alive. This book happened, this life full of joy and love happened, and I get to savor it and seize it now because I failed and got support until I could survive on my own, and ultimately thrive. If you are someone in your life is struggling, SAMHSA’s National Helpline is a free, confidential, 24/7, 365-day-a-year treatment referral and information service (in English and Spanish) for individuals and families facing mental and/or substance use disorders.
Teré, 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?
Hey there! My name is Teré (Ter-ray), and my pronouns are they/he. I’m a transgender person who likes to write and perform poetry. When I’m not writing or performing, I work with undersupported youth from various backgrounds as an advocate and mentor. I’m most proud of the work I get to do with the University of Arizona. As one of their master teaching artists, I specialize in working to empower incarcerated young people through creative writing and poetry. I also get to support other teaching artists in doing the same. The poems they write are paramount to our times, and I love having a hand in getting them into the world. If I am not doing what I was put on this earth to do, self-care looks like, watching true crime, listening to podcasts, playing video games, enjoying being a husband, and loving on family, friends, and pets.
Let’s talk about resilience next – do you have a story you can share with us?
I think overcoming my fear of failure ultimately illustrates my resilience. I’m very proud of my book M O O N S H I N E because it poetically details the fears I have overcome to be who I am today.
What’s the most rewarding aspect of being a creative in your experience?
The most rewarding thing about being an artist or creative is to express myself in a way that inspires others. I love it when the vulnerability in my work touches another person. It’s one of the greatest gifts this world has to offer.
Contact Info:
- Website: https://terethepoet.com/
- Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/blkboidream/
Image Credits
Evette Dionne