Alright – so today we’ve got the honor of introducing you to Winter Wright. We think you’ll enjoy our conversation, we’ve shared it below.

Winter, thanks for taking the time to share your stories with us today We’d love to hear about the things you feel your parents did right and how those things have impacted your career and life.

My parents were young when I was born. My mother was fifteen and my father was seventeen – though they were separated, they operated with unity when it came to shaping me into the person I am today.

They allowed me to participate in as many cultural, extracurricular activities as their government assisted, minimum waged salaries could afford, they allowed older family members to parent me to supplement for their youth, they entertained my big dreams of being a superstar, most importantly – they loved me.

As a child, I lived primarily with my mother in a small two bed-room, railroad style apartment in the Bronx, NY. This apartment became a home for many throughout my childhood. Friends and family in temporary homeless situations, fresh out of jail, or just in need of a safe space all found themselves housed in my living room. I watched many people come into my house one way and leave transformed, empowered, and enlightened. My mother knew (knows) programs that could offer help for anything under the sun. She would remind people of their worth. She could (can) make you laugh in a drought. One memory that stands out happened when I was about seven. She had been looking through the couch for loose change, we started singing “Lookin’ for Love” by Johnny Lee and burst into laughter because of the irony of the moment. We were in such a tough season financially but, somehow, my mother cultivated joy for us. My mother was, and still is, a home for many in our community. Though she is more diligent about her living space now, by profession she lives out her calling of defeating homelessness and equipping people with necessary resources to succeed.

I could say the same for my father. His life, as I remember it, was dedicated to the care he had for others. He would bring warmth and a wealth of knowledge anywhere he went. My fondest memory of my father happened when I was around five. He carried me on his shoulders through NYC and we ended up in Washington Square Park. He greeted some older men at the chess table. I sat with my chin perched on my wrists, watching him play – methodically placing pawns, rooks, and bishops across the board. The older man let out a grunt and my father had taken is king … and his money. They bantered back and forth and my father placed me on his shoulders where we went to Pace University to pick up his girlfriend at the time. “I want to learn how to play that game” I told him as we walked. He bought a chess board soon after and taught me. My father was full of surprises, connections, and warmth. His funeral was a testament of this. Many people told me how much I reminded them of him and I hold that dear.

All of this to say, my parents gave me many things but the most valuable asset they handed me was my sense of community and my activity in it. My mother and father continually show me how knowledge, kindness, and the connectivity of both generate liberation. They gave me purpose – to use kindness and intel to liberate the communities I interact with.

Winter, before we move on to more of these sorts of questions, can you take some time to bring our readers up to speed on you and what you do?

I’ve been reading since I was about three and writing for as long as I can remember.

I never once thought to pursue writing professionally until I was in high school. I had an AP English teacher and a school chaperone turned mentor who nurtured my love for writing. They would take groups of us to poetry slams, museums, concerts …etc. I remember always having an appreciation for art and all that it encompassed from history to emotion. I remember attending an ‘Urban Word’ workshop and watching the spoken word poets made me want to join the program. I never did because I was too scared.

I revisited this interest of being a spoken word poet in 2017. I had attended a poetry slam in Nuyorican Poets Cafe and felt an urgency to begin sharing my work. I knew I had a story to tell and I knew it would help people to hear it from someone who came out on the other side. Later that year, I had my first feature. It was a rocky start. I was nervous and socially anxious. I didn’t think that I was qualified enough to be on the stage. I would read from my phone to avoid looking at the audience.

I remember watching many of the poets around me get up and confidentially recite their poems. It added a depth that I was lacking. So I practiced, I frequented open mics, I recited aloud in my room. I landed another feature where I put my practice to to use and I’ve been performing ever since. I’ve featured for many collectives from NY to London. Telling my stories of pain and overcoming, poetically.

The collective response that I received was how empowered people felt – that’s when I knew I was walking in my calling. I began having mini speaking engagements at my features. I would briefly describe the poem and tell people the truth I recovered from the topic. That is when I began the journey of motivational speaking and hosting workshops. I learned that I have much more to say outside of poetry.

Throughout my career I have been a author, panelist, workshop facilitator, motivational content creator, I’ve written articles for online press.

Is there mission driving your creative journey?

I have one goal in all of the channels that I am navigating creatively and that its to liberate people.

Too often, our society has allowed trauma to hinder them from the nativity of their greatness. I intend to remind people of how great they were/are before pain distracted them. I intend to grab as many hands and pull as many people to the other side as possible.

We often hear about learning lessons – but just as important is unlearning lessons. Have you ever had to unlearn a lesson?

I had to unlearn the lie that my voice was not a necessity.

I dated someone who was abusive and it caused me to go into a state of silence and inner turmoil. Before I knew it, I had been internally rehearsing the abusive rhetoric he spewed at me. His voice had overpowered mine. All the truth, love, and fluidity of my being was buried under the rubbish.

For years, I struggled with social anxiety because of this experience. Each day is a challenge and a reminder that my voice matters and that I am called to use it.

Most times our biggest trauma is our greatest power.

Contact Info:

• Website: winterwright.com
• Instagram: @bywinterwright
• Facebook: By Winter Wright
• Twitter: @bywinterwright
• Youtube: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UC51zS7vC7G3xkHxPzqoAHzg
• Other: https://www.amazon.com/So-u-l-Winter-Wright-ebook/dp/B0B4HWDPRF/ref=sr_1_1?crid=2DX5GL5ENIL4L&keywords=so%28u%29l+winter&qid=1672415944&sprefix=soul+winter%2Caps%2C446&sr=8-1

Image Credits
Valentin Ortiz Elmer Quintero