Pulitzer Prize finalist Danez Smith to bring honesty, verse to Emory

Danez Smith remembers coming to Atlanta for the first time in 2000.

As a preteen, Smith — who uses the pronouns they/them — traveled from their hometown of St. Paul, Minnesota, to spend summer vacation sightseeing, attending church with their dad, who lives in Atlanta, and bonding with members of his dad’s fraternity, Kappa Alpha Psi.

The trip exposed Smith to music by rappers Ludacris, T.I. and Outkast calling out their communities. Smith realized they could express pride in their ethnic and cultural identities through writing.

“The first storytellers I knew were men smoking cigarettes, drinking gin, laughing and reminiscing with each other. I was riding around in my daddy’s truck, looking out the window, seeing the city that made Dr. Martin Luther King, and the neighborhoods (Outkast) talked about,” Smith, 36, told UATL.

“I’m (down there) learning how to be a man from my father and seeing (different representations of) what it meant to be Black. It made my shoulders feel relaxed a little bit, because it was abundant and celebrated.”

Smith, who’s queer and HIV positive, said good writing has honesty, conflict and clarity.

Twenty-six years later, the poet and spoken word artist is the special guest at Emory University’s 26th annual 12th Night Revel at Atlanta History Center on Friday. The fundraising gala benefits the school’s Rose Library.

On Saturday, Smith is performing spoken word at Emory’s Raymond Danowski Poetry Library readings at the Auburn Avenue Research Library as part of National Poetry Month. Named after Danowski, who collected English poetry, Smith wants the free event to pay homage to their poetic origins.

“It always feels special when I get to do something here (in Atlanta) because my daddy, who’s the first poet in my family, gets to come. I’m in the city that raised the poet who raised me,” Smith said.

Smith’s poetry addresses race, sexuality, civil and human rights and belonging. Their 2024 book, “Bluff,” confronts grief, police violence and COVID-19 and was named a Pulitzer Prize finalist in poetry the following year.

“A poem really isn’t worth anything if it’s not trying to tell the truth, have mixes of emotion going on or people seeing what I want them to see so I can do an accurate record of what it’s like to be human,” they said.

Cover art for "Bluff," a Pulitzer Prize finalist book of poems by Danez Smith. (Courtesy of Graywolf Press)

Smith’s Pulitzer mention landed them in front of their idols.

“I was moved because Carl Phillips, a poet I look up to, was the chair of the poetry committee that year. He read my poems and thought very highly of them,” they said.

Smith’s interest in spoken word came during their freshman year of high school. A poetry ensemble performed for Smith’s theater class using tone, rhyme schemes and body language that looked familiar.

“Some of us looked at each other and realized those poems sound (real) close to monologues,” Smith said.

Poet Danez Smith, who’s queer and HIV positive, said good writing has honesty, conflict and clarity. “A poem really isn’t worth anything if it’s not trying to tell the truth, have mixes of emotion going on or people seeing what I want them to see so I can do an accurate record of what it’s like to be human.” (Courtesy of Anna Min)

Smith read the Last Poets, Saul Williams, Langston Hughes and James Baldwin and became comfortable with speaking on personal and social issues.

“I was starting to come to my own understanding about the conditions of my people and have real thoughts toward that,” they said. “Poetry gave me a place to tell the truth in a way I wasn’t always allowed to.”

In 2014, Smith published “[insert] boy,” their debut collection. “Don’t Call Us Dead,” released three years later, was a National Book Award finalist and earned Smith a National Endowment for the Arts grant.

Cover art for "[insert] Boy," the debut collection by poet Danez Smith. (Courtesy of YesYes Books)

In 2020, Smith’s third book, “Homie,” earned an NAACP Image Award nomination. They curated “Blues in Stereo: The Early Works of Langston Hughes” four years later.

Smith’s inspiration comes from observing. “I’m listening for language and being a witness in the world,” they said.

“The poet’s supreme job is to pay attention to the world around and within them, write what they see down and make utterable what other people can’t find the words to say.”

Smith teaches creative writing virtually and in person at Virginia’s Randolph College and at St. Paul’s Black Youth Healing Arts Center, which fosters healing through creativity.

They define success as empowering aspiring creatives or queer readers to use literature for self-discovery.

“I was raised to never be selfish with a good thing, and I want to spread the good news and watch them figure it out. I get young folks in their 20s coming up to me saying my poetry made them feel less alone and see themselves differently. That’s the true championship,” Smith said.