This poetry blog post is on exploring how poetry can be used as a tool of progression for young queer poets. I have a guest come and post on my blog each month talking about poetry so be sure to check out all the Exploring Poetry posts in the series and follow for more! Today I welcome Autumn Thomas!
Autumn Thomas (she/they) is a young queer poet from the heart of the Blue Ridge Mountains. After receiving her Bachelor’s from Hollins University, they travelled 3,000 miles to Skull Valley, Arizona. There, she is working as a cowgirl while writing and continuing the art of observation. Their most recent work can be read in Active Muse, Exist Otherwise, Belt Magazine, The Hunger, and Cleaver Magazine.
Autumn Thomas – Poetry and politics within the diction of the young, queer woman.
Exploring how poetry can be used as a tool of progression for young queer poets.
So I found myself, moving 3,000 miles away from the progressive, queer, little bubble that was the college I graduated from. This historically women’s college opened many doors for my education and professional career. I was able to gain the confidence to publish my work, speak my mind amongst my peers, and solidify my ever-growing personal philosophy. However, I grew comfortable with my world not being challenged. This is something common within my generation, Z. We curate a group of likeminded individuals in our social, political, and familial groups. Due to this, many posts shared on Instagram stories and within friendly discussions, fall victim to confirmation bias. The individual starts to feel that they are the majority and the conflicting opinions of others are few and far between. This happens across the board, no matter your political standing or season of life.
The culture shock I experienced when I moved to the SouthWest United States was both crushing and enlightening. I had been in the cave of similar opinion for so long that when I moved and saw the light of a different world and conflicting opinions, it left me in a deep depression. My confidence and sense of self that I had spent so much time growing within this wonderful college community was now being challenged. At first, I didn’t know how to handle this change. I couldn’t write, had little energy, and was sinking into an element of learned helplessness. Despite this challenge, I continued to write. I sat outside my tiny home on the ranch where I was working and made myself simply write observations of the natural world around me.
Around this time, I had a troubling conversation with my boss. I was concerned about my safety when going to the small, local pride celebration. I had asked earlier if he thought it would be safe and after saying that he was unsure, he came up later in the workday. With cowboy hat pointed towards the ground, he simply told me that I would not be safe. He explained that people in this conservative town have been predatory towards the LGBTQIA+ community. He asked if I had a gun, and when I answered no, he shook his head.
Around this time, I watched Brokeback Mountain for the first time. I went into the watch expecting it to be a bit goofy. The internet had turned this movie into a comedy. Despite this, I found this movie to be an extremely earnest film about life as a queer person in the West. This part of the country is hard, the water is sparse, the animals are wild, and in turn, the people become hard. However, there are still tender, life affirming moments, each and every day.
I found this community around me to enjoy and delve into my poems headfirst. The support from these individuals on my poems, covering queer topics was shocking. Art broke the boundary of opinion and allowed these individuals to see where I was coming from without judgement.
This is something I’ve seen throughout history. I especially noticed this when I visited Portland shortly after the Black Lives Matter Movement. As I drove through the city, beautiful murals memorialising the people who lost their lives filled the streets. I saw people from all walks of life come out to look at these works of art. It was a spectacular spark of hope.
Art breaks all borders, now and throughout the history of humans. It’s a hard thing to live as a queer woman anywhere in the country, but especially within the West. However, there’s still a way to break through and connect with those around you, while keeping your sense of self. I encourage you, share your art. Make art no matter the circumstances. Make bad art. Make good art. No matter how or where, share it. Poetry is a means of progression and connection. Don’t be afraid to put your pen forward.
Thank you, Autumn! One of the themes of my upcoming poetry collection, Imaginari, is creativity. I dedicated it to those who were told to stop dreaming. Just like Autumn, I encourage you to create art and to embrace the process rather than focusing on if it’s “good”. Share something with us that you’ve recently created!