keep it thug life to the end.
nikki giovanni + legacy + new realities + 2025
what does one say of the earthly departure of an indescribable ancestor? a beacon on my path to understanding my queer identity and its marriage to my Black joy, what words could ever honor such an impact?
my introduction to the literary genius of nikki giovanni was through def poetry jam. as a teenager, i would sit in front of the living room tv and study these artisans of the spoken word. the myriad of topics and the tone in which they chose to share them; the cadence and outward expression they used to power their delivery; how they moved about the stage and interacted with the awe-struck audience; the closing exhale to signal the acceptance of being perceived—i was in love of the craft of storytelling.
when giovanni walked onto the def poetry stage, her presence tugged on my soul. the petite woman in masculine-leaning octogenarian garb told her story of growing up as a Black girl and learning the importance of not letting this world define your reality for you.
your biographers never understand your father’s pain as he sells his stock and another dream goes and though you’re poor it isn’t poverty that concerns you and though they fought a lot it isn’t your father’s drinking that makes any difference but only that everybody is together and you and your sister have happy birthdays and very good christmases and i really hope no white person ever has cause to write about me because they never understand Black love is Black wealth and they’ll probably talk about my hard childhood and never understand that all the while i was quite happy —from "nikki-rosa" by nikki giovanni
with my own eyes, i watched that little old lady transform into a poetic powerhouse of imagery and wordplay for two minutes and then, after a roaring standing ovation, return to her soft eyes and pleasant smile and exit on her heel just as quietly as she came.
to many young Black girls who scribbled in notebooks to escape the burdens of being Black and being a woman, giovanni was a whispering grandmother who made sure we knew just how much of a divine gift our very existence is, has always been, and will always be.
my relationship with my skin is a complicated tale, one that took years to unravel in my own time. despite my mother’s earnest efforts early on, her disdain for my denouncement of traditional feminine signifiers slowed her positive reinforcement of Black pride. where she and her first husband fell short, artists like giovanni, sonia sanchez, and staceyann chin picked up the baton. through their command of language and their stories, these women acknowledged and validated the intersectionality of my Black queer womanhood. i was mesmerized by giovanni’s ability to exist in her full self. on stage and in classrooms, she created safe spaces with her intimate storytelling, encouraging others to feel confident to do the same.
for an empathic teen who grappled with the concept of death more times than i can count, seeing the possibility of creative longevity into old age as an unapologetically proud queer Black woman has saved my life more times than i can count.
so when i read the first headline that seemingly announced the passing of one of the greatest activists of the Black arts movement of the ‘60s and ‘70s, i paused. mostly at the realization that i am at an age where my personal greats begin to die from old age rather than the evils of the world, but also by the lack of thought to her legacy: “well-known virginia tech professor dies at 81.” i stared at the photo thinking, surely the social media manager uploaded the wrong image and pressed PUBLISH before it was too late to take it back. eyes scanning faster to the subject line–familiar name. familiar name, familiar face. and i allowed the logic to set in.
on december 9, at the age of 81, nikki giovanni passed away in a hospital in blacksburg, virginia with her partner, virginia “ginney” fowler, by her side. she was diagnosed with lung cancer in 1995, which led to her fatal complications.
once the news began to spread, my bluesky feed flooded with proper tributes. i knew i was not alone in my shock. though my inner teen’s heart has been heavy, the news didn’t settle into sadness or grief. it was deep and utter adoration for a life well-lived.
giovanni published more than 30 books, including children’s books, that showcased her iconoclastic takes on culture, politics, the Black american experience, and most importantly, Black joy. she has over 30 honorary degrees, 7 n.a.a.c.p. awards, and a laundry list of awards and accolades on her vita that includes keys to multiple cities. earlier this year, giovanni was awarded a 2024 emmy for exceptional merit in documentary filmmaking for going to mars: the nikki giovanni project, an exploration of the life and career of the world-renowned poet, musician, and scholar.
now streaming on max [an ironic closing reception to her hbo debut], the project highlights her role in american history, the civil rights movement, and her musings on our society today. along with her partner, who was also a scholar at virginia tech, giovanni retired from her tenured post as an english professor after three decades of passing down wisdom to students and colleagues alike.
with over 60 years of elite service to her craft and a storied commitment to loved ones, the Black community, and her truth, what more could we possibly ask of a Black woman in her final chapter?
i’ve always been a bit obsessed with the idea of legacy—even more so after entering my 30s and feeling my life fall into place [albeit with turbulence]. at the end of my days, what will the world say of me. will my words have mattered. will my work have positively impacted my communities. who will i be survived by to tell my tales. who will be by my side.
though i’ve dedicated my life to introspection and have navigated this life to a place of inner peace and emotional sovereignty, these past three years have felt like a rollout to a new starting line. the lessons i’ve learned on my path to self-actualization have prepared me for the reality that i am facing, though i’m still coming to terms with standing at the precipice of all that i have ever wanted.
in my wildest dreams, when i dared to wonder about these and later years, i’ve desired unquestioning love, a family to call my own, a creative path i would be proud of, and to find myself in all the ways that mattered. in forceful pursuit of these wishes that once felt far-fetched, i have lost myself time and time again. how was i supposed to expect others to see me if i couldn’t see myself?
in the same place that giovanni honors another beloved poet with “thug life” on her forearm, i too have etched a reminder of sorts on my arm, for those times when all i had was this body to hold on to.
to thine own self be true, is a partial quote from william shakespeare’s tragedy, hamlet. in the final lines of a farewell speech to his college-bound son, laertes, polonius advises him:
this, above all: to thine own self be true, and it must follow, as the night the day, thou canst not then be false to any man. —hamlet, act 1, scene 3, 78–81
polonius, though maybe haphazardly as he is not known for his integrity in the play, offers laertes advice that will carry him into internal joy and external success with others. follow your integrity first and foremost, and be a person of reputable character—if you are forthright about who you say you are and represent what you say you stand for, you can never fail in any test of moral fiber.
i’m not known to be a liar [and in the times i was, i wasn’t good at it so i stopped doing it altogether], so my only route in life has been to be true to who i know i am to be. and that’s pretty difficult when you’re constantly searching for who you are. and i’ve been searching: in poetry, short stories, fiction, magic, religion, in witchcraft and wicca, in textbooks, medical journals, herbalism and ayurveda, astrology, in people, sex, and just bodies, in buddha, goddess parvati, lord shiva, lord ganesha, in goddess quan yin, in the holy bible and bhagavad gita, afrofuturism, in tv shows, movies, in the depths of intoxication, in therapy offices and the back of bars, in other states, countries, continents, in philosophy and science, and in so many concepts and practices that even glimmered at a new insight to understanding who i am so i know what and who i’m defending when i go out into the world.
not knowing who you are is a dangerous way to live let alone exist amongst others who must suffer through your chosen ignorance of self.
within the last three years, i have been slowly [maybe even begrudgingly] accepting who i am, which logically, i should. even with being laid off at the top of the year [my portfolio’s here if anyone wants to glance], i am grounded in knowing i am proud of who i am. the person i’ve been working on and learning has reached a point where a new set of skills must replace what’s been working for iterations of me that no longer exist.
two weeks from 33, i am realizing i have cultivated an extremely secure safe space for myself. the friends that are in my life, both near and far, have been in my life for years. we have traveled through so many versions of one another. with each cycle came a deeper understanding of ourselves, each other, and our place in each other’s lives. we have chosen to keep choosing each other over and over and over again, respecting our current truths and reaffirming our care.
in going to mars, giovanni and fowler sat in the dining room of long-time friend and actress, the late, incomparable novella nelson. as the wise women casually sipped champagne served to them by nelson’s caretaker, she shared life updates including her bouts with her declining health and the passing of her favorite cousin.
“i had spoken to her the day before, and she had said to come and get her, and, i couldn’t,” she retells. “and we talked, i calmed her down. and the next day her daughter calls me and tells me she’s dead.”
the couple validated her feelings, with giovanni adding, “she got from you what was needed, so that she could relax, and so she could go to her next step.” nelson received the sentiment graciously with “i hadn’t thought about it like that,” and i felt her appreciation. few blessed moments compare to when you are grieving and someone who truly loves you eases your heart and validates why they are in your life.
i treasure the relationships i have because these dynamics came with trust, honest communication, vulnerable conversations, and accepting other’s realities. my partner is my person because we have intentionally chosen to create a healthy and full life together, where we support each other goals while raising a super awesome kid together in a loving, supportive Black home. when i think of an unprecedented type of love, it’s this person who does not play about their kid and does not let anyone even see their kid trusting me to raise this child with them. what a privilege it is to be loved. i think of both of them and my heart just shatters in my chest; how can anyone so casually walk in and out of any child’s life? i think of that tiny person just as much as i think about my partner and i cannot imagine loving either of them any less. if we’re being honest, my partner’s incredible, but the kid sold the package. there’s truly no cooler 8-year-old, trust me, and these two goofballs chose me to be a member of their family.
who am i but a semi-nomadic writer who has only fended for themselves and a self-reliant cat for years? but for some odd reason, my girlfriend keeps telling me we’re doing this, gently reminding me of their permanence, and challenges me to use the wisdom i’ve gathered to assist in what we’re nurturing as a family. they see me and i see them. we are on the same team—mind, body, and spirit.
after many lifetimes of losing myself time and time again, i’ve always known my fate to end up dead and forgotten among piles of books and unpublished manuscripts. a tragic writer’s wet dream, i know, but after years of trusting people to be who they are, this is all i knew to be true. one day i would simply quit and no one would blink an eye.
however, my partner and my collective of loved ones who have seen me at my lowest and have chosen to remain soft landing places in my life continue to prove me wrong. for the first time, i believe that i can never be lost for long because these people will always come to find me and remind me who i am, to myself, to them, and the world.
these people support my craft and respect the life i have lived. one of my best friends was the first person to buy my custom tarot deck despite having no interest in the practice as far as i know. when my text messages started getting short, one of the matriarchs in my life called me in concern and demanded a check-in. another, who is also my mentor, noted how differently i cry after years of transmuting hard truths about my past. these divinely chosen folks have shown me support, care, and love despite me not asking for it [it’s a hard skill to learn]. they trust my personhood and move accordingly to show me kindness.
this is what it means to be in community.
these people are accurate reflections of the blessings i’ve received in my life and why i’m not dead in a ditch, forgotten. if at the end of my days, my words, my chosen family, and the communities i’ve touched are my legacy, then that would be a life worth living.
whatever happens next, going into 2025 and beyond, i am proud of who i am. at the end of another cycle, where it is necessary to remove another person for disrupting the harmony that’s been set forth, the crystalizing of a new reality sets in. but i am okay. my practices and lived experiences have trained me for such a severance. most things don’t surprise me after a while.
my mission in life has always been to be a student of this world, to continue growing and learning, and to share my findings. despite the world’s many attempts to keep me from connecting to what is necessary for this timeline, i am here. i am meant to be of the People.
when i look back on my life, i want to be remembered for the good i’ve added to the world; through written and visual works, and my actions. did i try my best as a person? did i honor those i said i would? did i stand by the beliefs that i said i knew to be true? did i use the gifts the gods have blessed me with for the greater good?
my writing has always been my salvation and there is collective consciousness work to be done. i have to continue living my truth and sharing my healing journey through the creative mediums that move my spirit. this is the only way i know how to stay alive.
in the words of the legend: “we write because we believe the human spirit cannot be tamed and should not be trained.”
rest in power, ms. giovanni, and thank you for your service.
nikki giovanni’s final work, titled “the new book: poems, letters, blurbs, and things,” is expected to release fall 2025.
i’ll be taking a break from social media for december and into january. the capricorn crash out that occurred over my father’s email exhausted energy that i did not have to spare on rage. i want to ease through this month. life is hard enough and i have earned the right to feel joy about my existence during my 33rd birthday month surrounded by the folks who love me dearly.
the rest of my year will be:
outlining my book
[updates and continued logs for that journey next year],finishing art pieces i still like,
sharing more abandoned drafts,
soothing my inner teen’s feelings with arts and crafts,
loving on my incredibly beautiful partner,
and preparing for what’s to come on the other side of this 33 portal.
given the current astrology of the sky—from the full moon in gemini [my rising] and mercury in capricorn [hi again] stationing direct, both happening on december 15 to the mars retrograde happening through february—this is my sign to lean towards the softness and trust the flow of the moment.
following this post, i will be sharing my thoughts on kendrick’s gnx as we can only assume giovanni was a fan of her fellow gemini brethren, also known for speaking his truth and breaking generational curses.
— mo.