Mimi Tempestt, Artist + Poet — changing wxman collective

by Bella Bolayon

Origins:

Mimi Tempest was a concept I came up with in 2013. I came from LA Underground, Muschace Monday parties— Queer Underground— and I remember being a little baby gay, and I used to go these parties. There weren’t a lot of queer parties at the time, but the ones that were happening were so fucking poppin’, like that shit was fun. I’ve always had a theatre background— I did theatre in high school— and I had stopped because I was focusing on school, but when I started going to these parties, I would see all of these performers, drag queens, artists, and musicians, and I remember being like, I want to do that. Performing is like a natural itch that I have, so around 2013 I started making music and performing, and the only people who would book me at the time were the drag queens. If it weren’t for those parties, and my drag community and queer community in LA, I wouldn’t do as much or have as much as I have now.

“
If it weren’t for those parties, and my drag community and queer community in LA, I wouldn’t do as much or have as much as I have now.”

The Process:

I’m learning more about my process. Poetry and writing are such lonely sports. There is no confirmation of how you’re doing. I’m lucky I’m in a workshop right now. Usually you don’t get feedback unless you perform a lot. So with music, I sing a song, I make an album, and I perform it in front of people— I really get the structure of how I’m doing.

If I’m doing music, I’m a type A perfectionist. It feels like I’m in attack mode. You know how like a basketball player, they go into the zone and try to score points or win over the audience? I become a lot bigger on stage, and I kind of blank out. I’m so into being on stage that that’s what it feels like.

Poetry, I’m a lot more subtle. I’m more into thinking about the story and how the words can be communicated to my audience. It’s two different mindsets, depending on what I’m doing.

When I have writer's block as a writer, like when I do poetry or when I’m doing a short story, I actually go into writing music because something about the rhyming and constructing a song informs each other. What I can’t say in a song I usually find I’m able to say in a poem. What I can’t say in a poem, I can find by writing music. They are similar, but the processes for making both are different, and when I find a block in one, I jump into the other.

As a writer, I get up every morning at 6 o’clock. My writing practice starts by writing down my dream, and from there, I’ll come up with something or work on whatever hasn’t been finished. Right now I’m working on a new EP and I’m finding that how I’m making this body of work is so different from how Rough Diamond came about, so with music right now, it’s more about paying attention to what I really, really want to say at this stage in my life— how I feel about myself, how I feel about the world. I think Rough Diamond was about this butterfly emerging from a cocoon, but my next project is called Lilac Soul, and it’s all about what happens when the butterfly takes flight. You can’t be in that cocoon stage the whole time. You actually have to fly. What does the wind feel like? What is the nature around you? What makes you want to keep flying? I’m in a different space musically than I was when I made Rough Diamond.

If I weren’t doing art, I’d be dying. Not a literal death but a spiritual death, so I made a choice to be a creator. It’s not an option. Even if the self-doubt comes, you still have to keep going.

Identity:

Being Black, being fat being queer, I have to combat whiteness but at different intersections. For example, when I’m making a music video or doing a photoshoot, I really think about how my image is being constructed because I have so many intersections within my identity.

There’s not a lot of representation of intersectionality in music at the moment. I think they are trying. We have Lizzo. We have Lil Nas X. Those are like most popular and relevant queer people that we see through iconography but it’s all about combating commodification. I feel that it’s good to have representation, but at what point do we become commodified, and what does that mean when we’re reaching a wider audience?

Art as Conversation:

I shared my reparations poem with Changing Womxn. There is so much conversation surrounding Harriet Tubman especially with placing her image on the twenty dollar bill. With that poem, I was questioning. We have Harriet on the bill, but what’s going on with all of these Black girls— 64,000 Black girls— who have gone missing? What do we do about child sex trafficking that impacts Black girls? What about organ harvesting that comes from Black bodies? Yes, we want to celebrate Harriet by commodifying her image, but is there anything actually happening with how Black bodies are being portrayed, being used? Wealth inequality among Black communities? They give us things to celebrate, but the actual work being done to create autonomy for Black people isn’t being done. The first page is “They can’t wait to pay for twelve year old Black pussy with Tubmans.” Imagine the transactions happening. At some point, someone is going to pay for an underage girl’s body with a Tubman.

I think a lot of the work is about bringing to surface the things that are happening. There is an undercurrent of ideas, but no one is publicly asking those questions. I think that when you create the art that’s when the thinking starts to happen and the conversation starts. So, it’s all in conversation and idea exchange where things are made possible .

I know that Black history month is supposed to be a time of “celebration,” but we’re in constant celebration. Survival is celebration. I also think having Black history month is to remind white people that Black people exist? Everything we have is built on the backs of Black bodies, but another time of the year I personally love is Juneteenth. It’s an unofficial month that we celebrate.

It’s not my job to make people think more critically about race. You can pay me to make you aware of your whiteness, but that’s not something I’m invested in.

What’s Ahead:

I am on my way to Sequoia National Parks to shoot a video for the first song off of the project. I wrote a song called “Sandra is a friend of mine,” and the song is a commemoration to Sandra Bland. I’m creating a visual for it, but I’m still in the process. The album is conceptual, but it’s still being birthed. It’s still marinating in the womb, so that’s all I have for now.

I conceptualize or sit on an idea for about 2-3 months, and then I’ll approach it when I feel ready. With Rough Diamond, it was a spiritual thing that happened. I went to Florida to visit Zora Hurston’s grave, and I got a message from Zora, and then I did a play and then I came up with Rough Diamond. For this one, it’s more technical; there’s more craft to it. I had to sit with it more cerebrally than intuitively.

As told to Changing Womxn Collective.

Photos via Mimi Tempestt. To view a poem by Mimi Tempestt, click here. To connect with Mimi, click here.