Interview by Natalie Solmer
NS: You’re always busy with so many exciting projects, so it’s difficult for me to choose just a few things to ask you about! I will start with a question that I know many of my students would want to know the answer to. As a multi-hyphenate, you are not only an accomplished poet and spoken word artist, but you are also a hip-hop emcee and teach this genre as a professor at Butler University in the school of music. How do hip-hop and poetry intersect for you? Are there differences or defining characteristics for each?
MV: Thank you for this thoughtful question. Both spoken word poetry and Hip Hop have profoundly shaped my life, and I see them as deeply interconnected. Growing up during Hip Hop’s Golden Era in the 1990s—a time of innovation, regional styles like West Coast G-Funk, and Houston’s chopped and screwed sound. During my grade school years, I fell in love with the genre at home while simultaneously discovering poetry at school. At home, I was captivated by artists like Tupac, Naughty By Nature, and Salt-N-Pepa, while at school, I absorbed the works of Maya Angelou, Langston Hughes, and Robert Frost. For me, these two worlds converged naturally through the power of words—the energy and galvanizing messages from both poets and emcees felt intrinsically connected.
A lot of people may not be aware of this, but when I first began performing on the Indianapolis scene, I focused primarily on Hip Hop even though I also identified as a poet. By then, I was practiced in both mediums. Over time, I shifted more toward spoken word and poetry, largely because navigating the male-dominated Hip Hop space as a young woman in this city, presented unique challenges. While representation of women in Hip Hop has grown locally and globally, back then, it was far less visible.
Rap itself has roots in the spoken word tradition, drawing from collectives like The Last Poets in Harlem and The Watts Prophets in Los Angeles, whose politically charged performances combined poetry with improvisational jazz in the 1960s. Gil Scott-Heron’s The Revolution Will Not Be Televised exemplifies the rhythmic, revolutionary spirit that would later define rap. In fact, I teach my students that the best rappers are true poets, and we examine the literary value of seminal Hip Hop songs. Spoken word’s urgency and raw emotion played a critical role in shaping Hip Hop, turning it into a platform for expression and activism—a lineage I’m grateful to contribute to.
NS: You are also a director and created the short film, “ROOT BLACK,” which “weaves through time to explore the relationship between African Americans and the natural world by highlighting our agrarian heritage rife with both beauty and pain.” Can you talk a bit about this project and what it means to you? How does your interest in growing things intersect with your creative life in general? As a longtime gardener who used to work in the field of horticulture, I’m very interested in this!
MV: Bless you for being a gardener and horticulturalist! I hold deep respect and gratitude for those who tend to this precious earth we call home. It was the sense of home that drew me back to the land. In 2019, I felt an inward pull to reconnect with my roots and embrace the earth once more. At the time, I was living in Fountain Square, enjoying the amenities of urban living, yet longing for a deeper bond with the soil. I moved to a place surrounded by more green spaces and nature parks, where I could see the sky stretch wide. It was there that I felt a call to learn how to grow my own food—an ancestral call, as I now understand it.
Our bodies carry stories steeped in ancestral memory, and mine was awakening. I became fascinated with farming and began reflecting on the Afro-Diasporic connection to land as an agrarian people. I thought about my family’s history as sharecroppers in Mississippi and how the Great Migration brought millions of African Americans to urban centers, seeking freedom from the brutalities of sharecropping and tenant farming. While this migration opened doors to better opportunities, it also severed our connection to the land—a disconnection born of trauma.
Our agrarian heritage, once rich and deeply embedded in our ancestral identity, was exploited and dehumanized under slavery and sharecropping. During my research, I discovered that this systemic disconnection was further compounded by discriminatory practices, such as those perpetuated by the USDA, which undermined Black farmers and agriculturalists for decades. Yet, today, there is a powerful resurgence—Black farmers, food growers, and land stewards are reclaiming our agrarian legacy. They are championing food justice, sovereignty, and environmental stewardship, reconnecting us to the earth in profound and healing ways.
Out of this reflection, ROOT BLACK was born—a project that seeks to tell this story, to highlight our history, and to bridge these essential themes. Personally, I’ve found that when I’m grounded in the earth, I am not only a better person but also a more inspired artist. The older I get the more my connection to land and land-based practices feels non-negotiable. I need it to survive and thrive. My creativity flourishes when I hike, work on a farm, sit by water, or talk to trees. These moments restore me, reminding me of the gifts that nature offers when we engage not as guests, but as participants. I feel called to champion the importance of reconnecting to the land—not separating ourselves from it, but instead inhabiting it fully and harmoniously as part of our natural environment and I feel tremendously excited about projects like ROOT BLACK and hopefully many more that can inspire that in others.
NS: I saw that you will (or already have) traveled to Cuba to learn more about urban farming (I saw a Monty Don video about their practices; it’s pretty amazing! Do you know of the British gardener, Monty Don? He did a special there.) I also read that you travelled to Lithuania to make a film. Can you talk about the importance of travel for you as a creative being?
MV: Yes! I recently returned from Cuba, where I traveled with a cohort through the incredible organization ReglaSoul to deepen my understanding of Afro-Indigenous farming—a central focus of my research on food growing and environmental sustainability. I’m still unpacking the many rewards of my time on the island. Thanks for introducing me to Monty Don! I hadn’t heard of his channel until you mentioned it, but I watched the Cuba segment and from my time there, the video captures what I also experienced. Cuba offers a powerful model of resilience and resourcefulness, especially in the wake of the Soviet Union’s collapse, which triggered severe food shortages. This crisis forced the nation into a food revolution, leading to the rise of local gardens and farms emphasizing organic, community-centered methods. It was a hard-earned but inspiring revolution, demonstrating how collective effort and ingenuity can transform adversity into sustainable solutions.
Cuba taught me invaluable lessons about the global struggle for food justice, the effects of U.S. foreign policies, and the legacy of settler colonialism—all of which can perpetuate poverty in marginalized communities. Observing how Cubans organize around food sovereignty challenged me to step beyond my own perspective, connect with others’ experiences, and redefine my understanding of true resilience.
I also explored nature-focused themes in my first film, which I created in Lithuania during a film fellowship. That project centered on caring for the planet and the consequences of neglecting it. Interestingly, I was the only Black American—and the only American at all—among the fellows. Directing a film through a translator and navigating weeks of cultural and linguistic differences was deeply humbling and transformative. Being so far outside my comfort zone shaped me at a fundamental level, teaching me how to embrace discomfort as a space for growth.
Travel has been a constant source of inspiration for me. It expands my worldview, challenges my assumptions, and guards against the subtle ethnocentrism that can come from living within a monolithic cultural narrative. Whether in Cuba, Lithuania, or elsewhere, these journeys push me to grow as an artist and as a person. Of course, I also travel for fun, and those experiences shape me too—because joy and exploration are just as essential to becoming.
NS: What is your creative process like? Are there differences in your processes for creating in different genres? How do you choose which projects to work on?
MV: The more my creative disciplines expand, the more exciting—and honestly challenging—it becomes to figure out where everything fits. Right now, I’m a poet, filmmaker, storyteller, Hip Hop emcee, and occasional actor, so when ideas hit me, I’m often like, “Wait, but I’m still working on this other thing!” What keeps me grounded is the fact that I usually feel called to explore a powerful theme. Once I commit to it, that theme becomes my driving force.
Because I’m so passionate and constantly buzzing with new creative ideas, I’ve learned to discipline myself to focus on specific projects within a set timeframe—while the inspiration is still fresh.
For me, it all starts with the theme. Once I’ve got it, I ask myself, “What’s the best medium to bring this to life? Is it a poem, a story, or a film?” The answer usually comes to me visually, almost like the theme reveals how it wants to exist and take shape in the world. For example, I might listen to an album and feel like the theme is calling to exist in song format. Or I’ll be watching the news and feel inspired to wrestle with the theme through poetry or spoken word because of its immediacy and directness. Other times, I’ll be having a conversation with myself or someone else about some social issue or philosophical question, I’m trying to unravel and realize it needs length, dialogue, and theatrical elements—then it hits me: “Ah! This needs to live on stage.” It’s like the creative process is always finding its own voice through me.
NS: Working as a professor and also being heavily involved in the Indianapolis community in so many projects, including community activism, how do you keep your cup filled? How do you keep your sanity? I know how draining it can be to be teaching and also doing so many things on the side as well.
MV: Whew.
I’ve definitely had to learn some lessons the hard way. Being a creative has been such a rewarding and thrilling journey, but at times, it’s also been really difficult. I’m someone who pours my passion into everything I do—I like to give my all. While that’s a beautiful virtue, I’ve learned that it can sometimes lead to burnout, especially when you give so much that it takes a toll on your physical and mental health. I’ve experienced both.
I’ll admit, I’m a bit of a slow learner in some areas, but I’m realizing the importance of taking care of myself as a daily practice. I’ve had to deepen into the things I love and that bring me joy—not because they’re productive or serve anyone else, but simply because they nourish me.
I’m learning to value slowness, nature, mindful meals, body awareness and somatic practices, presence, good company, and silence. I like to dance, cook, get lost, and lose myself in a good book. My faith, and spirituality—they’re central to my life. And I’m so grateful for my incredible network of friends and loved ones who have become family.
I’m trying to lean more into these things that truly sustain me. It’s a process, but I’m finding my way, step by step.
Oh, I also had a significant birthday in December so I am saying “no” more without feeling guilty.
😛
NS: What projects are you currently working on? Anything you want to share with readers?
MV: Yes!! I’m currently working on a book of poetry and a Hip Hop album, and my goal is to release both this year. I’m really excited because it’s been several years since I’ve released a Hip Hop project, and this book of poetry has been long overdue. Honestly, I’ve been scared out of my mind to commit to the permanence of the written word.
Spoken word is an oral tradition, and I deeply honor its lineage—it’s tied to my ancestors’ ways of passing on knowledge, history, and stories through recitation. There’s something perhaps mystical about being in the room when it happens, hearing a piece, and letting it land in your body rather than just sitting on a page or staying in your mind.
But as I get older, I’ve come to recognize the limitations of physicality and the beauty of sharing my work in ways that don’t always require me to be present in person. It’s a new challenge, but one I’m ready to embrace!
NS: My last question is always about Indianapolis and the arts community here. Part of my mission for Indianapolis Review is to let the world know that we do have a lot of talent and culture here, even if it may not be the first place people think of in regards to that. As part of National Poetry Month, you did a wonderful interview for Indianapolis Recorder and spoke about the impact and influence of Black Indianapolis poets who came before you, such as Etheridge Knight and Mari Evans. What are your thoughts on Indiana’s place in the larger literary world, and do you have any special Indiana locations, organizations, etc. that you wish to shout out?
MV: Indiana is a truly special place, rich with incredible literary talent—many of whom I’m honored to call dear friends. A lesser-known but fascinating part of our history is that Indiana once experienced a Golden Age of Literature, spanning from 1880 to 1920. During this period, Indiana emerged as a distinct literary center, with its authors gaining national recognition and often ranking among the most popular in the United States. Our unique geographical position as the “Crossroads of America” has played a significant role in shaping our literary voice, both then and now.
It’s also profoundly meaningful that Indianapolis became home to two pioneers of the Black Arts Movement: Mari Evans and Etheridge Knight. Their decision to settle here invites us to consider what the city’s landscape offered them—both in terms of inspiration and challenges that influenced their rich writing. Their legacies continue to illuminate the transformative power of art and literature in Indiana.
I want to take a moment to celebrate some incredible spaces and individuals who are sustaining Indiana’s vibrant literary culture today. A huge shout-out to Kafe Kuumba, Indiana’s longest-running poetry open mic, for their enduring love and commitment to embracing the community—particularly the Black literary community. I also want to acknowledge Mariah Ivey and her team for founding and curating That Peace Open Mic, which has spent a decade showcasing the beauty, resilience, and creativity of both local and national talent.
Another staple is VOCAB, brilliantly hosted by Corey Ewing and Januarie York, with its legacy also including Tatjana Rebelle’s contributions to its legacy and impact. And of course, there’s The GreenHouse Effect, hosted by the talented jus WILL. These are some of the spaces that have become vital pillars of Indianapolis’ literary and creative community. I have worked with a lot of organizations over the years, but I have a special place in my heart for grassroots efforts, started by and for the people.
The organizers and founders behind these initiatives pour immense love not just into the art but into the people they serve. It takes incredible effort, vision, and resilience to maintain these grassroots movements and provide platforms for others to share their voices. I deeply commend them for their commitment to uplifting the literary and artistic spirit of Indiana.
Manòn Voice is a native of Indianapolis, Indiana, a multi-hyphenate–poet and writer, spoken word artist and filmmaker, actor, Hip-Hop emcee, educator, and community builder. The spirit of her work finds its niche at the intersection of arts and activism. She serves in the Jordan College of Arts School of Music at Butler University as a Lecturer of Hip-Hop Music, History, and Culture and directs Butler’s IT WAS ALL A DREAM Hip Hop Ensemble in the School of Music. She has performed on diverse stages across the country in the power of the word and has taught and facilitated writing and poetry workshops widely. Her poetry has appeared in The Flying Island, The Indianapolis Review, The House Life Project: People + Property Series, SidepieceMagazine and The World We Live(d) In anthology, Questions for a Resilient Future, Kinship: A World of Relations, and more.
Voice is a board member for Horizon House, Indy which supports our neighbors experiencing homelessness with integrated, comprehensive services so they can secure and maintain housing. She is a teaching artist for Arts for Learning Indiana, where she utilizes poetry and spoken word to educate youth and young adults. She also serves on the editorial advisory board for Center for Humans and Nature whose mission is to explore and promote human responsibilities in relation to nature, and is an Artist Ambassador for the Indiana Repertory Theatre and Central Indiana Community Foundation.
In 2017, Manòn Voice was awarded the Power of Peace Award from the Peace Learning Center of Central Indiana. In 2018, Manòn received a nomination for the Pushcart Prize in Poetry. In 2020, Manòn Voice was a featured Art and Soul artist with the Arts Council of Indianapolis and recipient of the 2020 Robert D. Beckmann Jr. Emerging Artist Fellowship from the Arts Council of Indianapolis. She was the 2020 Activist in Residence for the Kurt Vonnegut Museum and Library Banned Books Week; and the 2020 featured poet and speaker for Spirit and Place Festival Public Conversation. Manòn was a selected artist for the 202 On-Ramp cohort with the Indiana Arts Commission, a 2021 Artist Building Community Fellow with Arts For Learning Indiana, and the 2022 Artistic Curator for WE CANN C.H.A.T. Black Table Talk. She is a 2023 Creative Renewal Fellow with the Arts Council of Indianapolis, the 2023 Emerging Stories Fellow with Storytelling Arts of Indiana, and a 2024 Farming Fellow Practitioner with Growing Places Indy. She has received numerous awards for her 2021 Directorial Debut Film, Where They Drag The Boats, and premiered her 2024 film, ROOT BLACK, this past July at the Indy International Film Festival.