His Words

Published in print, March 2018.

Words by Gioncarlo Valentine
Photography by Gioncarlo Valentine

Joel L. Daniels is the kind of writer that pushes the medium by shifting and refining what poetics can do. He’s the type of writer who agitates traditionalist notions and wields the import and impact of language with ease. But what’s most encapsulating about Joel is his personality. He is all soul, all the time. Smiling that big smile and emanating a warmth that feels like something ancient and deeply Black. 

Growing up in The Bronx, New York, Joel was involved in a little bit of everything. He started out as an emcee, rapping in a style that was some parts Jay Z, some parts Nas, but somehow all parts Joel. Like so many young Black men, he rapped from a desire to escape, to express. Making music under the name MaG, he told the stories of his childhood, his complicated relationship with his father, and the all-too-familiar struggles of growing up Black and poor in America. His lyrical brilliance led to a deep appreciation for language and for performance. In 2013 he won The Bronx Recognizes its Own poetry grant from The Bronx Council on The Arts, and after graduating from Temple University he started performing his poetry around the country and shaping his voice as a writer. 

Since then Joel has written for The Boston Globe, The Huffington Post, Philadelphia Print Works and Medium, where Joel currently has more than 35,000 followers. His succinct, cripplingly beautiful poems, and his incredibly vulnerable essays touch on everything from Blackness, childhood sexual abuse and misogyny, to his beautiful daughter Lilah.

Last year saw the release of his first book, A Book About Thing I Will Tell My Daughter (Bottle Cap Press). The book is a small, inimitable collection of poetry, essays, and genre-defying writing meant to be passed down to his two-year-old daughter. The writing is smart, poignant, honest and witty. 

I recently had the great pleasure of sitting down for an interview and photo-shoot with Joel. Half business, half gut-busting, ugly laughter, we got to discuss his creative praxis, where he sources his inspiration, and his most inspiring role — as Lilah’s father.

Gioncarlo Valentine: Why do you write? You are an incredibly creative person, so what drives you to use language as your medium? 

Joel L. Daniels: Thank you, really. Writing started as a means of love for myself, learning how to love myself more through words. Also, to get girls. The former I have been fairly successful at. Now, I write for little Black boys who look like me, who grew up where I grew up, who are looking to see themselves in someone. I write so I can tell stories. I write for my father, because America owes him. I write so my mother can have her co-op. I write for my daughter. I write to save myself. Language gives me power, it allows me to express myself in ways that give me strength, and give others strength in the process.

Who are the writers that challenge you and push you to expand? 

Eve Ewing, Gioncarlo Valentine, Shefon Nachelle, Ashley Simpo. They all happen to be writers of color, and do this thing with language that is sexy and scary, amorphous and fucking beautiful.

What does fellowship look like to you as a writer and how important is it? 

It’s everything. Even just via social media, having something of a village of like-minded creatives who push and challenge me as a writer is a big part of keeping me motivated, in search of new techniques and new ways to explore the ways in which I use language to convey a message.

Have you read any parts of the book to Lilah? Does she approve of your writing styles? 

Lilah will approve of anything if I put a chicken nugget in front of it. Right now, Lilah only cares about the cover of the book, and keeps saying “Lilah swings” every time she sees it, so I think the book is really resonating with her on a personal level.

Tell me about co-parenting. What are the most difficult parts and what are the more rewarding ones? 

As with any relationship, the biggest issue is communication. For me, I realise the clinging and attachment I have to certain things, and how when those things aren’t met in the ways I see fit, I can travel to another place in my mind and body that is not conducive to a healthy and stable partnership in parenting. The rewarding parts are when I can see and feel us getting it right, it feels like an out-of-body experience; effortless and seamless.

Your career is certainly just getting started, but it is on the rise. What are your biggest fears, as a parent, about the success you envision for yourself? 

For me, not being enough for my daughter really is kind of a nagging fear. Providing her with all of this soon-to-be financial security but maybe not being around enough once things start to really pick up. But, it’s not really a worry, if I’m honest. I know the kind of father and parent I’ve always wanted to be, and that’s the kind that doesn’t miss birthdays or recitals or shows or whatever other events that will matter to her down the road. I know what choices I will make. They almost always include her in them, or at least being sure I can work around whatever I need to do to be there in some way, shape, or form.

As a writer, rapper, creative and father, how do find balance? How to do you manage to do it all? 

No such thing as balance. It’s a MYTH! Nah, really though... I just do, ya’ know? Everything is seasonal for me — I was emceeing and then I kind of stopped; the same with film and theatre acting. There has been a constant ebb and flow. I was taking photos almost every day for like six months. I’m always a father — some days I’m less attentive than others, but I’m present. I show up wherever I need to be, whether that’s to the children’s museum or to a workshop. It’s really about maximising time and opportunity, and doing all with as much smile as possible, and just being present for whatever truth shows up in the middle. Balance is something old white men created to make folks feel guilty about wanting to have a life that exists on multiple planes outside of the stale-ass rhetoric they’ve been feeding us in school and self-help books. Live ya’ life.

I imagine like most writers you experience periods of writer’s block. What methods do you use to get through it? 

For me, it’s just immersing myself in the world — calling or hanging out with friends, reading a good book of fiction, a museum, a library or bookstore, meditative walking, people watching, people listening, new music I can vibe to (hella inspiring,) taking myself out to the movies or dinner, hitting an art gallery... anything that involves people and art and solace.

What makes you feel the most insecure as a writer? 

Other writers, ha! The competitive emcee in me wants to roast and vaporise all other writers I love, but also love up on them and make them tea or coffee or whatever their preferred beverage is. Even as a grown adult, the thirteen- year-old middle schooler in me still has a bit of envy when I see other writers racking up bylines and accolades; it serves as a reminder for the work I still need to do and how far I have to go.  It is also incredibly silly and egotistical. I’m constantly working on it, though. I promise.

When do you feel the most beautiful? I always try to ask this question when I’m interviewing Black men because I don’t think we think about that enough and it’s incredibly invaluable. 

It feels corny sometimes, but when I’m bathing my daughter. I feel like I’m bathing Jesus, if there was a way to describe that. So really, I feel most beautiful when giving myself to others willfully, without regard or worry as to the outcome. Bathing my daughter is the closest thing to heaven, I suppose.

Give me three mantras/quotes that you live by?

“Do the work.” “Trust the process.” And, less of a quote, but more of a question, “Where is there an opportunity for me to add more love to this situation?”

How do you measure your growth as a writer? 

Hmm, a very good question. I think, when I look back at my earlier writings, I want to feel like the language is evergreen, and reflects, not a time, but a breadth of skill and knowledge commensurate with my experience as a human. It’s hard to measure something like that, but I know it when I see it and feel it.

What projects are you working on in the next few months?

Does being a better human count as a project? I hope so. Nah, working on a memoir, which feels very weird and almost pompous at thirty-five but whatever, I’m grown, I do what I want. I have an agent and stuff so I have to like, write for deadlines or whatever, so that’s cool. Ummm, this collection of flash-fiction kind of stories, a photo-essay-poetry book thingy I’m trying to finish, and Lilah. Yes, my daughter is a project — how successful can I be with putting all the love I can muster into a person. I’ll let ya’ll know how it turns out. Or rather, she will when she’s holding down the Oval Office. 

END