Ashley M. Jones made history twice upon her selection as the new state Poet Laureate of Alabama this year. She is both the first Black writer and the youngest writer to hold this position in its 91-year history.
These accolades come upon the heels of the publication of her third poetry collection “Reparations Now!” Jones recently read from her new book in Columbus at Mississippi University for Women’s Eudora Welty Writers’ Symposium.
A native of Birmingham, Jones attended the University of Alabama at Birmingham after graduating from the Alabama School of Fine Arts, where she is an instructor in creative writing. She earned her MFA at Florida International University and teaches in the MFA program at Converse University.
Jones’ poetry is notable for the way she braids competing ideas, such as the duality between rejection and love, with powerful imagery. Many of her poems use historical references as a jumping-off point to reflect on subjects such as violence and humanity, while others pay tribute to family members with tenderness, such as those dedicated to her father’s memory.
Jones stands out as a rising star in Southern literature, not only for her evident talent, but also for her dedication to community engagement and promoting fellow writers. She is the founder of her hometown’s annual Magic City Poetry Festival, and she recently served as guest editor for three issues of POETRY Magazine.
This interview has been lightly edited for clarity and length.
What are you hoping to achieve as the next Poet Laureate of Alabama and as the first Black writer — and the youngest — in the position?
I’m really excited to continue celebrating the vibrant and thriving landscape of writers in Alabama. I’m hoping to bring more resources to the state to help create spaces and places to make and interact with poetry, and I’m hoping to show the larger world just what we have to say here in Alabama.
When did you start writing poetry, and when did you realize that it would become your profession?
I’ve been writing poetry since I was seven years old, after reciting “Harriet Tubman” by Eloise Greenfield to my second grade class. I really always knew I wanted to grow up and be a writer — but the poetry piece specifically started to come into clear view during my undergraduate study. Graduate school showed me tangible ways to make that dream a reality, and I’ve been working professionally as a poet since then — six years and three books later!
There’s a great quote from you in an interview with your alma mater: “If you speak Southern, that’s poetry.” What did you mean by that?
The way we speak — Southerners, Black people, anyone who is not trapped by the notion that there is a such thing as holy perfect English — is a kind of poetry. You can’t hear someone say “Y’all come back” or “He might could” or “That gets my goat” and not conclude that it’s a poetic act. So many people like to say that “nonstandard” ways of speaking English are “wrong,” but each dialect has its own correct grammar. Black people, specifically, have made jazz out of the bloody language that was forced upon us. That’s poetry.
The titular poem in this collection responds to George Wallace’s 1963 speech in which he calls for “segregation now.” What made you decide to revisit his words?
I believe we’re never “finished” with history — that is, it lives with us and in us, constantly. So, although I was not born or even thought of in 1963, I am very aware of Wallace’s infamous words and the feeling behind them, which does permeate society today.
I happened to be teaching “March” by John Lewis a couple years ago, and in preparation for my lecture on the history of the time, I came across that speech, which I had seen clips from many times in life, but I’d never read the full text. I read that text and was struck by how much those words seemed to appear in modern politics today, even if disguised or diluted. I wanted to assert that these ideas Wallace touted all those years ago have kept on living, and that what we all need is repair, and by extension, reparations.
Many of your poems memorialize Black people who have been killed in racial violence; others describe your personal experiences as a Black woman. What do you want readers to take away from them?
I want readers to take away empathy, authenticity and the power of telling (and believing) the truth. It is important, as we move toward true and transformative repair, that we understand the conversation about race and oppression in America does not have to include defensiveness or denying, and I’m hopeful that my poetry can give people a doorway into that empathy-making process.
Emily Liner is the owner of Friendly City Books, an independent bookstore and press in Columbus.
