Meet Shirmina Geneva, the 25-year-old Philly native and co-founder of Your Favorite Jawns, a poetry and artist collective established in 2017. Shirmina joined the Philadelphia Youth Poetry Movement (PYPM) as a freshman in High school. There, we competed against each other, representing our respective teams. Shirmina was a force to be reckoned with then and is even more so now. In a sweet and intimate conversation, Shirmina confronts a long-standing conflict with how PYPM is remembered, after its fall. More importantly, here, they give us a peek into their bright future, without forgetting to leave a note to their 15-year-old self.
The Interview
What led you to using your real name on stage?
Shirmina: Oh sh-t. I think about that all the time. My mom gave me her middle name, Geneva, and I didn’t like it at first. It was my great grandmother’s first name, on my mom’s side. She gave me that middle name because she also did not like that middle name. She literally told me, “I couldn’t be alone in this. So, I’m gonna give you the middle name as well. I don’t like it and we can share that.” When I was younger, I didn’t really like it and I never really told anyone what my middle name was. One day, someone found my middle name and said, “Shirmina Geneva” and I just thought that sounded so nice. I didn’t realize how much of a ring it had to it. I started saying, “Shirmina Geneva” over and over to myself and I learned to love the name. I realized that most of what I wanted to do as an artist was to be authentic to myself. Going by my government name reminded me to stay who I am.
What’s your first memory of poetry? Do you remember the first poem you read?
Shirmina: I just remember reading Shel Silverstein’s little poetry books growing up. I remember being introduced to Maya Angelou and really being inspired by her at a really young age and having to remember her “phenomenal woman” poem. I didn’t start writing poetry until I got to High school. I would write short stories and I would draw too. I was mostly a visual artist when I was much younger. I was going to Kappa as a visual artist, but they wanted too much! That’s how I got to Palumbo!
How did you join PYPM?
Shirmina: My English teacher, Mrs. Kay. We had to do a poetry assignment for homework and I wrote a poem about springtime and beauty. She told me to come to her poetry club after school. I was like, “okay, I guess. It’s my freshman year. Let’s get into clubs.” I went and never left. I started going to workshops and slams. From there, it was history.
I have the same story. Steve, in the hallway, looking all awkward: “You wanna join a poetry club?” [Insert terrible Steve Clark impression]. I was like, “sure”.
Shirmina: She roped me in with the snacks!
What was your own experience in that arena?
Shirmina: PYPM was getting into that world of not just poetry , but camaraderie and community in a way I did not experience outside of my family before. It was pivotal to who I am as a person now. I had friends in middle school and on my block, but my community was my family and the people in my home. That’s who I spent most of my time with. That’s who I related to the most. That’s who knew me the best. I didn’t find myself outside of my family, before I got to poetry. That community of people who felt just as jaded as me, who came from similar upbringings, who were looking for themselves too, who were looking for that thing that kept them motivated. I related to that. I related to that need to have space to be vulnerable. Where I could find myself without being judged, without push-back from family values and traditions. So, from there, I got to have the freedom to see what the world was like outside of my mom and my siblings. I am very grateful for that opportunity.
Shirmina: I am also grateful for the destruction of PYPM, because it led me to a whole new era of myself. I had to stop and ask myself, “okay, who am I outside of this organization and outside of poetry in general. I’ve been able to experiment with different mediums. In all, I’m grateful for the entire experience of poetry and PYPM, what it has taught me, how it has shaped who I am, and how it prepared me for a creative career, in a way that a lot of creatives may not have been. It’s taught me what to do and what not to do when you are trying to hold community and safe spaces.
There have been some PYPM alumni who have spoken about mistreatment at the hands of some coaches. What was it like seeing that conversation unravel years after?
Shirmina: That is so layered, because like I said I wouldn’t be who I am without that mentorship that I did receive. Specifically, as a teenager going through her own sh-t at home and through life in general, I knew I needed that. I was looking for a space like this and didn’t know it, so when it came, for me, it was, “oh, this is amazing, I love this space.” It wasn’t until the fall-out when so much came out about some mentors, that it changed a bit for me. Then, I eventually spoke out. I had said, “a lot of the youth that were a part of PYPM stopped writing. A space was abruptly taken from them and no one was responsible for these kids.” It was ripped under them without notice, without apology, without grievances, and with no direction on where to go next. I spoke up about that. Some of the mentors didn’t like it. They felt that they were going through their own sh-t. I totally get that but I know that when you call yourself a mentor and I didn’t give you that name, you hold some type of responsibility to that leadership. There was nothing to fall back on. There was nothing to give the children reprieve or an alternative. I know that hurt a lot of people, mentors included. At that point, I had aged out of PYPM. I was 19. It didn’t stop me from thinking about the people who still had time and wanted their time. People who were still building that skill and still needed that community.
Shirmina: That’s why we started Your Favorite Jawns. There was no other space around that time to attend sh-t where people felt welcomed or accepted or they could relate to the speakers, organizers. We wanted to be those people because, where else and who else can do this for us? F-ck it. This goes back to me being grateful at the end of the day of it all, because we wouldn’t have YFJ without PYPM. Who knows? Who knows when or if we would have started. There’s a lot of nuance and feelings about PYPM. Especially as an adult now.and looking back on how the organization was handled in various ways, whether it is in slams, when you’re on teams, how they interacted with students, the way they handled things internally, like finances, etc…
What was the first performance you were proud of? You got off stage and you just FELT IT?
Shirmina: Brave New Voices 2016, when I had to do my “Ratchet is Righteous” solo poem. It was the third round of semifinals. Adrenaline was up. Originally, the poem was a duo I wrote with my friend, Kadidja. They ended up kicking her off the team on some bullsh-t. Like I said, NUANCE. So, at the last minute, the poem had to be re-edited as a single poem. The poem is about being a Black girl who didn’t fit [at the time] in that Tumblr-aesthetic. A girl from somewhere like Southwest Philly. Those Tumblr girls had things like 3c curls and used Shea moisture because they could afford it. The poem was talking about Black girls of a multitude of backgrounds, who speak differently, who have different economic upbringings. Just paying homage to all those Black girls. I performed that poem and everyone stood up. I didn’t notice everyone standing until I got off the stage. That standing ovation felt really good because I had just talked my shit about who I am. It was about the girls I had seen and grown up with. That meant a lot to me, personally.
What was it like co-founding a collective here in Philly and launching the biggest Juneteenth event in Philly every year?
Shirmina: Founding YFJ really opened my world up to the possibility of how and where I can impact. At first, I was just doing poetry. Not to say that I wasn’t doing enough or that it wasn’t impactful. But, creating YFJ and creating experiences, while still being able to use my words in a way that is tangible and lived in, was different. That was a whole new dynamic in a world I didn’t yet know. To do it with people that I love meant a lot to me and it’s something that came from the heart for everyone involved. When me and Rujay started it, right after the fall of PYPM, it happened at such a pivotal time where we [the community] needed it and has continually shown me why I needed it. Even though it’s stressful, overwhelming, it’s the stress I don’t mind. It’s the stress I live for and think I’m here to do.
“I’m really proud of it. I feel like this is the first time I’ve ever said that out loud.”
I’m proud of what we have done, as far as the Juneteenth cookout. That also came at a pivotal time. We did the first one in 2020, at the height of the George Floyd and Brianna Taylor riots, pride month. So much was going on. We were like, “fuck it. Let’s throw a cookout.” We asked our friend, Chioke, if we could throw it in her crib. We did not expect that many people to come out. We saw how much traction it got on Instagram when we asked white people to pay $50 to attend. That blew people’s minds. In my head, it made sense. A lot of people were upset and they didn’t understand. They thought I was racist, blah blah blah. We kinda didn’t care. It was so intense and traumatic for Black people around that time. We were protesting. We were getting beat, murdered, thrown in jail, because we were fighting against what was done to us. We wanted to bring some lightness to that time and we decided on a cook-out because cookouts are Black as hell. It was meant to represent the joy we wanted to spread and be known for as a collective. Once we saw how well it was received, it was up. People told us that we should do it the next year so we did it and we did it again. I’m excited to keep doing it and continue to make it every year, because I think Black people deserve it. White people deserve to pay the $50 to enjoy the cook-out.
What about the poetry/art scene makes you feel supported and heard?
I love the energy at events. When we show up, we show out loud. Some of us be on the wall. Some of us be too cool. I enjoy the way a lot of the women on the scene carry and support each other. That makes me feel really supported. It could be cliquey out here. I love that I’m not often involved in or experiencing any cattiness. At least, I don’t pay attention to it. It makes me feel supported, when we aren’t too cool, especially for the girls, to joe the sh-t out of each other. I love that, even in person.
11. Are there dreams you have that you feel are too big and scare you just to think about them?
Shirmina: Well, I have a couple of things that make me nervous. One is moving out of the country, for whatever period of time. That makes me nervous because Philly has been such a huge part of who I am. As an artist, I’m really proud to be from Philly. I wouldn’t want to be from anywhere else. I’ve always wanted to make a significant impact in Philly, as long as I’m here. I want to leave something impactful to my community that I know is enriching. That’s another dream that I don’t want to say scares me, but I know how big I want it to be. Sometimes, I get intimidated by it because I don’t know how I can make it happen with 15 cents in my pocket. I know that if it is meant to happen, it will happen. That’s something that is in my heart, so why wouldn’t it happen, you know?
As much as Philly can take from us, traumatize us, burn us out and hurt us, it breathes beautiful artists. It feeds people who are raw and real and talented. I want my city to create more of those people by instilling that joy, healing, and those safe spaces. Creating opportunities and remedies for the people in my city, artistically or otherwise, is something that intimidates me. In my head, I believe that it is possible. It’s just figuring out how to get there. It’s something that belongs to me. It’s scary when you look around and you see a lot of the opposites of your dreams for your community and yourself, and figuring out how to undo what you didn’t do to yourself and the people around you. I’m just trying to always remind myself that:
- I can’t fix everything.
- Rome was not build in a day.
- My belief in myself is the driving force in what I do.
“If I keep doing that, then I’ll always have a driving force. I’m always trying to abide by what is in my heart. It’s the hardest thing to do, but it would be the easiest thing for me to do as a person, in my spirit.”
Who has been the most influential in shaping you?
Shirmina: Definitely, my mom. Who my mom was as a mother is the type of love I want to give to everyone. Not necessarily motherly but the resiliency of that love. The determination of that love is how I want to love, in general. Her and her fighting spirit and bravery have been why I want to be so brave in the ways that I show up, as myself. My mom was always herself, no matter what. Even when it was embarrassing or inappropriate, she was always herself. I try to remind myself to do that as well, because people loved her regardless and it gave her a strength that I didn’t see in a lot of people growing up.
In addition to her, Audre Lorde is definitely an inspiration to me as a poet, as a person who loves the erotic. Ironically, they have the same birthday: my mom and Audre Lorde. Poetry is Not a Luxury was the first academic piece of poetry I remember sitting and reading. Back in 10th or maybe 11th grade, I read it and did a poem on it with other people. That was my favorite poem I ever worked on because it reminded me that what I do is what I love but it’s also a service. It’s my place in the world as someone who wants to be a revolutionary, a mover, and a shaker. That has been my starting point, even if I end up somewhere else. I want to speak authentically and that’s what poetry has taught me. Reading that essay really reminded me that it’s hard to speak about some sh-t and I relate that to my mom as well. It’s hard to say it to yourself sometimes, let it alone in front of people or have people read it. That’s also a type of bravery that I learned from Audre Lorde that has helped guide me as an artist and servicer to my community.
What would you tell your 15-year-old self?
Shirmina: You’re cool as f-ck when you are yourself, when you are doing what you love. That’s cool as f-ck and you’re loved for that, specifically. I wish I knew that sooner. I wish I wasn’t hiding from my vulnerability. I was doing poetry then but It wasn’t until later that I found strength in my vulnerability. I dress differently. I interact with people differently than I did at 15 because I became less fearful of who I am. I would tell myself that “you’re prettier when you dress like yourself and look like yourself. You’re funnier. You’re smarter. You’re more creative when you’re trying to be yourself. Lead by who you are, what’s in your heart. Your relationships would be much different. Your anxieties would be much different. Your direction in life and how you are willing to speak will be different.
What should everyone be looking forward to, in regards to you, Your Favorite Jawns and Ebony Erotix?
Shirmina: First off With Ebony Erotix, you can expect more conversation, more talking points, more absurdity, more sexy. For YFJ, you can definitely expect our Juneteeth cook-out and you can expect more collaborations.with other collectives. Always, in general, expect more community work and engagement, more fun. Me, specifically, as an artist, ironically, as I’m making a transition away from poetry, everything I do, I want it to be poetic. My life is poetic. Maybe not always the pretty, beautiful way. Maybe more, the tragic, epic way. I definitely want to branch out more into creative direction, film and photography. I want to learn how to visual and manifest spaces, artwork, visuals, and music. I’m really excited to use my creativity now in a way I probably always was excited about when I was younger. I used to want to be an interior designer, when I was 8. That;s why I love doing set design. I love decorating. In my mind, my mom was the event planner and party thrower of the family. She threw the sleepovers and house parties before she even had me. This has always been a part of me, to organize spaces, to bring the visuals in my head onto something that is tangible and experienced by other people. I want to get more into that.
Shirmina has graciously provided us with a copy of “Ratchet is Righteous”:
My tumblr was a gallery of carefree black women
dashboard swimming with women wearing afros
And flowered halos
Crowned with graduation caps and headwraps
Aesthetic bright and inviting
Chocolate women
Laughs like honey
And smiles like porcelain
Unbothered and unattainable
Black girls who use all their teeth when saying no
Black girls you can’t make cry
Black girls so carefree
That they looked nothing like me
I realized
They shared my skin
But not my story
And i didnt have the privilege of being apart of theirs
I tried so hard to mimic their model
To undo parts of me that were not palatable
Stopped wearing weaves
because they weren’t afrocentric enough
Brought shea moisture when i couldn’t even buy lunch
Smiled more
Made myself less burden
Something lightweight and easier to manage
But everything about me was too 4C
Tight and coarse
Knotted and stubborn
A nappy personality
You can smell the ghetto on me
I tried both defiance and conformity
But the carefree black girl archetype felt like a V.I.P club
Even the commonality of our oppressions couldn’t get me in
The constructs they looked so happy living without,
Were the same ones I was still shackled to
I wasn’t middle class black girl enough
How careless could i be while having to be careful in my hood?
there was no one to admire this impoverishment
there were never photos of girls who looked like me
Black bitches with mugshot faces
The ones with forty bottles and blunts
Queer and stressed
Edges unfleeked
Loud ashit
And swear every time we speak
Our food stamps weren’t romanticized or revolutionary
And there was no affording that portrayal of freedom
This hood girl
Too ratchet
Too stereotype
My poverty a cliche i dont have the luxury of leaving behind
I’m too ghetto
Too much of what black girls don’t wanna be
Working for an aesthetic that couldn’t even fit me
But there’s nothing photogenic about how dirty we have to hustle here
Never a celebration for the single black moms who have to sell rock to feed their kids
or the older sisters who use bloody knuckles on street corners to protect their siblings
These roles were played too many times for an applause
I am the black girl they cropped out of the picture
The one who is too typecast
Too much of something stale and exhausted
I am the idea of blackness they ran away from
The rejected residue of the angry black woman
I endure erasure to save my people from stigma
But now, when tumblr teases me with a cracked mirror
And tries to convince my blackness that it has to be careful carrying a girl like me
I remind myself
*That my Ratchet is Righteous
I am one of a million ways to be a black girl
And I’m allowed to coexist with the rest of them
I’m allowed to love my Afro and kinks
Then wear a 22 inch Malaysian weave the next day
I can be Badu and Nicki Minaj all at once
I can blast trap music like gospel
Black women are never one dimensional
We can be hoe and housewife
Artist and hoodrat
Nerd and trap queen
Angry and carefree
At the same damn time
Being a black girl
Is thriving everywhere no one else wants you to be
It’s realizing the complexity of our womanhood can’t be undermined
It’s being frontline in battle and still slaying the war paint,
It’s writing yourself back into existence,
Despite our differences, our strength and beauty are universal
Accept me the way I am
Because all black girls are worth the frame
VIDEO aesthetics:
Ratchet black girls
Girls rolling up/smoking
At the chinese store/papi store/hair store
In the subway
Chillin on front steps
Bundles and long nails
Bamboo earrings
Middle fingers
Twerking
queer black girls (studs, non-binary, etc.)
Weirdo black girls
Photography: @cerek
Text: Taïna Jabouin
Makeup/Styling: Shirmina Geneva
Light/Photo Assistance: Kassandra Cotto
Photo Editing, Set Design/Shoot Direction: @cerek & Taïna Jabouin
Wardrobe: Shirmina Geneva & Taïna Jabouin
