MESSIAH, THE INTERVIEW
This interview was performed in Messiah Cristine’s abode in East Lake, Atlanta, Georgia on December 7, 2020 at 6:00 PM by Najee AR Fareed. At 24, Messiah has a nice and calm face. Her disposition is even calmer, she speaks with hesitation but also with an abundance of freedom. Thoughtfulness be the word. Her seeping black locs are twisted into an up-do by her scarf. Loose strands of her locs droop to her shoulders under an over-sized black hoodie. Ambient dimly lit candles light up the room and soft music plays from a vinyl record. It was a chilly evening in East Atlanta. Our conversation about niggas, alternate dimensions, representation, language, love and loss was explored over microwaved chocolate almond milk with cacao seeds or as Messiah dubbed it, “hot chocolate.”
Najee AR Fareed: Can you tell me your name, where you are from, and what you do?
Messiah Cristine: My name is Messiah Cristine. I am from Miami, Florida. I am playwright/poet… just a writer.
Najee AR Fareed: Let’s start with some word associations. I want a quick, immediate answer. First word, Black.
Messiah Cristine: Hmmmm *long pause, followed by laughter* It was supposed to be quick right?
Najee AR Fareed: Yeah.
Messiah Cristine: Damn. I don’t know, I thought of the word ignite.
NAF: Nigga.
MC: *laughs* Black.
NAF: Colored.
MC: “For Colored Girls Who Considered Suicide at the End of the Rainbow.”
NAF: African-American.
MC: Um, Pan-African.
NAF: What are you reading right now?
MC: I am reading Finding Your Center (Getting to Center) by Marlee Grace.
NAF: Marlee Grace?
MC: Yeah.
NAF: What medium is that in?
MC: Oh, It’s a book.
NAF: It’s a novel?
MC: Oh no, I guess it’s like a self-help book.
NAF: Okay.
MC: That and also, Song of Solomon by Toni Morrison. I’ve been reading that for a while.
NAF: This is one of the questions you’d have to think more about, but what was the first thing you ever loved and lost?
MC: Wow. I guess the first thing I ever loved…
NAF: And lost.
MC: And lost… I don’t know...I guess...I don’t know if there is ever a first loving and losing something. I feel love is like… love and lost are two continuous things that are always happening. Because I'm thinking about the first thing I ever loved. Has to be my mom and my dad. I thought about my family members. But then I also thought about the first time I probably acquired language as a child. And I was like, “Wow. This medium is something that allows me to kind of express myself.” And… I don’t know. I think the first time I interacted with language I was like, I really really love this and get down with it and I feel so understood and seen. But I guess I did lose my connection to language. Especially recently, like post-grad, I really wasn’t writing that much. I was kinda just living day to day. I feel like I lost my connection to language. So I guess language was the first thing I ever lost and the first thing I ever loved. But it’s still also kind of still happening. So I don’t know if it’s like the first time.
NAF: It’s like a continuous cycle.
MC: Yeah I don’t know if that makes sense,
NAF: Nah I get that. That makes sense.
NAF: Do you feel represented? In a general sense, in the world.
MC: No.
NAF: You don’t feel-
MC: No.
NAF: -represented as yourself?
MC: *laughs* No.
NAF: You don’t feel like if you look out in the world, you see yourself?
MC: ummmmmm
NAF: Well, not even, just no?
MC: Yeah. I had a friend once tell me that all form of representation is a form of violence. But she was quoting somebody else and I don’t know who. *laughs* That’s just something I remember that she told me. And I think about that sometimes. And I think Stuart Hall might touch on that a little bit. But I do think there are people… like I don’t know. You have to sit down and think about what representation means for you as an individual. For me, representation means like being seen. I can turn on the TV and I can see myself. As much as I love people like Issa Rae and Lena Waithe… like I’m very happy for them and I feel acknowledged as a black woman seeing them on the screen. Even seeing people like Lupita Nyong’o. For me, I will not feel represented until I see my own work. I do not know if that is egotistical but I feel as though that is the truth at this point. For me, I always felt overlooked as a child. Especially growing up in Miami. Miami has its own cultural landscape. It is really specific. Especially being a black person down there. I was always overlooked. I write a lot about young black women who are constantly overlooked and feel displaced. I feel like I haven’t seen that yet. There are stories about black girls being overlooked but I feel like I haven’t seen myself yet because I have not put myself out there. *laughs*
NAF: That’s fair, I feel that. Piggybacking off of that, when was the first time you saw yourself somewhere else?
MC: *long pause* I don’t know. The first time I saw myself, or when I felt seen, was the first time I saw one of my plays put up. I was like, “woah, this is crazy.”
NAF: Someone put on a performance?
MC: Yeah it was workshopped. And once I saw a performance of it in college. It’s really crazy because the first time I felt seen, they did a production of my play at Sarah Lawrence. I just saw the set of the play, there was no one on stage. There was something about seeing the architecture of the play. I was like, “wow, writing for the stage or film allows you to see the inner architecture of one’s mind.” So when I walked into the theater and just saw the set, no actresses even as the play was about black women, but I just saw the set. That was when I felt the most seen because it was a product of something that was created out of my mind. Something about seeing the architecture of your own mind is really special. There was no one on stage, no people. But seeing the space was very moving. If that makes sense.
NAF: Do you more often feel included or excluded?
MC: I guess it depends on the context. It depends on the context of the inclusion is and what the exclusion is. As a black person, you’re probably constantly feeling those two things at once. Especially as a black woman. I feel really included in spaces that operated by other black women, black femmes, or black queer femmes. In a general black narrative, everyone knows that black women are excluded. I once had a friend who told me that when people think of black people, they actually think of black men. But maybe that’s different with Kamala Harris or some shit. I don’t know. Did I answer your question? *laughs*
NAF: *laughs* Yeah, you said in some spaces you feel more included and in some spaces you feel more excluded.
NAF: If you were a book, which book would you be?
MC: Oooh, yeah. Sula by Toni Morrison. Hands down. Hands down.
NAF: If you were a movie, which movie would you be?
MC: I would be… this is a good question. I feel like it is a movie that I watched recently… Sorry, It’s kinda taking me a long time.
NAF: You’re good. You just gotta think.
MC: I just watched it… At this moment, I think it will be this movie called American Honey. But I think if I were a movie, I would definitely be Coraline.
NAF: Okay, American Honey. Do you know who directed it?
MC: I forgot her name. I know Sasha Lane is in it. It’s American Honey by some white woman. It’s about this very free-spirited girl.
NAF: American Honey or Coraline. Either one.
MC: Oh, Coraline.
NAF: Coraline but American Honey for right now?
MC: Yeah, in this moment, I feel like American Honey. But my spirit, who I am, is Coraline.
NAF: If you were a song, which song would you be?
MC: “I’ve Been Here Before” by Teena Marie. That is my all-time favorite song.
NAF: If you were an album, which album would you be?
MC: *long pause* There are so many good albums. There is an album, I think her name is pronounced “key-aye-uh”or “key-uh.” It’s called Forever Your Girl. It’s such a good album. And it’s black as hell. Forever Your Girl by KeiyaA. By “key-uh.” I hope that’s how you say her name. It’s so good. You gotta listen to it.
NAF: What four items would be used to summon you if you had to summon your spirit from an alternate dimension?
MC: That’s such a great question. Only four?
NAF: Yeah. You gotta condense yourself like that.
MC: Definitely a bottle of lavender oil. The Step Brothers movie on Blu-Ray. *laughs* One single SZA tear. A rose quartz crystal.
NAF: Piggybacking off of that, do you feel like the most authentic version of yourself? For example, in Rick and Morty there are all these alternate versions of Rick and Morty and shit. The main Rick that we follow in the show is from Dimension C-137. In comparison with Ricks from other dimensions, he described himself as the “Rickiest Rick.” Do you feel as though you are the most “Messiahest Messiah” or the most you version of yourself that you can be on any possible spectrum of you?
MC: At this current moment?
NAF: Like right now.
MC: It’s crazy because, before this interview, I was taking this selfie and I looked in the mirror and I was like, damn. I am really starting to look like Messiah. Whatever that means. And I do feel like I have stepped into a place of authenticity that is really comfortable. We are always in a place of coming and changing. I feel like it is so brave to be like, “YES, I AM DEFINITELY THE MOST AUTHENTIC ME.” But I feel like that’s not true. I will probably be a different person in two years. Probably. But in this moment, I feel pretty authentic. That is something I have been pretty proud about since I have moved to Atlanta. It is definitely somewhere that is helping me relish in my authenticity as a person. I feel pretty authentic. I don’t really care to compare myself to other people anymore.
NAF: Even if it’s in comparison with yourself. Maybe you can’t possibly beat who you think you are in your head.
MC: Yeah definitely.
NAF: When you first moved to Atlanta, what is the energy you got from it?
MC: I thought it was amazing. I thought it was black as hell. Really beautiful black people. I feel like no matter where I go, I’ll always feel displaced as a person. The reason why I felt a lot of beauty but also displacement is because my family is from here. My family’s like deep deep roots. My grandmother was born here. Our roots are here in Atlanta. They go way back, like years and years and years. But then my mom would take me through the neighborhoods and be like, “this has been gentrified.” And I just felt really displaced because she was taking me through memory lane. “Your grandmother used to work here,” and “we used to live over here, your uncle buddy used to live over here but everything just looks so different.” And I always felt like the feeling of displacement was turning something upside down, shaking it up, and turning it back the regular way again. Kind of like a snow globe. You shake it up, you turn it upside down and flip it back and watch all the snowfall. It was like a weird feeling of beauty and displacement. The Atlanta that she knew will not be the Atlanta that I know.
NAF: If you can live anywhere in the world, where would you live?
MC: I’d live in this community called Awra Amba in Ethiopia. It’s this secular community with no religion. A lot of people think they’re communist or something like that. They do not subscribe to gender roles. The women and men do the same amount of work. It is a really fascinating community. And it is also the name of a really dope song that this Ethiopian artist came out with. They seem really tight-knit. I feel like I’d really like it. Probably Ethiopia in general. I think it’s a dope country.
NAF: What is your biggest fear?
MC: I feel like I have so many fears. I am an anxious person. I am afraid of everything. Everything scares me. I think my biggest fear revolves around not writing. Not living up to my potential is a really big fear of mine. Or losing my mom, dad, or my brother. I really love my family.
NAF: What is your biggest freedom?
MC: I think it is definitely writing. For sure. I really love writing and language. Definitely that art form.