Emmy Award-winning poet Suzen Baraka shares creative wisdom and facilitates a space for sharing and reflection in the latest installment of Barnard’s MeMoSa series.

Dazed from a day of rushing to meet deadlines, I slid off my sneakers and walked slowly into the Movement Lab. 

The event I had come here for was titled “Poetry Open Mic with Suzen Baraka”: the newest installment in Barnard’s ongoing MeMoSa (short for Media Movement Salon) series, where arts events are held monthly on Thursdays.

I settled down on a cushion, joining a dozen other students sitting in a semi-circle, waiting. Purple and blue light poured over the room. Projected on two walls in front of us was an animation of fish swimming slowly through some bioluminescent, multicolored pond, creating ripples—at the end of the animation, the video played in reverse, and the fish floated backward out of view. 

I was shaken out of my slightly-hypnotized state when the guest of honor, Suzen Baraka, took the stage. An Emmy award-winning poet, actor, lawyer, Baraka radiated warmth and energy. 

She gave us an introduction to her poetry to start things off, reflecting on her love for the medium, her background, and the conflicting process of writing poems for advertisements and campaigns. Baraka told us a story of having to compose poems, memorize them, fly out to LA and perform them in front of cameras all within a day or two – certainly not the ideal situation for an artist, but one she navigated intentionally nonetheless. She explained that while the process felt like a classic example of poetry-made-corporate, she was sure to only partner with campaigns whose purpose she believed in. 

We then watched two videos of Baraka’s poetry overlaid with film: The first named “Some Heroes,” performed for an advertisement for Theraflu’s Rest and Recover Fund, and the second titled “VOTE,” commissioned by Poetic People Power. She then read us a new poem titled “My Asian,” touching on her Korean background, her relationship with her mother, the traumatizing effects of anti-Asian hate, and the resilience of a new generation of Asian-Americans. This poem, she told us, was possibly the most difficult thing she had ever written. Needless to say, it was breathtaking. 

The floor was opened for questions from our small crowd, and conversations ensued about the process of poetry-crafting, transitioning one’s writing process across different stages of life, how Baraka came to be the successful artist she is today, and how to think about one’s art in relation to the pressure to get a “practical” job. Baraka told us to remember that “if you build it, they will come”—she believes that honoring and investing in one’s “god-given” talents is of the utmost importance. 

It was soon time for the crescendo of the evening: an open-mic and workshop experience. Baraka ushered us closer, and we formed a tighter circle in the center of the room. About five of those in attendance shared their work. Some were seasoned performers, while some had never read their poetry aloud to a group before (though you’d never know it). Each poem left me – and, I’m sure, many others in the room – near-speechless. Reflecting and truth-telling about identity, racism, sexism, fatphobia, self-love, perseverance, and more, the poems were powerful and gorgeously crafted. Baraka drew connections between the different writers in the room, illuminating what a group of two or three had in common or where they differed. She gave brief, genuine, and constructive feedback to each poet. 

The evening was intense, intimate, dreamy, and supportive. I left in a different kind of daze than the one I had entered in—feeling in awe of the creativity that flourished in the movement lab that night.

movement lab via author