Duke the Rude is a Baltimore native and a spoken word artist. His work focuses on his experiences as a gay black man; he is a member of the Sons of Baldwin, a spoken word collective of black men who love black men. He performs across the DMV area and you can also find videos of his work online here.
This interview was conducted by Jauniece Brown and Helena Chung over email.
As a native of Baltimore, in what ways, if any, do you see the city influencing your work?
Baltimore shapes my experience in a lot of ways. As an African American, surrounded by other African Americans, especially in the city, I am privy to a unique cultural experience. The city exists in a spectrum between art and oppression on the daily. And I think my poetry reflects that. A state of duality.
You are also a member of the Sons of Baldwin, a spoken word collective made up of black men who love black men. How was the group formed? What would you like to see it become?
Kenneth Morrison was the C.E.O. of Dew More at the time and wanted to start a side project focused on honoring the work of James Baldwin. Specifically, him being a same gender loving man, and speaking on the social issues involving his sexuality and his blackness. Chris and I were already established poets on the scene and discussing ways to bring our experiences to the forefront of more conversations. When Kenneth approached me, because of the work I already did, I reached out to Chris and it just made sense to put all of our ideals under one banner.
Sons of Baldwin is an advocacy statement first and foremost, so what I would like, we would like, is to see it grow to help bridge the gap in our communities and create social change and revolution in our thinking, in our families, in our communities. We were all blessed with the ability to write and perform. And we deeply love our art, so traveling the world and sharing is a major goal as well. We want poetry to be more than the “coffee shop experience.”
Can you talk a little bit about your name, Duke the Rude? How much does the rudeness of your poetry have to do with the rejection of a father, in both the literal and religious meanings?
That’s an interesting question. I never thought about it like that before. My first response is to say nothing about them affected my name. My father didn't spend a lot of time talking about me so I don't spend a lot of time talking about him. Rudeness for me is about accepting my presence makes a statement. And simply talking about issues that make one feel uncomfortable can be considered “rude.” When I walk into a room I am constantly aware of my blackness, and depending on the people in that room, I am also made aware of the fact that I am a same gender loving man. I know that any of these two states of being can make one uncomfortable, and to anyone privileged, me speaking about issues that affect me when they don’t want to hear it or address it will be considered rude. From a young age I learned life is rude, it doesn’t care how you’re feeling it. It just smacks you some days, and you have to get over it.
There are many references to religion in your poems. Are you religious? How do you think religion has played into your poetry?
Simply put, no. But I did spend a lot of time in church growing up. And I know many people in my community have as well. Because of this, we have come to understand the divine energies with terms such as God, Jesus, Heaven, Hell, and it’s just easier to write a relatable poem with these terms then to say mention every African principle they are based off of. Religion, specifically Christianity was vital to my platform as a poet though. The open mic was one of the only places I felt free enough to cross relate and point out the hypocrisy and contradictions with how we treat homosexuals, women and and certain gender norm language. In the past, Christianity seemed to be a way for my people to figure out how to press and keep going, but in my lifetime Christianity seems to be a way for my people to stay complacent. I take severe issue with that change. But Malcolm X said “Keep your religion in the closet.” You can see how as a same gender loving man, that resonated greatly with me.
Do you ever feel vulnerable discussing your personal life publically or calling out entire institutions like the church? Does it ever feel too overwhelming or even dangerous?
Absolutely, sometimes I still get nervous. You never know how people will react, especially with something as sacred as one’s religion. Even if I disagree with it, I still feel I must respect it. It’s an interesting balance because I still say what I need to, but I never call someone out their name for simply disagreeing lol. Far as my personal stories, I feel it’s the only way for me and my community to grow. If I’m asking them through my poems to be authentic, then I must show them how to do it. It’s also a great way for me to let go of my own baggage. I leave every mic feeling lighter, and like I have more space to love myself.
Watching you perform, although we’re not seeing any line breaks on the page, it almost feels like there are line breaks because of the way you insert pauses after certain words. Where do poems start for you, on the page or out loud? What is your writing process like?
Almost all of my poems are done in my head first and then I write them down. Backwards I know right? But that's the truth. I’ll get a line, and gradually build on it, if I don’t know what to say next, I’ll keep restarting from the beginning till I get something. Because of this process I usually memorize a poem by the time I’m done “writing” it. Often times I know how I want to end my poem before I even begin. I think about what I want to leave the audience with and then figure out how do I get to that point.
In “Killing God,” you say “1500s, I was labeled mental illness, they placed drills against my skull” and in “Rudeness Interrupted,” you say “I know what it’s like to be thrown out of heaven.” How do you feel the history of gay folk, of black folk in America connects to your own personal history? How do history and contemporary politics influence your work?
Is it ok to say I am an angry person? I mean anger is a human emotion right? I think about black bodies being cast away. How often they are blamed for their own deaths...about systematic oppression. How another cop will get paid time off. How people will glance over this part of the interview as me “playing the victim.” I’ll also think about how many times I’ve been a victim. How in some circles only black heterosexual male lives matter. My history doesn’t really seem to have ended, it just changed a little. And the politics? They’re the same. They just changed a little. And my poems? They’re the same. The author just changed a little.
“Because I’m black and I’m gay, I’m Afraid? of setting off silent alarms.” What are these silent alarms? Is the title of this poem, “Afraid? (Silent Alarms)” a question for the audience or yourself, or is this a rhetorical question that you don’t want or have an answer for?
The title of the poem was definitely a question for me. Even as honest as I am, who really wants to admit they are afraid of something? And the question extends to anyone who feels like me, but don’t possess the will power to be candid with strangers about it. The silent alarms is literally me being a black and homosexual man. Just those two parts of my identity are enough to make somebody hate me. To find me worthy of not existing. And sometimes they don’t always tell you that they don’t like or want you around. It’s a silent alarm and sometimes they just hurt you. And you didn't even know they were coming.
Your poems deal with a lot of these heavy issues (family, racism, homophobia), but there are also moments of playfulness, particularly with references to pop culture. I’m thinking specifically about the Harry Potter references in “Rudeness Interrupted,” and references to The Hunger Games in “Afraid? (Silent Alarms).” What role does pop culture play in your work?
Similar to religion it just makes me more relatable. I also find it interesting how easy it is to contextualize and think about the deep implications of oppression in a fictional world (based off real life) but people find it so difficult to do it when it comes to their own personal struggles. Pop culture serves as a way for me to again cross relate and provide a way for people to see the problem.
You say you are “mad at god because when you’re that young, your only concept of him begins and ends with mother”. When you were young, your mother wanted you to be “more like a man,” and “like sports.” You imply that the men your mother was with were violent. But at the same time you celebrate your sexuality, and stand up for black men who are wrongly attacked. Is your poetry therapeutic? Is it a way of overcoming this anger? A way of overcoming the things that have held you back? What is poetry to you?
Poetry is a way for me, as some say, to “keep it real.” Particularly in that poem, “Rudeness Interrupted” it was cathartic. But it was also a way for me to deal with my own misogyny. Poetry for me is about unpacking. It’s about looking at who I am, why I am and figuring out what part of it is me and what part is society. From childhood we are all told, “this is how the world works.” And we conform to it. And poetry is my way of telling the world, your way doesn’t work for me. Here’s some suggestions.
This interview was conducted by Jauniece Brown and Helena Chung over email.
As a native of Baltimore, in what ways, if any, do you see the city influencing your work?
Baltimore shapes my experience in a lot of ways. As an African American, surrounded by other African Americans, especially in the city, I am privy to a unique cultural experience. The city exists in a spectrum between art and oppression on the daily. And I think my poetry reflects that. A state of duality.
You are also a member of the Sons of Baldwin, a spoken word collective made up of black men who love black men. How was the group formed? What would you like to see it become?
Kenneth Morrison was the C.E.O. of Dew More at the time and wanted to start a side project focused on honoring the work of James Baldwin. Specifically, him being a same gender loving man, and speaking on the social issues involving his sexuality and his blackness. Chris and I were already established poets on the scene and discussing ways to bring our experiences to the forefront of more conversations. When Kenneth approached me, because of the work I already did, I reached out to Chris and it just made sense to put all of our ideals under one banner.
Sons of Baldwin is an advocacy statement first and foremost, so what I would like, we would like, is to see it grow to help bridge the gap in our communities and create social change and revolution in our thinking, in our families, in our communities. We were all blessed with the ability to write and perform. And we deeply love our art, so traveling the world and sharing is a major goal as well. We want poetry to be more than the “coffee shop experience.”
Can you talk a little bit about your name, Duke the Rude? How much does the rudeness of your poetry have to do with the rejection of a father, in both the literal and religious meanings?
That’s an interesting question. I never thought about it like that before. My first response is to say nothing about them affected my name. My father didn't spend a lot of time talking about me so I don't spend a lot of time talking about him. Rudeness for me is about accepting my presence makes a statement. And simply talking about issues that make one feel uncomfortable can be considered “rude.” When I walk into a room I am constantly aware of my blackness, and depending on the people in that room, I am also made aware of the fact that I am a same gender loving man. I know that any of these two states of being can make one uncomfortable, and to anyone privileged, me speaking about issues that affect me when they don’t want to hear it or address it will be considered rude. From a young age I learned life is rude, it doesn’t care how you’re feeling it. It just smacks you some days, and you have to get over it.
There are many references to religion in your poems. Are you religious? How do you think religion has played into your poetry?
Simply put, no. But I did spend a lot of time in church growing up. And I know many people in my community have as well. Because of this, we have come to understand the divine energies with terms such as God, Jesus, Heaven, Hell, and it’s just easier to write a relatable poem with these terms then to say mention every African principle they are based off of. Religion, specifically Christianity was vital to my platform as a poet though. The open mic was one of the only places I felt free enough to cross relate and point out the hypocrisy and contradictions with how we treat homosexuals, women and and certain gender norm language. In the past, Christianity seemed to be a way for my people to figure out how to press and keep going, but in my lifetime Christianity seems to be a way for my people to stay complacent. I take severe issue with that change. But Malcolm X said “Keep your religion in the closet.” You can see how as a same gender loving man, that resonated greatly with me.
Do you ever feel vulnerable discussing your personal life publically or calling out entire institutions like the church? Does it ever feel too overwhelming or even dangerous?
Absolutely, sometimes I still get nervous. You never know how people will react, especially with something as sacred as one’s religion. Even if I disagree with it, I still feel I must respect it. It’s an interesting balance because I still say what I need to, but I never call someone out their name for simply disagreeing lol. Far as my personal stories, I feel it’s the only way for me and my community to grow. If I’m asking them through my poems to be authentic, then I must show them how to do it. It’s also a great way for me to let go of my own baggage. I leave every mic feeling lighter, and like I have more space to love myself.
Watching you perform, although we’re not seeing any line breaks on the page, it almost feels like there are line breaks because of the way you insert pauses after certain words. Where do poems start for you, on the page or out loud? What is your writing process like?
Almost all of my poems are done in my head first and then I write them down. Backwards I know right? But that's the truth. I’ll get a line, and gradually build on it, if I don’t know what to say next, I’ll keep restarting from the beginning till I get something. Because of this process I usually memorize a poem by the time I’m done “writing” it. Often times I know how I want to end my poem before I even begin. I think about what I want to leave the audience with and then figure out how do I get to that point.
In “Killing God,” you say “1500s, I was labeled mental illness, they placed drills against my skull” and in “Rudeness Interrupted,” you say “I know what it’s like to be thrown out of heaven.” How do you feel the history of gay folk, of black folk in America connects to your own personal history? How do history and contemporary politics influence your work?
Is it ok to say I am an angry person? I mean anger is a human emotion right? I think about black bodies being cast away. How often they are blamed for their own deaths...about systematic oppression. How another cop will get paid time off. How people will glance over this part of the interview as me “playing the victim.” I’ll also think about how many times I’ve been a victim. How in some circles only black heterosexual male lives matter. My history doesn’t really seem to have ended, it just changed a little. And the politics? They’re the same. They just changed a little. And my poems? They’re the same. The author just changed a little.
“Because I’m black and I’m gay, I’m Afraid? of setting off silent alarms.” What are these silent alarms? Is the title of this poem, “Afraid? (Silent Alarms)” a question for the audience or yourself, or is this a rhetorical question that you don’t want or have an answer for?
The title of the poem was definitely a question for me. Even as honest as I am, who really wants to admit they are afraid of something? And the question extends to anyone who feels like me, but don’t possess the will power to be candid with strangers about it. The silent alarms is literally me being a black and homosexual man. Just those two parts of my identity are enough to make somebody hate me. To find me worthy of not existing. And sometimes they don’t always tell you that they don’t like or want you around. It’s a silent alarm and sometimes they just hurt you. And you didn't even know they were coming.
Your poems deal with a lot of these heavy issues (family, racism, homophobia), but there are also moments of playfulness, particularly with references to pop culture. I’m thinking specifically about the Harry Potter references in “Rudeness Interrupted,” and references to The Hunger Games in “Afraid? (Silent Alarms).” What role does pop culture play in your work?
Similar to religion it just makes me more relatable. I also find it interesting how easy it is to contextualize and think about the deep implications of oppression in a fictional world (based off real life) but people find it so difficult to do it when it comes to their own personal struggles. Pop culture serves as a way for me to again cross relate and provide a way for people to see the problem.
You say you are “mad at god because when you’re that young, your only concept of him begins and ends with mother”. When you were young, your mother wanted you to be “more like a man,” and “like sports.” You imply that the men your mother was with were violent. But at the same time you celebrate your sexuality, and stand up for black men who are wrongly attacked. Is your poetry therapeutic? Is it a way of overcoming this anger? A way of overcoming the things that have held you back? What is poetry to you?
Poetry is a way for me, as some say, to “keep it real.” Particularly in that poem, “Rudeness Interrupted” it was cathartic. But it was also a way for me to deal with my own misogyny. Poetry for me is about unpacking. It’s about looking at who I am, why I am and figuring out what part of it is me and what part is society. From childhood we are all told, “this is how the world works.” And we conform to it. And poetry is my way of telling the world, your way doesn’t work for me. Here’s some suggestions.
Jauniece Brown is a senior at Western High School in Baltimore, Maryland and a Writers in Baltimore Schools Fellow.
Helena Chung is studying poetry and film at Johns Hopkins University. Her recent poems are published or forthcoming in The Journal, DIALOGIST, PANK, and elsewhere. She is also the recipient of a fellowship from the Stadler Center for Poetry. Currently, Helena is working as a poetry reader for The Adroit Journal.
Helena Chung is studying poetry and film at Johns Hopkins University. Her recent poems are published or forthcoming in The Journal, DIALOGIST, PANK, and elsewhere. She is also the recipient of a fellowship from the Stadler Center for Poetry. Currently, Helena is working as a poetry reader for The Adroit Journal.
