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INTERVIEWED BY DHAYANA ALEJANDRINA  Welcome, Noire Family,   In this interview, I had the pleasure to sit down with the talented and amazing artist, Ra Yukawa, as they offer a captivating glimpse into their inspirational journey, delving into their roots, the reasons driving their creative endeavors, exciting future projects, and more. Please join me in welcoming Ra Yukawa to Afrique Noire Magazine! Can you share a bit about your background and what initially inspired you to pursue writing/poetry?   Yeah, so I think what inspired me to write was my love for seeing my inner worlds personified and visualized in the world outside of me, in a way that made it more real, you know? I just loved creating an external world of my world that I could sort of live in all over again, and then share that with whomever I invited into my space. And I believe I started doing this at a very young age, around four or five years old. I would doodle and scribble all over my bedroom walls with crayons — which, according to my mom, I was never allowed to do, so I would get my “tail to’ up.” But I don’t remember such a thing at all; I just remember the joy of having my stories on my walls. I vividly remember that freedom. From what I can remember, to me, that art — those “illegible” words and toddler sketches — was my earliest hand at writing, at poetry. Then, of course, as I got older, I started compiling composition books of songs I would write, alongside poetry and more sketches. How does your identity, including cultural background, influence your writing and the themes you explore? In what ways do you navigate the intersection of your personal identity and the broader cultural context in your work?   As for my identity, I believe that instead of my writing being influenced by my identity, I explore the many facets of my identity through my writing. Whatever comes of it tends to influence me or shape-shift who I’m becoming. So, my writing is like a mirror, a spiritual map that my ancestors and descendants across lifetimes create through me, for me to find myself, and hopefully, help others find themselves. With that said, my writing usually revolves around the transformation of identity within the experience of chaotic or complex life changes. Creatively and journalistically, I’m constantly exploring that for myself, as well as for others. I suppose this ties into my culture, as I come from multiple diasporas that I had to educate myself about and ultimately redefine for myself, due to a sense of displacement within my background—not feeling at home in my own home (America). It’s like, who are you as a whole if part of you rejects you? Moreover, being a “free-spirited,” gender nonconforming, transmasculine, queer person navigating the mental and emotional waters of disorders such as BPD, Bipolar II, and PTSD, I often don’t even feel at home within my own body or my family—my literal home. Yet, it’s a double-edged sword, because in the same breath, that perceived lack of belonging has gifted me the space and ability to make an omnipresent home out of “no home,” within my art. All of this converges within the framework of pain and love, as a human experience that we all can relate to; yet from my narrative, my work is especially relatable to those who can see themselves in me, who share parts of my personal identity and cultural background. That’s how I navigate the intersection of the two, by allowing them to be one through the shared scope of turbulent growth and intimate disconnections that symbiotically occur there. How would you describe your creative process? Do you have any specific rituals that help get you into the writing mindset?   There’s something special about the time when I first wake up. I think it’s because my brain is just emerging from the depths of sleep, entering a new day with no other energetic influences but my own. The guards of my ego are down, and I’m open to a smooth, creative flow. I find that I do my rawest, most immersive work during that time. Similarly, the time between eleven at night and four in the morning is exquisite. The world is quieter, and it feels like the moon’s playground, so I give her full creative reign over my process. Sometimes, I’ll light incense or a candle, do some breathwork or yoga, maybe even work out beforehand to set the mood even more. But usually, I just enter my writing cocoon raw and maintain the mood with those rituals being done intermittently and intuitively throughout my flow. Of course, as an artist or storyteller, you’re always in the creative process. Throughout the day, I take notes and photos, capturing ideas, words, or visions. Occasionally, I have to drop everything I’m doing and flow to completion with whatever is coming to me. But more often than not, I receive a concept and flesh it out during those flow-state times that I mentioned. Who are your literary or poetic influences, and how have they shaped your work?   My literary and poetic influences include Jean-Michel Basquiat, Audre Lorde, Edgar Allan Poe, Rūmī, and Paulo Coelho. Basquiat was a writer and poet through his paintings and notebooks. Like my early pieces at four years old, he told stories through images, using words or “words”. Though our work was on walls, it was poetry nonetheless. His unique use of language within his paintings, sometimes as his paintings, is poetry—just words and illustrations. He crafted childlike stories that defied and mocked adult logic, yet made you ponder it all the same. His work reminds me of my childhood room and the freedom on those walls—how I’ll never read those stories through adult eyes. That whole trailer park is woodlands now. Yet, studying Basquiat’s work makes me feel a direct connection to it all, helping