Saeed Jones and Maggie Smith were reeling from the results of the 2024 election, and, as friends do, they leaned on each other for support. They quickly realized they weren’t alone in feeling scared and hopeless and that we, as a community, need to rely on each other to move forward. Jones and Smith—who have each published numerous collections of poems and essays—curated The People’s Project: a collection of poems, essays, and art by some of our greatest writers and activists, which puts these times in a historical context to show that we have been here before and we will get through this again.
Jones and Smith know there isn’t one voice, one genre, or one topic that can adequately speak to these times, so they turned to members of their own communities for guidance. Through the unique perspectives of twenty-seven different writers—among them Alice Wong, Marlon James, Imani Perry, Danez Smith, and Joy Harjo—The People’s Project shows us how to meet these times with strength and tenderness, how nurturing our individuality helps us nurture others, how cripping time—a phrase in the disabled community for letting the body’s needs determine one’s pace—makes space for everyone to be part of the movement, how the trans community is teaching us to move beyond harmful binaries. Reading this collection is as intimate and calming as a friend’s hand on one’s shoulder, a reminder that we are not alone and we will be okay, together.
I had the pleasure of speaking with Saeed Jones over the phone about how his conversations with Maggie Smith evolved from personal messages to a published book, what themes emerged as the pieces started rolling in from the contributors, and the importance of keeping a historical perspective while living in historical times.
The Rumpus: Can you tell me what you and Maggie Smith were feeling after the election in 2024, and how those feelings manifested into the idea for The People’s Project?
Saeed Jones: I lived in Columbus, Ohio—where Maggie lives—for five years. And I had just moved to Cambridge, Massachusetts. So initially last fall, we were texting, as all friends do, to keep up with each other and to update and to talk about the new things I was observing and my new terrain. As we got closer to the election, that sense of anxiety and hope started to permeate our conversations and become more of what we were talking about. And then certainly after the election, we felt an awareness of the stakes immediately. I understood what it would mean for the country, but certainly for people I cared about in the state of Ohio. For people like Maggie, as a parent with two kids, and myself as a Black gay man. And so, as I’ve been joking throughout the book tour, the text messages turned to voice memos and then the voice memos got longer and longer. And then finally they were hour long phone calls. At one point during one of these conversations, Maggie said that she was making her own Project 2025, like a list of determinations for herself in response. And she said, item number one is “no more self-abandonment.” I remember I was pacing in my living room, as I often do when I’m on the phone, and I stopped pacing, and we just started talking about it.
Very quickly after that I wrote a poem in response. And we’re both adept and love social media in certain ways. And so, we were posting in our Instagram Stories back and forth, back and forth. As it happens, Maggie and I have the same editor at Washington Square Press, Jenny Xu. Jenny was watching this happen, and other people, too. There were a lot of people trying to reach out to each other and connect the dots and bear what they could. And Jenny was like, “I think this is a book,” which none of us had anticipated. We realized that it would need to come very quickly if we’re trying to speak to this moment; you know how slow publishing can be. But it came together. Now that I’m on the other end and the book is out there and it’s a dream, I think in times of deep need, sometimes the circumstances respond. And this really feels like this book happened because we needed it to happen.
Rumpus: I can feel that in the pieces themselves—because I did recognize it’s a very short turnaround to put out a collection—but there is a cohesiveness and rawness that comes through. And it did make me wonder whether these pieces were solicited or found or a combination?
Jones: We emailed people the first week in January of this year. We worked on an e-mail together and basically the question was: “Do you have a piece of wisdom you’re drawing from or want to offer?” It can be from your community. It can be from culture. It can be from personal experiences. Jenny, Maggie, and I compiled a list of people who we had collaborated with in some way in the past that we felt would be able to do this because, basically, they had six weeks. I think almost everyone said yes. And then off they went and we had no idea what they would write about. And so we just kind of trusted that. I think there are one or two excerpts from previous books, but otherwise it’s all original pieces. And having now spoken to the contributors, it makes sense because this was on their mind anyway. You know, Aubrey Hirsch had just given birth after the election. So she was already thinking about bringing a second child into this world and parenting and what does it mean to be a mother while all of this is going on?
Rumpus: Were there any themes that emerged that surprised you when the pieces started coming in?
Jones: As editors, we were certainly thinking about trans representation. That was intentional in terms of reaching out to Chase Strangio, the first out trans person to speak before the US Supreme Court. We were thinking of parents of trans kids, like, we wanted to get the different dimensions. I didn’t want it to be one person speaking for an entire identity. So that was certainly something that I was thinking about.
Something that surprised me is the way that gender and feminism run throughout the book. I remember when I got the galley—and I think this is how it is in the final copy—but I remember reading Eula Biss’s essay, which, it says everyone should have a friend who studies fascism and really studies how women fought during the French Revolution. Then I turned the page and there’s Aubrey Hirsch’s graphic piece, writing about how women as parents and caregivers have a lot of power in terms of influencing the next generation. And these two people don’t know each other. I don’t think Aubrey and Eula have met as yet, but their pieces were absolutely in conversation. And I feel like that does obviously run through the book in other ways as well, which was what we wanted. Maggie and I are friends who usually meet up once a month for cocktails and snacks, and we comfort and we celebrate and we whine, all of that together. We wanted the book to be that for readers: And reading The People’s Project, to me, felt like a big dinner party, like a big potluck of word food. I think every writer understood that the best way to speak to this moment was to tap into their specificity. They go so specific that it becomes universal and collective.
Rumpus: The historical role of women and the resistance was one theme that stood out, but also just all the different ways in which we can be a part of the resistance based on our abilities or circumstances, which is such an important viewpoint right now. If we look at the media we see protests and all these big outward, visible forms of resistance. But we get so many good perspectives in this collection of ways in which, yeah, raising a child is being a part of the resistance. I’m thinking also of Alice Wong’s piece, “Snail Pace: The Art of Cripping Time,” which is so timely for so many reasons.
Jones: I was actually going to mention Alice’s piece, because, of course, Alice passed away a week or so ago, and her piece has that specificity. The pieces in this collection look at movements. They look at histories, but also I think writers like Marlon James writing about personal style and Alice writing about cripping time: thinking about slowing down and understanding that all of us are not going to move at the same pace. Some of us are going to need to take breaks and sit down, reschedule—that making a flexible membrane for this politic is also part of the movement. So, thinking about how we literally move through space is also very helpful, and it just never would have occurred to me. That was not a wisdom I had until I read Alice’s piece and her work. So grateful.
Rumpus: That relates well to your and Maggie’s poems, both titled “My Own Project 2025,” which focus on the idea of “What can I do for myself so I can do for my community?” which is another theme that runs throughout the entire collection.
Jones: Absolutely. When I look at my poem now, having read the book, it makes me think of Alexander Chee’s essay in terms of the sense of “Who am I living and loving for?” Something I’ve learned over the last few years is—I would like to think I’m a confident, bold person—but I’m most fierce when I’m fighting for the people I care about. And so in the way that fascism seeks to isolate and diminish us, I think it’s interesting seeing in the book that our connections to each other, our care for each other across the bridges of difference, really is one of the major keys to not just surviving, but transforming this moment.
Rumpus: Alexander Chee’s essay “Let’s All Stay Alive” starts off the collection and one line that really stood out to me is, “To attempt to survive as an act of love.” which is exactly what you’re speaking to. This idea that self-preservation looks different for everybody. Which makes me think of Marlon James’s piece, “Fix Up, Look Sharp,” where he writes about his own outward expression through clothing, and the idea of having self-possession as a way to fight oppression.
Jones: Yes.
Rumpus: And he ties it back to feminism—particularly for Black women. The collection is this beautifully circular book in a sense: we start with Alexander Chee’s essay which says we may not see the end, but it’s out there. And the collection ends with Randall Mann’s poem, “Puzzle,” which is talking about endings as beginnings. Was that circularity one of those things where you kind of knew it when you saw it or did it fall into place throughout the curation process?
Jones: We knew it when we felt it. Maggie and I travel so much for work and I remember we were both traveling: I was stuck at the O’Hare Hilton, all cranky, some late night, and Maggie was flying somewhere else. And she said she had been reading the galley on the plane, and that when she got to Alex Chee’s piece, she just cried and could not stop. And I was like, “Oh,” because I wasn’t feeling especially artistic in that moment. But then I sat down and read it and I started crying, too. With any book, but certainly any collection or anthology, you have to teach the reader how to read it and to set their expectations. So, obviously you have the introduction, but that first piece is a load-bearing piece in a lot of ways, right? It’s a really important decision. So, Alex Chee’s essay felt immediately, like, “This is where we start.” Again, if we’re thinking of that comforting dinner party, amidst all this violence and tumult: how are you bringing someone into that room? They’re wounded. They’re shaking. They’re injured. They’re scared. How do you first bring them into the room and help them begin the process of easing up and realizing that they’re more capable than they think? And honestly, I think, it just flowed from there.
Rumpus: Learning from the past and learning from our ancestors is a common theme throughout the book. Why do you think it is especially important right now for people, but also for artists in particular, to look to the past for answers?
Jones: All the writers I reached out to—Patricia Smith, Kiese Laymon, Imani Perry, Marlon James—these are people who are artistic historians, right? They consistently use their work to examine and illuminate the way history comes to bear on the present, and on individuals in the present. And it’s a companion and a ghost. I don’t want to read work that is disconnected from the broader context. And it doesn’t mean you can’t write about the personal, you know what I mean? But I need the personal to have roots. And I think as people, that is what we need.
People will read a headline about ICE and say, “This is not the America I know.” The America we live in was founded on human trafficking. And that’s what ICE is doing now. You know what I mean? So you need that context. You will be bereft, bewildered, and unsteady until you’re able to connect those dots. It’s really important. So I have deep empathy for people who are shook, whether because they’re young or they just haven’t been especially into politics until fairly recently. I get that, I really do. But it’s important to channel that initial shocked panic. We’ve all had it and we’ll have it again, but connect it. We have to connect it. Once you begin to understand that, again, like you were saying about that sense of time, you’re like, “Oh, this is so much bigger than me.” And that’s why so many of us need to be a part of it. This can’t be on any one person or even a small movement of people. This requires multitudes because it is just a huge narrative that we’re swept up in.
Rumpus: The collection does a great job of appealing to different sensibilities. To continue with the dinner party metaphor: we have a diverse group of guests. Hopefully hearing the message in a lot of different ways will increase the chance the message gets through to those who need to hear it.
Jones: Yeah, I hope so too. One of the many reasons I’m proud of this book is I do really feel that there’s something there for everyone. Both in terms of aesthetic and in terms of focus; it’s kind of incredible. It’s like you can read Patricia Smith’s poem about her mother and Emmett Till. But then, if you want something more sweeping and broad, there’s Jason Silverstein who was essentially talking about the same history, but from a different lens. You know what I mean? I love the specificity of Kiese Laymon focusing on Mississippi—where he’s from—but also children’s programming. And by the way, he wrote that in January before the Trump administration targeted public broadcasting. So that’s what I mean by the specificity really kind of pays off. You’re like, “Oh, wow, like that was just on his heart.” And his heart is so wise.
I’ve read the book in many different ways. I hope people read it from beginning to end, but also maybe you just flip through or maybe there are different pieces that resonate on different days depending on what’s happening. I know Mira Jacob, one of the contributors, said she keeps it on her nightstand. When she’s tempted to doomscroll before going to sleep, she picks up The People’s Project instead. These essays and poems are incredible. The art is outstanding, but also we wanted to make this very porous and accessible. I hope it means a lot for a lot of people and that they can share it with someone they love.
Rumpus: Not only is the subject matter accessible, it also makes these writers more accessible. I’ve only had the chance to get to know Marlon James through his novels, so I loved reading him in his own voice, talking about how clothing has become more important in these times. It is really special and rare and makes it feel like a more intimate conversation.
Jones: I agree. Sometimes the best thing an artist can do is sit with people, sit next to them. And I feel like this is a book where wisdom is being bestowed, like, “Oh my, we got Joy Harjo. We have giants like Alice Wong.” But also the tone—that’s why I keep going back to the image of that dinner party, right? It really feels like people are sitting next to you. We are all yours here. We’re doing the best we can with what we have and that’s what we need. The People’s Project is just one offering, but I hope it’s comforting and clarifying and, more so, I hope it inspires people to maybe make people’s projects of their own. My students are making their own zine in response. And so, share what you can and pass it forward.
Rumpus: The People’s Project was put together very early in Trump’s term. Do you think you would approach it any differently now that we have seen the reality of it?Jones: No, in part because so much of it bears out. I mean, if I were to do the book again, I would only invite more people. Something all of us were thinking about throughout the process was “How do we publish work that can navigate the gale force winds of this era so that it’s not all swept away?” Something else we put in that initial e-mail is we wanted the pieces not to speak to the next five months. We were like, “Can you think fifty years ahead?” And that was the goal. That’s why I feel so confident they were speaking to and through and ahead. Even with everything going on now and whatever fresh hell they’ll throw at us in the next news cycle, I think because the writers were both tapping into the past, but really trying to speak to the next century, it feels sturdy.
