I recently had the opportunity to interview Professor Mecca Jamilah Sullivan, a Professor of English and Women’s and Gender Studies at Georgetown University. Through her work, Professor Sullivan studies the connections between feminism, race, sexuality, language, imagination, and more. Her bio reads:
Mecca Jamilah Sullivan, Ph.D., is Professor of English at Georgetown. She is the author of three books: the novel Big Girl, a New York Times Editors’ Choice and winner of the Balcones Fiction Prize and the Next Generation Indie Book Award for First Novel; the short story collection, Blue Talk and Love, winner of the Judith Markowitz Award from Lambda Literary; and the critical study The Poetics of Difference: Queer Feminist Forms in the African Diaspora, winner of the William Sanders Scarborough Prize from the Modern Language Association.
In her creative and scholarly work, Sullivan considers the links between language, imagination, and bodily life in Black queer and feminist experience. Her critical articles and essays have appeared in American Literary History, Feminist Studies, American Quarterly, College Literature, GLQ: Lesbian and Gay Studies Quarterly, The Scholar and Feminist, Women’s Studies, College Literature, The Oxford African American Resource Center, The Dictionary of Literary Biography, Palimpsest: Journal of Women, Gender and the Black International, Black Futures, Teaching Black, Jacket2, Public Books, New York Magazine’s The Cut, Sinister Wisdom, The Rumpus, BET Online, Ebony Online, TheRoot, Ms. Magazine online and others. Her short fiction has appeared in Best New Writing, Kenyon Review, American Fiction: Best New Stories by Emerging Writers, Prairie Schooner, Callaloo, Crab Orchard Review, Robert Olen Butler Fiction Prize Stories, BLOOM: Queer Fiction, Art, Poetry and More, TriQuarterly, Feminist Studies, All About Skin: Short Stories by Award-Winning Women Writers of Color, DC Metro Weekly, Baobab: South African Journal of New Writing, and others. (bio and photo from Georgetown University Directory)
Could you talk about how you got involved in the fields of Women’s and Gender Studies as well as English? What interests you about these topics and/or their intersectionalities?
I came to the fields of Women and Gender Studies and English as a creative writer. When I was very young, I was reading works by Toni Morrison, Audre Lorde, Jamaica Kincaid, and Ntozake Shange—all important Black feminist writers who explored Black girlhood. I was fortunate to encounter these writers as I was growing up, and as a young Black girl myself, I was moved by seeing the experiences of Black girls and women—experiences with their bodies, families, social relationships, and sexuality—as material for literary expression. Learning that these could be the subjects of books was transformative for me at such a young age.
Later, I discovered there were multiple academic fields dedicated to these questions: Women, Gender, and Sexuality Studies; English Literature; African American and African Diaspora Studies. It was surprising to me that even studying books was a field in itself. I also realized that creative writing could be a life path I could pursue, and I knew early on that I wanted to work at the intersection of these fields.
I've always been drawn to that intersection—creative writing, literary studies, Women and Gender Studies, and Black and African Diaspora Studies. It’s fascinating to combine creative writing with these other topics. The writers I mentioned, for instance, are both creative writers and essayists, or scholars. I often say the distinctions between the creative and the academic aren’t intellectual but institutional. It’s the institution that separates them, but if you look at the ways writers think, they’re often thinking both creatively and critically, or theoretically.
What were your motivations for writing “Big Girl”? What is the power of expressing your research through a novel as opposed to a traditional article or paper?
For me, both are definitely important. I’ve always found myself on both sides of what I call the artist-scholar divide, a concept others also discuss when thinking about what it means to be an artist-scholar. This dual approach is especially important for me as a Black feminist and Black queer feminist. Many of the writers I most admire refuse to speak to only one audience or in just one language. With ideas as crucial as Moya Bailey’s concept of “misogynoir” or intersectionality, which express urgent political and social realities, why not communicate in as many languages and genres as possible?
At the same time I was reading those writers, I was experiencing my own life as a big Black girl in a body that, much like the protagonists in the novels and poems I read, seemed to hold a lot of meaning for the people around me. Often, the meanings others assigned to my body ran counter to my own experience of it. In fifth grade, reading these works and recognizing my own experience helped me see that being a big Black girl growing up in Harlem, New York, was something I wanted to contribute to an ongoing conversation about race, girlhood, embodiment, and gender.
The idea for Big Girl has been with me since I was not much older than the main character. From there, it became a question of how to make this part of my life’s work. I decided to study creative writing, English literature, Black Studies, and Gender and Sexuality Studies. I crafted these interests into a career that allows me to work in both the creative and the theoretical realms, uniting my passions in one path.
Can you please talk about the class that you teach, “Black Queer Feminisms”?
I love this course—it's one of my favorites! It's a Black feminist literary, cultural, and media studies class, which incorporates an acknowledgment that queerness is always central to Black feminist engagement. Many foundational texts of Black feminism can be read as queer texts. For example, we study the Combahee River Collective Statement, which, though written in 1977 after meetings that began in 1974, remains a foundational manifesto defining Black feminism for the collective of writers who created it. The statement is iconic, articulating Black feminism as inclusive of critiques of homophobia, heteronormativity, and heterosexism—core aspects of what we now consider contemporary Black feminism.
This course aims to remind us that Black feminism has always been queer, with critiques of heteropatriarchy and homophobia woven into its most effective visions. We read works by Audre Lorde, including Zami: A New Spelling of My Name, as a primary text. We also explore the photography of Zanele Muholi, a South African queer non-binary artist, and their collaborations with poets in and around South Africa. We analyze films such as You People, directed by Black lesbian media maker and musical artist Hanifah Walidah, and we look across genres to examine Black queer feminist engagement. The course takes a transnational perspective, emphasizing that Black feminism isn’t solely a U.S. phenomenon. Black queer feminists worldwide are making vital contributions to the field.
Finally, we explore how Black queer feminist work fosters a sense of community, with art serving as a form of activism within Black queer feminist communities. This multimedia approach encourages us to develop different reading strategies, broadening our theoretical perspectives. For example, in my current course, Writing Black Love, we analyze GloRilla and Megan Thee Stallion’s “Wanna Be” alongside Toni Morrison’s Sula, examining how these texts present alternative visions of Black womanhood and self-regard.
Black feminist scholarship allows us to interpret familiar texts in new, nuanced ways, something I deeply appreciate as a teacher. It empowers us to read widely and critically, whether we're analyzing hip-hop or classic literature.
What are your goals for how you hope to see your work/research develop, specifically within the next few months?
Well, let’s see. Right now, I’m working on a novel that’s deeply rooted in theoretical and critical research, so it’s somewhat of a hybrid novel. As a novelist, there’s this golden period in the process when the book is still close to you—when it hasn’t been published, and you haven’t discussed it extensively yet. I’m trying to hold on to that feeling, so I’m not sharing too many details just yet
However, I can say that the novel explores many of the same ideas I’ve been engaging with: What does a transnational vision of Black queer feminism look like? It examines what it means to chart a sense of Black queer feminist belonging across both geographical and national boundaries, as well as across time. The book also contemplates the search for a Black queer feminist history. So, while it’s a novel, it’s also informed by theoretical and literary engagement, which has made it a lot of fun to work on.
In the next few months, I want to keep enjoying this process. And in the next few years, I hope to move forward with getting the novel out there in the world. I’m excited to see what happens when it finally makes its way to readers!
What advice do you have for those interested in fields similar to your areas of interest?
I think it’s really important to tap into your love for reading. Reading, among other things, is a source of pleasure. Learning what you like to read and really sitting with your love of language is essential. For me, all of my fields come down to enjoying language—communicating, talking with people, listening to how they use language and what they have to say. Tapping into that pleasure is crucial.
Using that sense of enjoyment to motivate yourself and make it a priority can keep you dedicated to the work. Writers often talk about how hard it is to write consistently, and I think about that a lot too. But reminding myself that it’s something I truly enjoy can be very helpful.
Even when writing is difficult or frustrating, even during revisions when you feel lost, remembering the joy at the heart of the process is key. For me, it’s a helpful reminder.
Do you have blogs, podcasts, or books that you recommend students explore?
That's a great question. One good place to start exploring Black feminism and Black queer feminism is the Combahee River Collective statement. You can find it online, and it’s an excellent introduction to these ideas.
Another foundational text is Audre Lorde's Zami, which she describes as a "biomythography"—a hybrid genre she created to tell a version of her life story. It's a coming-of-age narrative about Lorde's girlhood and young adulthood, leading up to her becoming the influential feminist thinker and icon we know today. For readers and writers, it’s inspiring to see how figures like Lorde articulate their journeys.
You might also look into Ntozake Shange's work. Her best-known piece, For Colored Girls Who Have Considered Suicide / When the Rainbow Is Enuf, is a choreopoem—a mix of poetry, dance, theater, and performance. This iconic text showcases the creative potential of Black feminist literature, highlighting the many forms it can take and the ways it can resonate.
I think that all of these texts offer powerful insights and can be a meaningful starting point.
Is there anything else you’d like to add?
I’d love to encourage you and your readers—especially younger readers—to empower yourselves to see that you are part of what feminism is and can become. I know you probably already feel that way, but sometimes hearing that affirmation and validation helps. Feminism needs you!