Joy as an Act of Resistance: Julia Mallory

There are few things one can imagine that would be as difficult as losing a child to a senseless act of violence. Julia Mallory takes grief head on in her new book Survivor’s Guilt, a collection of poetry and prose that is a meditation on the death of her eldest son Julian in a shooting in 2017, as well as reflection on other losses in her family and among the wider Black community. The works are raw and honest, locking eyes with despair, isolation, and the struggle to rebuild a life in the aftermath of tragedy. I appreciated the recent opportunity to interview Mallory about her work.

Tara Campbell, Barrelhouse editor

Tara Campbell (TC):  There is so much to talk about in this book, but I’d like to start by offering my condolences—and yet that feels like treading on holy ground. As you write, most people don’t know how to talk about death and grief, and wind up shying away from it altogether: “I always thought it impolite to ask people about their loss, about their pain. Now I know that most folks want to know you see it, that you see the way it has changed them” (from “Hey Uncle Charlie” p. 49). What advice can you give those of us who are still bumbling around when faced with these topics?

Julia Mallory (JM):

 Thank you.

I’d first say that awkwardness in this space is more normal than not. Perfection is not required to be present for people that are going through a difficult time and/or grieving. Despite my own personal experience with grief and being a writer, I don’t think I possess magical words that can cure someone’s pain but I’d like to think I am getting better at acknowledging loss and showing more support for others. After my son’s death, I found myself telling people that it was okay if they didn’t have the right thing to say because even the right thing would not undo what happened.

Now of course, there are certainly things that most grieving people don’t want to hear, I’m sure there are comprehensive lists out there lol. When all else fails or feels difficult, a simple “I’m sorry I don’t know what to say but I can be present here with you” can work wonders. And by all means, please let people have their moments. It’s not the grief alone that debilitates people, it’s not being able to grieve that does the most harm in the long-run.

TC:  You mention in your introduction that you are primarily a poet, but this book is a combination of poems and essays. How do you decide what works better as a poem and what is more effective in prose?

JM: It’s as if poetry represents the stories that chose me—let’s call them Divine Downloads whereas the essays are the stories I wanted to tell. I’m also not a long-winded poet so prose gives me a bit more room to offer several perspectives on the same subject. Kind of like the difference between “I said what I said” (poetry) vs “I said what I said; now let me say it again (prose).”

TC:  I’m intrigued by the leitmotif of bees throughout the book, from the cover, to the interior illustrations, to mentions of colony collapse disorder and a connection between bees and Muhammad Ali. I’d love to hear you expand on this thread you’ve woven through the collection.

JM: I first wrote about Colony Collapse Disorder in 2016 and again in 2017 after my son’s death. I was fascinated with the concept and its impact on the world—how could so many bees die prematurely? How could bees forget to return home?

When my son died, I knew I would eventually write about my grief. I honestly started out wanting to write a collection of poetry that explored how animals and insects grieved. That is not the book that needed me to write it. However, in conducting research for the book, I realized how many myths exist about bees despite how critical they are to our lives. This mythmaking reminded me of what happens in the lives of humans, especially in death. I also came across the Ali information during the research phase of the first book I thought I was writing; I found it incredibly enchanting and could not let it go.

Lastly, one of my son’s childhood nicknames was Bee Sting—speaking of myths, as a young athlete, I think he was saying “beasting” and it became Bee Sting.

TC: “Chasing Waterfalls,” which is also in the Barrelhouse special edition, is one of the more openly hopeful pieces in the collection, yet even it touches on the guilt that accompanies moments of happiness after tragedy: “No one calls this joy obscene to my face and yet it looms in the air like a nuisance I don’t bother to swat away.” Can you talk a little more about the decision to embrace joy?

JM: I think I have always been capable of experiencing joy and it was one of the ways that I did not want to be changed by grief. In remembering my son, there are certainly many memories of joy and if I choose not to acknowledge the feelings associated with those memories, I will not be truly honoring my son’s legacy.

Furthermore, my joy is an act of resistance in the face of destruction. As a Black woman experiencing moments of deep grief, the most accessible reaction would be a denial of joy and pleasure so I truly had to decide to live this way after my son’s death. I am trying to live because my son lived and I imagine that he would want me to be bold and brave and remind the world of who we are. He was very prideful—and I because I am his mom, it is hard for me to shrink and succumb to the shadows in a world that is more invested in my demise than it ought to be.  

TC: What’s next for you in the literary sphere? Where can we hear you read, and what is your current writing project?

JM: Ultimately, I want to tour with Survivor’s Guilt and look forward to talking to more communities about grief and healing.

I currently have a picture book in production about a little girl trying to make sense of her grandmother’s passing. It’s a beautiful story about friendship and generational bonds. I also hope that 2020 is the year I finish my choreopoem about the peculiar policing of Black bodies throughout the ages.

Julia Mallory is a poet, children's book author, and screenwriter. She is the mother of three children: Julian (deceased), Jaya, and Kareem. She lives in Central Pennsylvania. Survivor's Guilt is her sixth book.