CLEO WADE

Code Read

Releasing Two Long-Awaited Books In Under One Year, Poet, Author, And Activist Cleo Wade Is Back, Delivering Vital And Timely Reflections On Love And Wise Wishes For A New Generation Of Children

PHOTOS BY KANYA IWANA
WORDS BY TAMARA RAPPA

Listen to the extended podcast interview ---find Story + Rain Talks and Cleo Wade's episode on Apple Podcasts, Spotify, and more.

Tamara Rappa: What was New Orleans like when you were a kid, growing up, and prior to coming to New York City?

Cleo Wade: I feel like I'm still growing up in New Orleans in a lot of ways. It's the place I probably visit the most. My family is still there. I feel really connected to the city. I often joke that I have three parents: my mom, my dad, and the city of New Orleans. It's influenced me that deeply, whether it's the culture of music in the streets and everywhere you go, the idea of a moving soundtrack rooted in community, or the food. I really associate the enjoyment of food with people and place. One way of loving myself and loving food is, 'Where do we sit down, and what do we eat? ' You want to have a po'boy? I only like to eat a po'boy at a picnic or at the bar with a root beer. I'm sure it's how Italians feel or the French feel about the ways in which their culture is so deeply instilled in how they live life. New Orleans has a really specific way of living life that's different than the rest of America. And I follow that rule everywhere. I'm the first one to try to blow off the day to go eat oysters for lunch somewhere in LA or, you know, go find the jazz club in New York that's still playing live music. I bring my kids to Mardi Gras. I really love it.

TR: You're living in Los Angeles and I'd love to hear your perspective on LA versus New York, whether you have a preference, if you miss New York...all the things.

CW: Oh, I miss New York every single day. It's the best place on earth. It truly has everything. I appreciate my life in Los Angeles and I'm still getting used to it. I was saying this to Simon [Kinberg], my partner, the other day; I'm still learning what grocery store I like. I moved during Covid, and I also had two kids during Covid, so we were Postmates'ing things or just going to the one place I knew. I've never really explored LA, do you know what I mean? I am still, weirdly,  breaking out of my Covid bubble. The only people I hang out with are my neighbors. In New York I'd probably tend to be a little bit more like, 'I want to try this new restaurant.' I don't have anything like that in LA. I have the three places I learned to like during Covid, and I still go to them. Or I have people over for dinner at my house. I think I'm still figuring it out.

TR: Each of your parents are creative people. What do you admire about each of their visions?

CW: I really appreciate the pace that my parents live in. They are very southern in that they don't move too quickly. They want to enjoy things. They want to see things. They're not in a rush. They really prioritize the healing qualities of the arts. My dad, even on his most stressful day, even if the lights were going to go out because we were behind on the bill, would always have a Nina Simone song on that could make him feel better. If my mom was heartbroken or having a tough day or struggling to make ends meet, she would make red beans and rice---a cheap dish that is always delicious and lasts all week. She could kind of fix her day with hot sauce. I really appreciate that idea; ,especially in today's world of  'If I could just do this, then I'd feel better.' It has to be a retreat for seven days somewhere, or some really big thing. Whereas I feel like my parents very much, 'I'm going to go outside and get fresh air. They have the self care that's free or cheap; the easy kind of healing. They move towards and appreciate the healing powers of the arts and of creativity. I remember getting through so much of life with my mom listening to the Love Jones soundtrack...

"I always had a notebook with me. I always had napkins I was writing on. I was always someone who was at the table, writing."

"I'll always want to raise a generation of kids, whether in my own house or around the world, that asks them to go see the world, to befriend people, to know the importance of having neighbors, the importance in asking for help, in loving yourself, in loving one another, and in knowing that we're all in this together."

TR:  I'd read that you fell in love with writing at a young age after taking a poetry course. How exactly did you come to take the course, and what do you remember about that experience?

CW: I had gotten a scholarship to this creative arts summer camp at a fancy school in New Orleans, one that I didn't go to during the year. I attended it every year starting from maybe age 7 or so, and until I couldn't go anymore. I received a scholarship because my dance teacher at the public school taught dance at the camp, and so I did the dance class. I'm the kind of person who feels that sleep heals everything. I was the kid where people would say, because I've always had hereditary deep circles under my eyes, that I always looked tired. Everyone always thought I was tired, and I always felt tired, to be honest. I've always felt that if I could just take a nap I'd feel better. And that's worked almost all of the time. When I was younger the full days were a lot for me, and I'd heard that there was a fifth period class, a creative writing class, at the camp. They said that you got to take a nap in it. We were really meditating but I didn't know it. Everyone got to lay on the floor with the lights turned off.  I'd never heard of that. I  don't even think she said the word 'meditating', but that was what she was doing. We'd meditate and write. [The class] was creative writing with a focus on poetry. At my first class, I didn't know what a poem was, I didn't understand poetry at all. How do you write a poem, where do you start? She just said, 'I want you to think of everything you've ever seen. I want you to think of a bird in every color you've ever seen. Then, I want you to describe the one bird you've never seen. I want you to think of all the things that you know; that make sense. And now I want you to create---on the page---something that makes absolutely no sense.'  That's one of the first moments I remember. It was a fun hippie school in New Orleans, and so I knew about the arts. I'd done plays as a kid and I did modern dance instead of PE in the mornings. My mom took me out of school to go to Jazz Fest every year. We'd go to Mardi Gras. I knew about the arts, but I never knew that there was this art that you couldn't get wrong. I've always felt that poetry is so freeing. As long as you are in your imagination and you are thinking of something you’d never thought of before, you are doing it right. In other [arts]  formats, it's different. You're either good at playing the tuba, or you're not. You are prolific at the trombone, like Trombone Shorty. He's been playing the trombone since he was 6, and is a prodigy. I was a good dancer, but I wasn't the best dancer. And I thought, wow, poetry is this world where being completely and utterly individual is what makes you good at it.

"Poetry is so freeing. As long as you are in your imagination and you are thinking of something you’d never thought of before, you are doing it right."

TR: You have such a defined and singular voice. Do you think that taking the writing class at such a young age ignited something a bit intangible and already inside of you? Or do you think it was more that you began to hone your voice over a series of experiences and years?

CW: I think it probably planted a little seed that never saw the light of day for a long time, because I didn't think it could be a job, you know? And I didn't think it could be a job for my whole life. It wasn't until I was in my 20's that I thought, could this be? And even then it wasn't a job for me. Books like Heart Talk had not had that renaissance yet. Right now you could say to a publisher, 'I have this idea for a poetry book.' And they'll tell you about ten modern writers who write poetry whose books sell millions of copies. At one point, hat was not so. Poetry has moved in and out of culture. As a kid, I didn't think I could be Maya Angelou. To me, she felt very specifically herself. I didn't think I could be Nikki Giovanni. A lot of these poets that you love so much as people...most of them work as professors and teachers. There weren't people you saw as poets, where poetry was the main job. I didn't think I could do it, until I started doing it in my early 20's; first, painting the words, and then, writing the words from my typewriter. I just kind of kept going and going and going. I realized that the seed was kind of like a carrot seed that had been  growing beneath the light. I had to pull it out. Just because I wasn't tending to it or the world wasn't tending to it or it wasn't seen, didn't mean that it wasn't something that wasn't that was growing inside of me. Then I realized, God, I could probably trace this back to that poetry teacher...

"I felt moved to write for this moment. How do we claim and reclaim ourselves so that we can live at a pace that is deeply human? How do we stop ourselves from becoming robots?"

CW:  There are  some poets who do slam poetry when they're 13. Amanda [Gorman's] like that. Poetry has been in her world for  her entire childhood until the inaugural poem. I didn't have a childhood like that. I was just a teen...doing nothing.

"New Orleans is a place where people don't necessarily work because they feel like it's purposeful work. No, we work so we can pay our bills, and so we can go to Mardi Gras."

TR: It was a fashion internship that would bring you to New York.

CW: My parents were divorced and neither of my parents made a lot of money. I had a job at a clothing store when I was 13. I didn't have enough money to have all the trendy things. I never felt like I could buy the right thing. If every single person in seventh grade had the exact same things, like teens do now---I couldn't buy that uniform, and I also didn't want to wear the knockoff either. Early on, I started going to thrift stores and vintage stores. Growing up in the French Quarter,  there were three great vintage stores. If I couldn't be like everyone else, I wanted to buy things that were cool and interesting; expressive. I placed a lot of my self expression on clothing. It's when you're a teen that people start to think about what they might do when they grow up. You're trying to figure out,  'Is this because I have a passion for it? Is it my purpose?' New Orleans is a place where people don't necessarily work because they feel like it's purposeful work. No, we work so we can pay our bills, and so we can go to Mardi Gras. It's more about supporting yourself financially to be able to enjoy culture; not planting a culture inside of your job to make your job this purposeful part of your day. I was working in the store one day and this very kind woman named Linda was there. She'd been working at M Missoni, and said to me, 'You should move to New York and you should come be my intern.' I didn't really know what I wanted to do, but I went there and interned for the summer. When the internship was over I was 17. I'd graduated from high school early. In my head, I was taking what I thought was a gap year, in a way. I wasn't sure what I wanted to do. I thought, should I take a course? Should I not?  Is it possible for me to afford to go to school? I knew I wanted to be in New York, and I knew I was a hard worker so I'd always get a job. I'd saved all the money I'd made from the jobs I'd worked my whole childhood. Then this guy Matthew Marshak, who I'm still friends with....

TR: Matty is one of my oldest friends.

CW: Matthew worked at Valentino, I met him in the showroom and in the Valentino closet. M Missoni shared their dressing room with Valentino during market week, and was owned by Valentino. I would help the models get ready and he and I became friends. Then when he went to Halston, he brought me with him. Halston gave me my first job as an office manager and I'd also interned there for a couple months, At Halston, I had this amazing mentor Jeff Green, someone whom I've written about in Heart Talk. I had another amazing mentor, Bonnie Tucker, who was CEO. She was the first person who'd put me through 'bootcamp', basically. When I was an intern I had an intern friend who I'm still best friends with to this day, and we always talk about how Bonnie really gave us work ethic. I learned how to get up at 6am; to be the first one there and the last one leaving; to get these really specific things right. She taught me true attention to detail.

TR: I talk about the kind of attention to detail you're talking about, all the time.

"It’s so easy to live in idea phase, to get hijacked by a new idea, to think you’re upgrading an idea, or that you’ve got to build up or break down an idea. I think that’s where people get lost all the time, whether in entrepreneurship or artistry."

CW: I always think that had I not worked for Bonnie, I would not be able to work for myself today, I'd just be lost in my abstract ideas without true discipline and work ethic around getting something done from beginning to end; not doing what I'd said I was going to do. I think that's where people get lost all the time, whether in entrepreneurship or artistry. It’s so easy to live in idea- phase. It's so easy to get hijacked by a new idea, to think you’re upgrading an idea, or that you’ve got to build up or break down an idea. If you have the experience of, 'I had to work so freaking hard just to make sure the coffee was the right temperature'...that builds a noticing of things that is so critical.

TR: Preach. Yes.

CW: I don't know that [Bonnie] thought I would be a writer; I don't know if I even thought I would be one, at that time. But I do feel she'd always felt  I would do something that is specific to me, whatever that might be. I still keep in touch with her and my mentors there, and with Matthew. It was a really big growing up space for me. It was a kind of personal business school because every single person there took me under their wing. Elizabeth Giardina, who is now the creative director of Another Tomorrow, taught me about fashion and clothes and designers. I'd never heard of Japanese designers. She brought me to Muji for the first time and that's where I found Japanese stationery and discovered that your handwriting can be so different if you write with a nice pen. I'd never had a nice pen. Every single person there had actively schooled me in different ways. After that, I consulted in fashion for a few years until I started really focusing on painting and making. The rest is kind of history. I'd say that the most critical building of my understanding of myself and going to work had happened when I was at Halston.

"The gold of my life is the way that I am as a friend. My writing is an extension of that. Friendship has been, and is, the thing."

CW:  I was the lowest link and  thought, I will work: no one's gonna outwork me, and I'll learn everything. Jeff Green who was CFO at the time,  is in Heart Talk, because he taught me how to negotiate my salary.  He told me, 'You can't talk like that to try to get your salary. This is how you do it. You have to know what you are worth before you walk in the room. Don't wait for someone else to tell you what you're worth. You need to know your worth so you can advocate for yourself.' I didn't know any of those things. There's a page in Heart Talk that says, 'Know the value of knowing your value'.  There, I tell the story of Jeff Green teaching me how to negotiate.

"I was very late to Instagram in comparison to my friends. I just posted everything I would send to my friends. I'd send them photos of my notebook with something I'd written and I’d say, 'This reminded me of you”, or, “I know you’re struggling, and I thought this might help'. "

TR:  Was there a catalyst for when it was exactly that art and visual expression took a front seat in your life?

CW: I began to do it more and more as my own therapy. Whether I was going through my own heartbreak or my friends were going through heartbreak...it was always how I was expressing myself to them.  I remember the first time as probably being what became one of the poems that's most well known in Heart Talk. It says 'Baby you're the strongest flower that ever grew. Remember that when the weather changes.'  My friend called me while I was on vacation. She was going through a breakup and it was really devastating. I brought my watercolors and some pens with me on vacation. I've always had a notebook with me. I've always had napkins I was writing on. I was always someone who was at the table, writing. I'd written that down, took a photo of it, and sent it to her. I was very late to Instagram in comparison to my friends. I just posted everything I would send to my friends. I'd send them photos of my notebook with something I'd written and I’d say, 'This reminded me of you', or, 'I know you’re struggling, and I thought this might help”. That was a way I really supported my friends. I remember thinking, when all my friends were getting on Instagram in a very social way,  'I don't really get how to do this.' I didn't understand how to be like, 'Hey, here I am just in Brooklyn, and here's a photo.' I didn't feel comfortable documenting my life.  I love when other people do it, but it's still, to this day, never been quite for me. So I wasn't on it at the time because I didn't get what I was supposed to be saying, I didn't know what it was that I'd be sharing. Then one day I remember thinking, I wonder if these things that help my best friends could help other people? Could I just share photos from my notebook? Maybe they'll help just one person, because I know they're really helping me. That was the birth of my work online and then it became something so heavily shared. Then it kind of took on its own life.

"I didn't feel comfortable documenting my life.  I love when other people do it. It's still, to this day, never been quite for me."

TR: I love a line in your article for Time this past fall, 'We are not built to move at the speed of our Wifi.' I was thinking about how your relationship with social media might have changed over the years. How have your thoughts on and relationship with social media shifted?

CW: I think of social media like a city you live in, a city that changes all the time. I think of social media as another community space. There are days when I’m like, 'There’s no way in hell I could go to the mall right now with my kids'. I don't want to buy things right now. The internet is another community space that's always worth questioning in terms of whether it's something you have the energy for, and it's worth questioning in terms of how you're entering it. It's so easy to transport yourself there...it's a visual pathway that happens with a click of a button, and sometimes you're just there. I think that, in any space in the world, if you lose the way you're intentionalizing it, you lose your way in the space. It's very similar to if and when you stop intentionalizing your romantic relationship, or a friendship, that relationship can get a little wayward and abstract, and likely unfulfilling. I'm always changing or rethinking how I enter the space. What are the different boundaries for the different times in my life? What are the boundaries for my writing times? For my mental capacity? There are times where the boundary is, 'I would just like to look around'

"I think of social media like a city you live in, a city that changes all the time. I think of social media as another community space. There are days when I’m like, 'There’s no way in hell I could go to the mall right now with my kids'."

CW: There are times when I'd like to make sure I'm expressing myself, talking to people, and then there are times when I just want to be able to be in real life without being hijacked into a space of distraction. It changes all the time. I think it's worth it for everyone to always wonder, 'Do I go into this with an intention?' That way, it gets to feel more like a tool.

TR: Have you ever grappled with getting so personal in your writing? How do you know when to draw the line of privacy?

CW: There are fundamental questions I ask myself. Is this my story to tell? Some things are personal. Maybe it might actually be your parents' story. You think, 'Is this actually my brother's story? Is this really my partner's story? Is that my kid's story?' I try to make sure that whatever I'm sharing is mine to share, and not in ways where I'm overprotecting anyone, either.

"How does the universal exist within our solo experiences? So much of the joy of my writing life is, 'How cool is it that a lot of different people can find themselves feeling something about this poem or feeling like it was written for them, whether they’re 16 or 65?'"

"When you're not being nice to yourself or to others, or when you feel like you're in a rut, or that you're picking the wrong people to date...it all comes from the ways in which you're not loving yourself as a friend. "

CW: Some of the best advice I give anyone who is asking me about what to share versus not what not to share, whether they're thinking about trauma bonding or dumping---whatever it may be---is that the online world is not so different from the real world. If someone is oversharing, overdoing, or over-putting their energy or life story on you, it doesn't feel like a share. It feels more like a burden, and a little uncomfortable. I always think, 'Would this be something that someone could hold in real life, if I'm looking at them in their eyes at dinner? 'Or would they be thinking, 'I thought she was cool, but then she kind of went off the deep end...that's a lot to know about someone'. So consider how you write it, how you say it, what the invitation looks like. Some people's invitation to their writing is, 'This is where I go'. I find that my place in writing is, 'How does the universal exist in our solo experiences?'  I typically don't get so deep or so specific or so narrow because so much of the joy of my writing life is that a lot of different people can find themselves feeling something about my poems or feeling like [my writing] was written for them whether they're 16, or 65.

TR:  How do you get your best ideas and how do you get in the zone to write?

CW: ...By listening to other people and creating enough space to listen to myself. Most of the time what happens in life, is that you hear something or you feel something and it's going over and over and over in your head. You could be online, or you're booking yourself back to back with meetings, or you're over-scheduling yourself with your family...you don't give yourself space or time to hear what it is that has been sticking with you. You have to create the space to drop in, and have patience while you drop in. I know that whenever I sit down in my little writing room on the side of my house that I'm not really gonna drop in for like an hour and a half. My brain has to re-pace. I have to start listening. I might have to declutter my brain to clear out some to-do things. You have to give yourself space to switch gears.

TR: Who has inspired you this past year? Who interests you most?

CW: I really feel inspired by my partner, Simon. I love his writing and I love watching him write. He's able to write within such a cool spectrum of ideas. He can talk about the broadest subject; one that's been covered a million times, like aliens or something---but in a very unique way. To me, it shows his passion for the human experience and that there's always a unique way to look at a thing in history, or look at a thing in futuristic thinking. I've never been someone who writes narrative, and so to live with someone who writes such distinct stories all the time, is really cool. And it's really cool to watch his process. We both write, but we write in such drastically different mediums. My brother's a really amazing poet, his poetry has been really inspiring to me this past year or two. We write in very different ways as well; he writes a lot more long form. I'm also really inspired by the new Mumford + Sons song. I saw Maggie Rogers in concert this year and she was amazing. My friend Shiona, who is also my stylist, has been a huge inspiration for me this year. It's been a huge inspiration to watch someone execute at such an incredible scale with such precision. I'm a crazy Virgo, so anyone who nails something and the target is perfectly hit?! That's the thing that inspires me, and it could be within any medium. That's probably what I talk about the most with my friends,  'I love that, because they nailed it.'

"I actually feel that I really deep-love people, and that I've found a way to create artful vehicles to share that love in micro ways, through my writing."

TR: You released Remember Love recently, such a beautiful follow up to your first book, Heart Talk. What sparked the idea for Remember Love? Was there a moment, or something that you were going through, that made you think, this is the time to sit down and write this.

CW: It was kind of the opposite of  'It's a good time to sit down and write this.' It was a hard time to write it. I wanted to take a break from writing for a few years but it was bursting to come out so I just decided to start writing. I'd gone through two really intense bouts of postpartum depression and anxiety, the rebirth of my life before that, and watching the world radically change. I felt moved to, more than anything, write for the moment. How do we claim and reclaim ourselves so that we can live at a pace that is deeply human? How do we stop ourselves from becoming robots? How do we stop ourselves from not giving ourselves care, as flesh and bone, thinking we are meant to move---like I wrote in Time---at the same speed as our Wifi? Remember Love is about how I healed through a lot of those periods, in postpartum and in general. I focused on how I got through some of those things. Heart Talk...I love that book so much because it's a real pep talk.

TR: It really is.

CW: It's written on the other side of, 'You got this, you can do this. May all your vibes say I got this.' It's very motivating. I wanted to write something that is for when you're in the thick things and it keeps you company, because that's what I needed. At the time that I wrote Heart Talk I didn't feel there was a book I could carry everywhere with me, one that was going help keep me on the track to feeling better, to healing, to keeping myself moving forward towards love of self. At that time in my life I needed something that was a constant pep talk. A 'You can do this. See it, feel it, say yes!' It motivated me towards a dream space. With Remember Love, when I was moving slowly, or I had brain fog, or I wasn't feeling great, I thought, I really need a book like this, a book that will hold my hand through whatever version of small, big, or medium hell I'm going through, a book that's going to be there with me every step of the way. It's going tp tell me that, as long as we're holding hands, we can get through this. That was the book I needed and that I really wanted, a book I wanted to be able to give to other people. So I wrote it.

TE: Is the idea of your work as a friend or a companion for people something that you came to realize you wanted to provide, or have you always viewed your work in that way?

CW: I've always felt that I don't have a Sasha Fierce, if you will. I don't have an alter ego. Here I go, when I go, right? Here I go, when I speak! [Laughs]. I'm very much the same person all of the time. Even if I'm giving a TED Talk, it's a little monotone and it's very slow. I've always felt that my greatest gift is the way that I'm a friend to others. If someone asked me, 'What is the greatest gift you have in your life?', I don't know that I would say it's my writing. I would say it's that I'm a really good friend. I take it really seriously. I think it's the gold of my life. Whether it's the way that I'm a friend to my kids in a way that makes me a better mother, or the way that I'm a friend to my partner in the way that makes me a better partner, or the way that I'm a friend to my parents, my brother, my friends. I'm a really a high-integrity relationship person. My writing is an extension of that. It's about the ways in which I was being a friend to my friends going through breakups, or about trying to learn how to be a friend to myself when I wanted to have a period of spiritual health and self-improvement. Part of when you're not being nice to others or nice to yourself, or when you feel like you're in a rut, or picking the wrong people to date...it all comes from the ways in which you're not loving yourself as a friend. You can't hear yourself. You don't give yourself space. You don't know how to take yourself on a walk when you have anxiety. There were all these ways in which I wasn't caring for myself. To me, friendship is the thing. So I think I've always felt my books would be companions. I certainly don't think, 'Oh I'm the best writer in the world. My singular talent as a writer is my success.' I actually feel that I really deep-love people, and that I've found a way to create artful vehicles to share that love in micro ways, through my writing.

TR: How has having children changed or added to your views on love?

CW: Ever since my kids were able to see their own feet around the age of about four months, since they started to really understand that they have hands and feet, since they started chewing on their toes...they've delighted in themselves. [Laughs]. The biggest personal aha about it for me, is that we are born loving ourselves. I write about this in Remember Love. It's not that I haven't been around kids...but when you have a kid in your house that you see every single day, you begin to understand so clearly that love of self is our birthright. We might become distant from it, but it's not something we are born without. Therefore it is always there for us to return to. That was a big anchor for Remember Love.

TR: I love your children's book, What The Road Said, and you have a new children's book on the way, available for pre-order now, May You Love and Be Loved. What is the most important thing that you want to convey in your children's books?

CW: May You Love And Be Loved is 'Wishes For Your Life.' Similar to What The Road Said, it's about instilling a fundamental okayness in kids so that they try,  so that they adventure, so that they allow their lives to be as big as they want them to be, without being deterred by fear. I'll always want to raise a generation of kids, whether in my own house or around the world, that asks them to go see the world, to befriend people, to know the importance of having neighbors, the importance in asking for help, in loving yourself, in loving one another, and in knowing that we're all in this together. We should try just one bite of food, no matter where we are, really experiencing life with presence. And that's what I want for grownups, too. I want to help us all remember everything that is available to us.