The Bronx Poet Laureate position was created to promote the history of poetry in the Bronx and to ignite a passion for poetry and creative expression throughout the borough. Haydil Henriquez was selected as the first ever Bronx Poet Laureate in June 2021.

As Haydil enters into her second year as the inaugural Bronx Poet Laureate she took the time to answer some questions from another amazing Bronx native poet and co-Founder of The Bronx Poet Laureate, Roya Marsh. In her answers, Haydil describes the honor she has felt in being selected as the first person to hold this position and discusses her dedication to the role. Haydil finishes by telling us about the beauty of the Bronx and of the power of poetry. Scroll down for the full interview!

Roya Marsh: What are your thoughts/feelings on being named Bronx poet laureate and what are you looking to accomplish in your second year as BxPL?

Haydil Henriquez: It is an absolute honor to be titled the inaugural Bronx Poet Laureate. I never in a million years believed I was going to receive the position given the amazing talent I was competing against. I hope to set a strong foundation for the Bronx Poet Laureates who follow me. I believe this position goes beyond promoting literacy and a love for learning, poetry, and exploring, this position is about reassuring Bronx youth of the power this borough holds. Of reaffirming the innate wisdom, creativity and realness the Bronx has birthed. I hope to shed light on all we have to offer as Bronx natives, as people of African descent, as folks who have persevered time and time again. I hope I am able to authentically connect with my community of writers, creators, and artists to pave a way towards literary freedom.

Roya Marsh: What poem do you continually turn to and why?

Haydil Henriquez: There are so many poems I turn to continuously, but one of my all time favorite poems is Audre Lorde’s A Litany for Survival. That poem held me tenderly as a teenager growing up in public housing, trying to find the answers to my own salvation. So much so, I wrote on my bedroom ceiling the famous words, 

“and when we speak we are afraid

our words will not be heard

nor welcomed

but when we are silent

we are still afraid.

So it is better to speak

remembering

we were never meant to survive.”

 My mother wanted to snatch my soul out of my body when she saw the ceiling, afraid we would get in trouble with the housing authority officers the next time they inspected. But I chose a permanent marker for a reason. I needed to remind myself every time I woke up, why I was waking, why I was choosing to share my words, to speak my mind in spite of being afraid. This was my daily reminder that I had woken up with breath, and that in itself was a miracle, a blessing, a reason to reimagine what I believed I was capable of achieving.

RM: Why does poetry matter?

HH: Poetry matters because it’s a pathway, a roadmap, a way out of whatever is limiting you. Poetry is not only a tool for self-expression, it’s a magic wand for non-believers, it’s a lighthouse for those trying to find their way, it’s a foundation for finding a community of creatives. I have always said, poetry saved my life countless of times. As a misunderstood teen who felt the weight of the world on her shoulders, poetry became an outlet, a vessel for picking apart what I was seeing and building my own world around it. As my high school spoken word team would say… “Poetry, you can walk through walls.”  Poetry allows people to step into their true authentic form. Poetry encourages exploring boundaries and shines a light on our indomitable power.

RM: What is a fun or little known fact about you?

HH: A fun fact about me is I was the only girl in my middle school’s boys softball team and we were undefeated. Every time we hit a run or a home run, we shouted Mangú as a collective, because of the power of the platanos.

Another fun fact is my name means the cooing or crying of a pigeon or a dove in Arabic. For a long time, there was a lot of shame I carried surrounding my name because I believed it was a difficult name. Although in school people pronounced my name Hay-dil, my family has always called me Jaí-deel, I blamed it on my father’s campesino tongue and my mother’s fingertips not speaking English. I did not understand why my parents couldn’t have picked an easier name or something less unique. However, many years ago I decided to reclaim my name, a pigeon was the messenger bird in ancient times, therefore, I believe I was born to share my words with the world.

RM: What is your favorite thing about the Bronx?

HH: How difficult it is to narrow down my favorite thing about the Bronx. There are so many things that come to mind, from the nosy vecina staring out her window watching people pass by, to running after the icee cart for a half coco half cherry dollar delight, to the boricua riding his pimped out low-rider bike when it gets hot outside, to the smell of cafe con leche in the morning at the bodega, to the Rest In Peace murals adorning every other block with Chulo or Papo or Big Mike’s face graffitied on like a permanent eulogy. I guess I’ll say, I love how the children laugh belly-full in the Bronx, if you go to any local park you hear the kids hollering, running after each other, and absorbing the world. I love that, the genuine sound of liberation, the curiosity of a young mind, the joy of being free, the light of all that’s divine around me.