What does it mean to call Mississippi home? Why do people choose to leave or live in this weird, wonderful, and sometimes infuriating place? Today we hear from writer, seamstress, and occasional fashion icon Exodus Oktavia Brownlow.

Featured contributor, Exodus Oktavia Brownlow.

Where are you from?

I’m from Blackhawk, Mississippi. Also known as “The Hills.”

How long have you lived in Mississippi?

My entire life. Thirty years. I’ve never lived anywhere else.

What does “home” mean to you? How does Mississippi fit into that definition?

Home for me is the place that brings you the most peace, the most excitement. When you step outside? And no matter the season, or the weather, or any occasion that’s going on? You feel happy to be where you are. That’s what Mississippi does for me. Specifically Blackhawk because of its lush forests, its rolling hills, and all the secret little places that sneak up on me when I think I’ve seen all that I could from the area. I’ve always been drawn to forests and hilly/mountainous places. The enclosure and solitude makes me feel safe, and there’s something magical to me about areas that have primarily been preserved from modernity. Places that are close enough to more urban areas if one chooses to venture off.

I think we have it all—the best food, the best music, the best swagger.

How have you cultivated community in Mississippi? Who are the people who have made you feel rooted here?

I’m really big on family. They’re the people who have made loving Mississippi all the more strong because of the stories that they bring to me, the traditions. This state has shaped our histories here, and I’m blessed to have been left with the best parts—the parts that preserved us, healed us, and kept us in laughter and love. My mom, my dad, my siblings, all of my family, really. But also the relationships that I’ve cultivated between classmates (and the surprise of finding blood relationships there) and writer friends who also hold a special place in their hearts for Mississippi.

What’s the weirdest question or assumption you’ve encountered about Mississippi (or about you as a Mississippian) by someone who’s never been here?

I get a lot of “where are you from?” or “you’re not from here, are you?” from fellow Mississippians. Outside Mississippi, folks can always detect my accent, though. They know. But I think, actually…I know that other Mississippi folks ask me this question because of my style and (admittedly) my bubbly way of talking. Sometimes it’ll override the country accent when I’m generally excited about something, or happy. I can’t help myself! And I know that when it comes to Mississippi, there’s an idea about who we can be, how we can dress, what we can sound like, or achieve, and how we can do those things and love it. I don’t believe in there being anything out of reach for us. And I’m here to have fun. I want us to have as much fun as we can while we’re here.

How has living in Mississippi affected your identity and your life’s path?

When you’re on the inside of this Mississippi thing, you can’t help but love it. I think we have it all—the best food, the best music, the best swagger. It’s the kind of love that you’d only be able to get if you’d grown up here, in the right company. Where you understand some of Mississippi’s salt but also its sweetness, too. As a Black woman, that salt is just gone be everywhere. The mannerisms and language may change, but it’s all the same to me. Striking on the tongue. Something that’ll make you sick if there’s too much being taken in. The sweetness comes from family, from relationships being built over time, my culture. That’s the balance. The part that makes living here the best. As a writer, my stories are sculpted from my Southern-ness, my Mississippi-ness.

When it comes to Mississippi, there’s an idea about who we can be, how we can dress, what we can sound like, or achieve, and how we can do those things and love it.

What is something that you’ve learned about Mississippi only by living here? In what ways has Mississippi lived up to your expectations?

Perhaps its vast terrain types? I think when most people think of Mississippi certain images come to mind. Fields. Cotton. Dirt roads. There are those things, yes. But also hills, also beaches, and deltas where the lands just stretch and stretch so seamlessly smooth. For me, having that variety there has met my expectations as a place that I could never get bored of.

Do you ever consider moving away someday? Does a sense of duty keep you rooted here? Do you have a “tipping point”?

Not at all. I love to travel, but my home is my home. It’s the place I always want to come back to. No duty, my desire is natural. I expect that the only way I’d want to leave is by force.

The author pictured at her home in Blackhawk.

What do you wish the rest of the country understood about Mississippi?

It goes back to that salt thing. That our salt is your salt, and your salt is our salt. And maybe your salt just has a different name, maybe you slap a nicer label on it, a more politically correct name. Maybe you just know how to market it better. But you can’t throw all of the salt blame on Mississippi, or the South, entirely. Not when so much talent, and light, and greatness has come (and is coming) from this place. Light comes from here because light grows here. Somebody had to share it with another somebody, right? That’s what I want people to understand, to acknowledge.

Do you have a favorite Mississippi writer, artist, or musician who you think everyone needs to know about?

Richard Wright, but that’s a given, right? I mean, come on. C.T. Salazar is also an incredible poet whose work is only superseded by his compassion and celebration of other writers. Natasha Trethewey. Kiese Laymon. People whose words create the fullest, most freeing feeling.

Our salt is your salt, and your salt is our salt. And maybe your salt just has a different name, maybe you slap a nicer label on it, a more politically correct name. Maybe you just know how to market it better. But you can’t throw all of the salt blame on Mississippi, or the South, entirely.

If you had one billion dollars to invest in Mississippi, how would you spend your money?

HBCUS. Predominantly Black schools. I’m very passionate about Black students being awarded all the opportunities available to them. Those experiences matter so much in the long run. When teachers are paid what they’re worth, and students have what they need, and schools are able to provide effectively? Success is inevitable. Dreams are achievable. Knowledge is accessible. I want us to have it all because that’s what we deserve.

What or who do you want to shamelessly promote? (It can absolutely be a project you’re working on, or something you are involved in.)

I have two debut collections of work coming out in 2023. A fiction chapbook called Look at All The Little Hurts of These Newly-Broken Lives and The Bittersweet, Sweet and Bitter Loves to be published with Ethel Zine and Press in Spring of 2023. Also, a collection of essays called I’m Afraid That I Know Too Much About Myself Now, To Go Back To Who I Knew Before, And Oh Lord, Who Will I Be After I’ve Known All That I Can to be published with ELJ Editions in Summer of 2023. I’m beyond excited to see both out in the world, soon! Thank you for asking.

Exodus Oktavia Brownlow is a Blackhawk, MS native. She is a graduate of Mississippi Valley State University with a BA in English, and Mississippi University for Women with an MFA in Creative Writing. Exodus has been published or has forthcoming work with Electric Lit, West Branch, Denver Quarterly, F(r)iction and more. She has been nominated for Best of The Net, Best MicroFiction, Best Small Fictions and a Pushcart Prize. Her piece "Chicken-Girls and Chicken-Ladies and All the Possibility of Pillowcases” will be included in Best MicroFiction 2022. Her piece "The Terrible Darling" is featured as a Wigleaf Top 50 2022 selection. Her debut fiction chapbook—Look at All The Little Hurts of These Newly-Broken Lives and The Bittersweet, Sweet and Bitter Loves—is set for publication with Ethel Zine and Press in Spring of 2023. Her debut collection of essays—I'm Afraid That I Know Too Much About Myself Now, To Go Back To Who I Knew Before, And Oh Lord, Who Will I Be After I've Known All That I Can—is set for publication with ELJ Editions in Summer of 2023.

Mississippi Native: Exodus Oktavia Brownlow