Mississippi Transplant: Tyriek White
"I think of my grandparents, who grew up in the South and came to New York for the promise of something more. I get to come back and live here for all of these years with that same promise."
What does it mean to call Mississippi home? Why do people choose to leave or live in this weird, wonderful, and sometimes infuriating place? Novelist Tyriek White grew up in East New York in a housing project on the outskirts of Brooklyn. He moved to Oxford, MS in 2017 to pursue an MFA at the University of Mississippi, and still calls Mississippi home. Tyriek’s debut novel We Are a Haunting, winner of The Center for Fiction First Novel Prize, follows three generations of a working class family in East New York and their inherited ghosts. We Are A Haunting is also our February Rooted Book Club selection. We’ll be talking to Tyriek on February 27 at 7 p.m. Register for the Zoom call here.
Where are you from?
I’m from New York City—particularly the East New York/Brownsville area. I grew up in a housing project on the outskirts of Brooklyn, a pretty close knit community, surrounded by factories, landfill at one point (now it’s a mall), and the ocean.
When did you move to Mississippi and why did you move here?
I moved down here in 2017 to attend the University of Mississippi. I’ve always wanted to tell stories for a living and write a novel, so I came to Mississippi to earn my MFA. I had no idea how much influence Mississippi would have on the stories I was writing, or my journey as an artist. I wouldn’t be who I am, or where I am, without this place or my experiences here.
I often call Mississippi home and it stuns people, even though I’ve been here for a while. It is a life I’ve built on my own, a form of refuge.
What does “home” mean to you? How does Mississippi fit into that definition?
I struggle with this. Home has to be more than a place. Most of us have been pushed out of our childhood homes, pushed out of cities and our communities. The history of Black folk and indigenous folk in the country has been displacement. I find home in people sometimes, in family. I find home in memories, the nostalgia of growing up. Anywhere you build a life for yourself, or cultivate some kind of relationship to the community and people around you. I often call Mississippi home and it stuns people, even though I’ve been here for a while. It is a life I’ve built on my own, a form of refuge.
What do you miss most about the place where you’re from?
I miss my friends and family the most. Luckily, I’ve been back a lot recently so it’s not as bad. Maybe a certain level of convenience, access to certain things. But the trade off is a certain accessibility to me, which I’m not as excited about when I lived in New York. Now, I enjoy my peace entirely too much.
I think Mississippi conjures up a time (more than a place) in the American imagination.
How have you cultivated community in Mississippi? Who are the people who have made you feel rooted here?
Art is usually how I’m able to connect with a community. Meeting artists, going to events, supporting people's work. I think the folk I’ve formed the strongest connection with are from Mississippi, people who are born here, and have sought to create with this place in mind.
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?
The weirdest assumption is my proximity to racism, which is somehow more insidious or blatant than anywhere else. They fear I’ll encounter a certain kind of violence. And I have encountered a certain kind of structural violence that is reminiscent of other communities, but so specific to Mississippi and it shocks me sometimes. I think Mississippi conjures up a time (more than a place) in the American imagination.
I think Mississippi has given me understanding. I reclaimed a part of myself that I didn’t quite know about, a radical legacy of Black resilience.
How has living in Mississippi affected your identity and your life’s path?
I think Mississippi has given me understanding. I reclaimed a part of myself that I didn’t quite know about, a radical legacy of Black resilience. I think of my grandparents, who grew up in the South and came to New York for the promise of something more. I get to come back and live here for all of these years with that same promise.
Have you ever thought about moving away? Does a sense of duty keep you rooted here? Do you have a “tipping point”?
I’ve thought about it. The relationships I’ve built here mean so much to me, that's my only sense of duty. I may decide to leave someday, I just want to be receptive to wherever this journey leads me.
I wish people understood that there is a deep history of voter suppression and gerrymandering that wreaks actual violence in the lives of the people living here.
What do you wish the rest of the country understood about Mississippi?
I wish people understood that there is a deep history of voter suppression and gerrymandering that wreaks actual violence in the lives of the people living here. I hope when the public watches the news and sees that Mississippi voted this way, or for this bill, they consider the fact that it doesn’t reflect all of what people in this state feel. There are plenty of folk who are fighting for change, for autonomy of their homes and their bodies, yet they are up against an amoral political body. They are almost held hostage in a way. I wish the thoughts and attitudes of a few didn’t sacrifice the many.
Do you have a favorite Mississippi writer, artist, or musician who you think everyone needs to know about?
One of my favorite artists right now is Deja, a visual artist and musician from Hattiesburg. Not only is she an incredible photographer, but she sings, writes, and plays the guitar. She reminds me of artists like Cleo Sol, Mereba, and Orion Sun. I believe she’s dropping new music soon, but check out her visual album “Phoenix.”
If you had one billion dollars to invest in Mississippi, how would you spend your money?
That’s a tough one. I’d honestly rather give it to someone born and raised in Mississippi, someone more in tune with the wants, desires, and needs of this place. I think it would be interesting to imagine a community or town where Black people or working-class folk, people displaced by the symptoms of climate change or lack of jobs, could receive free land and housing. It could be a place of organizing, or a space for imagining a different kind of future.
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 currently work with an organization called Lampblack, a 501(c)3 non-profit organization founded with the purpose of providing mutual aid to Black writers. Over the years, we’ve grown to provide more resources to writers and readers of Black literature, including a literary magazine, a reading series, and more. Visit our website, find us on social media, and consider supporting us in any way—whether it's telling a friend, buying a magazine, or donating to our direct aid fund.
Great interview 👍🏽
What a gorgeous book you've written! I'm really looking forward to the book club conversation on the 27th.