Brittany Rogers: On Embracing Extravagance, Libraries as Safe Spaces, and Her Debut Poetry Collection ‘Good Dress’

Brittany Rogers’s debut poetry collection is, put simply, nothing short of stunning. But then, nothing in Good Dress (Tin House, 2024) embodies the simple: it demands and takes hold of so much more. It relishes in the extravagant, the audaciousness and intimate moments that make up a life. Encompassing themes of Blackness, Detroit, matrilineage, amongst much else, this “nontraditional coming of age…collection witnesses a speaker coming into her own autonomy and selfhood as a young adult, reflecting on formative experiences.”

I spoke with Rogers via email about the themes present throughout the book, as well as adornment, public libraries, hermit crab forms, the Ice Cam (a stadium cam at Detroit basketball games that “prompts folks to show off their jewelry”), her current art installation, and more. 

Erica Abbott: Congratulations on the release of your debut poetry collection! How did Good Dress come to be over the years? How does it feel for the book to be out in the world?

Brittany Rogers: Thank you! 

Good Dress began as a chapbook about motherhood; it took 5 years to become the version that I sent off to Tin House. During that time, the book changed so much that none of the original poems remained in the final manuscript. I was no longer invested in interrogating myself from the lens of motherhood; while there are still poems about being a mother in Good Dress, they are thinking much more holistically about my personhood, aside from any perceived roles or responsibilities.  It still feels surreal for me to know that other people have my book and even more surreal to see pictures of poems or to receive messages about poems that people enjoy! 

EA: Throughout the book, it’s clear that audacity is an overarching concept, especially as it plays into your creative process, as you note on your website. I’m wondering if you can say more about this and how audaciousness has served you and your work over time?

BR: Sure! Being Black, and queer, and from a city like Detroit means that people count you out all the time. I say this often, but audacity is one of the things keeping me alive. My ability to take risks, to bet on myself, to curate the world that I desire to exist in, both individually and communally, has allowed me to always show up as myself and to pursue my imagination in ways that would not be possible otherwise. 

EA: Themes of Detroit, Blackness, matrilineage, and more emerge throughout the book — particularly relating to place and belonging. I’m thinking of that volta at the end of “My Mama’s Mama Lives Alone, Though Perhaps It Is Time:”, as well as the ending of “Detroit Pastoral”. I’m wondering if you could speak to these spaces in time?

BR: When I think about the first poem you referenced, I’m remembering the years when my grandmother’s mental capacities were really beginning to decline. Her daughters and granddaughters tried to convince her to live with one of us, but we knew it was futile before we asked; my grandmother was fiercely independent and raised us all to be the same. 

“Detroit Pastoral” is not a specific moment in time—rather, it represents the correction of a continuous assumption about Detroit’s environment. When people consider the idea of a pastoral, they are often thinking of rural areas, but I wanted readers to consider that wildlife exists here as well; yes, even in this busy city, deer still stop to graze. 

EA: There is also a major focus of intimacy and longing, in its many forms, whether that be the idea of self, romantic, or platonic. From FaceTiming a friend during labor and the care demonstrated postpartum in “The Year They Left Everyone to Die” to nights roller skating in “Throwback Night, Midway Skating Rink”, I’m curious about the ways in which these everyday moments shape your book and weave through your life.

BR: Intimacy and tenderness are foundational for me; I feel very lucky to be deeply loved, to have people who show up for me in word and deed, whether it’s practical or unrealistic to do so. The care that is shown to me in my daily life is a care I try to infuse in my poems; I want the reader to feel seen, valued, and cared for. For me this looks like approaching hard topics with care, and using details and images that allow them to feel present and involved in the memories I am referencing.

EA: There are several poems that feature the famous Detroit Ice Cam, which I’d love for you to speak on.

BR: The Ice Cam is one of my favorite motifs in the book, because it represents the adornment and audacity of Detroit and its residents. It’s bold, brazen, and in your face. It’s not afraid to flaunt its beauty. The Ice Cam reminds me to embrace extravagance despite negative perceptions, especially those related to classicism and colorism. 

EA: Good Dress utilizes many different forms, from the more classic to hermit crab ones like an intake form for counseling or a therapy treatment plan. In what ways do these heighten the narrative and elevate the unique storytelling in this book?

BR: That’s so kind of you! I certainly hope the forms are accomplishing that goal! When I use form, it is usually to communicate an additional layer of messaging, or provide a container for my thoughts. With the therapy forms, I wanted people who are familiar with such documents to immediately recognize the setting of these poems, and to hopefully understand the frame of mind the speaker is in when the poem was being written. I also wanted to replicate the clinical language of medical forms to juxtapose the emotion that the speaker is feeling with the coldness that is often present in the medical industry, even in therapy. When I wrote the therapy poems I was reflecting on the absurdity of trying to navigate my mental health while navigating the ridiculous state of the world. 

EA: Along that same thread, some of these poems also utilize elements like redaction and crossed-out words to illustrate things like shame, grief, autonomy. In one such use, you write “Maybe I was never a child. I did more than hold,” which feels so powerful when paired with the blackout/redaction. Why were these elements so crucial for the heart of the poems in which they’re utilized?

BR: The use of redaction also offers two stories. I wanted readers to know that the speaker was still holding on to secrets, even in the midst of these seemingly confessional poems. In spaces where the words are blacked out, I hoped to offer readers the opportunity to guess what the speaker may have been thinking. In other spaces, I wanted to offer a visual for the speaker’s thought process, for the layers of vulnerability that were possible. 

EA: There are several poems throughout that connect to the Detroit Public Library and its various branches, including a self-portrait poem, one that centers on the erotic fiction section, and a poem that uses an overdue notice as its form. Can you speak a bit to how the library and reading itself impacted you growing up?

BR: Losing myself in a good book has long been my favorite form of escapism (which I actually write about for Lit Hub), and as a result, the library has always been the ultimate safe space for me. As a teen, the library gave me access to books that helped me explore and understand my sexuality, and as an adult, gave me access to resources such as free internet, tax filing, and help with applying for school and employment at a time when I needed all the support I could get.  Although I don’t go to the library as often these days, I am still an avid reader of all genres, but especially memoir, fiction, romance, and (of course) poetry. 

EA: The cover art by Rachel Eliza Griffiths is stunning. This brightness and boldness shows up in various ways, but in the final poem, it’s explicitly stated: “Everything keeping me alive is the most / beautiful. Every day’s color is yellow.” From sunflowers to “the sun [nudging] the curtains / open” (and your website itself literally glowing in that bright yellow hue), how do these elements work to embody the collection as a whole?

BR: I feel so grateful to have Rachel Eliza’s art on the cover, and I am forever thankful to Beth Steidle for her vision for the final design. I was drawn to this cover because it contained the ethos of the collection: the interplay between industrial and natural settings, the presence of a Black woman bold enough to face the camera and wise enough to shield her face from unwanted eyes, the yellow and red and green that remind me so much of the sun, and flowers, and aliveness. 

EA: Do you have a favorite poem from the collection? What is it about and can you share a snippet of it?

BR: My favorite poem in the collection changes all the time! Today, my favorite is “Doin Too Much” because it reminds me to be unashamed of my propensity towards extravagance. At least once a week I repeat the final two lines to myself: “There are things worse than extravagance. They all know our names.”

EA: You currently have an art installation titled WOMXNHOUSE running, centered on “the role of beautification and adornment in the lives of Black femme folks”. How does it feel to have this exhibition concurrently running as your debut poetry collection is being released?

BR: It feels very surreal to have an art installation running at the same time that Good Dress is entering the world. Both projects feel like my baby, so it’s a very tender feeling to have them out in the world, where people can consume and perceive them. It also feels very empowering; I know now that I can manage multiple projects, and that I can successfully execute my creative vision across multiple mediums. I’m excited to see how my poems expand to encompass visual elements in the future!

EA: How does your work with VS Podcast impact and inform your work as a poet?

BR: Being a host of VS has made me a much more thoughtful and curious reader and writer. I love learning more about how writers approach craft, and would say I usually learn the most from writers who are very dissimilar from me. Getting to speak to such people helps expand my creative imagination, and my capacity for what I believe to be possible, both on and off the page.

EA: Who are some of your biggest literary influences? What inspires you?

BR: This is such a big question! I’m inspired by Black femmes across the board. I am greatly influenced by the work of Wanda Coleman, Krista Franklin, and Toni Morrison. I love work that makes me want to cry, then makes me want to run to my notebook. 

EA: Do you have any other projects you’re working on or hope to in the future?

BR: I’m working on poems and art installations that are thinking about the ritual of beautification, and the role that it plays in the lives of Black femmes. Specifically, I’m exploring the ways that adornment practices intersect with homage, intimacy, pleasure, and grief.

*

Brittany Rogers is a poet, visual artist, educator, and life-long Detroiter. She has work published or forthcoming in The Hopkins Review, Scalawag, The Poet Lore, Indiana Review, Four Way Review, Underbelly, Mississippi Review, Lambda Literary, and Oprah Daily. Brittany is a fellow of  VONA, The Watering Hole, Poetry Incubator, and Pink Door Writing Retreat. Brittany is Editor-in-Chief of Muzzle Magazine and co-host of VS Podcast. She is the author of the poetry collection Good Dress (Tin House, 2024).