Review for it was never going to be okay: Viscerally Healing

Not long ago, I was searching through the Nightwood Editions website for some new books of poetry when a beautiful, botanical orange cover with the words “it was never going to be okay” spread across the top caught my eye. jaye simpson (Sapotaweyak Cree Nation) published their incredible book of poetry in 2020 and it has since been short-listed for the Dan Ogilvie Prize for LGBTQ2S+ Emerging Writers and won the Indigenous Voices award for Published Poetry in English. The collection is more than its awards, however, as simpson generously and authentically illustrates not only their feelings and experiences surrounding their identity as an Oji-Cree Saulteaux Indigiqueer person of trans experience, but also clearly puts words to the kinds of events and feelings that usually leave folks, especially queer folks, without means of expression. This is something that I will always be endlessly thankful to poets for, and simpson’s it was never going to be okay is no exception to that gratitude for more reasons than one. I would, though, offer some words of caution for those who find violence, gender dysphoria, abandonment, and christian religion triggering since simpson does not showcase any of these themes gently (as I’m sure they have never felt them gently either).

From the moment the collection opens, simpson immediately places their identity outside of their body: “call me sea glass.” It brings a tone of distinct exo-corporeality that signifies this work as trauma-influenced, as the title it was never going to be okay alludes to as well. simpson clearly isn’t hiding in this collection at all. Throughout each poem there are different explorations and expositions of trauma paired with all the sensory elements that go with it. They show how trauma is more than the violence of a moment and often lives on inside the body and mind, thrashing relentlessly, especially for trans and non-binary folks and even more so for Indigiqueer folks. It feels almost grotesque to read at moments, though I think that’s probably the point. Sorting through gender identity is messy, violent, and traumatic in ways that don’t only come from the self, but from friends, family, acquiantances, and (as simpson repeatedly explains) sexual partners. The mess inside the mind is illustrated through moments in which it manifests into actions outside of it.

With visions of blood, the colour red, body parts (and genitals more specifically), salt, and bed linens amongst others, there is a clear line of visceral action that flows within many of the poems that I don’t quite have the words to name, but I do think work in demystification around Indigiqueer trans experiences happens through it. Simpson lays their soul bare in these blunt actualizations of their identity and the confusion they had surrounding it throughout their youth. It is powerful and, as Billy-Ray Belcourt states in a quote about the book, “so, so deeply moving.”

Further, in the first three sections, matched with these visions of violence that weave their way through the poems about sex are small moments that call forwards toward the fourth section dedicated to healing. Any time saltwater or the ocean is mentioned, it always feels like foreshadowing towards a choice to heal, but is then usually paired with more blood, which reads as though simpson looks for the health of the ocean within the wet touch of cis men who seem to only use them as a space for confession rather than a partner in love. With these poems, too, are often illustrations of religious imagery like alters, or even the physical act of nailing their body to a cross. I think this reads as a statement that christianity is so deeply and forcefully entrenched into this land and the people on it that it has become impossibly entangled not only into Indigenous history, but the present and future of Indigenous folks and their relationships as well. It is not a dark spot of the country’s history but rather an ongoing open wound that continues to fester and grow.

Now, perhaps because I am a sucker for happy endings, one of my favourite elements of the collection (amongst many) is within the final section, four, in which simpson clearly states their desire for healing through poems like “raven,” and “healing // sacrifice // necessity.” However, I love that these pieces never explicitly state a full and linear journey towards recovery and health. As distinct choices towards their healing exist, so too do those memories of violence. They are memories that will always remain in their body, but there is a strong assertion towards a coexistence with new moments that specifically choose not to yearn for a touch that flinches away from them, but a touch from both themself and others that holds them strongly and solidly. And I think simpson’s use of blank space and the lack thereof in some poems (especially the last one) brilliantly reflects that.

If it isn’t clear, I think this collection of poems is gorgeous. It is heartbreaking yet healing, blunt yet gentle in moments, and above all else, boldly authentic in the best way. I loved every moment of this book and will likely return to it again and again, so I definitely recommend it to any who are interested!