Although some academics criticize the spoken word, denying its entry into the world of literary genius as mediocre and unworthy, a generation of poets, not unlike their beatnik predecessors from the early 20th century, have really been shaking up the foundation and meaning of poetry across the nation, especially in the last decade.

The Gay and Lesbian Times caught up with Olson for a brief interview in the midst of her current tour.

Alix Olson: Yes, good question! I certainly challenge the scholarly conception of legitimacy. I believe the term has been used to de-authenticate, and thus contain, the artistic expression and political perspective of those who consciously depart from, or inveigh against, the status quo. Spoken word is a broad art form with a rich history much longer than the written word. It has been a means of spreading news from mountaintops, whispering truth between women, passing down ritual, poetry, community history.

The spoken word, for me, is not a default, but rather a conscious choice to perform my mind as vividly and honestly as I am able. I revel in the opportunity to connect with an audience, in the sweat and flesh, which is just qualitatively different than publishing a written piece.

Olson: I am driven by the hope that a true democracy depends upon the contribution of all of our voices, and I am hell-bent on sharing mine. Peoples’ thoughts are what humanize and color our culture and I feel that we are currently tolerating a fairly black and white version of what is possible. My work is maybe also an invitation to scribble outside of the academic, artistic, and political lines; I certainly feel more brave and less alone in that process, as I collect friends, audiences along the way.

Olson: I make ‘em hot.

Olson: Well, a majority heterosexual audience can still be queer-friendly, right? However, I do think that a group of people who are connected by a particular struggle and celebration of identity/experience generally have a bond, whether or not a performer is involved. I can sense that in my queer/feminist audiences, of course. The main difference though, is usually people who come on purpose to a show, versus those who’ve been plopped in front of me, with no frame of reference. At a festival or conference, the latter is more likely to happen, and that has led to both profoundly wonderful and terrifying encounters!

Olson: My audience strikes me as eager to contribute kindness and courage to this messy world.

Olson: Geez, if I didn’t believe that one person could make a difference, I’d be wasting my time, eh? I think the problem with the idea of making a difference, however, is that progressives are an impatient brood bent on short-term results. I don’t think you can ever truly know what you contribute. In the long run you just have to trust in the power of human-to-human contact. I mean, my fifth-grade teacher has no idea what an impact she had on my writing. I should call her.

GLT: Why/how is your art an effective political tool if not simply meant for the empowerment of dykes everywhere?

Olson: Hell, if my art can empower dykes everywhere, I’ll retire from this work with no regrets!

Truly, I think any form of speech that is open and susceptible to use by all kinds of people is an effective strategizing tool. Spoken word, because it is a very grassroots art form, is very much contingent upon artists literally swinging their bodies through a string of cities. Unlike mass media’s translation of the human experience with a laugh track, we are the ones connecting the dots, spreading the stories through authentic laughter and protest.

Olson: He’s right: the Bible has some beautiful poetry and metaphors. Maybe we should stop preaching it. “It’s the fearless, not the pious who lead the masses in my church” (from independence meal).

Quite honestly, I think that artists and thinkers with voices that challenge enough of the capitalist-patriarchal authority will always be accused of preaching, of being idealistic and foolish, of not being legitimate or of just being lousy artists; women, in particular, will be called shrill or obnoxious or angry. These critiques have always come with the territory of pursuing different ways of thinking and approaching culture, and I accept them.

Olson: Keep it real. Just kidding. Well, of course, I don’t know what the image is, exactly. I’m an incredibly restless, distracted, driven, and self-critical human being, with an internal humor that plays nice with sanity. I do know it’s important to have a community of peers, other artists on the same trajectory, with the same struggles and celebrations. Of course I have fears: sharks, falling and cracking my teeth, but I try not to be afraid of people, because we’re all we have.