Dialogue in the Underground: Emanuel Xavier on Ballroom Lineage, Survival, and the Spoken Word Scene
In a raw, unchecked retrospective on The Kandy Fontaine Show, historic New York spoken word pioneer Emanuel Xavier mapped the coordinates of his nearly three-decade creative trajectory. Speaking directly from the concrete history of the East Coast underground scene, Xavier dismantled academic gatekeeping, tracked the intersection of hip-hop and queer identity, and analyzed the vital role of independent archiving in preserving marginalized history.
Emerging from the explosive 1990s spoken word and Nuyorican poetry movements, Xavier established himself as an HBO Def Poetry Jam alumnus, an iconic voice in LGBTQ+ letters, and the author of groundbreaking works including the novel Christ Like and his recent collection, Still We Are Sacred. For Xavier, entering the literary landscape was a process born out of real-world survival rather than traditional academic conditioning.Xavier’s foundational education as an author did not occur within the structured boundaries of an MFA program, but on the shelves of an underground bookstore. This outsider status immediately drew sharp resistance from the established academic elite.
As Xavier recalls, “I fell in love with spoken word poetry, which was not… you know, by any means academic…there is no right or wrong, and that people will always try to, you know… criticize you, because of your lack of education… I remember being called a street poet… which was derogatory.”
Rather than attempting to conform to traditional academic standards, Xavier chose to validate his identity by aligning his writing with raw, transgressive street visual icons who broke operational rules to change culture.
“But you know, I loved artists like, you know, like Basquiat and Keith Haring, artists who challenged the status quo.”
Central to Xavier’s creative development was his active immersion in the 1980s and 90s New York ballroom scene. Alongside one of his closest collaborators, legendary dancer and choreographer Willy Ninja, Xavier laid down operational blueprints for alternative spaces that eventually broke into mainstream pop culture.
“[Willy Ninja] was always incredibly supportive and helped me found the House of Xavier and the glam slam, and… he always believed in me, so he will always have… a place in my heart, in my history. I can relate that, for example, the ballroom scene… Where we had categories like fem realness and butch realness, and it was all about… looking a certain way or hitting the stage… emulating what we consider to be a real man or a real woman. And that was all… very underground… and celebrated.”
Xavier observed that while modern visibility has created unprecedented avenues for authentic self-expression, the core societal structures of exclusion require continuous, deliberate artistic counter-pressure.
“We’re in a much better place in that people can choose to look how they want to and be who they want to and live how they want to. But at the same time, there’s still that hatred and that ignorance that we have to overcome.”
Reflecting on how underground artistry alters mass media over time, Xavier noted the evolution from past eras when survival required masking identity inside commercial work to today’s upfront landscapes.
“Isn’t it unfortunate that, like, back then, like, things had to be queer, like we said queer-coded. Instead of being so… upfront and like in your face…”
A major focus of Xavier’s work is the preservation of subcultural memory—specifically the names of independent writers and activists who carved out safe spaces before mainstream corporate recognition existed. Xavier credited Nuyerican Poets Cafe founder Miguel Algarín with providing the paternal and institutional backing necessary to speak cleanly without fear.
“One of the people that definitely inspired me was Miguel Algarin… He was incredibly supportive, and… he loved the fact that I was just openly gay on the spoken word scene. From the get-go, you know?… We had an incredible friendship and you know, I miss him dearly. He was sort of like a father figure.”
Xavier similarly detailed his early alignment with queer Colombian poet Jaime Manrique, who served as a vital bridge to his first commercial publisher during a period when queer history was systemically erased from traditional education.
“He’s the one that introduced me to my first publisher. And again, encouraged me to pursue… my vision… Growing up queer, we were looking for that, you know, to be seen, to be heard, and we don’t know where to necessarily turn to, because we weren’t taught about our queer history or our queer forefathers. We had to learn that on our own.”
This self-directed education brought Xavier into direct, early contact with monumental icons of the mid-20th-century avant-garde, though he noted that youth often obscures the historical gravity of one’s surroundings.
“I got to… I got to meet [Allen Ginsberg] in mid-90s, just, like, right before he passed… It was the same thing like because I had met Marsha P. Johnson like on Christopher Street when I was way too young. But I didn’t realize… that these people were so important… When I met Allen Ginsberg, I was… way too young and sort of like, you know, ‘yeah, whatever’… I was just too… you know, caught up in myself or whatever, or, to recognize that I was amidst… something so iconic.”
Concluding his remarks, Xavier outlined the absolute necessity of raw, unfiltered testimony for independent artists. In a cultural arena where expression is frequently monetized or trimmed down, he positioned the act of writing as a vital form of historical preservation.
“Definitely pursue your passion,” Xavier insisted. “Stay true to yourself, be authentic, and don’t listen to the critics. Don’t listen to what other people try to box you into. Because you’re more than that and it’s important for… for you to continue writing, whether you’re writing just for yourself in a journal and you’re never going to share it with anyone, or… you’re going to perform it in front of, like, hundreds of people. Because… it’s important for us to share our stories, because these are our histories. People need to know… how we lived and who we were.”
About Alex S. Johnson Having recently celebrated his 60th birthday on Halloween, Alex S. Johnson aka Kandy Fontaine is the author of numerous books, including The Doom Hippies and Skull Vinyl: Poems 2012-2017, both archived at Harvard University’s Widener Library. His work has been praised by the likes of Cyberpunk godfather John Shirley (The Crow, 1994), who proclaimed Johnson “the Baudelaire of our time,” and Jan Steckel, Lambda Literary Award-winning poet, retired pediatrician and disability and bi rights activist, who called Johnson “a master of the pathetic fallacy.” Forthcoming from Johnson’s Nocturnicorn Books are literary tributes to Ellyn Maybe with contributions from the likes of Iris Berry and Henry Rollins, and to Poppy Z. Brite (Exquisite Corpse), featuring an Introduction by horror master Peter Straub, author of Ghost Story and co-author with Stephen King of Black House and The Talisman. Johnson’s forthcoming interviews include bestselling erotica writer, novelist and screenwriter Marilyn Jaye Lewis, author of Neptune and Surf, praised in The Guardian and championed by Maxim Jakubowski. Johnson lives in Carmichael, California with his family.