The Whimsy And Rage Of Poet KB Brookins

If you want to understand poet and author KB Brookins, 30, just look at their CV. Obviously, most CVs are creative interpretations of our works, our history in capitalism as a listicle designed to make bosses think we look tasty. They aren’t lies, per se, but neither are they the full truth because the full truth doesn’t get you jobs.  

Brookins, ever a study in vibrant contradictions and confrontation, turned the whole CV concept into a poem called “Curriculum Vitae,” featured in their last poetry collection Freedom House. Rather than appeal, the poem’s entries attack the concept of truth like it just insulted their mother. Under work experience, bullet points read “Heard ‘the nerve of some Black people’ and didn’t end customer’s life’ and “Explicitly told not to care; cared anyways.” “God as my witness” and “the gay agenda” are noted as references, and as a skill they list “giving false hope to people whose nations thrive because of their suffering.”

It’s funny because it’s a level in a medium dedicated to propping up comfortable half-truths. That crevasse between what’s whimsical and what is so real it hurts is where Brookins shines the brightest.

“Poetry really restores my sense of play,” they said in a phone interview. “Turning something that is not poetry into poetry is interesting to me, especially in those moments when I sit down and I don’t know where I need to go. I wondered what it would be like to have a CV that is a true account of my labor and not a performance.”

It’s gallows humor, but what else can you expect of a Black trans Texan in 2025? Raised in Fort Worth in a deeply religious community, Brookins details their life in a recent memoir, Pretty. Their family constantly tried to push them to be more feminine, while their church overlooked sexual assaults that started when they were just five. Constant attempts to fit in were rebuffed as they were called slurs. 

Coming to grips with queerness and transness in Texas in the early 2000’s wasn’t easy. When Brookins was 15, the Rainbow Lounge in Fort Worth was raided by the police, a Stonewall-esque attack on the LGBT community fueled by a desperate gasp to prevent same-sex marriage that affected Brookins deeply. These were the years when Texas Republicans were cracking down on gay bars and sex shops, grimly holding onto dildo bans to have an excuse to harass any non-cishet people they could find.

Brookins poetry captures these turbulent and confusing times, mastering the mix of elation as gay rights marched toward its biggest win and the terror as opponents marshaled for a last stand. There is joy as they described the transformation of their body under testosterone shots, but it’s alloyed with the sadness that passing as a cis man exposed them to unfiltered misogyny aimed at others.

Like the CV poem, Brookins keeps things honest in both poetry and memoir. Their bald and unabashed approach to their lived-in experiences are full of life, pain, and absurdity. It gives them an achingly human approach to subjects too many people have walled off as “political” rather than personal.

“I was kind of writing myself into history,” they said. “I do think we’re in a bit of a renaissance as far as trans and queer literature is concerned, but when I was growing up, I didn’t have a lot of representation with trans memoirs or poetry. A book is a practice in recording oneself.”

Still, Brookins is aware of their inherently political existence in Texas and has been working to make a change in the state, particularly as a bail reform activist. That’s where the rage comes in. They are a 2025-2026 ACLU of Texas artist-in-residence specifically for their work opposing the cash bail system.

“Seven out of 10 people in Texas jails are waiting for a court date because they can’t afford bail,” said the ACLU in a written statement. “Acclaimed author KB Brookins is combining their personal commitment to ending this injustice with their expertise in community dialogue and creative writing to draw attention to the human impact of mass incarceration, which disproportionately harms Black and Brown families. At the ACLU of Texas, we believe the arts can reach beyond age, language, and culture to imagine a new way forward — which is exactly what KB Brookins aims to do.” 

This weekend will be a busy one for Brookins. On Saturday, September 6, they are hosting a zine-making workshop at The Orange Show in Houston to promote bail justice. Later in the day, Brookins along with three Houston Poet Laureates (Reyes Ramirez, Aris Kian, & Deborah D.E.E.P. Mouton) will all perform at Allen’s Park near the Harris County Jail.

“The Harris County Jail is one of the worst jails in the U.S.,” said Brookins. “Seventy percent of people in Texas are sitting in jails because they can’t afford bail. This is such a waste of taxpayer dollars, and it’s a system that’s killing people, especially in Harris County.”

On Sunday, they’ll be reading on the rooftop of the Beverly Theatre to a live audience. All events are free.

Three weeks ago, Brookins left Texas to accept a fellowship at the University of Las Vegas. They don’t know if they’ll be back to live, but the state is still so much on their mind. This is where the fight is, and it's one that’s going to take rage to maintain and whimsy to survive. That’s why Brookins is coming home to teach others how to use both to fight back.

“I’m a very place-based writer,” said Brookins. “Even here, I’m still writing and thinking about Texas.”