"You asked me about my voluntary solitude. If you will notice my movement from one institution to another in the South, different sites in the region — from Baton Rouge, Louisiana, northward to Lexington, Kentucky, then east to Charlottesville, Virginia, and, finally, back to the Deep South (or what some people here attempt to call it, “the Southwest,”) to College Station, Texas, each of which is “an out of the way” place. Within each of these contexts, I have found myself alone, without a group of people as friends on whom I could depend for different social and intellectual needs. I found out early on that the people with whom I thought I could connect did not always share my values or my world vision, neither its political and aesthetic dimensions nor spiritual commands. For survival I withdrew into a very private world that I invented, a site that feeds my imagination and my intellect, and therefore a world that issues an unnamed force that directs the work I do for Callaloo. That invented world, a product of my own imaginary, is the source of my strength. It is the lenses through which I view the world at large. It could also fuel my writing or inscriptive desires if I only had time to hail and live with those visitations, those ancestral voices, for a sustained while. In short, I live my work, and my work directs the life I live. As an outsider-insider of this society in North America, I have freed myself to see and read with clarity. In fact, living in the margins voluntarily is a positive transgressive act from which I profit as a literary editor, who is required to evaluate fairly creative and critical texts from across the United States and the globe. One needs to approach such work with openness and awareness, and my living a private life in voluntary solitude affords me infinite freedom."