When Community Supplies the Vision
By: Yuki Jackson
I returned to Tampa Bay in September 2025, armed with a sense of purpose as a teaching artist but without the resources. All of my teaching supplies had been discarded after I was no longer able to afford my storage unit while I lived up in north Florida and was a devastating loss for me. As a poet and educator, I had done freelance teaching artist work since 2018, through a series of initiatives and connections. My work included starting The Battleground, a grassroots youth program utilizing poetry, hip-hop and martial arts in a historically marginalized community of Tampa, as well as providing poetic writing classes and workshops for several non-profits, businesses and schools throughout the Tampa Bay area.
The Battleground sign at LIT Block Party
Always fortunate with opportunities, I was surprised to discover upon my return that there was a severe drought in Tampa Bay, in terms of teaching artist work for me. So I moved forward with what I knew to do–pitch myself to a variety of businesses and educational entities. I offered my poetic teaching to them, shaping each pitch to match the needs of the potential participants. One of the places I had approached was Kaleisia Tea, a beloved local hub for many University of South Florida - Tampa campus students. The tea shop owner had put out a call for hosting artistic community workshops in their space, aligned with their mission of fostering accessible and heartfelt engagement. Once they agreed for me to teach a workshop there, I began planning the type of experience that I believed would resonate with their customer base–a Poetic Zine-Making Workshop.
Although I was set to facilitate this workshop, I still didn't have the means to acquire the teaching artist supplies I needed. But my inner drive to provide my skills and experience with those who I believe I share a profound connection with, continued to push me forward to do it anyway.
“I’m an artist. We work from imagination and vision, then do what it takes to make our vision come true.”
So, I trusted that I would somehow be able to come up with what I needed.
I felt that I should attend the Cultured Books St.Pete Reads Fest, being held on November 1st. My intention was to support their effort and connect with old and new friends all sharing in the passion for facilitating literacy. As I walked across the back garden of the Woodson African American Museum, which served as the event site, I was happy to see NOMADstudio there facilitating a zine-making activity for children. I greeted a familiar face, Ember, who was warmly supporting some children in their zine-making and who I had previously connected with through the local arts community and teaching artist work. "Carrie's here," Ember informed me after we chatted for a moment.
Yuki and Carrie speak about supplies needed (photo taken at Cultured Books St. Pete Reads Fest)
I sat down with Carrie, NOMADstudio Founder and Director, towards the back of the their event booth, during one of her breaks. We spoke about our respective work and the challenges imposed upon those seeking to facilitate creative and enlightening activitites. When I told her about my determination to push forward with the Poetic Zine-Making workshops, despite not having most of the supplies, she immediately offered to help.
"Stop by our office to come get what you need," Carrie said.
When I arrived at the NOMADstudio office the next day, I was overwhelmed with gratitude. They had prepared all the supplies that I had needed, along with more than what I realized I needed, enough to fill a hand-pulled wagon–many glue sticks, several pairs of scissors, cut-out paper shapes and tupperware containers full of stickers, ephemera, envelopes, and all kinds of decorative bits, in addition to a large stack of art magazines that could be used for collaging. "Thank you so much," I said, as tears welled my eyes.
One week later, I pulled that wagon full of supplies into Kaleisia Tea. I sat with the group of mostly twenty-somethings who had signed up for the Poetic Zine-Making workshop and worked together with them to create and share in the process of creation. Among the scattered pieces of magazine photos, glue sticks and colored cardstock, we imagined what is possible from the materials we are given and how to follow our instinct in what we are driven to do with it.
I set-up my borrowed and inherited NOMADstudio supplies in my home office, often looking at them and pulling from what they have enabled me to do–stay true to my mission. This perseverance came into play again in March of 2025, when I had to move from my St. Pete apartment because I was no longer able to afford staying there. Except this time, my intuition told me to hold onto my teaching supplies, telling me to resist my thought to give them back to NOMADstudio. I was confused at first with my intuition telling me this, and even angry–after all, holding onto all these supplies would be impractical, since I needed to be nimble in my move, especially without my own transportation. And yet, through gritted teeth, I obliged and held onto the teaching artist supplies, lugging them around with me as I transitioned from one place to another.
During this period, I had been participating as a committee member to help plan the Sulphur Springs LIT Block Party, an annual literacy and arts festival in the historically marginalized Tampa neighborhood where I had founded the The Battleground youth program. Together with the Sulphur Springs Neighborhood of Promise coalition, we have planned this literacy and arts festival since 2019 with the aim of engaging the neighborhood's residents. Our focus is particularly on the youth, with interactive literacy and arts activities provided by over 30 vendors who primarily serve the Sulphur Springs neighborhood. In addition to providing my input and efforts on the planning committee, I would usually also be one of those vendors with a table, in order to host some kind of interactive poetic activity.
However, this year, with my increasingly limited resources and transportation, I didn't sign up to host an activity at the LIT Block Party, for the first time ever. Although it felt wrong for The Battleground to not have a table at the event, I couldn't see past my limitations. But then, when I saw that one of the arts organizations we had invited wasn't able to attend, I felt that it was The Battleground who was supposed to be at that particular table. In an act of faith, I emailed the overall committee head to let her know that we will be there. Then, I asked my friend who I was staying with to help me get my teaching supplies from their storage area, where I had stashed them. That evening, I looked through what I had and brainstormed on what I could create from these materials–I turned leftover paper scraps into table decorations and signs, and decided to use the rest of the supplies towards an journal-making activity.
The LIT Block Party this year was a success–many youth and adults attended and enjoyed the festival. As I watched 24 year old TJ, the very first youth who had been in The Battleground program, now help facilitate the journal-making activity for a child, I felt grateful for the opportunity to continue trying. That's all this process has been, as any creative endeavor–driven by an idea and all the attempts to give life to what we hold inside of us–fulfilling our purpose together with who we love, all thanks to the support of community.