Melissa Ferrer Civil’s journey to becoming Kansas City’s first poet laureate started with a schizophrenia diagnosis at a local psychiatric center.
Civil remembers standing on the stage at Poetic Underground KC shortly after leaving the center, waiting to expel the emotions of her heavy medical diagnosis. But she needed a ride home.
“This is a P.S.A.,” Civil remembers telling the crowd. “I’m living at the homeless shelter on 9th Street and I took the bus to get here and I want to stay, but the buses stop running at a certain time.”
Before she could finish, a voice rose from the back of the crowd — “I got you!”
Civil gave a quick OK, then launched into a poem about demons and hallucinations. Nobody flinched or turned away from her words. Civil says it was her first taste of Kansas City community
The person who called out that night would go on to become one of Civil’s best friends. And the poetry community she found would be an anchor, a place and people with whom she could confront her feelings of doubt, guilt, shame and fear.
“Mental illness thrives in isolation,” Civil says. “I definitely think a good community, a healthy community, makes space for what is most vulnerable in us to not be hidden.”
Seven years later, Civil is not shy about her previous psychotic episodes, which started while she was a senior in college and boiled over when she was taken to Research Psychiatric Center in Kansas City. Nor is she timid about her schizophrenia diagnosis.
Civil isn’t shy about most things, especially the role she feels poetry, art, and self-expression play in liberating people from their demons — or at least alleviating some of the pain.
“Poetry is just communication,” Civil says. “It's communication, and the daring to be vulnerable.”
Since her arrival, Civil’s accolades and impact on the city have grown considerably. Last year, she was named the inaugural poet laureate of Kansas City. She’s also a Charlotte Street Foundation resident, she founded several writers’ workshops, and she helps operate an arts series on social justice and community building.
Civil hopes her vulnerability and unflinching perspective will give other people the confidence and support they need to face their issues, be they health or otherwise.
“If I just speak about my experience and what I've engaged with, then someone can relate to that because they're relating to me,” she says. “By accessing my own vulnerability and my own honesty, I am then allowing others to access their vulnerability.”
“(It’s) the way we light each other’s matches, right?” Civil says.
‘Messages in a bottle’
Civil’s spark for spoken word came from a love for people.
She can remember how, in seventh grade, she was obsessed with figuring out how to help people heal and not feel quite so alone.
Around the same time, her older sister took her own life. As her family dealt with their grief, they had little time for Civil and her emotions. Her peers at school were ruthless, and the people who were supposed to help were not helpful.
But through poetry, she found her power.
“My teacher assigned Maya Angelou’s ‘And Still I Rise,’” Civil recalls. “And I’m sitting there reading, feeling this deep darkness, and something within me began to rise. That's when I learned about the power of poetry, and I was like: ‘That's what I'm gonna do. I'm gonna write words that reach into people and help to change their internal condition.’”
Civil was obsessed, frequently running home to tell her mother new words or to read a new poem. Every time, she remembers a look of pride and adoration from her mom.
It was a privilege, she now realizes, to feel so supported in her early life that she could worry about others. At a recent Youth Mental Health Summit hosted by Children’s Mercy, Civil discussed how the unconditional love of one person can make all the difference in a kid’s development.
For Civil, that was Mom. For others, it might be a friend, a loved one, or it can even be poetry — but everybody needs someone or something to lean on to truly be healthy, she says.
“Poetry can be this reflector, to say: ‘You are not alone. We are here for you. We are here with you,’” Civil says. “Especially in a time where many people feel isolated, it is a way to reach across the rifts, kind of like messages in a bottle.”
And it doesn’t stop at poetry, Civil says. Any form of expression, whether it is music, dance, acting, painting, or singing, can help others feel seen.
‘Creating art is vulnerable’
Staff at Children’s Mercy Hospital in Kansas City are also emphasizing self-expression in their efforts to tackle the growing youth mental health crisis.
Making art is therapeutic by nature, says Katie Brewer, the art therapist for the hospital, and in a clinical setting can be used intentionally to build self-esteem, explore identity, cope with life changes and more.
Brewer sometimes plays a scribble game with patients, where they chase each other with markers to foster a back-and-forth connection without the need for verbal communication. She will chase and then they’ll swap roles, giving the child a chance to lead and take initiative.
“First of all, it is using a different part of your brain,” Brewer says. “So when you are verbalizing, you're using a different part of your brain than when you communicate visually.”
That’s especially valuable in patients who have experienced trauma. Research suggests that, in people who have experienced something really traumatic, there is often an impact on the part of the brain that processes words. Art can bypass that.
Art therapy in a hospital setting also offers autonomy in a space where it’s often lost, Brewer says. Each session is unique and offers kids chances to express themselves in a variety of ways, be it a sculpture, painting or even a keychain. In some instances, patients decorate their medical equipment, and turn something impersonal into something they find beautiful, she says.
Brewer is careful to make a distinction between sitting down with your kid to draw for an hour – something she absolutely recommends – and a formal art therapy session. Both are fun, she says, but art therapy is intentionally planned to help people understand themselves and process a new diagnosis.
“Creating art is vulnerable,” Brewer says. “It's a vulnerable experience to be seen in that way when you're not confident about your artistic abilities. It can be really scary. An art therapist is trained to create a space that challenges the natural self-judgment.”
The beginner’s mind
While practices like art therapy are becoming more common, it can still be hard to appreciate art’s utility, Civil says, despite thousands of years of evidence to the contrary.
“It's been the rain-shout. It's been the ceremonies, the dancing, the drumming. It’s been the storytelling,” Civil says. “Art has always played this deep and impactful role of telling our stories and bringing us together and reminding us who we are.”
Many people need healing in an increasingly inflammatory world, where connections to the land and our communities are fractured, she says. In a time when we’re more connected by technology than ever before, Civil sees isolation and loneliness.
We are not “home,” as she puts it, and it’s feeding a mental health crisis.
That’s why Civil wants her words, which pull no punches, to bring people together and to recognize our shared humanity. It starts, she says, with a willingness to learn.
“There's this Buddhist concept of the beginner's mind, right? Starting every day as a beginner, engaging, and not presuming to know anything but always being willing to hear what is presenting itself. Understanding (that) your truth isn’t always the ‘capital-T’ truth, but just one of many, grants access to other people to join in conversation rather than being in competition about who is right.”
If you or someone you know is struggling with anxiety, depression or suicidal ideation, call or text the Suicide & Crisis Lifeline at 988.
