Wakefield Brewster believes the art of poetry is a complicated and vulnerable act. Still, through years of hard work, Brewster has channelled these feelings through spoken word, becoming a voice of change and inspiring a new generation of people.
The sound of the church organ first ignited a young boy’s passion from Scarborough, Ont.
From keys to words
From age six, Brewster heard the sound of music and aspired to become a church organist. Rhythm and ardor flowed through him at a young age and transcended in a way he, as a young boy, never thought it would.
“I wanted to be one of the only black concert pianists in Europe playing in amphitheatres for hundreds of white folks,” said Brewster. “That’s a weird dream for a black kid from Scarborough in Toronto, but that’s what initially resonated with me, the sound of the church organ.”
While studying fine arts at York University, the fierce competition seemed to have Brewster’s pianist dreams slipping through his fingers—his dream of many years began falling away from him.
“It’s not about my ego. I actually was not good enough. I couldn’t cut it,” said Brewster.
However, it wasn’t just the piano he found his hands gravitating towards. During his hard work towards the world of music, Brewster had poetry on the back burner. It seemed to be an underlying passion of his before he even knew it, when he started writing at age 16.
“I was gripped by poetry, and the reason is because for those 10 years that I’ve been practicing the keyboards, I’ve been playing all of the greats … the first time I wrote a poem was the first time I ever created something. ”
Poetry becomes lifeline
Amid crushed dreams, poetry became his lifeline. Brewster threw himself into the world of words full force, leaving behind the black-and-white keys to explore the rhyme and rhythm behind words on a page—and the transition was far from easy.
“Back when I was in school, Can-lit, as in Canadian literature, had us all convinced the only way to be a poet in the world was to have a book. It was all about being published,” said Brewster. “A professor has told me, ‘No one will ever read your words.’ So I said, ‘Fuck you, then they’ll hear them.’”
When Brewster begins a piece of spoken word poetry, the lights dim and the audience quiets. His presence on stage causes a shift in the entire room. He doesn’t just speak—he commands the space.
It was a humanities professor at York who unlocked this version of him. Young Brewster sat in Sherry Rowley’s class every day, patiently waiting for feedback on his poetry. He said she made him wait two weeks, and he never asked when she was finished. When she finally got back to him, red writing covered the margins of his words.
“Wakefield. This is you. Go out into the world.” Brewster recalls her saying to him, “You are a poet. Now be a poet.”
“She just gave me the key and said, ‘Here. Turn that,’ and I was like, ‘It’s me, and here I am,’” said Brewster.
A journey through struggle
In 2006, Brewster found himself on a plane to Calgary to start a new life, but it wasn’t easy. He shared about his struggles with addiction up until 2016. In 2017, Brewster began to practice massage therapy, leading him into the wellness world.
“Once I understood I could be well, not just sober and clean, it’s different,” said Brewster. “Wellness is for us. It’s available, and for whatever reasons, it’s incredibly hard to truly acquire, obtain, sustain.”
Brewster says poetry helped him because he wrote out the worst of himself. “Creatively, artistically, professionally, I took the illness out of me,” said Brewster. “I’ve been trying to write my way to wellness, and when I finally started to feel it, my writing stopped focusing more on me.”
Brewster’s ability to be vulnerable and real has helped him connect with many people he has worked with. Once his poetry shifted to focusing on his community, he found a new role—becoming the sixth Poet Laureate of Calgary.
“It wasn’t just about being black,” explained Brewster. “It was about making a change. It was about a city that has this kind of energy and reputation, saying, ‘Hey, we think that brother is telling our stories.’”
A legacy of words
Myla Sexton, a published poet and former student from St. Gabriel, one of the schools Brewster has visited, admires Brewster’s ability to entice a whole room with his words.
“He was really good at captivating us,” said Sexton. “It’s hard to make a room full of high-schoolers get in touch with their emotions and actually write something—especially poetry—but he did it.”
Many people who have encountered Brewster say he is a voice for the people. Sexton’s time with Brewster, though short-lived, left a long-lasting impact on her and her fellow peers.
“Everyone would always ask when he would be coming back,” Sexton explained. “He brought out this side in us that made us want to be vulnerable and want to tell our stories.”
Brewster’s voice echoes in the classroom just as much as on the stage. He aspires to be woven into the world of the younger generation, working to help them find their voice.
“This is where I think I belong,” Brewster said. He claims to just want to make an impact. He advises young people to “do the work” and reminds them that “you can,” and it’s been words he, himself, has been living by.
“Work hard at the little things. Work hard at the one thing, but do the fucking work and work hard…” he said. “I want people to believe in themselves … when you hear that you can’t, you probably can and you probably should.”
Poetry has always been the key to Brewster’s life. He fuels communities with hope, belief, and change and continues to use the poetic device to bring light to the lives around him and his own.
“I love [poetry]. I loved it when I nearly lost my life six times because of [my] lifestyle, right? I’m telling you, my life has never been perfect and poetry has always been there making me love my life,” Brewster said. “I didn’t pick poetry. Poetry picked me.”