Maya Moore
The SEEN series highlights various guests, diving into the ways they have discovered themselves through reading. What stories shaped them? Helped them define their own? These intimate interviews seek to celebrate their discoveries, hear what they’ve learned from their favorite works, and uncover a glimpse of their interior world through the books that have changed them.
Born on the same day and with the same name as one of her favorite writers, Maya Angelou, Maya Moore is one for the exquisite. Whether it be through the books she reads, her creative eye, or the depth of her disability advocacy work, Maya is finely tuned to the details and the narratives our society has purposefully silenced. Maya adjusts her dial to these stories and raises their frequencies for the people around her to hear.
During a recent trip to New York, Maya invited me to one of her favorite bookstores in the city, HousingWorks, an organization that channels 100% of revenue into life-saving services for low-income and unhoused New Yorkers living with AIDS. There, we talked about books and about life, and while perusing, stumbled across a sweet book about cats that I couldn’t resist gifting to her.
Maya holds a warmth that is both open and soothing, paired with a boldness that asserts her integrity. Every time I’m in New York I make it a point to try and see her. She effuses a sense of calmness in a city that can often pull you in so many directions.
Here, Maya shares the book that completely transformed how she views herself as a disabled person, how her father shaped her love for reading, and her favorite spots for an ideal day on the east coast.
How would you describe yourself?
I’m an Aries deeply ruled by my Virgo moon — meaning my impulsiveness is usually tempered by my analytical side. I love spontaneity but I also crave structure. I love non-fiction books but I like switching it up with the occasional fiction book (I’ve started The Death of Vivek Oji which I was gifted at the last Seen Library event in NYC). I’m an avid reader but I’ve also been known to throw down in a Mario Kart tournament or host a Real Housewives watch party. I'm creative, and it took me a long time to claim it but I’ve always loved art and design since I was a kid — I’ve not come across a medium I didn’t like. I’m a proud cat mom and member of the queer community with a penchant for vintage, styling, African art, and jewelry hunting on Etsy. I’m irrevocably liberal minded and I’m passionate about social justice, disability advocacy and building an equitable space within fashion for disabled people.
What book has made you feel the most seen and why?
The Cancer Journals by Audre Lorde was the first book I read about a Black woman with cancer — specifically a Black lesbian with cancer. I found myself relating to her in a way I hadn’t with other cancer survivors. Her journal entries where she details her experience with prosthetics after her mastectomy especially hit home.
“Prosthesis offers the empty comfort of ‘Nobody will know the difference.’ But it is that very difference which I wish to affirm, because I have lived it, and survived it, and wish to share that strength with other women. If we are to translate the silence surrounding breast cancer into language and action against this scourge, then the first step is that women with mastectomies must become visible to each other.”
Was there a certain person, or moment in your life, that influenced your relationship with reading?
I didn’t have cable or a game console in my house growing up but I was a proud library kid thanks to my dad. It was my favorite place to go after school and on weekends in elementary school. I would spend hours there and often kept books past their due date. He calls himself a “student of life” and he inspired and cultivated my love for reading. He notoriously had us read and write book reports on influential Black historical figures like W.E.B. DuBois, Langston Hughes, Maya Angelou, Angela Davis and Fred Hampton on weekends and after our homework was completed. While I didn’t have a strong appreciation for it then, I’m so grateful to have him as a teacher.
What are your favorite books?
Disability Visibility edited by Alice Wong profoundly changed the way I see myself as a disabled person. The essay When You Are Waiting to Be Healed by June Eric-Udorie soothed a wound I didn’t know I had before reading it. I deeply related with line: “claiming that label [disabled] felt like lauding myself with an extra unnecessary burden”. The collection of essays affirmed the duality — pain and pride — I experience as someone with a disability.
The Emperor of All Maladies: A Biography of Cancer by Siddhartha Mukherjee was a book that was given to me while I was undergoing chemotherapy. The book personifies cancer and is a history of the disease from the earliest known mentions to the mid-2000s. The book is the perfect marriage of a biology and historical text, interweaving moments of Mukherjee’s experience as a young oncologist. While I was reluctant to read it at first, it really helped me understand what was happening to my body from a biological perspective while providing a history of the treatments I was receiving.
I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings by Maya Angelou is one of my favorite books because I was named after the poet who I share a birthday with. She is, to this day, one of my favorite authors and I am inspired by her strength, courage and poise.
What book has allowed you to see and better understand the perspective of another?
A Chosen Exile: A History of Racial Passing in American Life by Allyson Hobbs. I read this after reading The Vanishing Half by Brit Bennett. I was unsatisfied with the ending of the latter and was left wanting to understand the emotional, personal and sociopolitical choice Black people made when choosing to “pass” as white.
Is there a quote or excerpt from a book that you find yourself returning to?
“Disabled people have always existed, whether the word disability is used or not. To me, disability is not a monolith, nor is it a clear-cut binary of disabled and non-disabled. Disability is mutable and ever-evolving. Disability is both apparent and non apparent. Disability is pain, struggle, brilliance, abundance and joy. Disability is socio-political, cultural and biological. Being visible and claiming a disabled identity brings risks as much as it brings pride.”
—Alice Wong, Disability Visibility
What stories do you think need to be read?
Disabled stories — and specifically Black disabled stories — need to be read, sought out and uplifted more. While I am proud and ecstatic to have witnessed an increase in the amount of disabled stories and narratives in the mainstream, I believe that the majority of them center the white disability experience. In A Disability History of the United States, Kim E. Nielsen writes, “the racist ideology of slavery held that Africans brought to North America were by definition disabled.” Being Black and disabled in America is a completely different experience because of the ways disability has been weaponized and used as a justification for Black oppression, exclusion and violence. Black Disability Politics by Sami Schalk explores this in depth and helped me understand my own initial reluctance in accepting disability as part of my identity.
What was the last book you gifted? What was the last book you were given?
I got my dad a copy of Blackness and Disability: Critical Examinations and Cultural Interventions edited by Christopher M. Bell. The last book I was given was Cat Lady Chronicles by Diane Lovejoy — a gift from Jordan Santos during our coffee date at HousingWorks.
What books have directly and indirectly influenced your work as a disability advocate and consultant?
Reading A Disability History of The United States by Kim E. Nielsen felt like a second awakening for me in the same way reading Black history books outside of the classroom did when I was younger. So much of our history has been obscured or left out of American history. Nielsen demonstrates that American ideals are fundamentally built on ableist principles. She writes, “when disability is understood as dependency, disability is in direct contrast to American ideals of independence and autonomy.” The same way that racism is baked into the American identity, so is the notion that the most valuable among us are able-bodied people. This has served as a valuable starting point with clients who want to bring the same tenacity to their anti-ableism work as they would with their anti-racism work.
Disability Visibility is an anthology that contains essays and short stories by authors who span the wide spectrum of disability. Reading this book was a great starting point to seek out more authors and advocates from the disability community and it helped ground me in this fundamental truth which fuels everything I do: “Collectively, through our stories, our connections, and our actions, disabled people will continue to confront and transform the status quo. It’s who we are”.
A must visit in Connecticut and New York for book lovers?
The Beinecke Rare Book and Manuscript Library on Yale University’s campus is honestly breathtaking. It’s described as a “cathedral-like exhibition hall” and being surrounded by thousands of rare books and manuscripts that hold the words of people like Frederick Douglass feels like a religious experience.
There’s a spot near my hometown in Hartford, Connecticut named Semilla that I make a point to visit whenever I can. It’s a Black and Puerto Rican-owned cafe that has a small library and record room. They sell family friend Lisa Bakes Bars’ famous “she put her whole foot in this” pound cake that reminds me of my grandmother’s and my cousin painted a mural that covers the back wall so it feels so warm and familiar. You have to get their coconut latte if you’re there — it’s my favorite cup of coffee.
I stumbled upon HousingWorks by accident one day while killing time before a casting and it’s now one of my favorite places to read and spend time alone when I’m in NYC. The lower level houses hundreds of new and used books while the upper level contains vintage and secondhand clothes. My favorite spot is the cafe on the lower level. I usually order tea and shortbread then find my spot among a sea of other readers. HousingWorks is amazing because 100% of the proceeds support the housing, harm reduction, legal and job training services they provide to low income NewYork residents, as well as their AIDS advocacy work.
Where do you like to read most?
I love Atticus Bookstore Cafe in New Haven. The selection of books is so beautifully curated — you can tell that the entire staff is composed of people who not only love reading but are well suited to the art of introducing people to new books.
In New York I love to read at Dae, Lucille’s and HousingWorks. If it’s nice out, I like finding a shaded spot in Bryant Park or Central Park.
What’s your ideal way to connect with the people in your life?
I love sharing meals with the people in my life or connecting over food — whether it's dinner out with friends, family dinner at my parent's house or having people over to my house for pizza and wine. I made a New Year’s resolution this year that I was going to write to my friends and family this year and I’m looking forward to keeping that up as a way to connect with people offline.
Take us through your ideal day in the city.
My ideal day in the city starts with a walk to find coffee. I love New York because I love walking and people watching. I spend most of my time in either Harlem or midtown so I usually end up at The Oma Shop — a Black owned cafe that also has a full hair salon. It feels warm and the small details in the design remind me of my grandmother’s home in South Central LA. I’ll pick out a podcast episode to listen to while I walk, usually Today, Explained or The Read. I like to wind down for the day with a walk downtown to 86th and 3rd to browse and pick up magazines that I can’t get at home in Connecticut. I usually grab a chicken patty and coco bread from a Jamaican restaurant along my route — it’s my favorite snack. I love getting dressed up for dinner — there’s nothing better than getting ready for a night out with your friends. I love Sottocasa in Harlem for a chill dinner and The Record Room in Queens if I feel like dancing. They have the best DJ who plays throwback R&B.
What do you hope other people see in you?
I hope people see that I’m not just the sum of my worst experiences and that even though I have experienced a lot of trauma in my life, I’ve also experienced a lot of joy. Being disabled often means gritting your teeth through a constant state of proving your life is still full or meaningful. It’s wanting a seat at the table but getting a pat on the back. My life isn’t beautiful in spite of my disability — it’s beautiful in many ways, because of it.
