Meet Quan The Poet

We’re excited to introduce you to the always interesting and insightful Quan The Poet. We hope you’ll enjoy our conversation with Quan below.

Quan, we’re thrilled to have you on our platform and we think there is so much folks can learn from you and your story. Something that matters deeply to us is living a life and leading a career filled with purpose and so let’s start by chatting about how you found your purpose.

I didn’t find my purpose in some pretty, inspirational way. My purpose found me while I was fighting for my life. Growing up, I struggled with deep, low self-esteem. I spent years feeling like I wasn’t enough for anyone, not my family, not the world, and definitely not myself. When you carry that kind of quiet ache, you start looking for ways to numb it, and for me, that led to battling drugs and a storm of challenges I never thought I’d overcome.

And on top of that, being bipolar made my inner world feel like a war zone. Some days I felt unstoppable, and others I couldn’t even get out of bed. It’s hard to find “purpose” when your own mind doesn’t always feel like home. Writing became the one place where I wasn’t broken. Poetry held space for every version of me, the highs, the lows, the mistakes, the relapses, the triumphs. It became the only thing that didn’t judge me.

My purpose appeared amid all that darkness like, “Hey, I’m here. And you’re not done yet.” Every time I wrote something honest, something raw, it felt like a piece of me was healing. And when people started saying, “Yo, your words helped me,” that’s when it clicked. My purpose isn’t perfection, it’s transformation. It’s turning pain into language. It’s making art out of the very things that tried to destroy me.

I found my purpose by surviving long enough to hear it calling my name. Now I speak for the folks who feel too messy, too emotional, too different, too “much” because I’ve been all of that. And somehow, all of it made me a poet.

Great, so let’s take a few minutes and cover your story. What should folks know about you and what you do?

I’m a storyteller, a poet, performer, and screenwriter who lives in the spaces most people try to hide. My work is all about truth: the beautiful parts, the messy parts, the parts that make you uncomfortable because they’re too honest.

What makes what I do special is that I don’t write from a distance. I write from experience. My poetry is shaped by heartbreak, mental health battles, survival, queerness, trauma, faith, and the kind of self-discovery that hurts before it heals. Every poem, every script, every performance comes from a real place. When people read or hear my work, they’re not getting a character; they’re getting me, unfiltered.

I’m proud of the projects I’ve put out so far. My poetry books, The Struggle and Reflections, both available on Amazon, are pieces of my soul in print with poems about pain, identity, love, and becoming. And my poetry album The Lost Files, available on Apple Music, is a collection of moments and emotions that never made it to the stage but needed to be heard. These projects are for anyone who’s ever fought through darkness to find themselves again.

I think what’s most exciting about my art right now is the growth. I’m stepping into new worlds of film and TV. I’m developing multiple screenwriting projects, all centered around complex Black characters, queer narratives, and the emotional depth that mainstream media often avoids. I want to tell stories that look like us, feel like us, and are created by us.

And trust there’s more coming: new poems, new albums, new scripts, new performances. I’m in a season of expansion. I’m learning to take up space, to be louder with my art, and to build work that lasts.

Everything I create has one goal: to make people feel less alone. If one line, one performance, one story helps somebody breathe easier, then I’m doing exactly what I was put here to do.

If you had to pick three qualities that are most important to develop, which three would you say matter most?

1. Vulnerability
Being vulnerable used to feel like the biggest threat. When you’re someone who’s battled low self-esteem, mental health, addiction, and heartbreak, showing people your truth feels dangerous. But once I leaned into it, it became my superpower. Vulnerability is what allows me to write work that hits people in the chest. It’s what makes people say, “Damn, that’s exactly how I feel.”

Advice:
Stop trying to be perfect. Tell the truth, the whole truth even the parts you’re scared of. Real art comes from the places you don’t want anyone to see. And you’ll be shocked how many people connect with the version of you that’s honest, not polished.

2. Discipline
Inspiration is cute, but discipline is what builds a career. There were days I didn’t feel like writing, performing, or even getting out of bed. But discipline kept me going when motivation disappeared. It’s the reason I could write books, finish albums, and build scripts page by page.

Advice:
Create a routine, even a small one. Write for 10 minutes a day. Practice your craft consistently. Show up even when you don’t feel like it. Discipline is the bridge between “I dream of this” and “I did this.”

3. Self-awareness

Being self-aware saved my life more than once. Knowing my triggers, my patterns, my strengths, and my weaknesses helped me grow. It’s what allowed me to manage my bipolar disorder instead of letting it manage me. It’s what helped me see when I was slipping, when I needed help, and when I needed to push through.

Advice:
Be honest with yourself. Therapy, journaling, meditation, whatever helps you understand your own mind, do it. You can’t create from a place you refuse to explore. When you know yourself deeply, your work becomes deeper too.

Alright, so before we go we want to ask you to take a moment to reflect and share what you think you would do if you somehow knew you only had a decade of life left?

If I only had ten years left, I’d spend them living with intention instead of fear. I’ve survived so much, so the last decade of my life would be about choosing joy on purpose. I’d love harder and tell people I care about them while they can still feel it. I’d travel the world, touch places my younger self never believed he’d see, and remind myself that life is bigger than my pain.

I would create nonstop. I’d finish every poem, every book, every script, every idea sitting in the back of my mind. I’d leave behind a body of work that speaks long after I’m gone. I would pour into young people, especially queer Black kids, and remind them that their story matters. I’d laugh more, dance more, rest more, and let happiness find me without apology.

Most of all, I would make peace with myself. If I only had a decade left, I’d spend it living so fully that the world would feel me even after I’m no longer here.

Contact Info:

• Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/quan_thepoet/
• Youtube: https://www.youtube.com/@QuanThePoet