Daia Noorin
The Poet in Bloom: A Conversation with Latina Bohemian
There’s a quiet poise about Latina Bohemian when she speaks—measured, lyrical, as though each word has been considered for its place in the sentence. We met over Zoom, our conversation winding through memory, loss, and the unexpected ways creativity insists on finding us.
She expressed that her work begins and ends with the soul. “Mental health, self-love, having faith, rediscovering the love you have for yourself again. That’s the heart of it,” she says, her tone equal parts conviction and warmth.
Poetry was never part of her plan. In late 2017, after the passing of her grandmother Rosa, she found herself adrift. One day, wandering through a bookstore Barnes & Noble or perhaps a tucked-away shop near Boston’s convention center, she picked up a slim collection by Rupi Kaur. “She was the first poet whose words really stayed with me,” Latina recalls. From there, she found herself devouring the work of other voices: Mirtha Michelle Castro Marmol, Yung Pueblo, both Latino poets. As well a Lebanese-Canadian writer, Najwa Zebian whose Mind Platter became a personal treasure. “It felt like opening a series of doors I didn’t know existed.”
Before poetry, there was always music. Growing up in New England, Latina lived in the soundscape of ‘80s and ‘90s R&B, hip-hop, and soul. She taught herself to mix karaoke tracks, record vocals, and eventually write her own songs. Breaking into the industry proved elusive, New England’s music scene leaned toward folk, pop, and rock, but she kept music close as a form of therapy.
Now, the two mediums are intertwined. Her piece Healing Poetry, first released as a demo and currently being refined for an official release, merges her past and present. “It’s my way of telling other creatives: it’s never too late. You can always return to what you love.”
She says this with a certainty that feels lived-in. For Latina, creativity doesn’t expire. It isn’t about fame or fortune, it’s about nourishment for the soul. That same belief led her back to school in her late twenties. During the pandemic, she re-enrolled at Bunker Hill Community College, eventually earning an associate’s degree in Liberal Arts and transferring to UMass Amherst’s Interdisciplinary Studies program. “Society tells you education has to happen by a certain age, but I’ve met classmates twice mine. There’s no deadline for growth.”
It’s here, with the past and future intertwined, that our conversation deepens. It is about art, about resilience, and about what it truly means to heal.
What follows is our conversation, edited for clarity and flow.
Photo credits to Latina Bohemian, 2025
Daia Noorin: What does it mean to be Latina Bohemain in today’s world?
Latina Bohemian: The name came to me when my grandmother was passing away, it just arrived, almost out of nowhere. I’d always thought that if I became a musical artist, I would go by my birth name, Chabelli. But Latina Bohemian felt right. “Latina” is my DNA—my late father was from the Dominican Republic, my mother from Puerto Rico. “Bohemian” describes my personality perfectly: independent thinker, free spirit, individualist. Together, the two names reflect someone unafraid to be themselves, to be reborn, to take risks, and to live fully for themselves.
Daia Noorin: When did you first realize your voice was a sacred instrument, not just sound, but an offering?
Latina Bohemian: A few years ago. It wasn’t about being the best singer, it was about recognizing that your voice holds power. For me, my voice became an instrument of freedom. It gave me the ability to express myself, and in that way, it felt sacred. It was my pathway to liberation.
Daia Noorin: When you’re in pain, where does your softness go? And when did you first realize survival could be soft too?
Latina Bohemian: When I’m in pain, my softness becomes almost nonexistent. We all vibrate at a lower frequency when we’re hurting, fear takes over. As for survival being soft, I’m still learning that. I’ve lived with a survival-of-the-fittest mentality for a long time. But I think survival softens when you step into gratitude, when you notice the small blessings: a clean shirt, hair on your head, hands that work. That’s when the survival mindset begins to fade.
Daia Noorin: What parts of yourself have you had to grieve to grow?
Latina Bohemian: The need for validation, the desire to be seen and heard. As a child, I wasn’t fully bullied, but I was a black sheep. I didn’t fit in the way others did. Over time, I learned to define beauty for myself, in my own imperfections.
Daia Noorin: How do you hold space for joy when the world feels heavy—and how can others do the same?
Latina Bohemian: For me, it comes from trusting God’s divine timing and power. I hold hope for humanity, that others will find the light I’ve found, even if only sometimes.
Daia Noorin: What wounds have you turned into windows in your writing?
Latina Bohemian: Trauma. I’ve been able to confront it in my poetry, though not always directly. Trauma wants you to stay trapped in its cycle, but when you rebel against it, you create a way out.
Daia Noorin: Do you ever feel like your poems are prayers disguised as pages?
Latina Bohemian: Yes. One of my pieces, The Truth About Us, written for a community project in Massachusetts, feels like an open prayer for freedom from oppression. It wasn’t written with that in mind, but looking back, I see it now. It speaks to war, injustice, discrimination, and the universal longing for peace and unity.
Daia Noorin: Would you say The Truth About Us reflects this current moment—politically, socially?
Latina Bohemian: That’s what someone told me that it feels like it’s about everything going on in the last few months. Honestly, when I wrote it, that wasn’t my intention. I had a theme, a topic I needed to address, and I wrote from instinct. But looking at it now, I see how it mirrors so much injustice, discrimination, racism, war.
War, especially. The piece feels like a cry for help, a longing for victory and resolution. Whether it’s about war, immigration, employment, recession, or layoffs, the emotions are universal. Anyone can relate, someone in India, someone in Seattle, someone in Puerto Rico, or in the Bronx. At the core, people want peace, freedom from oppression, unity in their homes, families, and relationships.
Daia Noorin: That’s powerful. And I think what you’ve done there is a form of artistic activism.
Latina Bohemian: I didn’t see it that way at first. I wrote it in the spring of last year and simply wanted to create something communities could identify with. With everything happening, I wanted people to have something to connect to.
I have unpublished poems too, but I believe in divine timing. My social media has become a collaborative space, where I share my work alongside the voices of others I’ve worked with. When I first began writing poetry, people didn’t know me, it was all community work through school. Professors, students, maybe a few others saw it.
I stayed off social media for over ten years. When I returned in December 2024, it was to post clips from a professional development program I was part of, highlighting entrepreneurs, community leaders, and creatives. Then, a few months ago, I decided to post a poem. Slowly, I began sharing my own words, with intention. I’m not here to be viral or famous. God gave me a voice and talents to help others, so that’s what I use them for.
Daia Noorin: On that note, what do you believe creative women carry that the world often overlooks?
Latina Bohemian: Truth, and vulnerability. Those qualities often get misread or mislabeled. Society can see vulnerability as weakness, overly emotional, wounded, traumatized. But I believe vulnerability is beautiful. It’s the king and queen of self-expression.
Without vulnerability, we wouldn’t have the greatest songs, books, or films. Whether you’re an independent artist, a major label musician, a writer, or a director—your art needs vulnerability to be transparent and to connect deeply with an audience. Vulnerability takes courage.
Daia Noorin: And what is one thing about being a creative woman that no one warned you about that you had to learn through fire?
Latina Bohemian: No one tells you about the downfalls. The creative blocks. The financial struggles. The inner turmoil of maintaining your creativity while also maintaining an image. People assume creatives have endless ideas, that we’re always “on,” but we have bad days too. Days where the work just doesn’t come, or a project hits obstacles that throw you off pace.
We face internal and external backlash, and we’re often our own harshest critics. But I’ve learned that you have to fall in order to grow. Without roadblocks, you don’t innovate in the ways you could.
Daia Noorin: I noticed you center God openly on your platform, which is rare in some creative spaces.
Latina Bohemian: Yes, and I think that’s important. Many people hold back from expressing their faith, worried about offending others or about the assumptions that come with labels. I stand by whatever God wants me to be. I want people to own who they are whether that’s their faith, their identity, their style.
We need more acceptance. If someone likes to wear pink, or prefers a certain food, or belongs to a certain community, that’s who they are. Respect it. Our differences shouldn’t influence or dictate each other’s choices.
Daia Noorin: What does it mean to be both a poet and a believer in a world that demands proof over presence?
Latina Bohohian: It means being unapologetic. Refusing to apologize for being authentic, or for practicing an art form that’s part of who you are. Whether people support it or not, I will continue to be myself. It’s about confidence in your identity.
Daia Noorin: If your poems had wings, where would they fly first, and who would they land beside?
Latina Bohemian: Everywhere. They’d land beside whoever needs an awakening someone on the edge of a decision. If you’re contemplating wearing that outfit, wear it. If you’re thinking about releasing your mixtape, release it. If you’re debating going to an open mic-go. If you know a relationship isn’t working, open the door and leave.
Daia Noorin: What practices or people have helped you through your darkest mental health seasons?
Latina Bohemian: Honesty. Being honest with yourself. And inspiration from anywhere: celebrities, pastors, family, acquaintances, strangers. Some of the best advice I’ve received has come from people I don’t know. Inspiration has no limits, it can come from an entrepreneur, a rapper, someone who’s been incarcerated, a church leader, a singer, a relative.
I also learn from the “worst” examples people I don’t want to emulate and from myself, especially on my bad days. Meeting people who are brutally honest forces you to reflect. That’s when your best work emerges when you truly know and embrace yourself.
Daia Noorin: What do you hope people feel-not just think-when they read your work?
Latina Bohemian: I hope they free themselves from being prisoners of their own minds. I used to be a prisoner of myself trapped by what others thought and by my own limiting beliefs.
When you release that, life changes. Lately, I’ve been practicing liberation in small ways like choosing to embrace my natural hair instead of straightening it because of old thoughts that said “your hair is ugly.” It’s about telling those thoughts to back off.
That’s liberation. It’s more than freedom it’s a conscious decision to remove fear from the driver’s seat. Fear brainwashes and confuses us, especially when it comes to creativity. Some artists give up after setbacks, but there are always alternatives. We all have many talents. We can start over.
For me, it wasn’t about quitting, it was about refreshing my mindset and remembering my purpose. Asking myself: Why am I doing this? What outcome am I trying to achieve? That’s what keeps me moving forward.
Daia Noorin: Has your art ever helped someone else heal? What did that mean to you?
Latina Bohemian: No one has told me directly that my work has healed them, but I’ve seen my passion for art inspire others to tap into their own creativity. I’m observant, and I’ve noticed people trusting themselves more, finding the confidence to go for what they want.
There’s someone in my community, for example, who used to paint as a hobby. Now, I’ve seen them commit to it more treating it with the same seriousness as building a business. I’ve witnessed that shift, and it means a lot to me.
Daia Noorin: That’s beautiful. Any last reflective thoughts?
Latina Bohemian: I’m someone who believes in making the path easier for others especially for women of color or Latinas who want to pursue poetry, writing, or music. If I can offer my time, resources, or dedication to help them, I will.
Life is already hard. If you can make someone’s journey easier, do it. For me, generosity is about selflessness with healthy boundaries and doing things out of love and sincerity. That’s what I try to project toward others as much as I can.
Latina Bohemian is a poet who lives where resilience meets grace. Her voice is bold yet tender, her work rooted in honesty, vulnerability, and a steadfast belief that it is never too late to return to what you love. In her own words: “God gives us a voice and a talent so we can use it to help others.”
" I became courageous on a rainy day.”
Latina Bohemian