Today we’d like to introduce you to Mckenzy Valentin.
Hi Mckenzy, please kick things off for us with an introduction to yourself and your story.
I’ve been creating for as long as I can remember. I started writing when I was seven, grew up singing in choir, and was raised in a Haitian household where music, culture, and storytelling were always around me. I initially gravitated toward rock and R&B, but as I got deeper into music, I began to understand hip-hop differently. Once I realized rap was more than just music—it was writing, wordplay, storytelling, and self-expression—I became immersed in it. By middle school, I was battle rapping.
Discovering Def Poetry Jam was another major turning point for me. Seeing artists like Erykah Badu, Common, Kanye West, and even Dave Chappelle on that stage completely expanded my idea of what hip-hop and poetry could be. I realized they could take so many forms: music, spoken word, theater, comedy, social commentary, vulnerability. It made me look at creativity differently.
I’ve always been drawn to storytelling in different forms. I’m an avid manga reader and anime watcher, and I love the way those mediums can build worlds, develop characters, and communicate emotions. Whether it’s music, manga, anime, poetry, or performance, I’ve always been interested in the different ways a story can make you feel something.
For a long time, though, I kept stepping away from the arts. I’d pursue other things and convince myself that creating was something I simply enjoyed. But whenever I returned to it, things seemed to fall into place in ways that made me question why I ever left.
The pandemic was the point where I finally started giving that part of myself some real attention. I began performing online through Instagram Live and Clubhouse, and those spaces gave me an opportunity to share my work and connect with people in a completely different way. Then, in 2023, I decided to stop keeping my work so close to me. I began putting it out publicly and adopted the name FatSwaggyBastard.
Since then, I’ve continued growing as a poet and performer, published my poetry collection HeArtWork, and started creating events and experiences that bring art and community together. I’m still figuring out what this journey becomes, but I know I’m supposed to be creating.
Looking back, the art has really been the throughline. I started writing at seven, found my voice through rap in middle school, rediscovered performance during the pandemic, and began fully claiming my identity as an artist in 2023. I’ve spent years walking away from the art, but every time I came back, I found another piece of myself waiting there.
Would you say it’s been a smooth road, and if not what are some of the biggest challenges you’ve faced along the way?
Definitely not. I’ve had to navigate quite a bit of uncertainty throughout my life. Since high school, I’ve moved around quite a bit, and there were periods where finding stability was a challenge. There’s a lot to that chapter of my life, but what I took from it was the ability to adapt, keep moving, and find ways to create a sense of grounding for myself even when things around me were changing.
Mental health has also been an important part of my journey. There have been periods where I’ve had to confront things internally that weren’t always easy to talk about, and learning to acknowledge those struggles instead of pretending they weren’t there has been a major part of my growth.
I’ve also had to learn how to believe in myself—not just as a person, but as an artist. There were times when I questioned whether I was actually talented enough to pursue this seriously, whether my voice mattered, or whether people would connect with what I had to say. It’s one thing to love creating; it’s another thing to believe that what you create has value. Learning to trust my talent and give myself permission to take it seriously has probably been one of my biggest personal challenges.
Then there’s fatherhood. Learning how to be a father in real time has been one of the biggest challenges and greatest responsibilities of my life. There’s no blueprint for it. You’re learning as you go, making decisions, adjusting, and trying to be the best parent you can be while your child is growing right alongside you.
I’ve also stepped away from the arts several times, only to find myself coming back. Eventually, I started recognizing that whenever I gave myself permission to create, things seemed to move in the right direction. That taught me to pay attention to the things that make me feel most like myself.
I think that’s probably been the biggest lesson: there’s no blueprint. Whether it’s finding stability, taking care of my mental health, becoming a father, or learning to trust my own talent, a lot of life has been about figuring things out in real time, adapting, and continuing to show up.
Thanks for sharing that. So, maybe next you can tell us a bit more about your work?
My work is rooted in storytelling, but it takes a lot of different forms. I’m a multidisciplinary artist—poet, songwriter, beat producer, graphic designer, model, actor, and host—and I create and perform under the name FatSwaggyBastard. Poetry is one of my primary mediums, but I’ve never really been interested in limiting myself to one form of expression.
For me, all of those disciplines speak to each other. Writing a poem, writing a song, producing a beat, designing a visual, acting in a scene, modeling, or hosting an event are all different ways of communicating an idea or making someone feel something. I’m interested in the entire creative process, from the initial idea to how people ultimately experience it.
One of the projects I’m most proud of is HeArtWork, my collection of 21 poems. There’s a longstanding myth that the human soul weighs 21 grams, and I built the concept of the book around that idea: these 21 poems are pieces of my soul. I spent so much time putting pieces of myself into those pages that, once the book is in someone’s hands, I don’t feel like those emotions belong to me anymore. Everything I felt now belongs to the reader.
I’ve also been developing Aprè Solèy Kouche, an Instagram spoken-word series. The name means “after the sun sets,” but there’s a personal double meaning because it’s also the time when I put my son to bed. That quiet space at the end of the day has become a place for reflection, and the series gives me a way to turn some of those thoughts into poetry and share them with people.
I’m also working on a spoken-word project called T R i B E, which is deeply personal. My son is mostly nonverbal, so I think a lot about the things I want him to know about me that he may not be able to ask me about one day. T R i B E is my way of leaving digital breadcrumbs—an audio journey through my experiences, my mistakes, my lessons, and my love.
I’m creating it with the hope that, if I’m not here when he’s old enough to understand it, he’ll be able to listen back and find something that helps him navigate his own life. I want it to be a kind of blueprint, but more than anything, I want him to never have to question whether his father loved him. Every piece is another way of saying, “I was here, I loved you, and I wanted you to know who I was.”
What sets me apart is probably my willingness to move between mediums. I pull inspiration from hip-hop, rock, R&B, anime, manga, theater, relationships, fatherhood, and everyday life. I’m constantly observing, collecting ideas, and figuring out how those experiences can become something tangible.
Ultimately, I don’t want to be defined by one medium. I want to be known for the way I tell stories and create experiences. Whether someone encounters me through a poem, a song, a visual, a performance, an event, or something I’ve designed, I want there to be a recognizable sense of me behind it—and I want people to leave feeling something.
What sort of changes are you expecting over the next 5-10 years?
I think over the next 5–10 years, lines between creative industries are going to blur even more. I already consider myself a multidisciplinary artist, and I think we’re moving toward a world where artists won’t necessarily fit into one box. A poet can be a filmmaker, a musician can be a visual artist, an actor can be a writer, and all of those things can exist under one creative identity.
I also think we’re going to see artists become much more intentional about building their own communities instead of relying entirely on traditional gatekeepers. Social media has already changed that relationship, and creators are increasingly finding ways to connect directly with their audiences and develop multiple streams of income.
AI is one of the biggest shifts. It’s already changing how people write & produce music, design, & distribute content. I don’t necessarily see it as something artists can ignore. The conversation will be about how to navigate these tools without losing the humanity, originality, and lived experience that make art meaningful.
For me personally, I think the future is going to be about building worlds rather than just releasing individual pieces. That’s part of why I’m interested in projects like Aprè Solèy Kouche and T R i B E. I want my work to exist across poetry, audio, visuals, performance, and eventually other mediums, while still feeling like it all comes from the same person.
I think technology will continue to change how we create, but the thing that won’t change is the need for people to feel. If anything, as we become surrounded by more content, genuine human connection may become even more valuable. I believe artists who know who they are, understand their audience, and have something authentic to say will continue to find ways to connect.
Pricing:
- HeArtWork: $9.99 on Amazon
Contact Info:
- Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/fatswaggybastard?stkn=MWFzd2poZXAzdW1nbg%3D%3D&utm_source=qr
- Other: https://www.tiktok.com/@fatswaggybastard?_r=1&_t=ZT-99o1zxjYzKX
