#CPLStaffSpotlight | Chapter 2
Meet Roy Kinsey, Librarian in Adult Services at Lincoln Park Branch!
How long have you been working at CPL and did you grow up in Chicago?
I’ve been working at Chicago Public Library since I was 16, and now, at 39—soon to be 40 this September—it’s been a journey of over two decades growing with the Library. I started my journey as a page at West Belmont, Austin Irving and the Lincoln Park Branch. After graduate school, I worked as a Cyber Navigator at the North Austin Branch and later helped launch the first three YOUmedia locations outside of Harold Washington Library—at Lozano, Thurgood Marshall and Richard M. Daley branches. I’ve worked at Richard M. Daley Branch for the past 13 years and I am now back at Lincoln Park Branch as a Librarian for Adult Services.
I grew up right here in Chicago, on the West Side, where the city’s vibrant culture and rich history have always been a big part of my life. My family made Chicago home after my grandma and grandad settled here during the second wave of the Great Migration of the 1960s. Working at CPL feels like coming full circle, giving back to the community that raised me, and carrying forward a legacy of storytelling, knowledge and creativity.
What did you study in college, and how did it shape your path to becoming a librarian?
I studied radio, television and film with a concentration in broadcast journalism at DePaul University. That foundation in storytelling was pivotal to my path as a librarian. It deepened my understanding of the written and spoken word and how it connects people. I had a radio show for four years, interviewing people like Crucial Conflict, and other Chicago legends. Later, I earned my Master's in Library and Information Science from Dominican University, which sharpened my skills in library science and expanded my vision of how libraries can be platforms for empowerment and social justice, especially for marginalized communities.
How has hip-hop influenced your work as a Librarian?
Hip-hop has influenced my work as a librarian in countless ways. Hip-hop is quite literally a culture and a lens through which I see the world. It’s about storytelling, preservation, education and cultural commentary—exactly what libraries strive to do. In graduate school, I wrote what would be comparable to a dissertation on Kendrick Lamar, and the title was, Where in Kendrick Lamar’s To Pimp A Butterfly do we find examples of DuBois’s concept of Double Consciousness? Hip-hop is a part of everything that I do.
Hip-hop has taught me how to engage people through language, rhythm and truth. It also inspired me to create the Rapbrary, a special library, and philosophy where rap and hip-hop are preserved as culturally significant literary art forms. Through programming and curation, I try to bridge the gap between traditional library services and the creative energy of hip-hop.
Many people see rap as a form of poetry. How do you define the connection between the two?
Rap IS poetry, period! And I say that with confidence now, but didn’t always believe it and more personally, it was hard to see myself as a poet. Sometimes I think about R.A.P. as an acronym for Rhythm And Poetry. It’s another reason why I created the Rapbrary. I think about the opening of Michael Eric Dyson's book Jay-Z, where he audaciously asks the question “why don’t we consider Jay-Z in the same way we consider Robert Frost?"
Rap and poetry thrive on wordplay, rhythm, metaphor and storytelling. Rap is poetry set to music, but it also stands on its own as literary art. Its roots in oral tradition mirrors that of spoken word and other forms of poetry that have been passed down through generations. To me, rap and poetry are simply different branches of the same tree, each capable of expressing profound truths, beauty, pain and joy through creativity. It’s also why I created something called audio genealogy—a belief that:
- Rap emerges from our tradition of oral storytelling, tracing back to our African ancestors.
- We are descendants of the lessons, sounds and influences passed down by our musical predecessors.
- As musicians, it’s our duty to understand that legacy and keep those elements alive.
You can hear the timeline of music on my album Blackie: A Story by Roy Kinsey.
In your opinion, what makes a great rap verse just as powerful as a traditional poem?
I think great rap transports you into the shoes of the author and yes, I consider rappers authors. A great rap verse is an invitation to see through the lens of the author and to consider their experience. A great rap verse, like a powerful poem, is rooted in authenticity and intention. It’s not just about clever wordplay or technical skill—though those are important—it’s about conveying something real and resonant. A powerful verse can transport the listener, challenge perspectives or provide healing. It’s about communicating truth in a way that is both personal and universal.
How has your work at Chicago Public Library influenced your music and storytelling?
I think a good lyricist can benefit from being a good reader. Being surrounded, not only by books and stories, but also by worlds and possibilities heavily influenced my music and storytelling. Working at the Library has profoundly influenced that. Books have quite literally inspired my albums. The Warmth of Other Suns influenced my album Blackie. Homegoing by Yaa Gyasi and What Becomes of the Broken Hearted by E. Lynn Harris, as well as Barracoon by Zora Neale Hurston influenced my album, Kinsey: A Memoir.
I see the library as a space that cultivates lifelong discovery and connection. The stories I encounter from patrons, the conversations I have and the community’s resilience all find their way into my work. Being a librarian has given me a broader perspective on social issues, history and the importance of preserving our voices. It has taught me to merge my love for literature and hip-hop into something impactful and meaningful.
What’s a verse you’ve written that you’re especially proud of, and why?
First time I seen the flower that would look just like the sun
I swear there was so many in the field where I was from
Swear there was so many in the fields where I would run
I would snatch a handful up and bring em to my mum
After bout a week older kid said it was a weed
Grabbed my chest like Sanford, like no it couldn’t be
I would stop choosing them from what was said to me
Til I realize it was what they used to say about me
Damn
The roots the dark spaces we go through
Damn
The ghettos the tight spaces we grow through
King back home on new land they patrol you
Wings stretch long
Show you better than I could told you
Wait
Mirror exercises I’d be looking at my face
Recite to me “i love you”
every time I got treated a different way
But I always got my way
Got my dandelion tatted - It’s lesson til this day
This verse stands out to me from my song The Secret Life of Dandelions from my upcoming album Dandelions: Gods Don’t Cry. It speaks to the resilience of Black people, queer people, and those who have been overlooked or dismissed by society. It’s about reclaiming beauty and value in what the world tries to diminish. It’s about knowing yourself and your strength. It’s about comparing myself to a dandelion, the flower that most people consider a weed, so much so that there was an attack on the dandelion. We as black queer people have felt that same dismissal and that same targeting in many ways. However, when I was young, I was so drawn to the dandelion, that I would pick handfuls of them and give them to my mother and grandmother. I was heartbroken when someone told me it was a “weed,” which to me was also a judgment. As I grew older and began to research the plant, and its medicinal properties, I developed a newfound love and respect for it. It’s a personal and universal truth expressed through metaphor, which I think is one of the most powerful tools of poetry.
How do you see the Lincoln Park Branch impacting the community?
The Lincoln Park Branch is a bridge between resources and the people who need them. It’s a place of learning, safety and inspiration. The branch truly serves all ages of people; seeing so many babies for storytime and playgroup, seeing students in high school and college studying, or elders coming in for French club, book club, flower arranging and yoga; it’s all so inspiring. The environment is truly invigorating! The branch is bustling and is truly the epitome of what I think all libraries can strive to be. I see it as a space that continues to evolve to meet the community’s needs, whether through access to information, technology or programs that speak to people’s real experiences and identities. It’s about fostering a sense of belonging and possibility.
What are some of your favorite hobbies or interests?
Outside of working at the library and creating music, I enjoy reading (of course!), especially literature that challenges traditional narratives. I started a new book club where we meet monthly at Nobody’s Darling to discuss literature that speaks to the Black queer experience. I also love working out, meditating and exploring ways to merge storytelling with visual art. I love creating products that highlight and expand my business, my new poetry chapbook, Dandelions: A Legacy Project, a companion to my new album, or hats, jackets and t-shirts from Rapbrary.
What are you currently reading?
Right now, I’m reading Family Dancing, but just finished the remarkable book, Martyr! This book really took me by surprise and is one of the most beautifully written novels that I’ve read in a long time. It was heartbreakingly beautiful. I had to go back to reread the ending. It’s a book that to me, feels essential in understanding love and self as a political and personal act and how our personal histories shape how we see ourselves and how we view the world and navigate it. It’s both healing and challenging, which is what I love most about reading—when it pushes you to grow and reconsider what you thought you knew.
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