Writer | Folklorist | Educator | Mother


“She is a friend of my mind. She gather me, man. The pieces I am, she gather them and give them back to me in all the right order.”

― Toni Morrison, Beloved

Latest posts

  • Artist Statement

    I write stories that give language to the expressions that are often too difficult to put into words. I am a writer who prescribes healing through my stories, awakening sensory experiences of life and death within the human consciousness. It is my aim to showcase the broad scope of emotions that live beneath the surface…

    Continue reading

Diasporic Daughter

My name is Danielle Mason and I am a writer from Houston, TX, who uses the art of truth-telling to invoke narratives of resistance and healing among Black women characters in my stories. “They Grow the Fruit” is a take on a slave narrative that creates new possibilities for enslaved African women, granting them opportunities for flight into the future. It explores themes of faith, resilience, refusal, and love, and its significance speaks volumes in this time of bleak extremity.

Friend of My Mind

The Friend of My Mind Writer’s Guild + Community Podcast is a space for Black writers to share their work and receive helpful feedback on their writing. I created this space for writers who find the approach to gaining visibility with our work to be arbitrary at times. The Community Podcast will feature opportunities for folks to read their work aloud, and bring visibility to the nuanced ideas that helped birth their creative works. I would personally like to use this space as a safety net to express my reflections on being a Black woman, mother, and creative, in hopes to showcase the abundance gained from fostering intimacy with one’s mind. I hope to invite other Black creatives, healers, and thinkers to join me in conversation to showcase the benefit of being curious about the world around us.

artist statement

Danielle Mason

I needed to put some respect on my spirit and my good name. I think sometimes it’s easy to get lost in the forward mobility of things that you lose track of the continuities of you.

Danielle Mason