Stories have the power to reach the places we rarely speak about. Poetry, especially, can give language to experiences that once felt impossible to name. Inside the book, In My Mind’s Eye, readers are invited into a space where truth is spoken clearly and healing begins.
A Journey from Disappearing to Being Seen
Nikki Pimentel opens In My Mind’s Eye with a haunting question: what does it mean to be seen after spending a lifetime disappearing? That question lingers long after the first few pages. It sets the tone for a collection that feels intimate, brave, and deeply human.
This debut poetry collection traces a journey from trauma to healing. The poems do not shy away from painful memories or family wounds. Instead, they sit with them. They examine them. They give them shape and voice. Through tender lines and fierce declarations, Nikki captures the complicated emotions that come with surviving childhood trauma, navigating generational expectations, and learning to exist in a world that often looks away.
Each poem feels like a window into moments of silence that once carried shame. Readers encounter the ache of not belonging. They witness the quiet endurance of a child who learned to shrink to survive. Then, slowly, they see that same voice grow stronger. The transformation unfolds gently, yet it carries undeniable power.
The collection offers more than one person’s story. It becomes a mirror. Anyone who has felt unseen can find pieces of themselves reflected in these verses. Anyone who has struggled to claim their own narrative may recognize the courage woven into every page.
Identity, Intersection, and Self-Reclamation
Nikki Pimentel, who uses they, elle, and él pronouns, brings a rich and layered perspective to their writing. Born in New York and raised in the Dominican Republic, Nikki grew up navigating between cultures, languages, and generational expectations. That in-between space informs much of the emotional landscape of In My Mind’s Eye.
As a queer, trans, nonbinary, neurodivergent, Latine poet and storyteller, Nikki explores the intersections of identity with striking honesty. Their poems move through questions of belonging, cultural heritage, and systemic erasure. They reflect on what it means to carry family history while also carving out space for authenticity.
There is a quiet strength in the way Nikki writes about resistance. Survival is present in every stanza. The poems bloom from places of silence and shame, yet they refuse to stay there. They stretch toward light. They claim joy. They speak names that were once whispered.
Throughout the collection, Nikki returns to the theme of self-reclamation. Healing does not arrive in a single moment. It unfolds gradually. Some poems feel like raw confessions. Others read like affirmations spoken after years of inner work. Together, they map a path toward wholeness that feels both personal and collective.
Poetry as Witness and Community
One of the most compelling aspects of In My Mind’s Eye is its sense of shared experience. Nikki does not position themselves as the only voice in the room. Instead, they write with an awareness of the many lives connected to their own story.
The collection honors trans ancestors. It acknowledges the queer children many adults once were. It imagines a future where identities are celebrated rather than questioned. That vision runs quietly beneath the surface of the poems, giving them a hopeful undercurrent even when the subject matter is heavy.
Nikki believes poetry is a place to tell the truth out loud. That belief shapes every page. The writing feels intentional and grounded. There is vulnerability, yet there is also resolve. Readers are invited to sit with discomfort, to recognize their own wounds, and to consider the possibility of healing through connection.
Beyond their literary work, Nikki lives that commitment to community. They currently reside in Rhode Island, working in early intervention and serving on the board of the Sam & Devorah Foundation for Transgender Youth. Their advocacy for neurodivergent communities, gender equity, and cultural diversity reflects the same values that appear in their poetry. Storytelling becomes an extension of that advocacy. It creates space. It opens doors.
A Debut That Speaks with Courage
As a first published book, In My Mind’s Eye carries remarkable clarity and depth. Nikki writes with a voice that feels both grounded and urgent. The poems are accessible without losing complexity. They invite readers in, then encourage them to stay awhile.
This collection is a tribute to survival and to breaking generational silence. It is an offering to anyone learning to exist fully in their own skin. Through each carefully crafted line, Nikki reminds readers that healing is possible. It begins with telling the truth. It grows through reflection. It strengthens through community.
In My Mind’s Eye stands as a powerful introduction to Nikki’s work and a meaningful contribution to contemporary poetry. It asks readers to look inward, to honor their own stories, and to believe that being seen is worth the risk.
In a world where many still feel invisible, Nikki Pimentel offers words that illuminate hidden corners. Their poetry invites readers to step forward, claim space, and trust that their stories matter.
We had the privilege of interviewing the author. Here are excerpts from the interview:
Thank you so much for joining us today! Please introduce yourself and tell us what you do.
My name is Nikki Pimentel (they/elle/él), and I’m a queer, trans, nonbinary, neurodivergent, Latine poet and advocate. I was born in New York and raised in the Dominican Republic, navigating between cultures, languages, and generational expectations. Currently, I work in early intervention and serve on the board of the Sam & Devorah Foundation for Transgender Youth. Through my writing, I explore the intersections of identity, family, trauma, and the process of self-reclamation. My debut poetry collection, In My Mind’s Eye, is a testament to survival, healing, and breaking generational silence.
Please tell us about your journey.
My journey hasn’t been linear; it’s been a spiral of survival, unlearning, and becoming. Growing up, I carried the weight of bullying, depression, body dysmorphia, and childhood trauma. I experienced sexual assault as a teenager and survived suicidal ideation without knowing how to name what I was going through. For years, I stayed silent because I didn’t have the language (or the safety) to speak.
It wasn’t until my mid-twenties, after my marriage fell apart, that I finally started therapy. That’s when I received my diagnoses: depression, anxiety, ADHD, and C-PTSD. Therapy gave me words for the pain I’d been carrying my entire life. It also helped me understand that much of what I experienced was rooted in generational trauma; patterns passed down from my mother, my grandmother, and the women before them.
Writing became my way of processing what I couldn’t say out loud. I started putting my story on paper, not just for myself, but for the younger version of me who thought they’d never make it. In My Mind’s Eye is Part One of my testimony: a reckoning with my past, my family, and the cycles I’m determined to break.
What are the strategies that helped you become successful in your journey?
Honestly, “success” for me isn’t about achievements, it’s about still being here. But if I had to name what helped me survive and eventually thrive, it would be several factors, including:
Therapy: Finding the right therapist (after trying several) was life-changing. Therapy gave me tools to process trauma and helped me understand that healing isn’t linear.
Community: My chosen family has been everything. When blood couldn’t hold me, my friends did. They reflected my truth back to me when I was too afraid to look.
Writing: Poetry became my witness. When I couldn’t speak, I wrote. When I felt invisible, I made myself seen on the page.
Advocacy: Getting involved with the Sam & Devorah Foundation, speaking out about mental health, body positivity, and LGBTQ+ rights gave my pain purpose. Helping others heal helped me heal too.
Setting boundaries: Learning to say no, to protect my peace, and to walk away from what no longer serves me (even when it’s family) was one of the hardest but most necessary things I’ve done.
Any message for our readers
If you’re reading this and you’re struggling whether it’s with your identity, your mental health, your family, or just surviving another day, please know: You are not too much. You were never too much. You were always whole.
Your pain is valid. Your story matters. And healing doesn’t have to look like anyone else’s. It’s okay to take up space. It’s okay to cry. It’s okay to leave situations that hurt you, even if others don’t understand.
You don’t have to have it all figured out. You just have to keep going. And if today all you did was survive: that’s enough. You are enough.
To my fellow queer, trans, neurodivergent, and marginalized folks: we deserve softness. We deserve love that doesn’t ask us to shrink. We deserve to tell our stories without apology. Keep speaking. Keep existing. Keep taking up space. The world needs your voice.
Thank you so much, Nikki, for giving us your precious time! We wish you all the best for your journey ahead!
