In Fearless, Sleepless, Deathless, the naturalist and forager reveals connections between the human and fungal worlds.
How did you come to have a passion for fungi?
I’m a sucker for the underdog and the misunderstood. Fungi are so underloved and at the same time so overwhelmingly important in ecosystems. Once I took to the woods, I found these beings of incredible beauty everywhere. And they’re also delicious, free gourmet ingredients from the wild. As I learned more about them, I also began to identify with them, and it all came together.
You describe mushroom-hunting as a “sensuous experience.” How so?
We live in a visual culture, but when I lead a mushroom-hunting foray, one of the first things I emphasize is the need to use your nose. Aroma is a big part of mushroom identification. For example, there are some that smell like bleach, cucumber rinds, or garlic. Heft
is also a factor. There’s a porcini look-alike that’s toxic but can be distinguished from true porcini by weight. People poison themselves by not using the full range of their senses.
Your book draws a link between the Black experience and mycology. I see many parallels between Black history and mycology, as in the experience of living in the shadows and having stories that are buried and forgotten. There’s a hopeful parallel, too: fungi always win. You can suppress something only so long before it fruits again.
You describe yourself as a naturalist. What does that mean?
Maybe a better term would be ethnomycologist—that is, I’m interested in field mycology and the ways in which people interact with fungi, rather than microscopy and genetic sequencing. “Naturalist” is a broader term. I see that as joining a lineage of Black women who historically have been knowledgeable about living on the land, finding food and medicine. The people not recognized as experts but who were and are, in fact, experts.
Your book has many stories about different types of fungi. Which ones stand out to you?
That’s a bit like choosing your favorite kid. One of my favorites is the black trumpet mushroom, an immense and prolific fruiter. If you find one, you suddenly discover that you’re surrounded. Their name in French translates as “trumpet of death.” I’m also fond of the hen-of-the-woods, which is a stunningly beautiful mushroom and a gustatory delight, rich in umami. And then there’s the uncanny but fascinating zombie-ant fungus, which functions as a body-snatcher. The ants become puppets with the fungus as puppeteer.
