By Sherry Washington
Genius is not a word to be used carelessly. When it is scattered too freely, it loses its weight. In our rush to crown brilliance, we risk becoming reckless with meaning itself. After seventy years of watching talent rise, fracture, and fade, I have learned what that word truly costs—and what it demands. For the past four years, I have been given rare access to a mind that forced me to confront that truth: Ajamoo Raheem KMT, formerly known as Maurice Mander.
I first encountered his work as a lifelong comic-book devotee—guarded, skeptical, difficult to impress. What I saw was original, layered, and unmistakably promising. Then he pulled me into the vast universe of HBCU Superheroes that took twenty-five years to create. Over the course of nine months, I lived inside the fully realized lives of 147 characters—each distinct, each grounded, each necessary. When one remembers that Marvel and DC were built by armies of creators across generations, there is only one honest conclusion left: KMT is a singular talent. And still, even then, I resisted the word.
That resistance began to unravel when I read Unplugged—a horror film he wrote entirely by hand, in pencil, during the isolation of COVID. It was not merely a screenplay. It was a fearless excavation of the human psyche, a haunting descent into the fractured inner world of a man possibly living with “ artistic schizophrenia,” rendered with unsettling beauty and control. In that moment, admiration sharpened into certainty. This was no longer just talent at work. This was something far rarer.
I found myself in the presence of a storyteller who could enter the most hidden corridors of the human mind and emerge with voices from multiple identities, across multiple genres, with equal command. What made it even more astonishing was that prior to Unplugged, KMT had never written a horror script. More remarkably, he had never attended film school or taken a formal screenwriting course. He was guided only by his business partner and the co-founder of the Morehouse College Film Program, Adisa Iwa—himself a master storyteller who had never authored a horror script and had never written in the superhero genre either.
What emerged from that unlikely alchemy was neither imitation nor experiment, but invention. In that moment, I understood a rare truth: some artists are trained, but others arrive already fluent in the language of creation. And I was far from alone in recognizing his vision and talent. KMT knew he had truly hit Unplugged out of the park when renowned acting coach Victor Love—who has mentored Will Smith and Janelle Monáe—declared it one of the finest scripts he had ever read, and without question the greatest horror screenplay of his career.
In October, The PTAH Collective—the production company KMT co-founded with Raynal “Shaka” Harris, Adisa Iwa, and Ronald Sullivan—hosted a private screening of the trailer for Unplugged. What followed was nothing short of seismic. Within weeks, industry momentum began to surge—and by November, a full distribution deal was secured while the film was still deep in post-production. The commitment was made without a single frame of the final cut ever being seen. The finished film will not arrive until the first quarter of 2026, yet its future had already been locked in on the strength of vision alone.
This is not simply admirable. It is extraordinarily rare. Hollywood prides itself on being first to the party, yet it remains famously cautious, and often unforgiving, toward African-American creators. For a deal to be secured on nothing more than vision and a trailer is an achievement that lives well outside normal industry logic. And still, even then, I withheld the word genius.
Then KMT sent me his latest script, The Test—a dystopian story I am not at liberty to discuss, other than to say it ranks among the finest works of storytelling I have ever encountered, in any genre, in any form. After a single read, I knew I had witnessed something extraordinary. Still, I read it three more times—not for confirmation, but to fully absorb the depth of its architecture: the layered references, the precision of its nuance, the evolution of its characters, the audacity of its turns.
Only then, with absolute clarity, could I finally say it without hesitation: KMT—the Trenton Central High School, Morehouse College, and Morgan State University graduate—is a genius. And not a genius born of convenience or comfort, but of adversity. He lives in a body that cannot endure more than ten minutes at a computer before his corneas swell causing migraine headaches, a lasting consequence of double cornea transplant surgery after he was going blind. KMT is disabled.
Yet with a literal pen or pencil in his hand, he continues to paint worlds that others can only dream of seeing. While many require screens, systems, and endless resources to create, KMT summons entire universes through sheer will, vision, and imgination.
When asked about his motivation, KMT answered without hesitation, offering just two words: Inaya and Asata—his daughters. He calls them his greatest achievements.
Inaya attended Cheyney University on a full academic scholarship and completed two degrees and two minors in four years, earning a near-perfect 4.0 GPA. She is currently completing her MBA at the University of Pittsburgh on a full scholarship, while also earning a competitive scholarship to study economics in Scotland as part of her graduate coursework.
Asata graduated from Villanova University with honors after finishing high school with a full academic scholarship applicable to any university in the world offering her chosen science major. She now works professionally at Exelon Corporation.
For KMT, their excellence is more than a source of pride—it is the force behind every creation. Everything he builds is meant to leave a legacy for them.
Following a highly successful June–October run, KMT will pause public appearances until February 2026, with colleges and universities nationwide already securing him for Black History Month engagements. Access to his work and insight is increasingly limited and is expected to become even more exclusive once Unplugged is released or The Test is acquired by a studio.
For inquiries, KMT can be reached at surianseedcomics@gmail.com. His story is not only fascinating and uplifting—it is a rare opportunity to witness the ascent of an artist whose rise will continue to expand the meaning of the “Morehouse Man.”
Posted By: Reginald Culpepper
Thursday, December 4th 2025 at 2:45PM
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