A pair of poems inspired by the title “bloodline” and the poets’ own heritages and culture. How do our family and our history connect and define us to ourselves and to others?
Stolen to be Given is a piece connecting my name and religion. Two things that were chosen for me and their role in shaping my identity.
This is a vignette-style epistolary piece that relies on several different narratives to reflect on what it means to be a poet.
Caster Semenya is a South African runner who has been banned by the IAAF from competing with women because she was found to be hyperandrogenic, meaning she has a higher level of testosterone. This whole investigation was based on the opinion of fellow athletes that she looks like a man. As a result, she must either take testosterone decreasing drugs to compete with women or run with men. As of now, Semenya is still fighting the case, not just for herself but for the human rights of all women.
Women in the past fought for the rights we have now in our present. And we’ll continue that fight for the future. I wrote this poem to reflect on the progress we’ve made.
In honor of Black History Month, I have written a piece that reflects on everyday reminders of slavery. I draw an unconventional parallel between my life and the experience of an enslaved woman.
Despite dating back to the thirteenth century, Berlin is such a mysteriously modern place. It was destroyed by bombs. And so, in the city, you feel the weight of these ghosts. Their blood suspended in the air: an anti-war cry. An anthem. A glimmer of hope.
This excerpt picks up at the start of chapter four. Our two main characters, Winifred and Bernie, are departing from their train, and must run separate errands around the city of Manchester.
My family and the K.M.A are as tight as sticky labels on glass bottles: they’re hard to separate, but they often look better together.
This piece was inspired by one of my favorite books, Between the World and Me. Everyone should read this book and these writers.
I have experienced translation as a fundamental phenomenon in my communication. I feel colonization living in my words.
And then I feel anxiety for a good thirty minutes, hating how I was the only one concerned at that moment
The poem speaks to our shared history as Asian-American women, emphasizing a colonial past in China and India, our liberation, and the formation of new rituals between generations all through the lens of tea.
Who decides what a text means? And how much can be lost in translation?
This poem unveils my initial relationship with a specific part of my culture, the bindi, and the change that I go through to fully accept an obscure piece of my identity.