The stories in HER WILD AMERICAN SELF speak to issues of Filipino American identity, an experience overlooked in a nation where Filipino Americans make up the largest population of Asian Americans. My readers, many of whom are Filipino and Filipina American youth studying the work in Asian American literature courses, Women Studies seminars and Creative Writing workshops, are writing me about the shared experiences they have with the characters in the book. They write to let me know this is a rare thing, to read about oneself in a class, in a book, in a magazine. To read about oneself is an empowering thing. The response to HER WILD AMERICAN SELF has lead me deeper into my community to seek the stories of our young men and women, our families, and our people.
I have spent my afternoons hanging with our youth in gyms, on beaches, and at pizza joints, in classrooms and major national conferences. We speak about what goes on at home, we speak about the dearth of our stories in U.S. history books, we speak about the discrimination we face not only against dominant society, but within our tribe. What I find in the stories of the young, and the high statistics of gang activity, teenage suicide, and pregnancy commits me to tell our stories. I am responsible for what I know.
Once, when I was living in Chicago four articulate, powerful and gifted young poets of Asian American descent came to my home and we began a mentoring relationship. The art scene for Asian American writers and poets was not flourishing then the way you see it flourishing today. When I volunteered at the Guild Literary Complex years before these four poets invited me to mentor them, I was the only Asian American writer volunteer. The Guild was my artistic home and I connected with poets like Luis Rodriguez and Michael Warr and Quraysh Ali Lansana and Christopher Steward. They were Latino or Black or White. They were not Asian American, and now that I consider this list, I see they weren’t even women. They were poets, not fiction writers. But they were my community. So I understood what these four poets were asking. They were asking for a connection. They were looking to build their artistic family. I can’t tell you how honored and how happy I was to be a part of their lives.
They would show up at my house, bringing with them ten or twelve Asian American youth. I’d toss out a writing prompt and they would scatter on my dining room floor on their bellies or with their backs up against the walls or leaning one against the another and they would write. While they were putting words down, I was in the kitchen cooking rice and adobo. And when they were done and the food was cooked, we’d feast on their words and my yummy Filipino food. And after I moved away, that weekly gathering grew. Those four poets, the original members of I WAS BORN WITH TWO TONGUES, and their friends became the mentors for Chicago’s Asian American youth. They established Kitchen Poems and now thanks to Anida and Marlon Esguerra, Chicago is home to the Asian American Artists Collective. When I went to Chicago in March of 2003 to read with other SCREAMING MONKEY contributors, the Guild Complex hosted a full house of young Asian American poets and writers. I had the honor of meeting my students’ students -- young, excited, gifted voices.
It’s funny because writing is a solitary act, keeping me away from other people. When I write, I close the door. I turn the phone off. I keep to myself. But the act of writing is about bringing us together. It is about being what one of my teachers used to call, “Our best selves.”
At the University of Miami, our students have adopted the Screaming Monkeys mission to use the spoken word as a way to affect change. For example, during the aftermath of natural disasters such as Hurricane Wilma and Katrina, as well as the devastating tsunami in South East Asia and Africa, our students organized open mic marathons as a way to raise relief money. Our UM community rallied and we raised thousands of dollars. In addition to contributing to the disaster relief, we found the power of words and the power that comes when our community gathers.
I am dedicated to encouraging the voices and the stories of our youth to speak out, to leap off the page, to connect with one another. As a writer, it is important for me to contribute to a body of literature that will empower the voices of the unheard and will render the stereotypes and prejudice against the Asian American collective helpless. As a mentor and a member of this community, it is important for me to help our youth do the same.
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