SEIS
an interview series
(conducted by Luis
Lopez-Maldonado)
5:
Emanuel Xavier
LLM: Luis Lopez-Maldonado
EX: Emanuel Xavier
*
LLM:
“Rhetoric
Of Empire” is a love letter to your father. So beautiful, sad, and tender. This
poem is also about identity. Can you expand a bit on both of these themes and
how they affect your voice as an artist? How much do they feed your poetic
voice, and how have they shaped you as a poet?
EX:
Never
having met my father has had a significant impact on my personal life as well
as my creative writing. I suppose it made me rebellious by nature and perhaps
rather autonomous. That doesn’t necessarily bode well as a poet when you’re
expected to take part in literary circles and socialize. Anyone who has met me
should be able to attest that I’m easy to get along with. I’ve never had a
problem making friends and would like to think I’m funny and don’t take myself
too seriously. But I’m aware I’m not as out there as I should be as far as the
poetry scene. As far as identity, it’s complicated. No one will ever box me off
as anything other than Latino but, breaking it down further, if you’re not 100%
of one or the other it’s hard to fit in. There are Puerto Rican purists out
there who will never fully consider me because of the Ecuadorian in me and vice
versa. I only know the Ecuadorian side of my family and the poem was about
somehow connecting to my father and our shared cultures. I’m reminded of his
rejection of me every time I’m not invited to participate in specific events
celebrating Puerto Rican poetry. You learn to embrace your heritage on your own
terms.
I was
broken-hearted with “Becca.” I hate her! I had a Becca too. Can you shed
light on how these characters of Becca can empower us Latinos and queers? These
mean individuals bully colored and gay kids all the time in school; it still
happens. What would you tell Becca right now, if she were in front of you?
EX:
I suppose
we all need a Becca in our lives to remind us of the ignorance that exists in
the world. It’s great to be rich, beautiful and popular but you don’t have to
be that way about it. If she were standing in front of me right now, honestly? Let's just say she’s just lucky she was
in my life before I took to the streets and befriended all my drag queen and
trans sisters and leave it at that.
LLM:
I too
compare myself a bit to Jean-Michel Basquiat. And in your poem, “Jean-Michel
Basquiat Exhibit, Brooklyn Museum, 2005,” you raise questions and draw-out
possibilities; I love this poem! Because of the title, I am curious: Is this an
ekphrastic poem? Or did this branch from ekphrastic writing? If so, are there
any specific works from the museum exhibition that inspired you to write this
poem?
EX:
Totally
not an ekphrastic poem though it was titled that way on purpose. It’s based on
an actual encounter I had with Basquiat as an underage hustler just before he
died. We didn’t actually meet but I was left with quite an impression. I am a
huge fan of his artwork but had no idea who he was at the time. I love that his
work is raw and rebellious. I only wish I had scored one of his original prints
at the time.
LLM:
In
your poem titled, “Men Like My Father,” you repeat the phrase “men like my
father” five times on the page; visually, I really enjoy what that does. Can
you elaborate your thoughts on using repetition in poetry and the importance it
creates in this poem? In other works? Repetition is powerful and it is alive in
this beautifully tragic poem!
EX:
I’ve
often used repetition in poems to emphasize something important. In this poem,
I’m driving home the point that I spent much of my life looking for paternal
love in other men. The repetition is much like this ill-fated cycle. I’ve been
rather masochistic in my search for my father. There’s a clear difference
between using repetition to highlight a word or a sentence and just repeating
something to fill up a page or your time in front of an audience.
LLM:
“Penicillin”
is not your average abuelita poem. I find myself most interested in abuelita
poems, especially coming from Latino gay poets: I adore this poem, so raw yet
sweet. With that said: What are your thoughts about the idea that the “abuelita”
poem is long dead and overdone? Do you believe these kinds of poems are a
staple for the Latino poet? And lastly, what advice do you have for the next
generation of writers that will write abuelita poems?
EX:
The first
abuelita poem I published was back in 1997 with the original chapbook
edition of Pier Queen which was officially published fifteen years later
in 2012 by Rebel Satori Press. It was called “Abuela’s Advice” and I enjoyed
reading it in front of audiences. I’ve referenced my Mamina, which is
what I personally nicknamed my abuela, throughout the years in several
of my poems but “Penicillin” could be considered the follow up poem to that.
Both are really snarky and not your traditional abuelita poems at all. I
absolutely adore my grandmother. She has always been supporting and loving and
we have a very close relationship. I’m truly lucky to still have her in my
life. I think most of us love our grandmothers and learn from them so there
will always be a place for poems about them in literature. Perhaps some writers
are not quite fond of these but they’re far from done. Why would a culturally
specific type of poem that speaks to its readers and could be universal be
considered long dead? What’s next? A Japanese haiku? Is it the
subject matter? What about poems about birds? Trees? Whatever!
LLM:
You
bring a current issue to light in your poem, “Anonymous.” Some lines that stood
out to me: “Just don’t let them touch without permission… We can still escape.”
Can you share with us your thoughts on themes like these, like abuse, rape, and
suicide, among others, that make their way into our art? How can outlets like
poetry change or draw awareness to certain issues happening in society? This
poem had so many wonderful layers and it touched me very much.
EX:
Your
interpretation of this poem is awesome. Without revealing what inspired me to
write it, I will say there is definitely much between the lines. Writing has
been personally healing for me because I have been able to express things like
anger, resentment, loneliness and pain to let go of these things and move on
from them. It’s not the only solution to self-healing but it helps a lot to
share something creatively and not be held prisoner by it. It’s all about
owning your truth and, in this case, sharing it with your readers. If it helps
others understand or challenges others to confront their own demons, then
that’s a bonus.
LLM:
Research
is important if a writer seeks validity or believability. In a poem like,
“Sometimes We’re Invisible,” over half of the poem reads like a list poem,
stating facts and reporting events. Can you let us into your preparation for
writing this important piece of writing in the collection? How did you narrow
down your chosen casualties, and your world events, among others? Was some of
this material, “found” material? It’s a great, cool poem.
EX:
I
researched the internet to find hate crimes toward the LGBTQ community and,
once I knew the year of the incident, I tried to think of what else happened
that year that made the headlines. I was already aware of most of these
incidents and was surprised by how many other events I remembered reading or
hearing about. The media inundates us with headlines and newsworthy items but
many of these incidents were merely glossed over or didn’t quite register on
people’s radar. I focused on the LGBTQ Latinx community because, as the poem
title suggests, sometimes we’re invisible. I started it with Venus Xtravaganza
because I was still hanging out at the West Side Highway piers when she was
found murdered and that definitely had an impact on me. It simply ended where
it ended but that poem could easily go on and on. My hope is that years down
the road someone will pick up this book and be schooled with some LGBTQ Latinx
history that isn’t taught in the classrooms. As a matter of fact, the Orlando
massacre happened just about a month after the book was published and the poem
took on a whole new significance. I’ve since read it at a tribute honoring the
victims held at the Nuyorican Poets Café and ended it with a reading of the
names of each of the victims.
LLM:
“Árbol”
is a classic example of how to write something without really writing it: the
tree was a wonderful metaphor to focus on. I’m curious: Can you expand on,
“They took one of your roots and left you scarred for life…?” What root? Who is
“they?” It is such an important, almost crucial line in this poem; from
beginning to end, this was inspiring to read.
EX:
You want
me to reveal what this poem is really about? The tree is a metaphor for myself.
They refers to all the critics who have voiced, openly and behind my
back, their negative opinions. I’m not ignorant to the fact that because I was
once a hustler that made a name for himself as a spoken word artist there will
always be those who refuse to acknowledge me as a contemporary writer. You’re
supposed to study your craft at colleges and universities and get published by
whatever online poetry journals are trending at the time and get literary
awards. You’re expected to be involved in literary circles and attend writer’s
conferences. That’s all great but I’ve always traveled to the beat of my own
drum and that annoys a lot of people. The roots of a tree are buried
underground and mostly invisible. In this poem, they represent the subconscious
layers of my soul, my spirit. Writers understand how much words can hurt.
Sometimes, like a tree, I feel alone and taken for granted but I still think I
have something to offer and keep growing in spite of it all.
LLM:
“Beside
Myself” is another love letter, but this time, to Emanuel Xavier: advice,
wisdom, and adoration. What would you say to the Emanuel in times when he
needed someone the most? In the times when you recall he needed guidance and
encouragement? Sometimes we are lonely and scared, with no way out, with no way
of seeing light in darkness.
EX:
I think
the poem says it all. It’s tongue-in-cheek but worthwhile advice and I think
there is hope. I learned to be independent at a very early age. I grew up fast.
I didn’t have much choice. My mom was never the warm and fuzzy maternal type
and I grew up reminded every day that my stepfather was not my actual father. I
was sexualized as a child when an older cousin molested me and, by the time I
was in my teens, I was turned away and put out on the streets for being gay.
I’ve had a pretty fucked up life and most people would be dead by now. The only
reason I survived all of that is because I learned the hard way how to be tough
during my time out on the streets. I have my moments like anybody else but I
allow myself the opportunity to go through it and then I move on and bounce
back. I think this carries over to my career as a writer. Every time I need
some sort of encouragement, I think about all the ways this journey could have
ended. If anything, I’ve at least proven to myself that I’m a survivor. I may
not have any valuable accolades or sold as many books as others but I have met
many wonderful people along the way that have been inspired by my work for
whatever reason. That means so much to me and that’s why I keep doing what I’m
doing.
LLM:
Confessional
poetry can be a hurdle to tackle for some people. What advice do you have for
aspiring writers, maybe specifically Latino writers, on this subject? This form
of poetry is seen more and more in the community, but sometimes those that need
to write confessional poetry, don’t, because they do not know how or where to
begin. Because “When Your Doctor Calls To Tell You That Your Brain Tumor Is
Back” made me gasp and swallow and think about my own life; it was amazing.
EX:
Yes. That
was a very personal poem. I suppose you have to be ready to share your private
world publicly if you’re going to write confessional poetry. You have to be
prepared to be judged and criticized. I’ve been writing this type of poetry
from the very beginning because I had nothing to lose. It’s actually something
celebrated in spoken word poetry and slam poetry competitions which is where I
started. As writers, we could create entire universes and focus on anything
from a pen to the sun. But I think confessional poetry is a style of poetics
that should also be considered by Latinx and other writers of color because it
is important to reflect the world we live in from our eyes and keep our
histories alive. In spite of our differences, readers might find something
universal in our stories and be able to relate and maybe even be inspired.
Also, if we don’t share our stories, who will? A white professor from the
Midwest who has been privileged enough to experience some of our culture and
thinks they can speak for us.
LLM:
I
hated you as I read “Radiance,” tears blurring words against page. Thank you. I
thought, I could keep reading this! Which brings me to my last question: Do you
think writing a memoir is in the near future for Emanuel Xavier? I vote yes. I
feel your unique voice is very much needed and the survival lessons you can
bring to the table are thrilling. Your story can change the lives of many of us
out there.
EX:
If I were
to be offered a worthwhile publishing deal, I would totally be ready to share
my story as a memoir. I genuinely hope to be considered for this someday. Sorry
not sorry that this poetry collection brought tears to your eyes. Thanks for
taking the time to read it. It’s been almost two decades and I hope to continue
doing what I’m doing along the way.
*
EMANUEL XAVIER, an LGBT History Month Icon, is author of
the poetry collections Radiance, Nefarious, Americano, Pier Queen, If Jesus
Were Gay and the novel Christ Like. He
also edited Mariposas: A Modern Anthology of Queer Latino Poetry and Bullets
& Butterflies: Queer Spoken Word Poetry. He is recipient of the Marsha
A. Gomez Cultural Heritage Award, a NYC Council Citation and a finalist for
Lambda Literary Awards and International Latino Books Awards. One of the first openly gay Nuyorican poets, he has been a longtime gay rights activist, AIDS activist and
homeless youth advocate. He was featured on Russell
Simmons presents Def Poetry, has spoken at The United Nations, was a featured TEDx speaker and was filmed for a documentary
on poets from around the world. He continues to perform at colleges and
universities throughout the country and his books are often included in LGBTQ
and Latino Studies courses.
LUIS
LOPEZ-MALDONADO is a Xican@ poeta,
choreographer, and educator, born and raised in Orange County, CA. He earned a
Bachelor of Arts degree from the University of California Riverside, majoring
in Creative Writing and Dance. His poetry has been seen in The
American Poetry Review,Cloudbank, The Packinghouse Review, Public
Pool, and Spillway, among many others. He also earned a Master
of Arts degree in Dance from Florida State University. He is currently a
candidate for the Master of Fine Arts degree in Creative Writing at the
University of Notre Dame, where he is a poetry editorial assistant for
the Notre Dame Review, and founder of the men's writing workshop in
the St. Joseph County Juvenile Justice Center; He is co-founder and editor
at The Brillantina Project. www.luislopez-maldonado.com
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