Afro-Latinx Poetry Now: Testimonios

There are many definitions of testimonio as it pertains to Latin American literature. I can’t pretend to have a comprehensive definition myself, and I especially don’t have a definition better than the many scholars who have written about this topic, but I can share my interpretation. One might, for example, identify an oppressive situation and write a testimonio to establish a clear narrative in opposition. Alternatively, one might witness a gathering where underrepresented voices are celebrated and write a testimonio in support of the narrative; in other words, to bear witness and join the conversation/revolution, to document the rupture and the celebration. The following testimonios are written by those who not only witnessed but participated in one such gathering: Afro-Latinx Poetry Now. The two-day gathering aimed to center Blackness within the literary community. The testimonios are written by the six poets and five scholars who participated, along with one publisher/scholar who plans to extend the conversation through publication. The final testimonio is from the perspective of a virtual attendee, which we hope will inspire readers of this blog to also engage with the recorded sessions.
Brent Ameneyro
2022-2023 Letras Latinas Poetry Coalition Fellow

Left to right: Yesenia Montilla, Alberto Varón, Jasminne Mendez, Francisco Aragón, Raina J. León, Roberto Carlos Garcia, Brent Ameneyro, Darrel Alejandro Holnes

In almost 20 years as an academic, I have only experienced the intellectual excitement and generosity I experienced at the “Afro-Latinx Poetry Now” symposium a handful of times. Two aspects of the symposium stand out to me: first, the give-and-take between critics and poets reaffirmed my impression that poets are among our most trenchant thinkers, and that literary criticism is better when artists and critics work together. My own thinking about John Murillo’s poetry was challenged and enriched by the questions and comments on my presentation. Second, where sometimes academic spaces can be unforgiving—spaces of competition and posturing—everyone at “Afro-Latinx Poetry Now” engaged with each other in a spirit of generosity and community. Although I knew some of the scholars beforehand, I had never met any of the poets in person before, and I was nervous about what tone the symposium would take. I came away feeling genuinely lifted up and thrilled at everything I had learned, as well as feeling that I belonged to a new community of colleagues and friends. This was a special occasion, and I’m grateful to have been a part of it.
John Alba Cutler
Scholar


The conference was well-organized, exciting, and necessary.  I enjoyed all the talks, the readings, and the opportunity to fellowship with other poets and scholars.  Perhaps most enjoyable, however, was a brief exchange with an undergraduate student who approached the poets after one of the readings.  She meant only to thank us for our songs, for reflecting, even if only for a moment, a bit of her own world, and, as an aspiring writer herself, perhaps a glimpse into what her own future may hold.  “Windows and mirrors,” says Lucille Clifton.  “Children need windows and mirrors.”  Conferences like these give poets opportunity to poet, scholars to scholar, and insofar as our work merits any conversation, it centers us for a day or two.  But the true value, at least to my mind, lies with the young folks.  Our work is not to be seen but to help them to see: See themselves, see the world, and see themselves in the world. For two beautiful days in South Bend, we did our job.
John Murillo
Poet

John Murillo performing at the “Session 3” evening poetry reading

As a Black Latina, I have spent years trying to fight and claw my way into Latinx spaces. And when I have been able to enter, it is not often that I have felt truly welcomed or safe. The Afro-Latinx Poetry Now summit hosted by Letras Latinas, broke this cycle for me and for one of the first times in my life as a writer and performer, I did not feel like "the token Afro-Latina." Instead I felt like a respected member and professional of a vibrant and burgeoning community of writers that have been working long and hard to feel seen and heard. I bonded with my fellow Afro-Latinx poets in ways I hadn’t been able yet due to distance and demanding life schedules. The two days I spent in Notre Dame with fellow Afro-Latinx writers, Latine scholars, Notre Dame students and professors reinvigorated my love and passion for poetry and it showed me that my work is worthy of being studied, critiqued, analyzed and talked about in academic spaces. It proved to me what I have long felt to be true, we are in a literary renaissance and revolution right now and Afro-Latinx poetry and writing is at the forefront of that. During the Q & A after my poetry reading, a young Notre Dame student asked: “Can you talk about how poetry changed your life,” and thanks to Letras Latina and this summit I had the pleasure of saying “Poetry changed my life because it’s taken me to places I once only dreamed of being in. As a teen I didn't even bother applying to schools like Notre Dame. No way would I ever have gotten in much less been able to afford it. And now, look, my work is being studied in its classrooms by you. Poetry did that. Poetry brought me here.” 
Jasminne Mendez
Poet

Jasminne Mendez subverting expectations by performing away from the podium

Thank you, again, for what I heard was a beautiful convergence, one that was much-needed! Even though I was not able to attend in person, I could feel the kinship from the audience as I presented my paper on Jasminne Mendez’s brilliant work. I would love to see this kind of convergence that highlights the creative labor of Afro-Latine artist again and hope to be included!
Judith Rodriguez
Scholar

Judith Rodriguez participating virtually in a hybrid discussion format

The “Afro-Latinx Poetry Now" Gathering was a beautifully curated event that featured the work of Black Latinx poets and scholars. The gathering was transformative in the way it placed the work of poets, critics, and cultural studies in relation. Furthermore, it is rare to see poets given the space to not only read their own work but also laud the work of their peers and listen to scholars critically examine their work. The vision and organizing for this event reflected an ethics of care and relationality. I was also impressed with how the campus community came together to witness poets championing other poets as well as giving their gifts to the public throughout the evening readings and open mics. Beautifully woven into the events were scholars engaging with the writers in a dialogue around the context, content, and impact of their work. The curation and organization of the event was superb with each detail thoughtfully planned (even down to the poets’ books being available for sale each evening). This event should be seen as an example for other institutes, programs, and departments to follow. It was also a breath of fresh air in the wake of a global pandemic—a reassurance that another world is possible, that we can and should care about poetry, especially from Afro-Latinx scholars, some of the most peripheralized voices in the literary world. 
Yomaira Figueroa-Vásquez
Scholar

Yomaira Figueroa-Vásquez presenting on Raina J. León’s poetry

There was a moment when Dr. Yomaira Figueroa-Vásquez entangled her heart with mine, Afro-Latina mother-scholars, as she read two of my most tender poems about my fears as mother and in the reading, we both were in tears.  For me, it was in hearing my pain and fear reflected in another mother’s body and spirit, while at the same time being given the gift of a scholar seeing all the work of craft I used to create that bridge of experiential and spiritual connection. I had never been witness to a scholar, particularly of her renown, analyzing my work, and there I was in the front row.  Weeping could be the only reaction.  Recently, one of my great uncles said that my great-grandfather, Félix, after whom so many generations in my family are named, was a poet. How many Afro-Latinx voices have been lost to time, their notebooks discarded?  And there we were, we six poets, expounding on six additional poets, and then, for me, to see, another Afro-Latina mother-scholar?!  The Afro-Latinx Poetry Now conference was long overdue … and it was and is a healing of the past, a reaching back to our ancestors, a dancing in the light of their hopes and dreams, a blessing on the future.  Francisco Robles, another scholar, mentioned pyrophilous mushrooms and mycelium networks in his talk in passing, particularly of their emergence from ashes to heal, and that story has such resonance for me as I think on the conference.  From the ashes, the people, Black and Latinx, vibrant in our distinct identities and cultures and experiences, rise.  I am grateful, so very grateful to be in that community. Wherever I have walked, I mention the communion of that conference, with reverence, with joy.  Letras Latinas continues to practice from the liberatory space of dreaming into possibility and present. Now.  
Raina J. León
Poet

Raina J. León visiting Francisco Aragón’s “Latinx Poetry Now” class

The Afro-Latinx Poetry Now event co-presented by Letras Latinas was an incredibly affirming experience that is a rarity in today's literary and academic landscape. Even in moments when there push for more diversity and inclusion, rarely does it include the most marginalized sub-communities or communities across various intersections. Letras Latinas really put in the work and continues to meet their commitment to Latinx/e poets through programming that is of the highest professional caliber in the field. 
Darrel Alejandro Holnes
Poet


The time spent at Notre Dame for the “Afro-Latinx Poetry Now” gathering was one of the most fruitful times in my career thus far. Yes, there was poetry, yes there was scholarship, but most importantly there was community. It felt like divination to be able to have meals with poets who I deeply admire and whose work is directly in conversation with my own poetry; add to this the scholars who took time and care with our work and it was a perfect brew of all the things that poetics could be. Call it kismet or something else, something deeply rooted in our desire, all of us present, for transformative change, for the dismantling of white supremacy within Latinidad, for the need to discuss the hard things and still rise from those conversations with new eyes and an open heart. Letras Latina’s vision: revolutionary and restorative has set a precedence for future gatherings and their possibilities. I feel deep gratitude for all involved, who worked tirelessly to create this space so full of wonder.
Yesenia Montilla
Poet

Left to right: Marisel Moreno, Yomaira Figueroa-Vásquez, Jasminne Mendez, Roberto Carlos Garcia, Yesenia Montilla, Francisco Aragón, Raina J. León, Darrel Alejandro Holnes, Francisco Robles, John Murillo, John Alba Cutler

I found the AfroLatinx Poetry Now conference to be one of the most enriching intellectual experiences I’ve ever had. It wasn’t only that the topic is quite urgent in the field of Latinx Studies, but that it gave all participants –poets and scholars– a chance to create community. As a scholar, I highly value the opportunity to connect with other scholars in the field of Afrolatinx studies. As someone who deeply admires and often teaches the poets who participated, I very much enjoyed their presentations on other poets (“Poets on Poets”) and also their readings. The intellectual, emotional, and even spiritual exchanges that took place will stay with me for many years to come. I’m thankful for this amazing opportunity to grow and to create space for voices that have traditionally been excluded from the Latinx canon. My hope is that we can recreate this model every other year to continue to raise awareness about Afrolatinx poetry and art.
Marisel Moreno
Scholar


To be celebrated, and to have one's work celebrated is an honor. I am grateful to Francisco Aragon, Latino Studies Institute, Initiative on Race and Resilience, and University of Notre Dame, for organizing this necessary event. The structure of this conference, where we celebrate both the poets present, the ones who inspire us, and the scholars at the forefront of Afro Latinx / Latinx studies is a unique and trailblazing initiative. I'm hopeful that this conference is the first of many more in celebration of Afro Latinx literature. The conference was indeed a safe space for us to engage in a scholarly discourse about the experience of Black or Afro Latinx poets. As many of us are painfully aware, academia is not always a safe space for academics of color.  Therefore, it is imperative that the scholarship, both written and performed, produced by this conference live on scholarly journals, online library databases, and anywhere else that existing and up and coming scholars can access them. Francisco Aragon has begun something extraordinary, and I for one will support him in the continuation of this initiative in any way possible. 
Roberto Carlos Garcia
Poet

Raina J. León, Roberto Carlos Garcia, and Jasminne Mendez signing books for enthusiastic attendees

This conference was a truly inspiring gathering that did what the best scholarly gatherings do: shifted the way we think about a topic while we were thinking about that topic. The papers spoke to each other wonderfully, and it was clear that the conversation was taking place in a way that built something together. What mattered most, to me, was that the thing we built together was in honor of the poets. By centering their work, we produced a vibrant body of scholarship that hewed closely to what the poets wrote. Ultimately, I hope that this conference will shape all of our work—creative and critical—for a long time to come.
Francisco Robles
Scholar

Francisco Robles presenting on Yesenia Montilla’s poetry

Letras Latinas Afro-Latinx Poetry Now event was a milestone event for the growing academic field of Latinx studies, one that will live on in the collaborations it inspired. The innovative format—poets responding to poets responding to scholars—finally found a way to open up an exchange we’ve been seeking and could only partially articulate.  Hearing the poets shift from creative to critical modes, and having scholars poetically attend to the world-making power of language, created a space for us to be and think differently. To call the event empowering undersells it, but the event fostered exchanges among writers and thinkers of all levels and locations that will reverberate across our far-flung homes, laying down new tendrils of connectivity, opening up the field of Latinx studies (and our own understanding of it) to new voices, new communities in which we might thrive. Despite its exceptionality, the event perfectly aligned with Letras Latinas mission of supporting Latinx writers and thinkers.
Alberto Varón
Scholar/Publisher

Left to right: Roberto Carlos Garcia, Yesenia Montilla, Jasminne Mendez, Raina J. León, John Murillo, Darrel Alejandro Holnes

I attended Letras Latinas' “Afro-Latinx Poetry Now” virtually from the borderlands of South Texas and I felt privileged to be in attendance. The two-day event was well curated and exceptional in who spoke either with their poetry or with their scholarship. This event could have only been live and it still would have had a tremendous impact for those in attendance but here I was – far away, first generation mixed Latinx who inherited exile on both sides – and I fell into the voices and hearts of those presenting and knew I was finally hearing current leaders and writers whose voices spoke in unison with voices who had long been silenced or denied or otherwise been made invisible. I’m deeply thankful that this work remains accessible for those who might have missed it when it was live. These few hours opened so much within me and reminded me of the impact of diaspora and inheritance and joy in our daily lives. I know others will be just as impacted. 
jo reyes-boitel
MFA student and poet

All six sessions are available to view at the following link: https://latinostudies.nd.edu/news-events/events/afro-latinx-poetry-now/

To view additional photos from the gathering, please visit http://letraslatinasblog.blogspot.com/2022/12/afro-latinx-poetry-now-photo-essay-in.html 

Letras Latinas congratulates Lorca prize winner!

 

Announcing the 2022 Lorca Latinx Poetry Prize

Winner and Honorable Mentions

Carmen Giménez selects ephemeral

by heidi andrea restrepo rhodes

 

MADRID, SPAIN (October 7, 2022) — The Lorca Latinx Poetry Prize, Letras Latinas, and EcoTheo Collective are thrilled to announce the winner of the 2022 Lorca Latinx Poetry Prize, which supports the publication of an English-Spanish language chapbook by an emerging Latinx poet with no more than one full-length collection in print. The 2022 Prize is awarded to heidi andrea restrepo rhodes for her chapbook ephemeral. Honorable mentions are given to Ayling Zulema Dominguez for Como el Nopal, and Cristian Ramirez Rodriguez for Violet Nerve. The winner and honorable mentions were selected by this year’s guest judge Carmen Giménez and first reader Suzi F. Garcia.

Carmen Giménez states:

 

“ephemeral is lush and hypnotic, 

a greenhouse of exotic unnamed plants, 

of longing. The language is elemental, physical, wrought, erotic. 

This poet has a rare sonic gift. 

I want love to live in all of us this way.”

 

 

For the full press release, please visit:

https://www.lorcalatinxpoetryprize.org/

A House of Our Own: The Kissing Bug by Daisy Hernández

Photo Credit: Tin House via https://tinhouse.com/wp-content/uploads/2022/03/9781953534194-20220307020417.jpg

“[Falta] can mean a love that is not here, as in: ‘me haces falta,’ or ‘I miss you’ which I always hear as: ‘you make me miss you.’”
–Daisy Hernández, The Kissing Bug (Tin House, 2021)

In The Kissing Bug, author Daisy Hernández investigates Chagas, a neglected disease that disproportionately affects Latinxs, tackling issues with healthcare in the U.S. and her complex relationship with her Tía Dora, who passed as a result of the illness.

Like other works I’ve written about in this column, The Kissing Bug discusses maternal relationships and the role of women in Latinx families, in this case centering on the relationship between Hernández and her Tía Dora, whom she describes as a “domineering” or “micromanag[ing]” mother. Young Daisy behaved “like a boy,” something which her Tía Dora disapproved of: “…I said what was on my mind and I didn’t care what anyone thought,” she writes. Daisy’s sister, on the other hand, fit Dora’s vision of femininity and didn’t argue with her. For example, she answered “Señora?” whenever her name was called, a polite gesture that grated on Daisy’s nature. Daisy’s relationship with her aunt was further complicated when she came out as bisexual, to which Dora’s response was to cut off communication with her for years. In our Zoom interview, Hernández said that, while her aunt was striving “towards a traditional dream,” her own “more social justice based” ideas led to “different visions” for their futures. Their relationship was molded by cultural elements such as machismo which set certain expectations for women. “Machismo is not only the specific people we deal with,” Hernández told me, “but [also] the culture that we're in. And so I think a lot of us are not only watching our mothers, but also other women in our community.” Latinx women (and other women of color) raise daughters to be caregivers, teachers, and role models that “stay out of the way,” as Hernández’s mother and sister do in the book. 

The responsibilities of women also extend into healthcare as a whole; “The women in my family decided to save Tía Dora,” writes Hernández. Daisy’s mother and aunts were the ones taking her to appointments and tending to her, as Hernández told me her health was considered a “women’s issue.” Indeed, two of the most prominent doctors that deal with Chagas are women. Hernández has observed such women-centric caregiving in other cultures: “The degree to which our healthcare system functions on the backs of…Black and Brown women is just astounding.” And this goes beyond Chagas; The Kissing Bug states that “we contain [infectious diseases] to communities of color, to the poor, to the homeless, to people in this Second America.” The “Second America” includes Hernández’s family, for whom healthcare depended on health fairs in church parking lots. However, the promise of better treatment brought Dora from Colombia. “My auntie [was] super blessed that she was in the U.S. in New York City in 1980,” said Hernández. “That is really different from today.” Her aunt’s initial improvements created a myth in young Daisy’s mind: "As long as my auntie stayed here with us, she would never die." However, like the American Dream, this did not apply to everyone. Hernández writes about Lucia, whose lack of insurance led to her avoidable death. As I read, I wondered why pregnant Latinxs aren’t being screened for the parasite that causes Chagas, which can be treated if caught early. “I don't feel that there is any other reason except racism,” Hernández told me. “[Chagas] is not going to spread beyond this Latinx community…so white America has the option of ignoring it.” Lucia’s story and the lack of testing exemplify the epidemiological divide between those who do and don’t have access to healthcare.

Although Dora benefited from the healthcare she received in the U.S., she ultimately succumbed to her illness. “I don’t know why I am grieving you,” Hernández writes. “You were awful to me, and yet here I am crying in public.” At the end of The Kissing Bug, Hernández confesses that she grieved because her Tía never accepted her “as her queer daughter-sobrina.” This brings into high contrast those rare moments of tenderness, as when Dora tells Daisy “me hicistes falta.” “It was the closest she ever came to saying, ‘I love you,’” she writes. “In that moment, she was not the auntie who had banished me from her life.” This shows the importance of Spanish to Hernández, who called it “a language of a particular kind of intimacy… it just touches something that's very hard to describe.” And this doesn’t only apply to Spanish; Dora’s first doctor in the U.S., a son of Jewish immigrants, also knew about “the need for the mother tongue.” To both Hernández and I, Spanish is weightier than English, especially when it comes to love and family. It’s clear, then, why so many diasporic writers write about the proverbial mother tongue. This was exemplified toward the end of the book, when Hernández has an epiphany over responding to her name with “Señora?”: “[M]aybe Tía Dora had not been trying to make me into a lady. Maybe she had only wanted me to be more Colombian.”

Reading The Kissing Bug, I learned that culture can greatly influence healthcare, not only in its availability, but also in the act of caring. I had inadvertently witnessed what Hernández describes within my family; my grandfather, who passed away six months ago today, was always cared for by my grandmother, mother, and aunts, and he suffered unnecessary complications due to failures by healthcare professionals in Puerto Rico. Much of Hernández’s discussions of family dynamics and the function of language complements that of other authors throughout this column, and I think recognizing these commonalities can help members of Latinx cultures and immigrants from other countries empathize with each other’s experiences in the diaspora.

Thank you to Daisy Hernández for the Zoom interview and to Tin House for the review copy!

  

Brittany Torres Rivera is a Puerto Rican writer whose work deals with culture, family, and (un)belonging. She has a BA in English with a concentration in Creative Writing from Florida International University. She is based in Orlando, FL.

A House of Our Own: A Woman of Endurance by Dahlma Llanos-Figueroa

Photo Credit: HarperCollins/Amistad via https://www.harpercollins.com/products/a-woman-of-endurance-dahlma-llanos-figueroa?variant=39419449704482

Cover Art by Fabiola Jean-Louis

“She knew with undeniable certainty that she would withstand all that they could devise to destroy her. They would not take her true self…she would survive.”
—Dahlma Llanos-Figueroa, A Woman of Endurance (Amistad, 2022)

A Woman of Endurance is Puerto Rican author Dahlma Llanos-Figueroa’s latest novel. It follows the turbulent life of Pola, an African woman who is sold into slavery, as she heals in spite of the inhumanity of her situation thanks to the support of her community.

When Pola arrives at her new plantation, Las Mercedes, she is assigned to work in Las Agujas, where a group of mixed-race women make fine garments instead of harvesting sugarcane. This privilege is not lost on Pola, although she is disgusted by the differences in the treatment of the women based on their shade: “The color of their skin…banishes [women like Pola] to an unseen working world.” Thus, a colorist hierarchy is revealed among the enslaved women of the hacienda. Field worker Leticia “la Loca'' judges the mixed women, as Pola initially did, and claims that Pola feels superior to other dark-skinned Black women. Although Pola would like to refute her, she cannot: “It is not easy to admit, even to herself, that [Pola] has benefits that field workers will never enjoy…she understands much of Leticia’s resentment.” While the other women of Las Agujas accept Pola as one of their own, and Pola questions whether, even so close to the big house, “any slave is ever truly…safe,” the colorist systems of the plantation sow hatred. No character exemplifies this more than Celestina, the albino head housekeeper who relishes in her physical whiteness (claiming to be “Más blanca que las blancas”) and weaponizes her privilege against the other women. Although she is on the opposite side of the spectrum, Leticia also betrays her people, acting as an informant against two runaways to receive makeup and be in the good graces of the overseers. Their acts of sabotage against other Black women reflect a desire to be like the oppressor, perhaps as a means of survival within a racist, colorist system. These ideas have been confronted by Kyle Carrero-Lopez, Ariana Brown, and other Black and Afro-Latinx writers.

The racism and colorism of slavery creates a violent, dehumanizing environment for both men and women, and Pola’s experiences before her arrival at Las Mercedes reflect this. After being taken from her home, Pola and the other captives were starved, beaten, kept in subhuman conditions, and assaulted in every way. This escalated at her first plantation, Hacienda Paraíso, where she was repeatedly brutalized for the entertainment of the patrón. As a result, Pola justifiably spends most of the book in fear of men: “No man would ever take that much away from me again.” She distances herself even from Simón, a kind man who cares deeply for her, turning instead toward other women for care. I interviewed Llanos-Figueroa about A Woman of Endurance, who said that “women found solace within their own community. While the men were present and willing to provide that support, their hands were often tied by the brutality of their own treatment.” And, indeed, Simón helps Pola later in the book, only to be severely and permanently injured by Romero, the overseer of Las Mercedes. Romero is a perpetrator of gender violence like the men of Hacienda Paraíso, who treated Pola as a “breeding mare,” impregnating her over and over only to take her children in yet another act of brutality. The cruelty of the men running the plantation took on new depth, as they stripped Pola of one of the few things that ever brought her joy: motherhood.

The relationships between mothers and daughters is one of the most important ideas explored in A Woman of Endurance, a novel replete with maternal figures who guide Pola on her journey of healing. At Hacienda Paraíso, Pola gets to bond with her only “girl child” for several days, leaving Pola a husk of herself when the baby is taken away. When Pola arrives at Las Mercedes, Rufina “la Curandera” and head cook Patrona nourish her body, but it is Tía Josefa, the woman in charge of Las Agujas, who helps Pola heal her heart. When one of Tía Josefa’s women dies, dropping her into an abyss of grief, Pola pulls her out before she sinks beyond return. But when Pola loses Chachita, a young girl with no patrón who awakens “something long buried and almost forgotten,” it is Tía Josefa’s turn to help Pola endure this echo of all the children Pola couldn’t keep. At every juncture, these women rely on one another as a means of physical, emotional, and spiritual survival. As Llanos-Figueroa told me, “[i]n this narrative, as in the culture, daughters who have lost their mothers often find older women who fulfill that role.” Growing up in a family of mostly women, I’ve seen relationships with maternal figures be the most consequential and influential in the lives of daughters, an idea upon which Yasmín Ramírez elaborates in ¡Ándale, Prieta!. In cultures as patriarchal as Latinx ones, there’s no question that young women must rely on mothers to learn how to behave, how to survive, as they do in A Woman of Endurance.

Although reading this book was difficult at times due to the violence the characters experience, I am ultimately glad I did. “Slavery was driven by greed, justified by religion and enforced by the military,” said Llanos-Figueroa. All three of these components are discussed in A Woman of Endurance, and I think it’s important to recognize the far-reaching impacts of slavery, one of which may be a cultural reliance on maternal figures and their love to endure. 

If you enjoyed this story’s exploration of motherhood in the context of slavery, check out Toni Morisson’s classic, Beloved. 

Thanks to Dahlma Llanos-Figueroa for the email interview and to Amistad for the review Copy!

  

Brittany Torres Rivera is a Puerto Rican writer whose work deals with culture, family, and (un)belonging. She has a BA in English with a concentration in Creative Writing from Florida International University. She is based in Orlando, FL.

ANDRÉS MONTOYA POETRY PRIZE: Winner & Honorable Mention(s)!

Letras Latinas, the literary initiative of the University of Notre Dame’s Institute for Latino Studies, is pleased to announce that Jordan Pérez, from Atlanta, GA, is the tenth recipient of the Andrés Montoya Poetry Prize. Named after the late Chicano poet from Fresno, the Prize is a collaboration with University of Notre Dame Press and supports the publication of a first book by a Latinx poet residing in the United States.

Jordan Pérez

The tenth edition of the Prize was judged by Alexandra Lytton Regalado and Sheila Maldonado, with the assistance from preliminary judges Adela Najarro and Ariel Francisco.

Alexandra Lytton Regalado writes:

Jordan Pérez’s are poems of hunger and want; an urgent and haunting voice reveals the everyday of a Latinx life in the South: “two generations / of quiet // sucking each other’s pain / as you might a snakebite.” The lyrical poems of Santa Tarantula follow a dreamlogic embedded with rich details and are guided by revelatory proclamations of atonement and reckoning: “I spent my entire life expecting I’d grow up to be a dead girl.” Pérez assembles her poems as shadowboxes, curious collections of the natural world, bible stories, and family memories. At times Pérez’s quiet observation reminds the reader of Ada Limón, and with the compactness of Louise Gluck, but Pérez stands out, a remarkable and confident voice that understands survival is in the telling: “I refuse to die… having not come / into the fullness of myself. This / is my blood. This, my body. Saying no or yes, / and liking it.”

Sheila Maldonado writes:

“Santa Tarantula is a collection of the many ways all that is female survives. Jordan Pérez lends scientific, lyrical attention to the deepest wounds within families and sexes. This fearless, economical writing haunts from the start, excavates and sings of pain and persistence. Pérez takes on a wide range of contexts, nature and the body, insects, the sea, biblical tales, recent Cuban history, all possible sites of destruction for the feminine. She approaches all of these with particular, devastating clarity, poems like small resurrections. A brave, sparse, wise debut.”

 

Jordan Pérez writes:

 

“I’m thrilled and honored to be the 10th recipient of the Andrés Montoya Poetry Prize from Letras Latinas for Santa Tarantula. This manuscript has been so present on my heart during the four or so years it took to write, and I want to extend my deepest gratitude to the family members, mentors, and friends for their support and guidance during its formation. 

 

I’m also grateful to Alexandra Lytton Regalado and Sheila Maldonado, the final judges, as well as Adela Najarro and Ariel Francisco, the preliminary readers, for their attention and consideration.

 

It is a true privilege to join this growing list of winners, whose powerful work inspires me to continue walking in the light — and the darkness — that is being a poet. I hope to be a true extension of Montoya’s legacy of advocacy for justice and the uplifting of Latine voices.”

 

* 

Jordan Pérez is a Cuban-American poet and advocate from Atlanta, Georgia. She holds an M.F.A. in creative writing from American University, where she worked on the Visiting Writers Series and read for FOLIO. She is currently the Director of Communications for SOSA, a non-profit dedicating to preventing online sex abuse.

 

Jordan’s work has made her a finalist for the 2021 Joy Harjo Poetry Prize, the winner for the 2019 Cosmonauts Avenue Poetry Prize, and a finalist for the 2018 Mississippi Review Poetry Prize. Her poetry also appears or is forthcoming in Winter Tangerine, Pilgrimage Press, and elsewhere.

 

Her poetry has earned her acceptance to the Bread Loaf Writers Conference and the DISQUIET International Literary Program. She has also written for CNN, The Atlantic, and Bustle.

 

You can learn more about Jordan and get in touch with her by visiting https://www.jordanperezpoetry.com.

 

*

Alexandra Lytton Regalado and Sheila Maldonado

also designated two finalist manuscripts as

 

HONARABLE MENTION

 

 

Bodypolitic

 

“Aerik Francis’s intimate poems make music of theory and politics centered on the African-LatinXXX-American.”

La Casa Roja

 

“Alonso Llerena invokes indigenous mysteries and revolutionary history, contemplating Peru with stark, imagistic constructions.” 

 

 

Aerik Francis is a Queer Black & Latinx poet based in Denver, Colorado, USA. Aerik is the author of the recently published chapbook BODYELECTRONIC (Trouble Department 2022). Selected by Dorothy Chan as the winner of the 2022 chapbook contest, Aerik's second chapbook MISEDUCATION is forthcoming from New Delta Review in 2023. Aerik is the recipient of poetry fellowships from Canto Mundo and The Watering Hole, as well as a poetry reader for Underblong poetry journal and an event coordinator for Slam Nuba. Aerik's work can be found on their website phaentompoet.com

 

 

Alonso Llerena is a Peruvian writer, visual artist, educator, and MFA candidate at the Bard: Milton Avery  Graduate School of the Arts. His current work, which merges interpretations of historical events and personal history, documents and honors the memory of the Internal Armed Conflict that factured Peru from 1980 through the year 2000. He is a Tin House alumnus and his work has appeared in Prairie Schooner, The Offing, FENCE, Cream City Review, and elsewhere.

 

 

Peru from 1980 through the year 2000. He is a Tin House alumnus and his work has appeared in Prairie Schooner, The Offing, FENCE, Cream City Review, and elsewhere.