“I’m nothing, if not”: An Anecdote of a Jar

“I’m nothing, if not”: An Anecdote of a Jar

To discuss my own entry into writing and publishing, I must admit a contrary relationship to publication, one probably not unique to myself. I feel...

The Unbearable (White) Maleness of US Poetry: And How We Can Enable a Structural Response to Literary Yellowface and Gender Inequity in Publishing

The Unbearable (White) Maleness of US Poetry: And How We Can Enable a Structural Response to Literary Yellowface and Gender Inequity in Publishing

On Labor Day, news broke widely that White writer Michael Derrick Hudson’s poem “The Bees, the Flowers, Jesus, Ancient Tigers, Poseidon, Adam and Eve” is...

ROUNDTABLE: POLICING THE OTHER IN THE LITERARY WORLD

ROUNDTABLE: POLICING THE OTHER IN THE LITERARY WORLD

This conversation, moderated by Hoa Nguyen, took place on March 29, 2015. Hoa sent out a preliminary list of questions meant to spark the conversation,...

Report from the Field: I Don’t Know How She Does It

Report from the Field: I Don’t Know How She Does It

I can’t remember the first time I heard the phrase in reference to myself: I don’t know how she does it. Perhaps it was when...

VIDA Roundtable on Misogynist Content and Editorial Responsibility

VIDA Roundtable on Misogynist Content and Editorial Responsibility

Recently, following the publication of a troubling poem about violence against women, a social media backlash began, along with a conversation about misogynist content, editorial...

Against Our Own Best Time: Competition Among Writers in the Margins

Against Our Own Best Time: Competition Among Writers in the Margins

In the small town where I grew up, I was strange and lonely. Books were my solution. The page was the easiest place to name...

Report From the Field: White People Love Me: Dispatches From The Token

Report From the Field: White People Love Me: Dispatches From The Token

I get along with white people really well. Growing up, they brought peppermint bark down the cul-de-sac to my parents’ house every Christmas. They smiled...