“Oh, bamboo shoots, bamboo shoots! / The further west we go, we’ll hit east; / the deeper down we dig, we’ll find China,” Marilyn Chin exclaimed.
Hands on her hips, head tilted forward and a deep-seated smirk on her face, Chin revived the 20-year-old poem with new fire. The essay portrays the tug-and-pull war of assimilation on immigrant families, a struggle that begins with the passing down of an English name.
Chin strode into the spotlight at The Stuart A. Rose Manuscript, Archives and Rare Book Library wearing a silk fuchsia jacket printed with floral embroidery in commemoration of the Lunar New Year. The award-winning writer greeted the audience on March 13 with a reading of her poem “How I Got That Name.”
Courtesy of Emory University.
The event was part of the library’s Raymond Danowski Poetry Library Reading Series. In celebration of Women’s History Month, Chin featured a series of her poems that explored the political, historical and personal self.
Library Director Jennifer King started the reading with an introduction of the library’s mission to enhance literary and prose education. King praised the multifaceted talents of Chin as an anthologist, translator, educator, poet and novelist.
“We are so excited to have [Chin] with us and to hear her read her poems, bringing ancient Chinese poetry and literature into conversation with contemporary and critical conversation of identity,” King said.
Peggy Li, postdoctoral scholar at the James Weldon Johnson Institute for the Study of Race and Difference, took the podium after King to deliver a heartfelt and powerful message on the impact of Chin’s work in her own life.
“Today we are so lucky to be graced by the presence of a bonafide bad***,” Li said.
The scholar described Chin as a skilled time traveler, traversing through multiple languages and eras of history. Born in Hong Kong and raised in Portland, Oregon, Chin’s story resonates with the children of Asian immigrants.
“Her journey to this stage is a magical alchemy of passionate mind and heart, uncompromising rage against injustice and iridate intellectual commitments,” Li said.
“Her bad-girl haikus, immigrant anthems, sissy-sassy limericks, renegade quatrains, laugh-out-loud hijinks, all assert a voice both wild, and inventive, and familiar with memory,” Li continued.
The poet’s experimental and joyful style both resound with and shape future generations of writers. Chin is a force in contemporary American poetry, having recently won the 2020 Ruth Lilly Poetry Prize and playing an influential part in shaping San Diego State University’s Creative Writing program.
Chin continued to read a selection of poems that criticized the rarely-explored intersection between patriarchal structure and the Asian American “model minority” myth. From “Blues on Yellows,” to “Chinese Quatrains (The Woman in Tomb 44),” to “Fruit Etudes,” Chin took the audience on a journey of subversive and disruptive literature that evoked a double-sided coin of humor and introspection.
Chin strays away from the classic Shakespearan sonnet with untraditional variations. She most often utilizes ‘Sonnetnese,’ a portmanteau of “sonnet” and “Chinese,” while employing explosive hand gestures and expressive intonation to deliver her carefully crafted rhymes and puns.
“My dear, we are staring at the void, at the edge of Americanness,” Chin recited.
‘Sonnetnese’ is a personal reflection that also serves as an archival study of her ancestral past. She derived inspiration for this poem by analyzing the usage of literature to call out oppressive governments, a practice that can be traced all the way back to the Tang Dynasty through poets like Su Dong Po. Masked in intimate anecdotes and non-political description, a poet can code an entirely different meaning in parallels and idioms.
In addition to her poems, Chin closed the reading with a selection of works from other authors, such as an English translation of “Snow Falls On China’s Land” by Ai Ching. She teased several lines from unreleased poems, such as “If,” set to be published in her new book. Finally, she ended the event with an audience-picked poem titled “The Floral Apron,” an ode to how immigrant families carry their traditions across the sea and raise them on new soil.
“And although we have traveled far / we would never forget that primal lesson / —on patience, courage, forbearance, / on how to love squid despite squid, / how to honor the village, the tribe, / that floral apron,” Chin said.
The poet conjured up the aroma of soft ginger and spice contrasted by the aggressive beheading of an animal — the paradoxical love of an Asian mother.
Jam-packed in one hour, Chin shared lessons on the feminine soul and the Asian American plight. It’s one thing to read her poetry online, but it’s an entire full-body experience to hear the slight tweaks and drops of her voice that she uses like an instrument.
Swinging in grandiose gestures up to the sky, as if conducting an orchestra, Chin speaks like she is singing melodious, rhythmic jazz. Her narration examines her own identity as well as a community larger than the individual.
