Poets of Color



Elmaz Abinader, Instructor Office: 313 Mills Hall
510 430 2225 elmaz@earthlink.net
office hours: 5-6:30 Thursday and by appointment

Here are the texts for the class.
• Asian American Poetry: the Next Generation edited by Victoria Chang
• Voices from Leimert Park, ed by Shonda, Buchannan
• Effigies, An Anthology of New Indigenous Writing Pacific Rim, 2009, Okpik, Rexford McDougall, etc (Salt Publishing)
• The Wind Shifts, New Latino Poetry, Edited by Francisco Aragón
• The Essential Etheridge Knight by Etheridge Knight
• Mercy by Lucille Clifton
• Zodiac of Echoes by Khaled Mattawa
• Diwata by Barbara Jane Reyes


Sunday, September 30, 2012

Bridging between being American and man

Nick Carbo's "Ang Tunay La Lalaki" drew me in for two reasons. One being that transition between the title and the beginning of the poem, where the title acts as the beginning of the poem and the other being his use of common Filipino terms throughout the piece.

The reason I liked the title acting as the beginning of the poem and not just the title was because more often than not, we come across pieces of poetry whose titles have absolutely nothing related to the piece (as far as I see it most times). I like how this "title" helped to perpetuate the story of this male Filipino figure (a very manly one at that (which is what "ang tunay" means)) through his own transition in America, let alone in one of the largest cities in the country: New York.

While reading through the piece and trying to pin point the voices within it, I found there are two: an American male and a ("true") Filipino male. Whoever this manly man is, he's having a definite internal crisis trying to bridge the worlds of the life and culture he used to know (of the Philippines) to the life and culture he's living in now (of America). Not only is he trying to bridge the two worlds, he's also trying to remain true to the standards of the life true Filipino men should lead, while trying to create his own person as an American man.

The instruments in which these voices are carried in are the little markers and indications of differing cultures. Throughout the piece, Carbo places common Filipino terms in place of the English translation (the one that made me laugh was Carbo's use of "Ay, susmaryosep!" because it's basically like the American "Oh, my God!" except for the fact its Filipino counterpart includes Jesus, Mary and Joseph). Carbo also uses different cultural markers, like wearing black Dr. Marten boots (American) versus slippers (Filipino).

There seems to be a more serious shift in the poem, once we get to the the bit about how the reflection of the man reveals how long his hair has grown. Upon noticing his profile and likening it to the young Bruce Lee who played a supporting role in a movie, the man "realizes [his face] will always be the face of a supporting character," which is an idea that comes with the territory of acting when you're a person of color since talent agencies almost always go with the "racially ambiguous" route.

The last few lines describe how the Filipino man decides to change his name in order to avoid losing out on more advertisement gigs to a name that is "American but with a Filipino flare." It's always interesting to me to see how when someone migrates to America, their culture is usually the one that is foregone and they become American/whitewashed/etc. in order to fulfill some societal standard. I think it is particularly interesting in this piece because we are told from the very beginning that this man is a very manly one and yet he's struggling with establishing himself as such in America, trying to find the balance between being a man of his culture and a man of his career.

3 comments:

  1. I really appreciated this post. I think you get right into the nitty-gritty, that internal, diasporic battle between assimilation and personal/cultural identity. I love the way Carbo uses his title as the first line of the poem. The sound of it is just beautiful too.

    Here's a picture I thought you'd enjoy:
    http://www.filipinoamericanlibrary.org/Images/fil-hollywood.jpg

    History is directly tied here in Carbo's line:
    'the man "realizes [his face] will always be the face of a supporting character"'

    The book cover above shows a Filipino man standing in line for casting call in 1929. The only roles Filipino men could obtain back then were American Indian roles, and they got it depending on their height (if there were under five feet).

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  2. Great post, Eden and a deep understanding of transitioning and losing the power of the self. Here he identifies with tropes that aren't related to him, but placed upon the character by the viewer (which makes Melissa's picture all the more relevant)
    e

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  3. Eden, I completely appreciate your insights into the poems about Ang Tunay. The racism that's deeply entrenched in American media (mags, movies, tv, etc), no matter how masculine you thought you were, can come to a screeching halt, in realizing your "place" in the industry as being anything other than white. The fact that he considered changing his name is still everything to me -- "exotic" enough to be accepted and assimilate, but completely from a place of not feeling ______ enough.

    Also, WOW on that photo, Melissa! That shit is just...heart wrenching to me. And even though it was 1929, that same treatment happens today...I wouldn't even call it "coded". Grrrr.

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