by Noriko Nakada
Ever since I first became aware of the AWP conference, I have avoided attending. Part of my avoidance had to do with my MFA experience. I attended Antioch University LA’s low residency program from 2003-2005 where I worked with amazing mentors and created bonds with talented writers, but like most MFA programs, it had/has a diversity problem. I sought out what diversity did exist in the program, and super-appreciated that Terrence Hayes was our commencement speaker, but I wasn’t brave enough to leave my MFA like Kima Jones did and wrote about in her “Flood Is Water” piece for Poets and Writers.
Throughout the program, I found residencies stressful, and when I glanced through the schedule of lectures and readings, most topics weren’t for me. I realize now, I was suffering from MFA-so-white, so-male, so-straight, so fiction-valuing, so I avoided AWP. I imagined it would be a fun-house mirror of my MFA experience. I also dislike crowds and paying fees for professional organizations/ conferences. I didn’t even go to AWP or its associated events when it was in LA. Yeah. I just never wanted to go.
But 15 years later, a small tweet from Jack Jones Literary Arts asking for volunteers to table for them, and a post from Women Who Submit asking for a roll call of members attending, I got myself there.
In the weeks leading up to the conference, I heard from writers who struggled at AWPs in the past. They gave advice for making the most of the conference, and I listened. And then I cast a spell over myself to be positive (while still critical) within my AWP experience. My first test came in the form of a LONG registration line. A long, white line. But I stayed inside my little spell and quietly observed the AWP happening around me.
The line moved quickly, and I signed in, but they didn’t have my badge. A volunteer there told me the organization who registered me must have printed it. Okay. So instead of lingering inside that chaos, I got to seek out Jack Jones. I pushed my way onto the floor of the book fair and at the end of a brilliant red carpet, there was Kima setting up the JJLA table. She welcomed me with a hug, introduced me to her staff, passed on my badge, and then I created the AWP I wanted to attend. I went to panels with women and writers of color talking about issues I wanted to think about and readings by writers I admired and wanted to hear.
A few weeks have passed, and I don’t know if I’ll ever attend AWP again. I know there were other versions of AWP happening in Portland last month, but my AWP was fierce writer-activists creating the literary world they want and demanding better from the community that exists. We all need and deserve more from the literary community: we have work to do, so for now, I’ll stay writing.
Noriko Nakada is a public school teacher and the editor of the Breathe and Push column. She writes, blogs, tweets, and parents in Los Angeles. She is committed to writing thought-provoking creative non-fiction, fiction, and poetry.