Transforming AWP Through Our Collective Power

Non-binary, Afro-Latinx poet speaking at a podium in a conference room while Latinx writers look on

by Xochitl-Julisa Bermejo

On the first morning of AWP at the second session, I stepped into “Lenguas Revoltosas: Writers of Color Disrupting Traditional Literary Zones” a reading featuring Olga Garcia Echeverria, Maya Chinchilla, Veronica Reyes, Sehba Sarwar, and Alan Pelaez. As I sat down I noticed a tapestry embroidered with bright flowers covering the podium and AWP signage. It reminded me of a tip from my poetry madrina, Denise Chavez who said to always carry a rebozo if only to decorate the ugly podiums we speak from. When I looked beyond the podium, I saw signs all along the walls written in different languages. As poets took their place at the podium, a sign just behind their heads read, “something has happened here / algo ha pasado aqui.” In front of each panelist’s seat, a sign with their name followed by a six-word memoir: “Maya Chinchilla: A Guatefemme tenderqueer volcanic ocean intuitive.” When I looked up from the words around the room, I noticed that the speakers themselves were also dressed with streams of bright ribbons in teal, wine, and golden rod. It felt as if the panel itself had become a kind of altar.

“We had phrases and words in English, Spanish, Spanglish, and Urdu. I took in a tapestry from Chiapas, Mexico and we draped the AWP podium with this. This was about beautifying and adding color, but it was also about making ourselves “at home” in spaces that have not traditionally felt welcoming (in either overt or subverted ways). I think something as simple as a special piece of cloth and silent signage can speak loudly. It sets the tone for an even before the event even begins.” – Olga Garcia Echeverria

Their spoken and silent words, their dressing the space became like offerings to those of us just beginning this journey through three days of AWP, and I was thankful for the poets’ care, for this reminder that this often cold and anxiety-ridden event, can be transformed into something beautiful.

The next morning, arrived to the conference in time to sit in support of Khadijah Queen, Bettina Judd, and Ashaki M. Jackson on their panel, “All Your Faves are Problematic: #Metoo and the Ethics of Public Call-outs.” These women worked together in the public call out of once-celebrated black poet, Thomas Sayer Ellis, who had assaulted women in their community. On the panel, they worked together to share their experiences with this public figure and how they went about taking him down. Part witness and part tutorial on how others can do this work for their own communities, they lead by example and shared space for Native American writers, Erika T. Wurth and Elissa Washuta, to speak about the fight they are currently in to call out Sherman Alexie and their need for allies.

“The literary community is immense without a structure to report predation and assault, nor is there a standard pathway toward restorative justice. We designed the panel to identify the problem and describe our methods to turn the Hunt on its head; instead of giving any more space and security to a predator, we shared ways we took away his freedom over a long period. It’s not prescriptive, but it’s replicable. They key is a network—in-person and virtual—lead by survivors, that is persistent and clear on the end game.” – Ashaki M. Jackson

One of the most powerful statements the panel made was requiring the audience to write questions on small pieces of paper that they, the panelists handed out and collected. The questions were then curated and read by the panelists before being answered. No one was going to speak in this space without their consent, and it illustrated the kind of diligence needed to protect women writers of color in spaces like these, which are crucial for advancement in literary careers. “This is indeed a workplace,” Ashaki Jackson said on the day of. The message is behave professionally, or women will ban behind survivors to have you removed.

Directly after this panel, I went to “Writing & Mothering: Black Women Writing Under a Quadruple “Minority” in America” featuring LaCoya Katoe, Cassandra Lane, Ryane Nicole Granados, Tameka Cage Conley, and Cherene Sherrard. Moderator, LaCoya Katoe began the discussion by recounting the months leading up to her first child’s birth.


“I was pregnant in 2014 and 2015, and our news cycle was literally littered with black death— Trayvon Martin murdered in July 2013. Eric Garner murdered in July 2014. Mike Brown murdered in August 2014. Laquan McDonald in October 2014. Tamir Rice in November 2014. Eric Harris in April 2015. And these were just the names making national news; never mind the names of men I personally know and who were daily being affected by the criminal justice system. I did not want to raise a black son in America. But my son was coming, and I had to prepare for him.

Like always when I’m desperate, during this time, I reached out to my sisters, particularly those friends of mine already in the throes of mothering black boys in America. I reached out for help, guidance, support, tips, suggestions, anything they could offer at the time to help me process this fear. This panel was born out of those initial heart-wrenching conversations between friends about raising black boys in America, about protecting them, loving them in a country/world that doesn’t seem to. Over the last three years, we’ve morphed into something of a support group, our very own Mama Collective.” – LaCoya Katoe

These five women, mothers of black sons, had banned together to transform their pain and fear into power, creation, and even joy. During the panel, they were kind and giving with each other and with the audience. They shared insights on how to create “a room of one’s own.” They shared mental heath practices. Ryane Nicole Granados shared, “I’ve weaponized my words. They are my super power.” But most of all they shared their sisterhood.

On the third day of the conference, I had my own panel, “The Word on the Street: How to Start & Run a Community Literary Series,” and volunteer hours to complete at my MFA’s table, but I started with the panel, “That’s not Relatable: Radical Teaching on Race and Intersectionality in Writing” featuring Cynthia Guardado, Marisol Baca, Luivette Resto, and Gabriela Ramirez-Chavez. A collective of Latina academics, I was moved by their candidness with aggressions and hostilities faced in their classrooms, break rooms, and office hours.

At the beginning of the panel, Cynthia Guardado asked the audience to write down a list of biases students and colleagues see when we walk into a room. I wrote, “woman, brown, young, artist,” and it reminded me of all the times I was minimized in the classroom by the simple act of a male colleague stepping into the room with me. According to equalrights.org, “Latinas are experiencing the worst pay gap in the nation” earning of 55 cents to every dollar made by white men. We are undervalued in our classrooms and rarely seen as experts, but I appreciated how this panel used technology to change the narrative. Slides projected each panelist’s bio, major publications and handles as they spoke, and slides were also used to share resources. Cynthia Guardado even encouraged the audience to take photos to reference later.

“As far as social media and resources, I based this on considering what I often felt was missing at panels I attended. I wanted our panel to be more than a one time conversation so if people wanted to reach out to us for support, they could follow us or email us (of course I also wanted to highlight our publications because they are great accomplishments). I’m also looking for panels where I can grow as a writer and educator and often find myself leaving panels without tangible things I can use later. This was very important to me for our panel, and I knew we would have a lot of conversation and wanted to include slides with resources, tips, and information because sometimes its a lot to process. I also applied my teaching methods using auditory and visual techniques through technology to make the whole experience more tangible for folks.” – Cynthia Guardado

I finished this last day of AWP with bonding time with my two MFA-poet sisters, Nikia Chaney and Allison Tobey. Allison lives in Portland and let us stay in her guest bedroom. After a long day of panels, readings, and one dance party, we sat together on the guest queen bed and chatted about our poetry and our shared love of Fiona Apple’s lyricism. We applauded each other on how far we’ve come in our careers since graduating 10 years ago. In our little collective we have an editor, a publisher, and an organizer, but close to 1am on Sunday morning, the only thing that mattered was that we still had each other.

Xochitl-Julisa Bermejo is the daughter of Mexican immigrants and the author of Posada: Offerings of Witness and Refuge (Sundress Publications 2016). A former Steinbeck Fellow, Poets & Writers California Writers Exchange winner, and Barbara Deming Memorial Fund grantee, she’s received residencies from Hedgebrook, Ragdale, National Parks Arts Foundation and Poetry Foundation. A Macondo Writers’ Workshop member, she has work published in Acentos Review, CALYX, crazyhorse, and American Poetry Review among others. A dramatization of her poem “Our Lady of the Water Gallons,” directed by Jesús Salvador Treviño, can be viewed at latinopia.com. She is a cofounder of Women Who Submit.

So you want to be a writer, Mija?!

by Iris De Anda

On the lower shelf of my bookcase, there is a row full of journals spanning the years of my writing attempts. A self portrait of a young girl at the age of 13, who took pen to paper on the bedroom floor. What began as stream of consciousness turned into wannabe poetry by the age of 15, when I ventured into my first open mic at a coffee shop in Alhambra, CA. Some girl approached me afterwards and said something about my words meaning something to her. I was perplexed and inspired, and I didn’t do another open mic for about 3 years. Always reading, always writing, never sharing was my silent motto.

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