Willie is a friend. He’s also a teacher, though we’re right around the same age. He’s from New York. I’m from Jersey. Different. Real different. In a lot of ways. But it means so much to me that a Puerto Rican writing about a conga player has made it as finalist to the NBCC Award. Because of friendship, yes. I want my friends to shine. But his poems made space for mine. Still, for a lot of white (and maybe even for some non-white) critics and publishers and reading series, seeing somebody brown or black lock in a spot at a major award like the NBCC isn’t a big deal. But even though there are more POC writing, there’s still a lot of isolation. There is still a ton of self-doubt. There is the simultaneous work of writing your books AND being an advocate for your books where there is little to no advocacy. And then, if you’re someone like Willie, there’s the work of mentoring peers and students and young writers – something he’s been dedicated to for a long time. Me and Willie are very different – as people and poets. But there persists a shared memory—Puerto Rico and the Philippines—and a shared set of images, vocabulary, linguistic musics, and strategies embedded deep in what we do. And those things correspond. The old drums still talk to one another. They still translate. They can still move a crowd.
http://www.washingtonpost.com/entertainment/books/the-best-in-poetry-national-book-critics-circle-award-finalists/2015/03/10/6b81f06a-c2b9-11e4-ad5c-3b8ce89f1b89_story.html