Mar 21 • 5M

Andy & Edie

1965

A newsletter to help poets understand the publishing landscape. I'm here to help you navigate and understand the tools to succeed on your own terms. Let me tell you my story.
Episode details
Transcript

Iceland’s first women’s strike was in October 1975, when 90% of women refused to work, clean, or look after children to voice anger at workplace discrimination. On 24 October 2023, the second all-day women's strike happened. Women across Iceland, including the prime minister, went on strike to push for an end to unequal pay and gender-based violence.

I’ve gathered a small pile of books to take with me to an artist residency. I’ll be off the grid. The Internet is in short supply, intentionally, and there is no cellular service. I’m excited. That intersection of limited communication, a gay man (me), and Wyoming may not appeal to everyone. But I’m excited to finish this collection of poetry. I’ve been thinking about these poems since 2013, when I wrote the first drafts.

The book I’m writing is about two flight attendants who met in 1975 on the day of the women’s strike in Iceland. They find themselves stranded at the airport. For the first time, all women stopped working. They picked up and walked out to march in protest. Men had to take children to work. The city was in chaos.

My research for these poems has introduced me to historical, informative, and horrific events from public records, media, and archives. The women in my poems become lifelong friends. Their lives are set against the legacy of discrimination women faced re-entering the workforce after the 1950s.

The poems began as a fundraising project for Tupelo Press; poets were tasked with writing a poem every day for 30 days, and I was running out of steam by day fifteen. Then, I wrote a poem because of a colleague—who is a Scrabble genius! She made a donation, which instructed me to write a poem with her name in it. Her name is of Baltic origin. Out of necessity, these characters came to life in my poems, and now I’m writing a book about them. I envision it on the stage. I have a playlist of my favorite Tony Awards performances.

The end of the twentieth century was unbelievable. In the same year of Matthew Shepard’s murder, I got my first email address, the first iMac was released, and the launch of the first module of the ISS (International Space Station)—all of which are still around twenty-five years later.

The residency is a short drive from Laramie, WY, and I’ve thought about visiting, but I get the chills. It’s unlikely I’ll visit. Last year, I published a poem about Matthew Shepard at the Academy of American Poets, “East of Wyoming, I Remember Matthew Shepard.” All forms of suffering must become touchstones of our humanity. It should reset us to be radical about being more compassionate and welcoming.

In 2020, in Wisconsin, an estimated 14,000 transgender people in the state lacked employment protections based on gender identity, 6,000 were unprotected in education, 21,000 lacked protections in public accommodations, and 19,000 lacked protections in housing.

Share Promotion for Poetry

By the end of the twentieth century, cities in the United States that had been places of gay liberation—Los Angeles, Chicago, San Francisco, and New York City. In the 1960s, the civil rights movement urged for consciousness and radical action to dismantle homophobia. The spirit of that period was long before my time, but its urgency has never gone away if you’re someone who identifies as LGBT. Years later, when I moved to Chicago, I dated a writer whose spirit and passion were infectious. Our shared value of cultural history led us to start a reading series that traveled to rural and small communities. We organized events accessible to the public and featured local poets and writers. We even streamed it on SKYPE. We called the series Stories & Queer, aka S&Q. Thanks, B!

Share

In 2020, a recent study by the Williams Institute of UCLA found that the LGBTQ community in the United States is diverse and widespread, with certain states and areas showing higher concentrations of gay populations and households. In terms of the percentage of the population that identifies as gay, states like Oregon, Delaware, and North Carolina are among the highest. Oregon leads with 4.87%, followed closely by Delaware at 4.71% and North Carolina at 4.69%​​.

I grew up in Los Angeles in the 1990s, where it was still challenging to be a gay person of color, especially from a working-class neighborhood. Even today, many neighborhoods in the United States are populated by people with chronologies and intersectional identities impacted by systems and perceptions that have historically prevented them from living in a place that welcomes them. Others have written about this more eloquently, like José Esteban Muñoz. How do we create more welcoming communities around the country?

Leave a comment

And yes, please, talk to me about the books I’m taking with me. Much love to you, reader.

In terms of the percentage of the population that identifies as gay, states like Oregon, Delaware, and North Carolina are among the highest. Oregon leads with 4.87%, followed closely by Delaware at 4.71% and North Carolina at 4.69%​.

Literary Magazines

Loading more posts…