Marisa Tirado nos cuenta todo about her experience in publishing, writing and the power of anger.
Yasmine Essence: “Anger is my new prima…”. An incredibly powerful line that perfectly captures how close we keep our anger when our culture is being commodified and gentrified. How does this sense of anger, or perhaps grief, bloom in your writing? How do you channel those raw emotions into something meaningful and transformative in your stories?
Marisa Tirado: While speaking at a university last year, I realized that anger and rage are the themes I write most about these days. In my next poetry book, anger is a central theme that is used as a survival tool to find people we can trust. In my novel-in-progress, the protagonist notices the way the earth and natural elements are acting in enraged acts towards other characters. I have found myself reading and re-reading rage classics like Carrie and The Handmaid’s Tale.
Considering poetry as a place to process and express anger has been not only healthy for me, but gratifying. I find that feminine anger can be easily patronized, reduced to a woman keying her husband’s car after she learns he is cheating. Feminine rage, especially when intertwined with racial and ancestral rage, is much more complex and artful. It is less reactive…until it is, and then you have a person displaying their 10-year, even 100-year long story within a matter of moments.
By channeling “anger” as closely and loyally as a “prima,” we can learn to trust our anger. When we are angry, we should thank our body, thank our mind, for taking preliminary steps to protect ourselves. I grew up in an environment and community where flexibility, joy, and forgiveness were paramount. There wasn’t a lot of room for outward anger. People of color are all-to-familiar with this demand. In poetry, we have a safe place to finally be on the offensive: accusatory, didactic, demanding, furious.
Essence: Could you share a bit about your creative process? Are there particular moments in your life or emotions that guide you through the development of a poem?
Tirado: My creative process is largely tied to reading. When I am in a season of life saturated in reading days and books, there is always a direct correlation to an influx in writing. The following works have influenced my recent prose and poetry.
Recent novels I have read include Yellowface by R.F. Kuang, Come And Get It by Kiley Reid, All is Forgotten, Nothing is Lost by Sam Chang, and Bliss Montage by Ling Ma.
Poetry collections include Cultish by Rajiv Mohabir, Mother by m.s. RedCherries, The Kármán Line by Daisy Atterbury, and Madonna, Complex by Jennifer Stewart.
In a similar vein of what we read influences how we write…I have some Latina side-eye literary tea to share as well. Something that has recently occurred to me is how much I am influenced, even motivated by books that I particularly don’t like. It could just be that I am competitive by nature, but it makes me want to write even more for audiences and storylines and characters and poetic conceits that I feel strongly about.
For example, I won’t name the book, but I recently finished a novel that infuriated me. I felt that the plotline and central metaphor was so mediocre, yet the book sold quite decently and was even made into a movie. I would even go as far as to say that the author’s particular privileges allowed them to get away with such a plot—if I pitched this manuscript to my literary agent, I doubt they would want to work with me on the project. These sorts of healthy frustrations are a surprising source of inspiration for my writing process, as it fuels me to want to take up more space on one’s bookshelf.
Essence: Much of the work in Selena Didn’t Know Spanish Either has had variations published in several magazines. For you, what came first with this poetry collection - the poems or the theme? How do you carve your path to a poetry collection?
Tirado: The poems came before the collection idea. When I graduated from the Iowa Writers’ Workshop I left with over 50 poems that I had the opportunity to write over the 2 years. I felt that I wanted to start small with a chapbook since I was (and still am) learning the difficult art of curating a poetry collection, something that is akin to ordering a music album or an art exhibit with its abstract threads. I discovered the central threads in this collection’s case—assimilation, language loss, and Selena—and the book came together after that.
Essence: While studying in college, I found much of the literature we used to learn to write was from voices that were (while great) not from places or experiences of underrepresented communities. It took a while to find Latine writers that helped elevate my writing. Could you share the Latine writers who placed the ink in your pen and how they influenced the way you approach your writing?
Tirado: There are so many more, but to name just a few…
Roque Dalton - His famous line “poetry, like bread, is for everyone” shaped my creative writing pedagogy tremendously.
Ariel Francisco - All My Heroes Are Broke influenced my love of writing about pop culture and literary icons.
José Olivarez - Hard to choose from all his work, but his book Citizen Illegal influenced the way I poetically approach my hometown.
Daniel Borzutsky - Poems such as “The Book of Equality” influenced how I consider language and density in my writing.
Javier Zamora - The “[Immigration Headline]” series asked me to consider how powerful form and structure can be in rhetorical implications within our poetry.
Xochitl Gonzalez - Olga Dies Dreaming and her “Brooklyn, Everywhere” vertical in The Atlantic influenced me to approach poetry and creative work with much more research and data.
Essence: For many aspiring Latine writers, finding their voice can feel like a journey full of both beauty and hardship. What advice would you give to them as they embark on this path, especially when it comes to embracing their unique stories?
Tirado: I think it is important to build community with other Hispanic writers, and to grow in knowledge of Latine writing excellence to continue affirming our place in publishing and academic institutions. I recommend, once again, reading as much as you can muster. Read Promises of Gold by Jose Olivarez, which was nominated for the National Book Award. Read fiction and journalism by Xochitl Gonzalez, who was recently nominated for a Pulitzer in journalism. Read Postcolonial Love Poem by Natalie Diaz, which won the Pulitzer in poetry. Read books by the current Laureate Ada Limon. Kali Fajardo-Anstine. Carmen Maria Machado. Roque Dalton. Javier Zamora. The list goes on, and all of these writers and more keep me steady in the waves of doubt and imposter syndrome that I (and most WOC writers) experience daily in their careers.
Essence: The publishing world can often feel like a challenging space with so many voices in underrepresented communities going unheard. What has it been like for you to find your place as a Latina writer in this industry? Can you speak to some of the struggles or triumphs you experienced as a Latina writer, and what those moments have taught you about your own resilience?
Tirado: I prefer to read for my intended readers, but in today’s majority white literary and publishing landscape…me currently living in Colorado…it is not too common to find myself in a literary space where I am reading vulnerable, politically charged poetry to the very crowd of people whose history is responsible for my grievances. To quote a poem in my new manuscript, “Prima understands the fear of white women, / the fear of standing in front of a large crowd without any prima in sight.”
My journey to resilience, like many, is a series of anxieties and negative experiences. Sometimes it is hard not to notice that a majority of literary journals only publish my poetry dealing with heritage and POC identity. While at the Iowa Writers’ Workshop, there were no Latine poets in my cohort that could weigh in on my work. When I have been selective with publishers and resigned from jobs, I have been told that the potential they saw in me would likely not be recognized again by other opportunities. My largest, most cynical worry is that the uptick in publications by POC writers since 2020 is going to be short-lived, and that the power of white guilt and virtue-signaling will wear off and plummet our visibility again, inciting no profound and lasting change of perspective in the publishing industry.
Through all of this, all these micro aggressive and racist ghosts, I think it is important to once again fixate on Latine and POC writing excellence. Read their books. Go to their readings. Introduce yourself at festivals and conferences. Write reviews of their work. Reach out to their agents for book blurbs. Count yourself, no matter where you are in your writing journey, as a proud member of this literary community.
Essence: What does the Spanish language mean to you, not only as a tool for storytelling but as a part of your identity? Do you find one language pulls different feelings or memories from you than the other?
Tirado: I studied literary translation at the Iowa Writers’ Workshop, and those courses and projects proved to be a wonderful opportunity for me to grow in my Spanish speaking skills by reading Spanish poetry. Through this experience, I learned about the power of translation - not just as accessibility - but as a means of literary generosity and sacrifice. No matter how literal the translation, there is always going to be something lost from the original poem, whether it be sonic, visual, or cultural qualities. To that regard, I want to see my relationship to Spanish in the same light. I have been working with a private Spanish tutor consistently for several years now (shout out to the incredible, kind, hilarious, abuelo-esc, Pablo!) and the more I grow in my language skills, the more I do feel a sense of connection with my roots and my Latine community.
Essence: In your view, how important is it for young writers to hold onto their cultural roots, their language, and the stories of their families? How has that connection shaped your own writing journey?
Tirado: I think it is incredibly important, but there are complexities in these processes. I feel like there is a trending push for current diaspora communities to reconnect with their ancestral roots, and it is equally important to acknowledge that this journey can come with a lot of emotional baggage, shame, and guilt. For example, I noticed that my close Non-Hispanic friends who learned Spanish for their careers, travel, or even for their Hispanic partners’ family—never experience the same levels of shame and guilt that I experience while growing the same language skills. These friends get to experience language and culture learning free of the notion that we diaspora carry, which is “no amount of effort will absolve you from the fact that many people think you should have already known all of this.” The joy of learning and reconnecting is often heavier and more stressful.
Essence: As you look ahead to future projects, are there themes or stories that you feel especially drawn to explore? What emotions or experiences are calling to you in this next chapter of your writing journey?
Tirado: I’m finishing up a collection of poetry about cousinhood. It asks how viewing not only our Latine community through cousinly roots, but different societal layers (politics, history, geography) through the same lens can aid our journeys in this world. It also considers different multidimensional “primas” throughout history, such as Jo March, Cher, Carrie, Roe V. Wade, and Lexapro.
I’m also currently writing a novel set in Colorado and New Mexico. It’s a fun one, about a bridal party whose bachelorette trip gets derailed in a small, sketchy town in Northern New Mexico. It draws upon my experiences in different registers, through my mother’s New Mexican roots and my current experiences as a POC in an incredibly white and affluent Southwestern town. The novel explores feminine rage, that specifically within diasporic elements and the inherent feminine rage that the earth exudes daily.
Marisa Tirado
Marisa Tirado is a Latina poet, writer, and educator. In 2022, Marisa published Selena Didn’t Know Spanish Either with Texas Review Press. The collection on Latinx identity and language loss was featured in The Atlantic, VOGUE, Forbes, HipLatina, and The Poetry Foundation. Marisa studied poetry and literary translation at the Iowa Writers’ Workshop. Her poems are featured in The Iowa Review, Virginia Quarterly Review, The Rumpus, and elsewhere.
Follow her on Instagram at @marisatirado.
Read her published poetry collection Selena Didn’t Know Spanish Either here.
