Luivette Resto

 
 

When I tell people I am a poet, the first question they ask is: What are your poems about? If I must define the aesthetics of my poetry, I would say that my poetry is a socio-political, cultural conglomeration of thoughts, reflections, observations, and experiences. As a first generation Puerto Rican, the privilege of a college education has been a blessing in many respects, but it has also divided me from those in my family and friends who did not have the same opportunities. Being the first member of my family with a college diploma, my accomplishments and failures are not seen as individual but communal. Culturally and politically, some poems, such as “The White Girl in Her” and “Dancing Might Make Her Go Away,” discuss the dichotomy of being true to my own culture and language yet taking advantage of the educational opportunities presented in front of me. As a Latina, I consider these poems rebellious to the Latino status quo in the way women are perceived and treated. Some of the poems question religion and its parts, specifically sexual experimentation, pre-marital sex, promiscuity, abortion, and the significance of life. For many years when women wrote poems of sex and love, the expectation was that it had to be beautiful and meaningful. Only men seem to have the right to interchange sex and love and write about it freely without judgment. Poems like “Soledad’s Sexual Experiment,” “Notes on Anonymity,” and “Sonnet for José’s Enchiladas” remind me that women can write about the joys of sex as well as the beauty and devastation of falling in love. Growing up in New York and moving to Los Angeles, codeswitching has been commonplace in my home and social circles. The power and place of language in classrooms, water coolers, restaurants, and homes have been questioned and continue to be questioned by many including Latinos. How important is language to a culture? Does it define or divide us as Latinos? This perennial discourse can be read in “A Journey for the Mute” and “Loose Tongue.”  Other poems like “Attack of the Brown People” and “The Return of Charo” comment on the social fascination of Latinos since the alleged “Latin Invasion” of the 1990s. Defiance, humor, and music are a part of me just as much as my culture. I explore this in “The Other Latina,” “My Cockroach Stalker,” and “El Salsero.” My poems are a lot like people—works in progress. Happy reading!

 

Statement of Poetry