The Listener Lyric unit was proposed when we were reading Citizen by Claudia Rankine. We were studying lyrical essays which are very artfully, tastefully done pieces of writing that serve great purposes. Citizen spoke especially on racism and the way society reacts to people of different appearances and backgrounds.
For my lyrical essay, I decided to talk to one of the most interesting, smart, and well-worded humans I have ever known. Elena Mujica. Her coming from Venezuelan-American heritage and having a Catholic family made her the perfect profile for my work, and she was generous enough to grant me some of her time and allow me to interview her. We talked about her family, her religion, and how she, as a teenager becoming her own person, is interaction and reacting amongst everything.
This is the lyrical essay I created from that:
Call Yourself Orange
You’re used to this arguing.
Everyday, you argue and fight about when you can come home, what you can wear, and what your future will be.
These arguments run head first into a brick wall, concussing themselves each time.
Your expectation of accommodation does not wither, yet you continue to test it.
The firework show happening in the kitchen commences when you light the string
And yet the string is owned by the tradition keepers
The feeling you don’t belong sometimes to those who share your blood
Caracas confines you to a white
Spanish-speaking person who can’t
Quite depict your identity because your skin
Is not dipped into a darker paint.
You are not the engineer, nor the tradition’s preacher,
But the burnt orange sand stinging their feet.
You impose your presence
Not as a burden –
rather, with a purpose.
You explain that it isn’t the language of numbers
The language of long shorts and high-necked tops that inspires you.
Rather, it’s the language you manipulate yourself
Into your own poetry,
Your voice which cuts deep into the tradition
So heavily imposed on you
You explain the God they so highly worship is one who gave you
Your mind
You love creative writing
Become an engineer.
Your body
Yes, you have an ass
You can NOT wear shorts to school.
Your voice
You are endlessly outspoken
They continue to argue.
Can He even hear you?
You gaze upward
To scream and shout into the atmosphere
Your hope isn’t heard
The wind picks up your burnt orange veil and
Lays it on a twiggy branch of a single standing tree.
You shift and sway with it––
And wait for the wind to whisk you away,
yet again.
Interviewing Elena was great. It was particularly successful since she and I are already friends and feel comfortable around each other. I prepared several questions to talk about her diversity in any way she was comfortable with sharing, and the conversation flowed naturally from each question.