Poetry. African American Studies. "Cameron Awkward-Rich's wintry collection is full of broken surfaces. Fists surge in bodies, blades cleave skin, but most recurrent, a boy dives into black water. Think of an anti-Narcissus who longs to break the liquid mirror, both fractalizing and multiplying his image. Yet the poet winds tight TRANSIT's shifting reflections of puncture and fracture into poems of great tonal discipline and grimly mordant observation, pushing us deeper into memory into myth into girl into bird into mouth into sex onto cars onto trains into your hands, reader. Open the book and get opened by it." Douglas Kearney"
Cameron Awkward-Rich is a poet and a scholar of trans theory/expressive culture. Awkward-Rich received his B.A. in English and Biology from Wesleyan University and his Ph.D. in Modern Thought and Literature from Stanford University. His writing and teaching creatively combine trans/feminist/queer theory, disability studies, black studies, and poetry and other forms of experimental writing to explore transgender aesthetics and cultural production, the conflicted histories of trans/feminist/queer thought in the U.S., and collective affect/feeling.
Presently, he is an associate professor in the Department of Women, Gender, Sexuality Studies at the University of Massachusetts Amherst.
"& in the end, isn't that what we all want? To not feel so spilt? To carry an image of ourselves inside ourselves & know exactly what we mean when we say I— . I— I—?"
È da ieri sera, quando l'ho finito, che penso a cosa dire e non trovo niente di condensabile in una manciata di parole. Avrei voluto citare qualcosa, forse, ma ogni verso sembra troppo specifico e privato per astrarlo dal contesto e gettarlo qui, nella casella recensioni di un sito qualunque, in mezzo a parole di un'altra lingua, un'altra società, un'altra cultura. Ma limitarmi soltanto a un punteggio, con il solito segno di spunta in una gara di lettura con me stessa, questa volta non basta. Quindi un paio di parole serviranno, anche solo per me. Per fissarlo. Mi sono imbattuta in Cameron Awkward-Rich su Facebook, uno dei primi giorni in cui guardavo la pagina di Button Poetry - credo di aver visto per primo il video del suo "Break-Up Letters", che ho amato (amo lui in generale, proprio, temo^^), ma il vero colpo di fulmine è arrivato con "A Prude's Manifesto". Che non so quante altre volte ho guardato, da allora. Ogni volta che avevo bisogno di un abbraccio, credo, o di sentirmi meno sola, o di ridere un poco. Questo per dire. "Transit" non contiene nessuna di quelle poesie, ed è forse ancora più intimo: si intravedono storie buie, in cui entri in punta di piedi o che forse faresti meglio proprio a non avvicinare, e c'è la sensazione costante di essere di troppo, quasi. Che quelle parole, assolutamente, non siano pensate per te. Ma il bello della poesia, il suo miracolo, è che non va scritta e indirizzata a qualcuno. È che se è fatta bene ti arriva dentro lo stesso, e ti ritrovi a piangere mentre leggi, con la voce che trema, anche se poi devi ricominciare da capo per capire cos'è, esattamente, che il tuo istinto ha compreso prima del cervello. Senza neanche bisogno di tradurlo in quella lingua intermedia che è quella del *significato*. E niente. Ieri sera, dopo averlo chiuso, pensavo che nonostante sia un genere che ormai avvicino di rado, e mai sistematicamente, mai con intenzione di studio (o forse proprio per questo) la poesia continua a essere come un chiodo incandescente. E io continuo ad aggrapparmici come quando avevo diciassette anni e amavo tutt'altra lingua, tutt'altro genere - come quando immaginavo tutto un altro futuro possibile. E quello che provo in ognuno di questi incontri imprevisti continua a essere una delle cose che ancora amo di me. E mi rendo conto che non è una recensione, questa, che parla più di me che di qualunque altra cosa. Ma va bene lo stesso, forse. Di certo comprerò anche "Sympathetic Little Monster", e forse dopo quello riuscirò a dire qualcosa di compiuto. Per ora volevo solo fissare questo. Ricordare che ieri, leggendo, ho pianto. Per la bellezza, che poi è quello di cui tutti abbiamo bisogno.
2.5-3 stars? i might have been in the wrong mood for this or maybe i’ve been reading too much contemporary poetry and every poet is starting to sound the same to me. in that case this collection just lacked a distinctive style and the language wasn’t strong enough to carry me through. loved this though: “Get it? Gender is a country, a field of signifying roses you can walk through, or wear tucked behind your ear.
Eventually the flower wilts & you can pick another, or burn the field, or turn & run back across the tracks.”
"I've wanted/ to be a thousand things. I've got names/ for all of them & as many kinds// of travel - the knife, the needle, the wolf// in bird's clothes." A stunning collection from Cameron Awkward-Rich packed with most elegant and nuanced metaphor-rich poetry that examines the challenges and paradoxes of transition, the dangers of a racist world, and, more broadly, how we carve ourselves up to be human.
Unusually for me, I read this entire collection of poetry in a single sitting. It is excellent - slices of life explored through poetry by a black trans man. I have added his other collections to my wishlist.
"In the end, isn’t that what we all want? To not feel so split? To carry an image of ourselves inside ourselves & know exactly what we mean when we say I—. I—. I— ?"
Another gorgeous offering from this poet. I believe this is his first collection, a chapbook published by Button Poetry. The whole series of poems connects in various ways with the title, Transit. Many poems take place on trains, during transport, and others focus on the liminal quality of memory and identity, particularly through Awkward-Rich’s experience as a trans man. These are poems of navigation, of sorting out—they are always gorgeous and often devastating.
5 stars - would give it more if i could. & in the end, isn’t that what we all want? to not feel so split? to carry an image of ourselves inside ourselves & know exactly what we mean when we say I—. I—. I—? it’s hard to put into words the emotion and love all of cameron awkward-rich’s poetry invokes from me - i read two of his works before knowing he would immediately become my favourite poet. in contrast to how i felt about richard sikens collections, i wanted to pull apart and examine and question every line from every entry in ‘transit’. it examines movement in every sense of the word; transition, motion, memory, reflection, past, future. it looks at the theme of change via multiple lenses, with an emphasis on gender and the transgender identity. “please—
what’s the word for being born of sorrow that isn’t yours? for having a family?
for belonging nowhere? not even your body. especially not there.”
Awkward-Rich's words simultaneously smooth and sting; each ampersand is a way forward and a sudden, jolting stop. I love this theme of always being in transit, in transition—the idea that the fluidity and continual nature of gender as another take on motion when we "cross & recross the small terms of our own lives" ("Essay on the Theory of Motion"). And his questioning of a universal truth that we can move towards, an absolute of ourselves. After all, "isn't that what we all / want? / To not feel so / split? To carry an image of ourselves / inside ourselves & know exactly what we / mean / when we say *I— . I—.* / *I—?*" ("The Child Formerly Known As ___").
My god, the in-absoluteness of identity is something I've been pondering recently. "I" is of movement of grief from those before us into our souls—"being born of sorrow / that isn't [ours]" ("Theory of Motion (4): Another Middle-Class Black Kid Tries to Name It"). "I" is of loss of movement when we grow up into adults and the hardening of our souls feels congruent to pavements of splayed bodies ("Bridge"). "I" is of the loudness of whiteness that asks all others to move out of the way, privileged bodies in fur coats constantly reaching for more space ("Essay on Waiting in Line").
We move and are being moved. We are in transit, perhaps from a conscious decision of moving, but never without other passengers around us and someone else driving the train. And I think TRANSIT spells this out so cleanly in a way that breaks my heart because it makes a clear identity feel so tangible and unattainable at the same time.
I had problems understanding poetry (sorry Richard Siken) before and finally I read my first poem collection I liked. Maybe you should always read the things that will skin you alive? Things you’re afraid to even think. Someone who can read your mind, without you knowing it. Same childhood and same things you see in the mirror. What a strange experience to live in this body but surprisingly there’s someone who gets it.
“Strange to think I ever was that person who looked up and didn’t see it coming.”
So many amazing poems here around experiences of gender identity and race. Elegant syntax and introspective atmosphere. The series of “Once” poems and “The Child Formerly Known As ____” stand out. And then there’s the sequence of “Theory of Motion” poems, starting with “Essay on the Theory of Motion.” Read it on my booklog