Posts Tagged ‘Minnesota Author’

  • Oh So Wild and Oh So Beautiful

    Date: 2018.12.27 | Category: The Art of Writing | Response: 0

    What’s it like to be seventy?  2018, for me, was a year of introspection.  Check out my thoughts on Midwest Mixed:


  • Excerpt from How Dare We! Write

    Date: 2017.03.23 | Category: Writers Who Dare | Response: 0

    “The tinikling offers a visual explanation of how bilingual writing
    works. Like the agile dancing feet of a tinikling dancer, a bilingual
    writer’s mind is connected to her feet at all times, transferring and
    translating the beat of clapping bamboos from a hearing experience to
    a whole body experience. Living in a predominantly English-speaking
    culture means you cannot stop to think or even attempt to explain
    your actions and your meanings, or you will lose track of the dominant
    beat and find yourself caught in the thorns of misunderstanding. I can’t
    help but relate this to the spate of recent attacks on black bodies we
    have witnessed. There is never time to explain your black skin or your
    brown skin to someone intent on eradicating your black or brown
    body because he or she feels threatened by the mere sight of you. You
    have to keep dancing between the clapping bamboos of race
    perception. Those who tried, hands up or not, have ended in tragedy.
    Is this a far-fetched metaphor? If it is to you, you’ve never had to
    dance/write between bamboos.”–Marlina Gonzalez, How Dare We! Write

  • Excerpt from How Dare We! Write

    Date: 2017.03.23 | Category: How Dare We! Write a multicultural creative writing discourse | Response: 0

    “I would add that many programs do not even offer courses dealing
    with race and writing as an elective. I didn’t know such a thing existed.
    Over the duration of my program, my writing became less race conscious
    instead of more. Sure everything thing I do and say leaves the
    mark of blackness behind. However, instead of drawing a circle around
    the mark, expanding it, aiming the camera directly at it, I placed
    translucent covering over it, not completely hiding race, but placing it
    in the background. Without knowing it, I was learning to write like a
    white woman because I must have believed that they knew what they
    were doing. They were award-winning authors. They were where I
    wanted to be. They were my teachers.”–Sherrie Fernandez-Williams, How Dare We! Write


    Date: 2015.07.30 | Category: Poetry, The Art of Writing | Response: 0

    Note: maybe it’s the heat (blessing of summer), but I just noticed my last post (be patient, I procrastinate, I don’t post often) was about this same poem! This one, again, a slightly different version.

    It’s been an amazing summer! Beginning with participating in a class taught by Alison McGhee at Metro State! The class motivated me to get back to poetry. One of the poems I wrote about my grandson Ethan is an honorable mention in the Goodreads monthly poetry contest (this is the first time I’ve submitted anything-wow, what an honor). I haven’t written anything since the class, but as writers we shouldn’t be hard on ourselves, the writing will happen when we/or it is ready-but, sometimes we need to be among other writers to help make that happen.

    Give Grandma a Kiss
    for Ethan, my nonverbal, autistic grandson

    I always wear mauve lipstick, give
    Grandma a kiss—

    He leans in, all seven years of him, knowing
    more than I know after
    67 years of thousands of kisses.

    He leans in, without hesitation. I
    mark his brown forehead with a temporary
    tattoo. My kiss his kiss. Like no kiss
    a man has given me. Words

    not necessary language. His way
    of love, spontaneous, silent

    a heart organic, knowing what it is
    to hold breath a millisecond; a mime
    not needing to be understood.

    But Grandma wants to see underneath
    the innocence, to reach what she lost
    or never experienced.

    Later, my daughter-in-law, the nurse,
    questions what she thinks is a scratch;
    how has he hurt himself this time?

    The hurt is mine; the gift unwrapped,
    visible, transparent.

Artist Statement

Sherry Quan Lee approaches writing as a community resource and as culturally based art of an ordinary everyday practical aesthetic. Lee is a Community Instructor at Metropolitan State University (Intro to Creative Writing, Advanced Creative Writing), and has taught at Intermedia Arts, and the Loft Literary Center. She is the author of A Little Mixed Up, Guild Press, 1982 (second printing), Chinese Blackbird, a memoir in verse, published 2002 by the Asian American Renaissance, republished 2008 by Loving Healing Press, and How to Write a Suicide Note: serial essays that saved a woman’s life, Loving Healing Press, 2008.








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