Asina is How We Talk

Asina is How We Talk, edited by Eddie Vega

Asina is How We Talk is a book of poetry by Tejanos, edited by a Tejano--poetry that is bilingual not in the classic butterfly spread of an English version on the left and a Spanish version of the same poem on the right, but rather bilingual in a Tejano sense. The language wafts up and over and around the border like the wind does, crossing over on a whim, from word to word and phrase to phrase, and very rarely is it translated.

This is the language of ESL classes, of kids whose dads only speak Spanish, of kids who learn English from Youtube and rap songs--and the language of kids whose parents didn't want them to learn Spanish at all, who tried to give their kids a leg up in the world by raising them to not have an accent--kids whose parents were disappointed in them when they didn't know Spanish and then turned around and were disappointed in them when they did.

These poems are lovely, and vivid, and affecting. The book is a joy to read. It's a book for anyone anywhere who has ever felt like they live on the edge between worlds, and it's also a book that is very specifically about being Tejano, about that desert borderland childhood, for people who are bilingual in a very specific way. If you don't speak Spanish, well, this book isn't really for you but also maybe you should learn, because it's beautiful and you're missing out.

I was also reminded, bitterly, as I read each poem, about one of my favorite short stories I've ever written, which has never been published. I've gotten I don't even remember how many rejections on this story. More than thirty, maybe more than forty. Once, an editor rejected it and then emailed me months later to tell me that, while the story was still rejected, he did want me to know that he was still thinking about it after all that time.

It's a bilingual story, in the way that real people are bilingual: the language ebbs and flows. And it's a story that isn't about being bilingual. It's about being in love at the end of the world. The bilinguality is sort of incidental--the story is set in working class California, beside an exhausted oil well. The characters are teenagers being left behind in the dust as others flee for greener valleys. It's a very Chicano experience, or at least it is if you ask me, which nobody did. It's a quintessential California experience that is usually experienced in Spanglish. So I wrote it that way, and I learned that modern English readers think bilingualism is only interesting artistically in work that is specifically focused on 'what it means to be bilingual'.

I think sometimes people write about bilingualism in order to be able to speak freely--in order to be able to cross the border you have to keep your eye on the border. I pretty much hate that. I want more poems and stories and movies that are casually bilingual and also about whatever the hell we want to talk about. I want there to be a sequal to this anthology that features bilingual poems about anything BUT being bilingual. Maybe someday.