We Write Because We Must: Natashia Deon and Namrata Poddar Interviewed by Madhushree Ghosh
Two novelists discuss writing empowered women and against colonial expectations.
By: Madhushree Ghosh
FROM: Bomb
The women writers of color are producing spectacular work lately, almost as if the world—pandemic included—cannot control us anymore. Earlier this year, R. O. Kwon published the much anticipated list of 2022 women writers of color showing just how many of us are writing—and still writing. As I work toward the release of my own memoir, I am mesmerized by the brilliance of their work, but mostly, amazed at the camaraderie, support, and mutual cheering-on that’s pure, sincere, and exciting. The Lee and Low Diversity survey from 2019 notes that in America, only seven percent of published writers are South Asian, Asian or Native Hawaiian, and only five percent are Black, Afro-American, or Caribbean. Over seventy-five percent of published authors are white. That’s why we need to celebrate these two women of color whose journeys are so spectacular and most definitely worth our attention.
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The inclusive mindset of the American dream makes the United States a welcoming destination for the variety of cultures that the world has to offer. As a Filipino who immigrated to the United States in 2000 and earned my American citizenship in 2018, I can personally attest to the opportunity within this country; as a result, I am more aware of the struggles and hardships that people endure in the hopes of leading a better life in the United States. The field of ethnic studies focuses on understanding the undeniable impact that these immigrants make on this country. The people involved in these studies may come from vastly different backgrounds, but their goal is always the same: to build upon the principles of freedom and independence that unite all Americans.
Set against two distinct epochs in the history of Pasadena, California, Arroyo tells the parallel stories of a young man and his dog in 1913 and 1993. In both lives, they are drawn to the landmark Colorado Street Bridge, or “Suicide Bridge,” as the locals call it, which suffered a lethal collapse during construction but still opened to fanfare in the early twentieth century automobile age. When the refurbished structure commemorates its 80th birthday, one of the planet’s best known small towns is virtually unrecognizable from its romanticized, and somewhat invented, past.
Los Angeles Literature 