I first met Jessica Helen Lopez when I was in grad school at the University of New Mexico and Jessica was an undergrad. She was already a superstar in the poetry slam community and I admit I was a bit intimidated. She may be larger than life but she is down to earth and a supportive and engaged part of the community. And though I may feel invisible, Jessica always remembers my name and makes a point of saying hello. That has always meant a lot to me. I was thrilled when she agreed to participate in this interview series.
PLUME: When did you know you were a writer?
JHL: I always knew I was a reader first. Isn’t that the way it should be? I started reading at an early age, before I started any type of schooling. Because my dad was a ravenous reader of all things, he would often point out the way language was used or spelled. He taught me how to read and recognize letters and phrases on billboards, traffic signs, food items and more. Every morning he read the newspaper. He still does to this day. I began devouring books as soon as I was able to access a classroom and a library. I loved language and storytelling so much that I would often read aloud my favorite passages from books just so I could hear the sound of the diction. I actually still do this. In fact, many times I have a literal conversation with the book that I am reading, or the author that wrote the book. Being an inanimate object that it is, the book never answers. But I speak to it nonetheless. And of course, the absent author, neither answers because they are long dead or not present in the room. It still doesn’t stop me from singing their praises aloud. Oftentimes, the writing is just THAT good and I stop in my tracks and say, “Wow!”
Everyone in my family knew I was gaga over books. My friends and teachers recognized that I ALWAYS had a book in my hand and at least five more in my knapsack. I didn’t realize I was good at writing, and enjoyed it immensely, until around junior high. I found that not only was reading a form of fantastical escapism, but so too was writing. I wrote short stories at first. For myself, for the heck of it. I wrote stories and essays for school, of course, but it was fiction and creative writing that romanced my heart. Funnily enough, I didn’t write my first poem until I was around 22 years old.
I had come across a copy of Sandra Cisnero’s Loose Woman and was very much affected by her work. I didn’t know poetry could sound like that! It was alive, raw, real and taut with sexual desire, loss, grief y cultura. She wrote in English AND in Spanish. Her words were like a hypnotic shot of tequila straight to my head, my heart, my groin. That book changed my life.
I started writing poems. At first in my journal and then shared them with no one. And then soon a few friends, here and there. I remember they told me, “Ay, mujer, you’re good!” But I didn’t believe them. At that time I was mostly parroting what I read of Cisnero. So, for several more years I remained subterranean. I wrote poetry in journals but they did not breathe in the real world. I uttered them not to a single soul.
I went back to college. I had a daughter and I found myself listless and waiting tables. Reading. I was always reading. Finally, I took the leap to go back to finish my degree. That first semester at Central New Mexico Community College in Albuquerque, New Mexico was the exact tonic I needed. I was hungry for knowledge. Absolutely mad with hunger for information and the need to flex my intellect in some way that mattered to me. I wanted to create! I just didn’t know it.
I reflect now on that young woman of 23 years who was a mama to a toddler, a waitress, soon to be divorced and a survivor of generational and familial trauma, and I feel proud of her. I love her. She took care of me. She wrote poems so that we would survive. She was a fighter, but also an immense lover of love and people. She enrolled in “Introduction to Poetry I,” and wrote some of her first poems that would go on to be published in her first, of what would ultimately be, four collections of poetry (and still counting). Yeah, by the end of that first year of school, she had the audacity to whisper under her breath, so no one would hear, except for her and her little red beating heart, “I am a writer.”
PLUME: Where do you get your ideas?
JHL: Everywhere! From the headlines of newspapers, from other authors of poetry, prose, memoirs, essays, and more. From movies. From local news on the boob tube. From conversations overheard at the coffee shop. The taqueria. The panaderia. The lavenderia. Sometimes a painting inspires me. Or jazz heard on a Wednesday night at Ben Michael’s Restaurant in Old Town. Oftentimes, I am commissioned to write an occasional poem for an art exhibit, or a premier of a movie at The Guild in Nob Hill, or a poem about refugees fleeing Central America and seeking asylum in the United States. One time I was asked to write a poem about bacon for the annual bacon festival. I wrote it.
And then there are the other times that I write from the confessional center of who I am and where I come from. I can actually feel my brain waves hum with a focused, quietness. There is no other feeling in the world like it. I pull and pull and pull language from me and write of the psychology of my past, my childhood, trauma endured and trauma survived. It’s like a great long red ribbon that I unwind from the spool of me and it goes on and on and on. It is always there, this impetus. This muse. It never fails me. There are times I think I may have forgotten how to write, but I know this is not the truth. The in-between-time of the act of my writing is the time I live and experience the present. This too is important for writers. When I write from the foci of pain experienced, I know I am getting at the true matters of things.
PLUME: How supportive is your local community for writers?
JHL: Very. They are the lifeblood of a robust community that supports all storytellers who flock to the open mics, workshops, writing summits and slams of our city. In Albuquerque, there are many sects of differing writers of poetry and of various genres. I have experienced that the overlapping is conducive to a bevvy of opportunities to collaborate. Ultimately, this provides many opportunities for writers and lovers of writing to attend and engage a variety of inviting and inclusive events. We are a city that is rich in the arts and this is due, in large part, to artists and artists who organize events for other artists to shine and share their stories.
I am a member of the non-profit organizations, Burque Revolt that was founded by my homegirl and extraordinaire poet, educator and community organizer, Mercedez Holtry. However, it takes a village. We are truly a community-designed organization and will be celebrating our one year anniversary in the near future. Burque Revolt hosts five slams and open mics every month at different sites. One of our core values is to promote writers of color, queer writers of color and to welcome allies. Burque revolt boasts two competitive slam teams that attend regional and national events. The adult slam team recently competed in the famed regional event, Southern Friend in North Carolina. In July, our Burque Revolt youth slam team, ABQ Unidos, will travel to Las Vegas, Nevada to compete in the Brave New Voices (BNV) Youth Slam Team National Competition hosted by Youth Speaks. I am gladdened to say that I am co-coaching this group of talented writers this summer and will be accompanying them to BNV. Because Burque Revolt made the historical effort (at least in the history of Albuquerque’s rich slam poetry history of the last 20 years plus) to register as a 501-C3, our slam master was able to acquire grant funding to support our youth. This is a prime example of how individual poets in our community support other artists and writers. It is a selfless act and no one is on payroll. We do this because we love the act of writing and supporting others in their endeavors to share their art. Additionally, the ABQ Slams organization was an integral part in why I am the writer I am today.
In 2005, I participated in my first slam at the longest curated slam poetry show, Poetry and Beer. I was invited by the then Slam Master, Don McIver, when we met at the (at the now defunct) Central Avenue Open Mic hosted at (the now closed down) Winnings Coffee Shop. That was fourteen years ago. I was wet behind the ears, nervous as all hell to read my original work, but intrigued and stimulated to do so. Thankfully Don was in the audience. He invited me to my first slam. I showed up and made it to the second round. The rest was history. I was hooked. I qualified and won a spot on the city team in early 2006. Since then I have been on six competitive slam teams and traveled the country with my poetic peers of ABQ. I have represented, twice, our city as the Women of the World ABQ Champion (WOWps) at national events. It opened a plethora of opportunities for me. It changed my life. It saved my life. It provided a path for my poetic expression and channeled my artistic needs. It may sound like I am braggadocious in the telling of my tale, but my story is so similar to so many other poets looking for a home. I have witnessed how this diverse, beautiful, strange and powerful community has stepped up to the plate and supported one another. Yes, this community is supportive of local writers. It continues to evolve and provide the sustenance of love for all.
PLUME: We at Plume consider you a successful writer–How do you define “success” for a writer? For yourself?
JHL: Thank you Plume for considering me a successful writer! My success is defined by my ability to write. I define ability as a continued need to write as an outlet. It has not failed me. If I write on a weekly basis, which I do, then I consider that a success. I must carve out time to write. Thus far, between the plentitudes of jobs I must hold as a single mother, I am still writing. This means that I am successful in generating new work because I want to and because I love to do so. That is success as I define it. Yes, I strive for the accolades. That too takes time and effort. I publish work because I submit my work. Not all of my work is accepted. I am successful because I do not give up. Writing poetry and identifying as a poet/writer is a lifestyle choice. I’ve published four books because I’ve put in the work.
Likewise, in receiving the post of ABQ Poet Laureate, I had to take a leap. After being nominated by a community peer, I had to apply. In order to become a member of city slam teams, I had to perform and compete. In order to book poetry gigs, I must continue to work to promote my skill set. I have to edit poems and manuscripts. I have to work closely with my publisher and editors. I have to be gracious enough to accept that not every poem is the best poem I’ve written. I have to accept humility and constructive criticism. I have to not give up when I receive rejection letters from journals or grant applications submitted. But most of all, I have to trust my voice. I have to continue to write my truth, whether it be in the vein of confessionalism or as an observer of the world and the injustices of the past and present.
Success as a poet is defined, for me, to not be afraid to provoke the status quo. Yes, a generic sense of success can be perceived as publications and booking gigs. But, I feel the most successful when I write poetry that somehow haunts me. Changes me. Allows me to open a portal of myself or my perception of the world I would not have experienced without the act of writing. Sometimes success is writing a shitty poem and still bouncing back to try harder. And yes, I’ve written many, many shitty poems. But I would like to think I have also written pieces that affect others in a meaningful way, or in the very least have affected me in a substantial sense. Poetry should be poignant no matter if it is about heartbreak, the glow of the moon or the morose tragedies experienced by the marginalized. What is poignant for one person is not necessarily poignant for another. That’s the beauty of poetry. It serves its master. And its master, as beauty, is in the eye of the beholder. Am I successful? All I know is that I keep writing. That to me, is success.
PLUME: Do you have a writing shero? A fellow woman writer from whom you get inspiration?
JHL: I have many writing sheroes. My first, of course, was Sandra Cisneros. I admire and read the works of Dominique Christina, Lorna Dee Cervantes, Sharon Olds, Diane Wakoski, Taylor Harlan, Patricia Smith, Eva Marisol Crespin, Gloria Anzaldua, Jennifer Givhan, Suzi Q. Smith, Leslie Marmon Silko, Sophia Nuanez, Rachel McKibbens, The Poet Ai, Anna Castillo, Sierra Charlie, Jazz Cuffee, Samantha Romero, Mercedez Holtry, Gina Marselle, Brooke von Blomberg, Katrina Crespin, Princess McDowell, Marty McConnell, Rowie Shebala, Brandy Montano, Maria Leyba, Reina Davis, Emily Jaramillo, Ebony Isis Booth, Luci Tapahonso, Olivia Gatwood, Ashley Haze, Adriana E. Ramirez, Andrea Serrano, Michelle Otero, Merimee Moffitt, Anaïs Nin, Erica Jong, Roxane Gay, Cherríe Moraga, Zora Neale Hurston, Anita Diamant, Maxine Hong Kingston, Roxanne Dunbar-Ortiz, Noah Begay, Inga Muscio, Clarissa Pinkola Estes, Joyce Carol Oates, Demetria Martinez, Gwendolyn Brooks.
Oh, the list goes on and on. Must I stop here? I suppose so because of limited line space. I read all the time. I fall in love with writers, forceful female, non-binary and gender fluid writers, all of the time. I’m sure I fall in love at least once a week.
PLUME: What are you currently working on?
JHL: A series of poems that speak to my recent loss due to divorce. I am not ashamed, as trite and cliche as it may sound. I am honoring my personal experience in ending a decade-long marriage. I’m a single mother again and this is what I write about. Also, sometimes I write about the moon. Other times I write poems about a lover I spent several breathtaking weeks with.
We too, ended it. I write about beginnings and ends and beginnings and ends.
I write about whatever suits my fancy on any given day. It is my intent to release another book soon. My latest book release titled, Provocateur and published by Swimming With Elephants Press was my fourth collection. I waited a long time to get my shit together and accrue all of the poems I had written since the release of my chapbook, “cunt. bomb.” That book (also published by SWEP) was released in 2013. I waited a long six years before I put together another collection. I don’t want to wait as long this time. So, I suppose I need to figure out a theme and hope my publisher will take another chance on me.
Though I don’t want to wait too long before I put another manuscript together, I do want to be even more deliberate in writing and selecting pieces for a fifth book. I guess you could say I am working on working on something for the near future. I want it to represent who I am as a Chicana mestiza, feminista, mother, bisexual woman, pocha, survivor of domestic violence, educator, community organizer, lover of the sun and moon, paleta-eater, Guadalupana, community organizer and confessional poet.
PLUME: Tell me 3 things that you keep on your desk
JHL: I don’t have a desk. I write at my kitchen table. The cocina is a very sacred place for me. Here are several things that always flank my writing space at my kitchen table: my laptop with a MILLION tabs open, a notepad/pen, a stack of poetry books (it always changes dependent upon my mood) and a pack of smokes. Sometimes, one must take a break and light up her favorite vice. Maybe not the most popular accoutrement, but at least I’m honest.
BIO: Jessica Helen Lopez is the City of Albuquerque Poet Laureate, Emeritus (2014 – 2016) and currently teaches poetry at the Native American Community Academy and the UNM Chicana and Chicano Studies Department. The host of New Mexico PBS arts-based show, ¡COLORES! she is a Pushcart Prize nominee, and has also been a featured writer for 30 Poets in their 30’s by MUZZLE and named one of the “10 Up and Coming LatinX Poets You Need to Know” by international digital publisher and agency, Remezcla. Lopez is a nationally recognized award-winning slam poet, and holds the title of 2012 and 2014 Women of the World City of ABQ Champion. She is a member of the Macondo Foundation. Founded by Sandra Cisneros, it is an association of socially engaged writers united to advance creativity, foster generosity, and honor community. Her first collection of poetry, Always Messing with Them Boys (West End Press, 2011) made the Southwest Book of the Year reading list and was also awarded the Zia Book Award presented by NM Women Press. Her second collection of radical feminist poetry, Cunt. Bomb. is published by Swimming with Elephants Publication (2014). Her third collection, The Language of Bleeding: Poems for the International Poetry Festival, Nicaragua (SWEP) was a limited release in honor of her ambassadorial visit to Granada, Nicaragua. She is the founder of La Palabra – The Word is a Woman collective created for and by women and gender-identified women. Lopez is a Ted Talk speaker alumni and her talk is titled, Spoken Word Poetry that Tells HERstory. Her current poetry book, Provocateur is published by SWEP and was released Summer 2019.
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Word!