Concrete River Bouleverd
-BeauGOLB@gmail.com
This week I had a conversation with writer and CSULB Chicano/Latino Studies teacher, Griselda Suárez. Griselda published her first book of poetry, Concrete River Boulevard, in Maythrough Finishing Line Press. Although we have never met, we have mutual friends that have told me for years that I had to meet Griselda, so I felt like I already knew her. It was refreshing to get a different perspective on the arts and humbling to meet someone who is trying to use her voice for positive change in the world. The only thing I didn’t like about our conversation was that it ended too soon.
Griselda spoke freely about her life and her work. You can tell how passionate she is about what she does by the look on her face when you talk to her. She becomes animated and her eyes light up.
Griselda received her MFA from New College of California in 2004. She didn’t dive right in to writing after graduation; it took some time, as she puts it, “sometimes you’re just done.” She began to pay more attention to her craft in 2007/2008 and she credits her mentor and fellow writer, Eloise Klein Healy, for continuously telling her to get her butt out there and write. Concrete River Boulevard is the result.
She found out about the book deal just as she returned from a Lambda Literary Conference. When she arrived home her partner Amy said, “your mail is over there.” The offer letter was in that pile of mail. It must have been quite an exciting moment. Suarez has had work published before by Aunt Lute Press, Seal Press, NCOC Press, Acentos Literary Review, and Sinister Wisdom Journal, but this is her first book. She says the press is really hot right now and they are considered diverse and open-minded. Which is a good thing for a queer Latina writer.
Writing is not the only thing that Griselda is interested in. She actually says that there are three things that are important to her: teaching, writing and gardening. But I’m adding one more item to her list: community. Even though our conversation revolved around her writing, we had several segues into her ideas and efforts to affect change in our world, at least at the local level where I think we should all start.
Griselda has initiated a writing organization for Latina women. Just as Concrete River Boulevard comes out of what she went through growing up in East L.A., her desire to create a Latina writers advocacy group comes out of her experience as a Latina writer trying to make her way. Part of being a writer is attending conferences, and when she has, she found it difficult to find other Latina writers. In October of this year she attended the Latina Book Festival, which helped her move forward with her idea. “It’s a big step putting yourself out there. What was hardest was to find the community and sell yourself, make those connections.” Her goal is to help her peers and the next generation of Latina writers connect with emerging voices.
I think she takes these same principles into the classroom with her. She has come to terms with fact that she can’t write every day. Her approach to writing isn’t easy and therefore she connects well with her students. “I know what it feels like to sit in a chair and stare at a blank screen. Writing is solitary. There is an amazing connection I have through text, through simple lines on a page. I found a lot of power in my identity as a woman and a queer writer.” Helping her students find their own connections is a priority.
Griselda says that reading Audre Lorde taught her about the power of words and she believes in the power of art in general. “In the queer community there is love for the arts because its how we know to change the world.” That may be an idealistic view, but I have to admit, it is one I share. She would like to create a literary hub in Long Beach and create spaces for new work and open discussions that challenge what it means to be literary. And she asks, “How do you bring your art to your community?”
I feel like I should get back to the book, although everything I’ve discussed so far is connected to what Griselda is doing in Concrete River Boulevard.
It was Latin American and queer literature that motivated her to write, not the traditional American canon or dead, straight white men (my words, not hers). She says some parts of the book can be read as queer erotica, but this is her expression. “Yes, I’m Chicana and I’m queer.” Like the writer herself, the work is more complex than that. Griselda says, “This collection is my expression of what it’s like to grow up in an oppressed urban space and to uncover the power and mystery within it. The title refers to a space where people and spaces are sometimes stuck. No room to move in this immense metropolis.” It’s about Griselda’s own struggles and empowerment.
Concrete River Boulevard is available now and I think we may all be able to find something to connect with in the book. Get it and support the arts and an artist in your own community. I hope to be able to bring you more news about Griselda and her work in the future.
Griselda spoke freely about her life and her work. You can tell how passionate she is about what she does by the look on her face when you talk to her. She becomes animated and her eyes light up.
Griselda received her MFA from New College of California in 2004. She didn’t dive right in to writing after graduation; it took some time, as she puts it, “sometimes you’re just done.” She began to pay more attention to her craft in 2007/2008 and she credits her mentor and fellow writer, Eloise Klein Healy, for continuously telling her to get her butt out there and write. Concrete River Boulevard is the result.
She found out about the book deal just as she returned from a Lambda Literary Conference. When she arrived home her partner Amy said, “your mail is over there.” The offer letter was in that pile of mail. It must have been quite an exciting moment. Suarez has had work published before by Aunt Lute Press, Seal Press, NCOC Press, Acentos Literary Review, and Sinister Wisdom Journal, but this is her first book. She says the press is really hot right now and they are considered diverse and open-minded. Which is a good thing for a queer Latina writer.
Writing is not the only thing that Griselda is interested in. She actually says that there are three things that are important to her: teaching, writing and gardening. But I’m adding one more item to her list: community. Even though our conversation revolved around her writing, we had several segues into her ideas and efforts to affect change in our world, at least at the local level where I think we should all start.
Griselda has initiated a writing organization for Latina women. Just as Concrete River Boulevard comes out of what she went through growing up in East L.A., her desire to create a Latina writers advocacy group comes out of her experience as a Latina writer trying to make her way. Part of being a writer is attending conferences, and when she has, she found it difficult to find other Latina writers. In October of this year she attended the Latina Book Festival, which helped her move forward with her idea. “It’s a big step putting yourself out there. What was hardest was to find the community and sell yourself, make those connections.” Her goal is to help her peers and the next generation of Latina writers connect with emerging voices.
I think she takes these same principles into the classroom with her. She has come to terms with fact that she can’t write every day. Her approach to writing isn’t easy and therefore she connects well with her students. “I know what it feels like to sit in a chair and stare at a blank screen. Writing is solitary. There is an amazing connection I have through text, through simple lines on a page. I found a lot of power in my identity as a woman and a queer writer.” Helping her students find their own connections is a priority.
Griselda says that reading Audre Lorde taught her about the power of words and she believes in the power of art in general. “In the queer community there is love for the arts because its how we know to change the world.” That may be an idealistic view, but I have to admit, it is one I share. She would like to create a literary hub in Long Beach and create spaces for new work and open discussions that challenge what it means to be literary. And she asks, “How do you bring your art to your community?”
I feel like I should get back to the book, although everything I’ve discussed so far is connected to what Griselda is doing in Concrete River Boulevard.
It was Latin American and queer literature that motivated her to write, not the traditional American canon or dead, straight white men (my words, not hers). She says some parts of the book can be read as queer erotica, but this is her expression. “Yes, I’m Chicana and I’m queer.” Like the writer herself, the work is more complex than that. Griselda says, “This collection is my expression of what it’s like to grow up in an oppressed urban space and to uncover the power and mystery within it. The title refers to a space where people and spaces are sometimes stuck. No room to move in this immense metropolis.” It’s about Griselda’s own struggles and empowerment.
Concrete River Boulevard is available now and I think we may all be able to find something to connect with in the book. Get it and support the arts and an artist in your own community. I hope to be able to bring you more news about Griselda and her work in the future.
