SHANNAN

I want to open by saying that I love how you’re exploring these royal figures in a modern voice. I’m thinking of “My Care Is Like My Shadow in the Sun” wherein the speaker is Elizabeth I (I kind of love that you didn’t put Queen in the front there). You write “your father declares it illegal to speak of your mother (he had her beheaded)….” That bit of information in the parentheses is so shocking (in a good way) that it simultaneously negates the parentheses and makes us reconsider why it’s there. Why we bury the truth, force ourselves to forget, blame ourselves as opposed to really healing from a place of awareness. And I do notice these universal themes at play in your work, subtly weaving through personal stories of very public figures of the past. Could you perhaps trace out what draws you to creating poetry in this way? 

CYNTHIA

First, thank you for your kind words! I think your question is interesting because I've realized I'm preoccupied with origins: Why do we do the things we do? How do we survive this dangerous, human existence? How does history inform our present behavior? The Tudor poems you've featured actually comprise a larger sequence of poems attempting to give voice to each wife married to Henry VIII. These women endured extreme domestic and societal violence, during which they were forbidden autonomy or punished for exercising what agency was permitted. This violence is still happening today, and, as you allude to, perpetuated by intentional erasure of memory. I believe that examining historical context can be a contemporary form of witnessing. When we are powerless to enact social change as individuals, witnessing is one avenue of protest left to us. This concept underlines my first manuscript, which is currently looking for a home.

SHANNAN

You and I have talked a little bit about translation and culture — about appearing as though we are from one physical space but having grown up with a “different identity”. I wonder how much emphasis you put towards identification as categorized by culture and place? And emphasis, of course, need not equal value. While forming this question I’m also meditating on what you say in the ghazal — you write: “Who, as a matter of fact, is allowed to return to the forests, to their / ancient homelands? Even trees are absent in the middle-of-nowhere.” I’d love to hear your thoughts on any of these ideas.

CYNTHIA

The concept of identity has become a bit fraught in America, hasn't it? I want to preface our discussion by acknowledging that identity (and the struggle for rights and land) for all indigenous people including indigenous Americans, Australians, and Pacific Islanders, as well as for descendants of enslaved or displaced peoples, is of course not the same as my own journey in understanding identity. I can only speak from my perspective as an individual of today's Chinese diaspora. I grew up where there were few Chinese or Asians in general, so it's not surprising that, left to my own devices, I gravitated toward whatever caught my interest —whether that was epics like Beowulf and Gilgamesh or paleontology and evolutionary biology. Even to me as a child, it was quickly apparent that humans are unfortunately a quarrelsome, aggressive species. We like to find differences and draw those lines. Yet if I return to an international perspective and consider what our collective forebears have lived through, I find it easier to feel a sense of belonging. Mathematician Joseph Chang created a model to calculate the point at which all possible lines of ascent cross in a family tree (in people of European descent), and it happened that all lines of ancestry converge on every European individual in the 10th century who has descendants alive today. Then, geneticists Peter Ralph and Graham Coop empirically confirmed Chang's mathematical model with a huge DNA analysis. The common ancestor of everyone alive today lived 3,600 years ago! That's really the blink of an eye. For me, this is an incredibly profound discovery. So, back to the question you asked about homelands in the ghazal. Among other things, I am a Chinese person born in the United States, of parents who were not raised in China or the United States. One of my grandmothers, however, grew up in and around two of China’s ancient capitals, and from her side, I have a Spanish ancestress dating from the Ming dynasty era. It's hard for me to conceive what my homeland ought to be and whether it is even a geographical location. Maybe every person in the world is my kin and my community.

SHANNAN

You are the second practicing physician and poet we have had the honor of publishing here at ONLY POEMS! This might make it seem like there are a lot of you out there but I'm pretty sure that’s not true, right, haha. Like I mentioned to Amit Majmudar, I think it’s utterly cool and also deeply smart to be a physician and then write poems too. For his part, he said the decision was in many ways intentional. He was good at both but knew that being a physician would allow him to freely write poetry without needing to always worry about endowments and funds, as many working poets must think about. I would love to hear more from you on this economic aspect of a poet’s life. Do you view poetry as your career, or is your career a two-fold experience? And of course, you are a mother as well — how do you navigate motherhood around these two already very big parts of your life? 

CYNTHIA

Contemporary physician-poets are not as uncommon as we might imagine! In addition to admiring the work Amit Majumdar, I also love C. Dale Young, Fady Joudah, and Jenna Le. Unlike most physician-poets, I came to writing much later. In fact, I've been writing since 2020 really, and it started out as a way to cope with working on the Covid wards. Yes, I am definitely fortunate that being a practicing physician allows me a freedom that many may not have. However, doctoring also becomes its own sort of identity, and the work can devour you if you're not careful about it. To be honest, I see being a mother as my most important career. My family is what gets me through the weight of what work can bring, and they validate me no matter how bad my latest poem is! So, I'd say it's really a three-part career.

SHANNAN

I have been thinking about all the chaos and horrible events that have been happening around the world lately. And then also all of the little or big personal pains and tragedies we all suffer, often without anyone knowing, or without anyone knowing who can do anything substantial about them. But these words of yours really felt like a balm for this feeling of powerlessness, both on a political, world-level, and a personal one. Poetry as witness is certainly not a new concept. Yet I do see how much more conscious poets have become of using poetry, framing it, expressing it, to not necessarily spark revolution perhaps, but to heal outwards. Go beyond the self, reach others, if that makes sense? I’m wondering if you see your Tudor poems in conversation with such poetry of witness? Even though the politics they explore are age-old, the issues are rife as ever today, as you note. I’m also wondering if you see the act of writing and reading poetry as a way to quietly protest or come to terms with all the strange stuff the world throws our way?

CYNTHIA

I agree with you that poetry — whether we are reading or writing it — can, and should, go beyond the self in the present moment. That “beyond” can be composed in minute, intimate detail, or it can be sweeping in scope. Either way, I'm conflicted on whether poetry can help us come to terms with what we endure. I was reading an interview with Fady Joudah from several years back, where he asserts that poetry is simply another link in the human chain — no better, no worse. There's a lot of truth to that. I do believe, however, that erasure is a form of brutality, and therefore reading and writing become recording and remembering.  These are our refusals to accept erasure. Regarding the Tudor consorts, very little remains of documentary evidence in their own words, despite being much-studied historical figures. This is not accidental, nor an exception to the norm. I did worry that in writing this sequence, I was putting words in their mouths and thereby contributing to the damage already done. Ultimately, I hope I've been able to show that these women, and the forces that engulfed them, are closer to ourselves than we might think. 

SHANNAN

Another point you made I wanted to follow up on was what you said about your family. You mentioned that you see motherhood as your most important career. I loved reading this. I’d love to know if and how your children factor into your writing. Do you ever think about them reading your work? Does the way they see the world influence how you reflect upon it and try to capture it to reflect back?  

CYNTHIA

It's funny you ask, because strange as it sounds, it's not easy for me to write about my family. It's not that I haven't written those poems, but they don't come as naturally. And it turns out, my children just aren't that interested in poetry, whether I've written it or someone else has. They are deeply creative, though, and they astound me every day. They have an unending list of interesting questions, many which make me stop and really think. I am definitely influenced by the way they see things, because their minds are so fresh. Their responses to the world aren't ossified the way adult thought processes can be. I try to view this world, despite everything, with the same wonder they hold.