Franny Choi is a queer, Korean-American poet, playwright, teacher, and organizer. She is the author of two poetry collections, Soft Science (Alice James Books, 2019) and Floating, Brilliant, Gone (Write Bloody Publishing, 2014), as well as a chapbook, Death by Sex Machine (Sibling Rivalry Press, 2017). She has received awards from the Poetry
I’m writing this on Monday the 16th. I hear a motor outside; is it them? I write because I want these things to be known. If something should happen to me, it’s important that people know what happened and how.
Former Curator of University of Michigan’s Museum of Art, Pam Reister, writes on the Cuban artist Emilio Sánchez, who is the cover artist of Michigan Quarterly Review’s current Summer 2019 issue. Emilio Sánchez was born into one of Cuba’s most prominent families. He lived in
I do believe that the discussion of hyphenated identities is important, and, whether it is acknowledged or not, most people have multiple influences that impact who they are.
When my dad was little, he worked. He helped his father to strip furnaces in the basements of the wealthy and gathered scraps of metal and coal off the streets to sell. But even though he learned to work doing physically exhausting, menial tasks, his expectations for himself had nothing to do with the expectations that the world had for black boys in 1950s Detroit.
The realm of storytelling is a sacred one, and not just for authors and readers, but for our culture as a whole. As the novel makes readily apparent, if we neglect or ignore our collective pasts, our stories, then we risk losing the most important part of us forever.