J.E. Seuk
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J.E. Seuk (she/her) is a writer and freelance editor who has taught high school and university English in the U.S. and South Korea. She studied English and Comparative Literature at Columbia University, and is currently hustling for scholarships so she can enter Cambridge for her Creative Writing MSt. She's a member of West Hill Writers and has pieces published in Ghost Heart Literary Journal and Ellipsis Zine, with more imminent. A '1.75 generation' Korean American immigrant, she now resides in Brighton, England where she enjoys music-making, sea air, and walking behind dogs on sidewalks. You can find her on Twitter and Instagram @SeukWrites.
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SPEAK ENGLISH LOUD
Speak English loud
Okay?
You go outside you speak
English loud
Pretend you talking on phone
You make sure, okay?
You speak English very loud
Whole time
it's a good idea
Okay.
But,
(we both know that)
Umma
(she shouldn't speak)
what
(English loud)
about—
(outside)
Aiiigoo you too much worry
It's not your job
God taking care of me
Umma fine! Umma always fine
You have to listen to me
if baby okay
then mamma okay
Okay, my baby?
okay
Okay?
You go outside you speak
English loud
Pretend you talking on phone
You make sure, okay?
You speak English very loud
Whole time
it's a good idea
Okay.
But,
(we both know that)
Umma
(she shouldn't speak)
what
(English loud)
about—
(outside)
Aiiigoo you too much worry
It's not your job
God taking care of me
Umma fine! Umma always fine
You have to listen to me
if baby okay
then mamma okay
Okay, my baby?
okay
Commentary
J.E. on “SPEAK ENGLISH LOUD”:
I've been thinking a lot about Asian immigrant women. About survival, protective measures. Motherhood. My sister and I tried to use our American accent as a shield around our parents, who lacked their own, so strong and vulnerable. I wrote this poem in late March, after yet another hate crime in my hometown of New York City. The victim was Filipina, but she could easily have been my Korean mother, walking to church. "You don't belong here," a man said, kicking her, kicking her, before another man closed the door on her crumpled body.
I write mostly prose. I was an uninhibited child poet, but Adult J.E. felt qualified to enjoy and even teach poetry—not write her own. (Though I did write a grief sonnet in a dream once, weeping myself awake.) Here in Kissing Dynamite, I now call myself a poet. I finally want to be; I've made a new friend in my new country, a wonderful 78 year-old British poet named H who urges me on. And I think I have to be: with the rise in anti-Asian hate, I've been dreaming in tears and poetry again.
Assistant Editor Morgan Ridgway on “SPEAK ENGLISH LOUD”:
The moment I read J.E.’s work I was immediately taken by the care with which it moves. It creates both a sense of intimacy and offers a commentary on the structures that threaten those whose voices are made to not fit in. It considers language as both pain and freedom; something that calls attention to the speaker and binds us together. This is a poem that is at once vulnerable, protective, critical, and loving. J.E. shares with us an intimate moment between mother and child and reminds us of the power of language—its ability to protect, to hold, and to love those closest to us. You have to listen to me / if baby okay / then mamma okay / Okay, my baby? // okay
I've been thinking a lot about Asian immigrant women. About survival, protective measures. Motherhood. My sister and I tried to use our American accent as a shield around our parents, who lacked their own, so strong and vulnerable. I wrote this poem in late March, after yet another hate crime in my hometown of New York City. The victim was Filipina, but she could easily have been my Korean mother, walking to church. "You don't belong here," a man said, kicking her, kicking her, before another man closed the door on her crumpled body.
I write mostly prose. I was an uninhibited child poet, but Adult J.E. felt qualified to enjoy and even teach poetry—not write her own. (Though I did write a grief sonnet in a dream once, weeping myself awake.) Here in Kissing Dynamite, I now call myself a poet. I finally want to be; I've made a new friend in my new country, a wonderful 78 year-old British poet named H who urges me on. And I think I have to be: with the rise in anti-Asian hate, I've been dreaming in tears and poetry again.
Assistant Editor Morgan Ridgway on “SPEAK ENGLISH LOUD”:
The moment I read J.E.’s work I was immediately taken by the care with which it moves. It creates both a sense of intimacy and offers a commentary on the structures that threaten those whose voices are made to not fit in. It considers language as both pain and freedom; something that calls attention to the speaker and binds us together. This is a poem that is at once vulnerable, protective, critical, and loving. J.E. shares with us an intimate moment between mother and child and reminds us of the power of language—its ability to protect, to hold, and to love those closest to us. You have to listen to me / if baby okay / then mamma okay / Okay, my baby? // okay
