don't know the half of it

the writing just didn't connect with me.

Tina Chang’s title is a perfect descriptor for what is found inside. Part essay, part fairy tale, part ekphrasis, part dream, part social justice, part form, part narrative. There aren’t a ton of lines that stood out to me in their own right, and yet the craft stringing these words together was impeccable. It may be a hybrid, but that hybrid is cohesive. This is definitely one I will have to reread, and I’m looking forward to reading more of her work.

Very much appreciate the essay portions that think about what it means to be mongrel/mixed, the beautiful poem about Laika with imagery of stars behind, and the paintings incorporated. So much of the dramatic situation feels most devastating in the narrative poems as well.

I first fell in love with Tina Chang's work when I heard her recite "Fury" for an event with the AAWW. The poignant message of the poem - "How can we hold space for love if we don't hold space for anger?" has stuck with me throughout the political upheaval of 2020 and 2021. Being angry & creating space for anger is not an antithesis of love but perhaps it means that we care enough to be angry, to care even.

Hybrida is, as the title suggests, a hybrid work. Chang plays with formal structure as she juxtaposes poetry & art & police reports. The poems address both her children as she rewrites fairytales into the modern era, and the public. Stepping into this hybrid world, Chang asks us to hold space, to hold space for Black children, Black art, biracial mothers, overpolicing and the grief & joy of it all. A stunning piece of work.

The first poem was heartfelt about worrying for her biracial child and not being able to fully counsel him because she hasn't gone through those experiences with dangerous cops.

But then it is a lot of poems written from the imagined perspective of Trayvon Martin and the cop. Those weren't compelling because she is doing that very thing of going outside her lived experience.

There were poems about her parents but they were so flowery that I couldn't figure out what actually happened. Her mom gave up religion?

If the whole collection were along the lines of the first poem, it would be great.

"What did God's hand hold without tension.
What can a mind uncover without slipping through

the smallest of holes? A hole is an imagined shape.
What it contains and its depth are often the same

unreachable dark."

- Tina Chang 'Diversity'