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¡Híjole! The poetry, micro essays, and essays were so phenomenal, I read the book twice, back-to-back! Occupy Whiteness by Joaquín Zihuatanejo, the inaugural Poet Laureate of Dallas, has more depth than the Mariana Trench, and this is evident as soon as you read the Author’s Note. The first time I read it; I read the book according to the sequence Mr. Zihuatanejo suggested, since I had never seen an author be so specific and because it was very different from the publisher’s order. Then I read it from the first page and on, as one usually does. As a result, when I reached the ends of each, they had a different effect on my reading experience. It felt like the author’s order is more poignant and ends with a powerful message that I don’t want to spoil, and the publisher’s order ends as if they wanted to tie the ending in a pretty bow, ending with an introspectively educational tone. It depends on you to decide how you’d rather read it, but for me, I prefer the author’s order. Coming to this conclusion makes me wonder if the author’s order was the original and then the publisher did what many publishers do, and they changed the order in an effort to make it more widely accessible to theoretical mainstream readers. However, in all honesty, I don’t have insider knowledge, so this is simply my opinion after reading the book in the two different orders.
As for my in-depth review, it was extremely difficult to not choose something that may spoil the reading experience because my favorite poem, image, and undocumented essay combo was the ending of Zihuatanejo’s suggested sequence but that would require a spoiler warning. Therefore, out of respect for the author’s hard work and the readers’ love of reading, I had to narrow it down to the best poem, image, and undocumented essay combo that doesn’t give too much away. With that said, I picked one of my other favorites which is called “Sestina Frontera” because its poem, image, and undocumented essay combo captures the grievous journey modern-day female immigrants experience during their cross, and the tireless desire border children must possess every day to get their basic education.
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The masterful prose shown in “Sestina Frontera” isn’t a poem for the faint of heart because it captures the painful reality of the border or frontera that women face. The reality of what happens comes through in Joaquín’s powerful and foreboding poetry. For instance, when he writes “beware the coyote the heel / you run pant your mouth gapes … / trained dogs fresh on heels” (19), you can feel the tension and the ominousness of this experience. However, the mastery displayed is not done; he uses the next part to show the horror women must endure; Zihuatanejo magnifies their grievous journey with the lines, “las mujeres / in dresses lower their slips / arid canyon walls gape / silence chattering teeth with tongues / use hands to carve a bed in silt / pray to the Virgin’s horned moon for light / don’t wish for home don’t click your heels” (20). Reading this, it’s undeniable Zihuatanejo is not writing about something imagined or hyperbolic because he’s actually using metaphor to convey something many people don’t want to see or acknowledge since it’s a horror which will create compassion in even the most racist of hearts. And that’s the point; the truth breaks down walls, but it’s still a truth written with blood that is the same color we all share. On the next page, the words compound this effect by showing these women after being raped; he writes, “question your prayers do not trust the light / la migra hungry to close the gap / smooth out your skirt dust off the silt / tilt heads to ground stifle tongues … / pick up the pace push with your heels / you more than river more than silt / … more than slip / familia awaits” (21). The cinematic effect comes through the entire poem, especially the way his words zoom in and out of the scene. But the situation becomes more dire when his words show these women “run claw fight for the light” (22). And the way it ends is beyond profound because the women have been “baptized by river slip / and earthly silt” (23). I’m speechless after immersing myself in the words to break this poem down, and it’s just a sample of the poignant effect of Mr. Zihuatanejo’s book.
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After the impact of the poem hits and makes you unable to unknow the hardships women must experience to make it to the United States, the image works like water being passed between two immigrants trying to survive the desert; it’s a street sign with a traffic light, inferring it’s a traffic sign at some crossing of some sort. In addition, the street sign by the traffic light says Borderland. This expertly connects the poem to the undocumented essay that follows, since it evokes the sentiment that we are at the border, creating a visceral effect of setting. Combining this with the effect of the poem you just read, this shows Joaquín’s commitment to using every facet of his creativity to communicate the sentiment shown through “Sestina Frontera” and the upcoming undocumented essay.
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By the time you turn the page, you’ll notice an essay appears that is not listed in the table of contents. However, according to Zihuatanejo, “those pieces are unnamed and undocumented. But they exist. And they are no less important. You will note they are not on white pages” (11). You’ll also notice the Spanish version comes first, and the English version comes second; it’s like he’s using this as a metaphorical example for the term United States gives these kids. The term is Mexican American. As you can see, the Mexican part always comes first when you’re an American citizen of Mexican descent. Therefore, this is the total effect Zihuatanejo was going for, giving the essay an undocumented feel because many of these students feel as undocumented as any immigrant, although they are American citizens.
The dual essays having no title is one thing, but they’re written on a black page with white letters. When I got there, I realized it was quite different from pages I usually read, and this made me sit up and take notice. In the undocumented essay, Joaquín starts it by stating, “Not far from where I live there are students. Brown children. Born here. Living there. Children of nowhere. Their parents came over to work in the fields. These children are American citizens who live in Mexico” (26). Then he proceeds to show these students must take two bus rides, crossing the border daily so they may attend a school in the United States. It sounds simple, but Joaquín expertly counters this notion by adding that “after crossing the border: another city bus ride to an area near the school, where they walk the last few blocks” (26). At this moment in the essay, Zihuatanejo also shows some of them stay on American soil with host families, which are mostly Mexican American, during the week, “and then go home on the weekends to Mexico to be with their fathers and mothers, sisters and brothers” (26). However, by the paragraph’s end, he also reveals many students actually end up returning home repeating “this journey every day. Every. Day.” (26).
If this isn’t dire enough, in the next paragraph, he shows the reality for students who seek to take full advantage of their school’s resources even though they must trek there daily; “And if they have extracurricular activities that keep them after school: fútbol, football, ROTC, student clubs and organizations, that means their walk, their first bus ride, their crossing, their second and third bus rides, their long walk home from there…is delayed. Can you imagine what it is to start your day at 4 am? In the darkness of morning. To study and do homework as best you can many times while riding on multiple, crowded buses. To sacrifice in this way. To work in this way. All day. And then make the long journey home arriving sometimes at eight P.M., nine P.M., ten P.M…. only to wake in a handful of hours to start. All over. Again” (26). At first, I was going to break this paragraph up, but it’s so well-written while powerfully making his point, I couldn’t break it up. That paragraph puts the arduousness of their everyday journey into an undeniable, poignant perspective; this is precisely why Joaquín wants you to think of “ganas,” a Spanish word meaning desire, when you think of these kids described in his undocumented essay (26).
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“Sestina Frontera” and its accompanying material is just one example of several impactful poems, and their related images and undocumented essays, but there are other times where he uses an undocumented micro essay rather than a full essay to manifest a message in the reader’s mind. There were also many examples of poems being amazing on their own; some even had their impact increased by an image that follows. But I had to keep my review about the trinity he and his editor were going for because Mr. Zihuatanejo uses his trinity of poem, image, and essay to gain the ultimate level of poignancy. With such an array of profound prose, it’s as though this book drips with the blood and sweat of these examples, displaying horrific realities which shouldn’t be forgotten, overlooked, or erased. It’s amazing how Joaquín stops at nothing to give many of the people depicted in his poems and essays an opportunity to be revived from the third death. And it is equally astonishing to read the precise manner he wrote his message to show, even the most skeptical of readers, the answer to the message his book focuses on includes everyone. The title of his book is definitely provocative, and to some it may polarize, but it actually is a memorandum of love for everyone through compromise; therefore, this memorandum is the central theme of his book.
I have actually had the privilege of being pre-exposed to the magnitude of Zihuatanejo’s poetry because I read Barrio Poems, which may have been his first chapbook published in 2007, and to my knowledge is no longer for sale. In this book, you’ll read proof that many of his poems, sadly, are still relevant today. Take, for example, “19 Mexicans,” this poem has a timeless quality that will live way past his existence, guaranteeing he does not experience the third death, as well. After reading Barrio Poems and Occupy Whiteness, it’s clear he can write championship poems for poetry slam and he can write canonical poems for academia to study. With that said, I’ll admit that recently reading both inspired me to jump down Google’s rabbit hole to listen to his performances and read more of his work. I invite you to do the same; you could also simply use the QR Code on page 181.
Even though I did not break down everything that I loved about Occupy Whiteness, I want to leave you with the work that also deserves its shine. The standalone poem “Wake” on page 108 is so good, I almost scrapped this whole idea for the review just to break it down; it could possibly be the book’s most thought-provoking and jaw-dropping poem. As for a poem that’s followed by an unnamed micro essay, you must read “Erasure” because it captures the author’s premise and the micro essay declares why they can’t be erased. And then there’s the poem and essay I consider his book’s masterwork which is called “102,” but to do a deep dive into it would’ve been a disservice to the author’s order because it’s the most heartbreakingly mournful example of the author’s overall message to the reader and the world. Occupy Whiteness by Joaquín Zihuatanejo will go down as the seminal work of his career, inspiring all who identify with or support his message.
Thank you for reading our in-depth book review about Occupy Whiteness by Joaquín Zihuatanejo. We are not affiliated with the publisher, but here’s the link to pick up a copy.
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E. R. Sanchez is the author of Fried Potato Press’ first young adult thriller, Petaco Dreams, which will be released in 2025 after the rewrite, new title, and new cover. He also has poems and stories published online and in print. If you’d like to read his work that was published online, please click here to go to his Stories and Poetry Section.