Afakasi Alien in New York

After 32 hours travelling, 3 planes and surviving the beast that is LAX airport, this South Auckland afakasi woman arrived blurry eyed and bloated with airplane food at JFK airport New York City.

I jump into a yellow cab and head to Brooklyn as the driver ducks and dives between traffic like a pro. We trade stories about our home towns and what brings us to New York. I tell him I am a poet and here to check out one of the largest youth literary organisations in the world. 

I arrive at my friends place in Crown Heights, Brooklyn just as the sun is setting. I am greeted by smiles from the papas playing chess in front of the stoop. Clearly, my years of travelling are not evident in my overweight suitcase . . . but a girl never knows what she may need, ya feel me? (that’s me trying to ‘New Yorkify’ myself). Once settled in, I am taken for a walk and shown the nearby laundromat, grocery corner store, the subway, bars and restaurants. As we walk, I seem to be ticking off everything you would see in a film based in New York. The feature film being made a few apartments down the block, kids playing games on the sidewalk, young people chilling on stoops, a “hey mama” thrown my way and the friendly corner store shop assistant. One thing that does capture my attention is the mix of cultures, I feel very comfortable here. The obvious gentrification of Brooklyn has sneaked its ‘way up to Crown Heights. Reminding me of Ponsonby and K’Rd, maybe that is way I feel so comfortable.

I’m observational by nature, the following are some of my experiences during my time in New York, as I navigate the subway, experience the local poetry and Arts community, connect with other Pacific Artists based in New York, setting up temporary homes in Crown Heights & Park Slope, the night life of the Lower East Side and the vibrancy of Brooklyn by day and night.

Urgent Voices

As any poet will know, Nuyorican Poets Café in the Lower East Side is the mecca for spoken word poetry. I rocked up to their famous Friday night slam which also featured an open mic later in the night. This was my second time visiting the Nuyorican, and once again I was not disappointed. The room was packed out with poets and lovers of poetry, all from different walks of life. To be honest, the North American style of spoken word/slam has not always been a cup of tea I would sip on for too long. The fast pace and aggressiveness always something I could only take in small doses. I could never actually articulate why this was. But experiencing this style live and given that I had arrived in USA when the #blacklivesmatter movement was hot, and rightly so, it suddenly struck me why this style was cultivated. The fast pace, the passion and aggressive aesthetic was driven by urgency. Urgency for issues and voices to be heard, urgency for having only a small window of time to be able to speak it, urgency to stop unjust murders of young people of colour by authorities. My admiration for young poets in USA grew, as I realised how connected and active they are in their advocacy for change, for basic human rights. How well researched and well read on social issues that directly affect them. Something I challenge young poets of Aotearoa to tackle, especially our young Pacific spoken word poets.

It also struck me how the topic of identity is discussed through poetry from different angles in USA and Aotearoa. In USA identity politics seems to be more focused on skin colour, whereas in Aotearoa the focus is on ethnic genealogy. Not to say that either of these is more or less important than the other, it is just a noticeable difference that left me contemplating how these different points of focus can shape and change conversations around identity politics.

Ain’t Nobody Gonna Hold Your Hand

“The hussle is real” is a phrase that is thrown around by artists worldwide and I discovered how it couldn’t be truer than in New York. Being vibrantly vocal and confident is a requirement in order to forge a way in the Arts industry. In New York, there is no time for being mā (shame) or suffer from tall poppy syndrome and you can guarantee that nobody is going to hold your hand while you try to network and hussle your next gig. A culture and hussle that I can see could feel very daunting to some Aotearoa artists. Don’t get me wrong, I did get a strong sense of community among artists, but New York will sift out those that want it and those that just dream it. On the flipside, being a Pacific artist in a large city gives the point of difference of a unique voice. One that if you play your cards right, can be an advantage. It is a fine line, between standing out or fading into the background of endless talented people.

Creating Our Village

During my stay I experienced this first hand when my internship changed direction and purpose. This coupled with a being apart from my son for a long period of time left me feeling a little lonely, homesick and lost in such a big city. It is funny how you can be in one of the most interesting and busiest places in the world, yet feel completely isolated. Thankfully, I found a home in the friendship of two Pacific female artists that live in Brooklyn. One, an afakasi from Auckland and one a Tongan born and raised in Utah. They folded me into their community of artists and friends and I was able to experience a part of the non-tourist New York. We bonded over our love of the Arts, our Pacificness and interesting experiences of being a single woman in the big apple. They shared with me their experiences of what it means to be Pacific in New York, the sense of belonging craved for in a country where the majority of people only know your parents islands because of NFL players or Dwayne The Rock Johnson. My Tongan friend spoke of her passion to establish a creative hub/village in New York for Pacific people and artists passing through. On one occasion, we met up with two other Pacific beauties in front of Madison Square Gardens and took photos holding signs of solitary with the New York skyline framing us for our Hawai’ian brothers and sisters of the protect Manua Kea movement.

Lone Coconut

One Saturday we decided to cook up some of our own Island mea'i, New York style, while playing some good ol’ Jawai’ian reggae. On our stroll down to the grocery store we pass by a lonely empty coconut shell beside a bin, the poetic metaphors were endless. Finding the ingredients for our island dishes required some creativity, opting for frozen dinner rolls and the lone can of coconut cream for pani popo (where is the Kara when you need it?!?) and we managed to score some vermicelli for Chop Suey with boiled sweet potato instead of taro. Not quite the same, but as close as it would get while we exchanged stores about our mothers cooking the same dishes.

The next day we take a trip out to a New York (coughs) ‘beach’. While it was nice to be near the ocean with my wild brown sisters as the sun set I was saddened by the vast array of rubbish left along the beach. A sight that felt so foreign to me, needless to say I started to show the ocean some love and clean up the section of the beach I was in.

“Damn girl, your tattoo is sexy”

One hot autumn afternoon I had just left my apartment to walk to the subway, as I passed by two men chilling on the sidewalk one of them yelled out, “damn girl, your tattoo is sexy” in reference to my Samoan tatau on the back of my neck. I remember sarcastically and quietly saying to myself, “yes, that is why I got this tatau, coz it is sexy” which was quickly followed by a sense of pride that it probably was the first Samoan tatau they had seen and the geek in me wanted to walk over and tell them all about it, educate them.

Daughters of Oceania

No matter where I go in the world, it is a body of water that will remind me of home, of Aotearoa, of Samoa, of Oceania. I was reminded of this on my last day in New York. I went with my Pacific sisters on the Staten Island Ferry, it was an overcast and windy day but as we stood on the open deck overlooking the water, the Statue of Liberty and the New York Skyline we spoke of being daughters of Oceania. How connected we felt to our ancestors shared body of ocean, that no matter where we lived in the world we could create our own Pacific village and nurture our shifting Pacific identities to keep our people, our land, and our ocean alive.

Brooklyn is a festival

too colourful to be one genre

the largest walk-in wardrobe in the world

her thrift stores heaving with treasures

and the food!

aaahhhh . . . all the flavours and spices are cooked here

but don’t forget to tip your 20%

otherwise you better be good at side stepping

catch the subway

to the corner of Broadway and Myrtle

Mos Def & Notorious grinning down from tattoo’d walls

up in Crown Heights

orange barriers and cop cars

shut down the streets

while the West Indian Parade

is spilling glitter, face paint and swelling hips

dancing up a sexy storm

over dancehall beats

take a night

and dive into the Lower East Side

she’s a beauty at night

90’s RnB is so real . . . it’s now

like

house parties grinding in Bob’s Bar

now . . .Times Square

well, she is a saturated tourist trap

a sore eye on the skyline

the largest selfie in the world

comedy club sellers

hip hop EP hustlers

snake charmers

belly dancers

I ‘heart’ NYC t-shirt buyers

dirty hot dog yellers

litter the street

while Snoop Dogg impersonators

trick tourists into paparazzi fanatics

but. . .

you gotta visit her once

only once

by day

New York streets talks to me

“Protect Yo Heart”

stencilled neon pink on the concrete

from Staten Island Ferry

the shining lights of the New York skyline

is like a million diamonds and gems

some real

some fake

but she sure ain’t afraid to shine

this concrete jungle

well,

she kinda got me

~ Grace Taylor 2015

Grace Taylor is a mother, poet and performer of Samoan, English and Japanese decent.