Born in Gò Vấp and raised in Dorchester & Alief, Thanh Bùi is a writer & actor currently based out of Austin, Texas. Her written work has appeared in The Offing, Lammergeier, Taco Bell Quarterly, diaCRITICS, Glass: A Journal of Poetry, and other places accessible to her mom. Her film work has appeared in SXSW, CAAMFest, and elsewhere. She loves constantly.
You can read mask on, mask off in the April 2024 issue.
Would you like to tell us a little bit more about your poem? For instance, how or why you wrote it, or perhaps provide some extra context?
I’m not entirely sure Dr. Lesser would enjoy this poem, but I imagine he’d at least find it amusing. As a first-generation college student at a large university, he was the first person who treated me like… a person. I didn’t do well in his class— I had the credits to be in upper division my first year but not the life experience— yet it changed me forever. In my head, his class never ended. I’m still learning from him, and I think I’d be getting a much better grade now. He passed away in 2017.
If you didn’t write poetry, how do you think you might access the same fulfillments that poetry offers in your life?
Poetry is everywhere to read, watch, experience, or listen to. Writing it, though, serves very interesting functions. I use poetry to pretend, critique, play, solve puzzles, confuse, trick, purge, compose, frame, document, or time travel. If I didn’t write poetry, I might have to sculpt, dig, engineer, become a birder, garden, or track endangered species of plants or animals.
As a poet, what does creative success or achievement look like for you?
I fully expect to die poor and unknown so success would be at least one person finding my writing at a point in their life where they needed it. Beyond just enjoyment, my wish is that they find my words worth revisiting. Also, I really want to publish a book so I can move on with my life and work on something else.
We love the artistic underdogs, the experimentalists, the lovely weirdos — who or what might you get creative joy or energy from that others might not be aware of yet?
I’m not sure there’s much out there that others aren’t aware of yet, but I will say sometimes there’s celebrated, compensated creative work so bad it ignites in you a desire to do better. Regarding joy, I like puppets, stand-up, improv, animals, children, the Chicago “rat” hole, children’s programming, etc. What’s always driven my work are gaps in knowledge or understanding. Confusing, frustrating, mystifying things inspire me. The less I know how to interpret or discuss something, the more I need to dig into it.
How did you begin writing poetry? Was there a specific inspiration or reason?
My first poem began as an essay. When I realized there were too many words, I started cutting things down and realized a poem could do the same thing and briefer. My real reason, though, is that I’d watched spoken word poetry videos on YouTube for years before ever considering using poetry as a form myself. By then, I had already taken in so much of that world. This, and my mom has always been very careful in emphasizing word choice, connotation, and context.
In terms of poetic style or craft, is there a big question you are trying to find an answer for?
For the last several years, I’ve been wrestling with the tradeoff between creating accessible work and work that challenges readers. I think good work engages a wide range of people but sometimes it does feel like I have to pick. Some pieces are just high-context and require some research or life experience. The hope is that it encourages audiences to return to the work via wonder or curiosity rather than feel like something not meant for them. After all, we read to stretch.