Thank you for being willing to carry these words with you.
It wasn’t easy to write, and I’m sure it wasn’t easy to read. For your getting here, I salute you.
While penning this book, I often felt lost at sea. All my thanks, in no particular order, to those who have kept me afloat until I reached the shore.
This book was written in Los Angeles, which is Tongva land. I want to thank the original keepers of this beautiful place I call home.
I’m exceptionally grateful for my selfless and tireless agent, Steve Malk, whom I consider not only a close friend but family. Thank you for constantly believing in me and the meaning of this book, even when I was bone-tired and doubtful.
All my thanks to my editor, Tamar Brazis, who was so gentle and generous in helping me bring my full vision of this work to life. I’d like to give huge applause to my Penguin Random House team, including but not limited to Markus Dohle, Madeline McIntosh, Jen Loja, Ken Wright, Felicia Frazier, Shanta Newlin, Emily Romero, Carmela Iaria, Krista Ahlberg, Marinda Valenti, Sola Akinlana, Abigail Powers, Meriam Metoui, Jim Hoover, Opal Roengchai, Grace Han, and Deborah Kaplan.
To my English teachers throughout my education, who helped hold and hone my love of literature—Shelly Fredman (who first made me realize I wanted to be a writer), Alexandra Padilla and Sara Hammerman (who magnanimously shepherded me through that torturous patch that is high school), Laura van den Berg (who taught me to write to my ghosts and not run from them), Christopher Spaide (who taught me contemporary poetry with both a keen and kind eye), and Leah Whittington and Daniel Blank (who helped me fall in love with the classics and Shakespeare). I’m also indebted to other teachers—Eric Cleveland, Pop, for supporting my fascination with biology and for your weekly fatherly texts to make sure I was still alive and actually eating while knee-deep in writing this thing; Bart Barnokowski, for rigorously introducing me to the cultural sociology that I depend on in my work; Álvaro Lopez Fernandez, Marta Olivas, the team at Temblor, IES Madrid, and my Spanish host family (hola, Pilar y Marucha!), who so lovingly tended to my learning of the Spanish language. I promise I still remember, um . . . some of it.
To my Weekly Writer Support Group, Taylor and Najya—where would I be without our Saturday morning FaceTime check-ins? (The answer is “not done with this book.”) Thank you for being my cheerleaders with pens for pom-poms. To my cousin Maya for sending me funny videos when I need them and always making me laugh.
To Tara Kole and Danny Passman, my lawyer parents, who are my two last remaining brain cells on any given day, thank you for so fervently believing in my journey from the very first day we met. I cherish you both dearly.
To Caroline Sun, my book publicist, and Laura Hatanaka, my assistant, you are the indomitable mother hens who always put my time, sanity, and creativity first (even if I mostly use that time to mindlessly send you Star Trek GIFs—hee hee), as well as to Courtney Longshore for her tireless support behind the scenes.
A big hug for their incredible encouragement to Sylvie Rabineau, Michelle Bohan, Romola Ratnam, Pierre Elliott, Brandon Shaw (AKA BS), and Carmine Spena. Queen-worthy claps to my fierce and fabulous press gladiators, Vanessa Anderson and Erin Patterson, as well as the entire AM PR Group.
I am also indebted to my high school writing mentors: Michelle Chahine and Dinah Berland from the nonprofit WriteGirl, who spent Wednesday afternoons writing with me at loud tea shops while I messily munched on crumbly coffee cake, and India Radfar, who mentored me at Beyond Baroque. Thanks to Jamie Frost, my former speech therapist, as well as my spiritual-doppelganger mentor, Blessing.
A huge shout-out to Urban Word, a program that supports youth poets laureate in more than sixty cities, regions, and states nationally, which has given me the incredible honor of serving as a youth poet laureate several times in my life. Thank you to Vital Voices, who funded my community literacy project One Pen One Page, and to the ongoing support of Nicco Melle and Mass Poetry as well as Jen Benka and the Academy of American Poets.
I’m deeply appreciative of my fellow poets for their support: Tracy K. Smith, who has been a fairy god-poet to me ever since we shared the stage at the Library of Congress; Richard Blanco, who is always a phone call away and willing to speak with me in Spanish just so I can practice; Elizabeth Alexander, who called immediately when I was named the 2020 inaugural poet and gave me spiritual soul food over the phone. I’m also thankful for the poetry magic of Jacqueline Woodson, Eve Ewing, Clint Smith, Luis Rodriguez, and Juan Felipe Herrera, whose work inspires me perennially.
To Lin-Manuel Miranda, who years ago let my speechless self tuck a poem into his hand. To Malala, your friendship means so much to this girl. To Oprah, your mentorship, guidance, and luminosity is such a privilege.
Dr. Merije, I know you had to visit me tooooo many times because I’d run myself sick and ragged working on this. But you always did it with a joke, which made the sniffles worth it.
We’re almost to the end, folks! To my Girl Gang, Alex, Haley, and Bib, thanks for dealing with my moans about this book over group chat.
Above all, I’m deeply indebted to my family: my fierce, fabulous, and formidable mom, who made me everything I am today; my talented twin and ride-or-die partner in crime since diapers, Gabrielle (GG); my grandmothers, for persistently making sure I’m eating, sleeping, and taking my vitamins; and the fluffy pooch Lulu, who sits beside me whenever I’m struggling to finish a poem. I love you all with every beating of my heart.
Thank you to God. Thank you, my ancestors.
I am the daughter of Black writers. I am descended from freedom fighters who broke their chains and changed the world. They call me. I carry them always.
Love,
Amanda