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British Latinx: Writing into Existence by Nathalie Teitler 24 Manifesto for a Latino-British Poetry 1) Our poetry will be radical, it will experiment with traditional English syntax and rhythm; sometimes it will sound odd and strange. It will allow for multiple interpretations, meanings. 2) Our poetry will embrace bilingualism. It will include Spanish and English words, idiomatic phrases, new Spanglish words, it will follow the legacy and tradition of Latino/Chicano writers in the US. It will knock down linguistic barriers- barreras, traditional norms. It will search for a new poetic voice within the UK. Una nueva poesía latino-británica. 3) Our poetry will allow for a multiplicity of ethnic and identity backgrounds in an ever expanding Latino-British poetic experience: Andean/Quechua, Spanish/Caribbean, Amerindian, Southern Cone, Mestizo, etc. 4) Our poetry will not seek your permission. It will open new ways and possibilities for writing about our Latino-British experiences and backgrounds: será libre, potente y plural. Argentinian British poet, Leo Boix In 2017 I attended an event at the London Book Fair launching a publication celebrating diversity. This was not unusual: I have been promoting inclusivity in British literature – mainly poetry – for over 20 years. Through some hard work, and a lot of luck, I have found myself involved in some groundbreaking projects, most notably The Complete Works Poetry, that played a key role in increasing the level of diversity in poetry books published by major presses from less than 1% in 2008 to its current level of 20%. Most days involved events similar to the one I was now attending, either as a member of the audience or as a presenter. At the end of the presentation I found myself oddly dissatisfied. In an otherwise excellent and necessary round up of BAME British writers there was one significant absence: not one British Latin American writer had been mentioned. An entire continent had seemingly gone missing and I was the only person who had noticed. Forcing a polite smile, I quickly exited the bustle and excitement of the Book Fair. Every stand in that vast domed space spoke of one thing to me; an absence of the culture I consider as home. It was at that moment that I vowed to do something to change this, to help British Latinx writers to do what they should have done long ago: to write themselves into existence. I was incredibly lucky to have met the extraordinary Argentine British poet Leo Boix a year earlier. An international journalist and a fully
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bilingual poet, Leo felt as strongly about the absence of the Latin voice as I did. As he had grown up in Argentina and was an very gifted poet in his own right, Leo was able to do something that I could not: become the ambassador for British Latinx writing. Together we set up a programme, Invisible Presence, to find and nurture writers of this background. The initial outreach period was challenging; in spite of the fact that the Latin American community is the 8th largest in the UK, there were very few literature networks. The theatre-makers community was far ahead of other literature forms – the CASA Latin American theatre festival has been doing great things since 2007, but the fiction writers and the poets were distinctly underground. In the end we used the techniques of grassroots community development; we hung out in Latin bars, shops and community centres from Elephant and Castle through to Brixton hoping word of mouth would be strong enough to bring the writers to us. It was. Six months later we hosted a bilingual sold out reading at the Roundhouse in London. All of the writers attending wrote manifestos that were read out at the event to great applause. This was when Leo’s manifesto came to life. The next step was to publish the first major anthology of British Latinx writers. I approached the groundbreaking independent publisher flipped eye, founded by the writer Nii Ayikwei Parkes. I knew that Nii had a passion for Latin American literature, as well as being the first to publish a range of prominent poets including Inua Ellams and Warsan Shire. To my joy he accepted and the anthology, Nuevo Sol, started to take shape. On November 19th, 2019 Nuevo Sol: British Latinx writers was launched at the Southbank. Booker Prize winner Bernardine Evaristo has described the anthology as filled with ‘exciting new voices, unique bilingual and experimental flourishes, it totally reinvigorates British and global literature.’ Nuevo Sol includes ten exceptional writers; seven of them are poets. This is not surprising. In Latin America the role of poetry and poets is very different to that in the UK with poetry playing a much more important part in society. It is common to find taxi drivers who can recite poems by Pablo Neruda or Octavio Paz by heart. Poetry events take place in football stadiums to audiences of tens of thousands, with poets receiving the kind of applause we in Britain save for the football players. This is due, to a large extent, to the close connection between poetry and politics – more specifically resistance and poetry. Poets are seen as the leaders/healers in the community; they speak for the people, allowing the collective voice and consciousness to be expressed through art. There are many reasons for this. The first is that the colonial legacy and troubled history of the region means that censorship is a frequent unwanted guest. Poetry – and music – have long provided a coded and symbolic way of expressing truths that would otherwise be far too dangerous to express. The second may well be a legacy of the beliefs of the original inhabitants of the region, the Quechua speakers who believed that the world was brought into being though the recital of poetry. Although the reasons may not be completely clear, the result is a society in which poetry is an important and respected voice, without the elitism or marginalisation found in the UK. The poetry of the region has several distinctive traits: it is experimental in nature, often complex/layered and the use of magic realism and other coding systems are frequent. In contrast to the subtle irony that is often found in British poetry, Latin American poetry is fiercely passionate and sensual and almost always has strong political undertones. It is not surprising 25

bilingual poet, Leo felt as strongly about the absence of the Latin voice as I did. As he had grown up in Argentina and was an very gifted poet in his own right, Leo was able to do something that I could not: become the ambassador for British Latinx writing.

Together we set up a programme, Invisible Presence, to find and nurture writers of this background. The initial outreach period was challenging; in spite of the fact that the Latin American community is the 8th largest in the UK, there were very few literature networks. The theatre-makers community was far ahead of other literature forms – the CASA Latin American theatre festival has been doing great things since 2007, but the fiction writers and the poets were distinctly underground. In the end we used the techniques of grassroots community development; we hung out in Latin bars, shops and community centres from Elephant and Castle through to Brixton hoping word of mouth would be strong enough to bring the writers to us.

It was. Six months later we hosted a bilingual sold out reading at the Roundhouse in London. All of the writers attending wrote manifestos that were read out at the event to great applause. This was when Leo’s manifesto came to life. The next step was to publish the first major anthology of British Latinx writers. I approached the groundbreaking independent publisher flipped eye, founded by the writer Nii Ayikwei Parkes. I knew that Nii had a passion for Latin American literature, as well as being the first to publish a range of prominent poets including Inua Ellams and Warsan Shire. To my joy he accepted and the anthology, Nuevo Sol, started to take shape.

On November 19th, 2019 Nuevo Sol: British Latinx writers was launched at the Southbank. Booker Prize winner Bernardine Evaristo has described the anthology as filled with ‘exciting new voices, unique bilingual and experimental flourishes, it totally reinvigorates British and global literature.’ Nuevo Sol includes ten exceptional writers; seven of them are poets.

This is not surprising. In Latin America the role of poetry and poets is very different to that in the UK with poetry playing a much more important part in society. It is common to find taxi drivers who can recite poems by Pablo Neruda or Octavio Paz by heart. Poetry events take place in football stadiums to audiences of tens of thousands, with poets receiving the kind of applause we in Britain save for the football players. This is due, to a large extent, to the close connection between poetry and politics – more specifically resistance and poetry.

Poets are seen as the leaders/healers in the community; they speak for the people, allowing the collective voice and consciousness to be expressed through art. There are many reasons for this. The first is that the colonial legacy and troubled history of the region means that censorship is a frequent unwanted guest. Poetry – and music – have long provided a coded and symbolic way of expressing truths that would otherwise be far too dangerous to express. The second may well be a legacy of the beliefs of the original inhabitants of the region, the Quechua speakers who believed that the world was brought into being though the recital of poetry. Although the reasons may not be completely clear, the result is a society in which poetry is an important and respected voice, without the elitism or marginalisation found in the UK.

The poetry of the region has several distinctive traits: it is experimental in nature, often complex/layered and the use of magic realism and other coding systems are frequent. In contrast to the subtle irony that is often found in British poetry, Latin American poetry is fiercely passionate and sensual and almost always has strong political undertones. It is not surprising

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