Two brown dots Poems

Danni Quintos

Book - 2022

"Selected by Aimee Nezhukumatathil as the winner of the A. Poulin, Jr. Poetry Prize, Danni Quintos carves a space for brown girls and weird girls in her debut collection of poems. Two Brown Dots explores what it means to be a racially ambiguous, multiethnic, Asian American woman growing up in Kentucky. In stark, honest poems, Quintos recounts the messiness and confusion of being a typical '90s kid--watching Dirty Dancing at sleepovers, borrowing eye shadow out of a friend's caboodle, crushing on a boy wearing khaki shorts to Sunday mass--while navigating the microagressions of the neighbor kids, the awkwardness of puberty, and the casual cruelties of fellow teenagers. The mixed-race daughter of a dark skinned Filipino immigra...nt, Quintos retells family stories and Phillipine folklore to try and make sense of an identity with roots on opposite sides of the globe. With clear-eyed candor and a wry sense of humor, Quintos teases the line between tokenism and representation, between assimilation and belonging, offering a potent antidote to the assumption that "American" means "white." Encompassing a whole journey from girlhood to motherhood, Two Brown Dots subverts stereotypes to reclaim agency and pride in the realness and rawness and unprettyness of a brown girl's body, boldly declaring: We exist, we belong, we are from here, and we will continue to be." --

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Location Call Number   Status
2nd Floor 811.6/Quintos Due Dec 5, 2024
Subjects
Genres
Poetry
Published
Rochester, NY : BOA Editions, Ltd 2022.
Language
English
Main Author
Danni Quintos (author)
Other Authors
Aimee Nezhukumatathil (writer of foreword)
Edition
First edition
Physical Description
104 pages ; 23 cm
ISBN
9781950774517
  • Foreword
  • I. Girlhood
  • Portrait of My Dad Through a Tent Window
  • Unbreak My Heart
  • On Being Asked to Represent Your Country
  • When Clothes Make You Cousins
  • Scary Spice
  • Crush Spell by a Fifth-Grade Witch
  • Cross Your Forehead, Mouth, & Heart
  • Age Eleven
  • Letter to My Childhood Crush
  • The Rules
  • Brown Girls
  • Sixth-Grade Invisibility Studies
  • Who I Wanted to Be Instead
  • Unpretty
  • Boobs
  • What Girls Learn
  • The Worst Part of Riding the Bus
  • Mispronunciation
  • The Mix CD I Made When I Was Sixteen
  • Youth Group
  • Ode to Country Dips
  • Eighteen
  • II. Motherhood
  • Trying
  • Luteal Phase Ends
  • The Eighth Month
  • First Milk
  • Breastfeeding
  • Breast Lump
  • Naptime Haibun
  • Breast Pain
  • Pandemic Fall Haibun
  • Something from Nothing
  • Letters to Imelda Marcos
  • III. Folklore
  • Milkfish
  • 1991 and We Flew for Days
  • Pond's White Beauty
  • Self-Portrait as Manananggal
  • All Filipina Women Are Beautiful
  • Your English Is Good
  • Ghazal for Dogeaters
  • Five Hundred Years & Three Weeks Ago We Killed Magellan
  • How the Filipino Got Their Stereotype
  • How to Resurrect a Chicken
  • Cousin Dives Has More, This Time in Her Bowels
  • Where Good People Live
  • Eggplant
  • How My Dad Started Smoking
  • 1991 and I Ride to Church
  • Quintos
  • The Oil Painting That Hangs on My Lola's Wall
  • Rosa De Rosario, 1929
  • Possible Reasons My Dad Won't Return to the Philippines
  • Python
  • Notes
  • Acknowledgments
  • About the Author
  • Colophon
Review by Publisher's Weekly Review

The debut from Quintos explores with humor and vulnerability the immigrant Asian American experience of growing up in Kentucky and navigating American culture. Quintos begins in childhood, blending cultural touchstones of the '90s, "flashlight-reading/ the CD booklet/ to Jagged Little Pill," with religious rituals of Sunday mass and confession. There is a wide-eyed awareness running throughout that elevates life's ordinary moments into something transcendent and powerful. As the poems progress, so too does a sense of the emptiness at the heart of American life: "I confessed sins in a wooden phone booth/ without a phone." These poems grow in scope and theme, attempting to make sense of an assimilationist world: "What else can I do but try/ & keep this body satisfied." This act of questioning turns to wonder at the onset of motherhood: "Oh body, how/ you keep on making." Love and tenderness are placed alongside anger at consistently attempting to subvert stereotypes, to "stand on legs/ like immovable trees." Throughout, Quintos never forgets her family, "their names so full of poetry." At its core, this strong collection aches with longing for a more compassionate and accountable world. (Apr.)

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