Interdisciplinary Writer & Performer Leticia Hernández-Linares Talks About Her Artistic Life
San Francisco-based Salvadoran writer and artist Leticia Hernández-Linares can do it all. Her Superwoman-esque has driven her to be the first in her family to go to college, work as a community leader, raise her two sons, and be an interdisciplinary writer who sings, does theater, installation art, and has published and performed widely. She is a four-time San Francisco Arts Commission grant recipient and a 2017 San Francisco Library Laureate.
The award-winning writer is also an educator and a long-time community worker who fights for social justice in multiple ways. She teaches in the College of Ethnic Studies at San Francisco State University and works with local schools. “I facilitate professional development for teachers and support schools that want to prioritize equity for Black and Brown students,” says Hernández-Linares who works with SF-CESS, and who infuses art and culture into her curriculum development.
Art is not only a tool in her classroom but also in her life. “Art saved my life and can save many others,” she says. Her interdisciplinary skills run through her blood and let her express herself through the musicality of her poems written, not only in one language, but in three: English, Spanish, and Spanglish. The hybridity of her language is part of her Salvadoran roots. “Nobody can take away the strong raíz that is El Salvador in my art-making and my experience,” the spoken-word poet says.
When asked how she manages to be a flesh-and-bone superhero, she laughs and gives credit to the strong women she descends from, mainly her grandmother, a “cuchillera” (metaphoric knife-wielder) from Santa Ana, El Salvador. Her grandmother explained this saying without missing a beat. “Somos de los que no se dejan.” We are strong, not quitters or pushovers. Her grandmother used to say she was made of reata and lazo, the tools used to tame horses. “I wrote a poemsong called La Cuchillera,” the writer says. “It’s my signature poem because the idea resonated so much. The women in my life taught me how to be resilient and limitless. Soy cuchillera through and through”
Hernández -Linares is the author of the poetry collection Mucha Muchacha, Too Much Girl (Tía Chucha Press, 2015) and the co-editor of The Wandering Song: Central American Writing in the United States (2017). Her work has appeared in collections and journals such as Other Musics, The BreakBeat Poets Volume 4: LatiNEXT, Latinas: Struggles & Protests in 21st Century USA, Street Art San Francisco, Huizache, and Pilgrimage.
We recently chatted with her in a very-quarantine-like Zoom interview as part of the series “Salvi Artists in the U.S.” to learn more about her journey, poemsongs, neighborhood, love for the community, and her artistic inspirations.
You can follow her on Twitter, Instagram, or check out her website for more information and upcoming events.
Where were you born? How long have you been living in the U.S.?
I was born in Los Angeles, California, a few months after my parents arrived in the United States in 1971. Here in the United States, my grandmother was the beginning point. She came in the sixties, and was the first in my family to immigrate to the U.S. Her sons and daughters followed her. She recently passed last fall at the age of 98. I was baptized in El Salvador in my father’s colonia. Earlier in my life, I traveled often to El Salvador because most of our family was there.
Where do you live now?
I live in the Mission District of San Francisco, a historically Latinx barrio/neighborhood, home of many artists and social activists. San Francisco is the only place I visited as a child besides El Salvador. We used to take road trips to visit my Tío, who lived in the Mission. He and I were very close. I rented an apartment down the block from him in 1995. A few years later, an apartment opened up in his building, and I have been living here ever since. A big part of what attracted me here, other than my uncle, was the thriving Central American artist and activist community that I am now part of.
How has The Mission impacted your artistic development?
The Mission has a long history of art and activism. Its community and the neighborhood are a huge part of the work I do as an educator, artist, and mother. There are many veteranxs and elders that have paved the way for my generation of artists. This is a supportive community, and I am grateful to teachers and friends like Juana Alicia, Ester Hernández, and Alejandro Murguía. I am proud to join Central American artists and writers like Martivón Galindo, Daisy Zamora, and Jorge Argueta, who came to do work here. The artists I mention and many others like them established lasting, intergenerational, artistic activist movements in the Mission and the Bay Area.
The heart of the Mission can be seen through its murals, its protests and rallies, and organizations such as Galería de la Raza and Acción Latina. The Mission is not just about residence. Many folks have been evicted, or have moved away, but they continue to come back. I have the gift of having neighbors still, despite the relentless displacement and gentrification that has been happening for decades.
Are you part of a creative movement and/or group beyond The Mission?
On a wider scale, I’m connected to a national group of Latinx poets through CantoMundo. I joined the organization as a fellow, and then I was part of their organizing committee. CantoMundo helped me connect with amazing writers throughout the country and exposed me to new opportunities.
As a writer, I trained on the ground through workshops, residencies, projects, publishing in journals and anthologies, and performing. You don’t need an MFA to be recognized as a writer or a degree to be an artist. I only pursued one, my second master’s degree, because of the reality that a terminal degree increases teaching opportunities. Period.
The community circles are endless, and what a blessing that is. I’ve been involved in organizing Central American writers in the United States since the nineties. Other members of this circle include Raquel Gutierrez and Leda Ramos — accomplished and powerful artists, educators, and wonderful friends. We traveled to El Salvador together with a group of artists and activists based in Los Angeles in 2000. Raquel subsequently started a writing group and curated several events in Los Angeles, and Leda has been working on an archive. It was during these encounters that many of the writers in The Wandering Song: Central American Writing in the United States began to find each other. I co-edited this book, published by Tía Chucha Press, along with Rubén Martínez and Héctor Tobar. The cover artwork is by Josué Rojas. I met Josué when we were part of the Izote Voz book project in 2000. He and I also worked together with other Salvadoran artists in the exhibit “Mourning and Scars: 20 Years After the War” at the SOMArts Cultural Center in 2013.
Over the years, I also connected with the D.C./DMV writing community, specifically with artists and community activists, Samuel Miranda, and Quique Avilés. I also want to highlight the digital community brought to life by La Piscucha, a bilingual magazine put together by some of the writers from The Wandering Song. It’s a beautiful showcase of poetry and art.
Do you remember when you discovered and/or accepted that you wanted to be an artist/writer/poet? What was your inspiration?
First and foremost, my parents and the very diverse communities that they exposed me to inspired me. I grew up around different kinds of art. My dad is a musician and played in a Chicano rock band. He was a wallpaper hanger and very crafty with his hands. My mother did ceramics and crochet. My first art installation, Papeleo, was a recreation of my father’s workroom.
My dad was quite a storyteller. He would talk about back home so much that I had a strong sense of El Salvador’s landscape, food, and family even before I went there. My dad would use music and art to teach me about El Salvador. Nobody can take away the strong raíz that is El Salvador in my art-making and my experience. I grew up understanding that art is for storytelling and making change. I didn’t know the history or phrase of flor y canto when I was growing up. In the Nahuatl language, there isn’t one word for poetry. Instead, the images of flowers and song, the concept of flowersongs, in xochitl, in cuicatl, represent poetry. They are two words and ideas together. There is a duality. This makes so much sense. I developed a writing lesson based on the difrasismo or couplet structure of the language as a way to make figurative language accessible to a wide audience. I call it “word math” and use it to encourage language play with writers of all ages.
How do you use the difrasismo flor y canto nowadays?
Before colonization, poetry, music, and art were essential parts of society and community. I am inspired by the structure of the Nahuatl language and the poetic styles Aztec poets employed. I do not speak Nahuatl. I am, however, excited to refer to a non-Eurocentric point of departure for poetry, form, and aesthetics. I developed Contando con los cuentos, for both my college teaching and creative writing and art workshops. I include some cultural and historical context, and introduce the difrasismo as a way to make poetry accessible. I ask writers: What is your word math? Your flor y canto? (what + what = you). What are the two words that identify you? What are the two images for you?
Who were your mentors and/or idols in your artistic life?
It has been a very diverse group of mentors that I have counted on. San Francisco Poets Laureates Janice Mirikitani and devorah major have been important supporters and mentors. Widely published Jamaican writer Opal Palmer Adisa is such an inspiration, as well as Avoctja, Boricua musician, and poet who treats my children like her own family. Other generous friends include Genny Lim, Nancy Hom, and Poet Laureate, Jack Hirshman, just to name a few. I also have to appreciate the mentors in Los Angeles. Rossana Pérez, my poetry godmother, taught me about the way flowers, prayer, tears, and healing inform poetry. Mentor and friend, Luis J. Rodríguez, founder of Tia Chucha Press and author of many books, including Always Running: La Vida Loca: Gang Days in L.A., published my first poetry collection Mucha Muchacha. Reading his work was transformative. I learned that art can save lives. I have dedicated my life to sharing the resource that art can be with others.
What is your favorite artistic achievement?
My children. They are my best poems. My sons are incredible people and interdisciplinary artists in their own right. The name of my youngest son, Serafín Izal, means “fire angel” — angel del volcán — and that’s exactly what he is. He is a gifted visual artist and storyteller. My fifteen-year-old, Mahcic, is in art school, in musical theatre; he acts, dances, and has an incredible singing voice. Both boys have a lot of mentors and fans here in the Mission.
What is your relationship with El Salvador now? Has it changed over the years? How often do you travel to El Salvador?
I’m very distant from El Salvador now. I visited often in the nineties. In 2001, I was part of Foro 2000, organized by Leda Ramos and Carecen (Los Angeles). This encuentro involved a delegation of artivists who traveled to El Salvador to perform, dialogue, and exchange with various communities. I performed at various venues with writers from the anthology: Izote Vos.
After not returning for a while, in 2007, I did a presentation on behalf of an arts organization. I was able to present on arts education as violence prevention for a conference hosted by Concultura, the Ministry of Culture. Due to work and parental responsibilities, I haven’t returned since.
I can’t wait to go back, and have been in conversation with friends about creative and family trip ideas. I have several projects related to Prudencia Ayala, and I would love to return to do some research in addition to reconnect. Prudencia Ayala has been an influential ancestor, a significant muse in my creative life.
Kalina Press in El Salvador, co-founded by Alexandra Lytton Regalado published a bilingual anthology, Teatro bajo mi piel/Theatre Under My Skin: Contemporary Salvadoran Poetry (2004), which helped me reconnect with the writing community in El Salvador. Last year, I was published in a Spanish language anthology of Salvadoran female poets, Poeta soy. It was a dream come true to appear in a book with poetas Salvadoreñas, although I was born in the U.S.
What is your favorite thing about your literary/artistic community?
Right now, I’m excited about the number of poetry readings that are happening virtually on Zoom and Facebook. Not even a pandemic can silence us. I’m proud of all the people taking a stand for Black Lives Matter, for children in cages, LGBTQ rights, and all the people who need our support and voice. I’m proud of the activism. I’m proud of the momentum. I’m proud of The Wandering Songs folks who have been reading and raising money to publish more copies.
What are you currently working on?
I’m working on a collection of poetry titled Vecina. It’s all about the Mission the changes, the challenges, the violence, and gentrification. It’s related to a project I did before called “Despiértame,” which was a series of photo poems that I did on the street, where I re-enacted Manuel Álvarez Bravo’s “Good Reputation Sleeping” That project came first, and then I started working on this collection of poetry, Vecina. I’m also finishing a children’s book. We don’t have a title yet, but it’s part of a national project using multiple platforms to inform and educate people about housing rights. This book should be out next year.
If you could share one or two writing tips, what would they be?
Expose yourself. If you want to write, you need to read. You should read as many diverse writers from different genres as you can. Also, support other writers. Go to events, now virtually. Going to events and hearing what my community and my friends are creating has always inspired me.
My second piece of advice is to have a practice, a routine. When I finally did that, I became very productive.
