Reema Rajbanshi

     As a kid, I drew and painted long before I wrote seriously. So I understand the textual or visual image as stepping in when words feel out of reach. I’ve twice taught a class in which I ask young writers to keep an image journal to tap into trauma and repressed memories. This class is inspired by Lynda Barry’s Syllabus: Notes from an Accidental Professor and by the podcast This Jungian Life that treats images as keys to healing. 

     What inspires me is that one true sentence. This mantra—repeated by Lucy Corin in my master’s program—transformed my writing. I began accessing raw, angry, and challenging notes and ultimately those experiences girls are encouraged not to vocalize. Also, a high school friend gifted me a birthday book on the Dada art movement of the early 20th c. I was mesmerized by their experiments with form and humor and their brave engagement with politics. 

     My linked story collection Sugar, Smoke, Song (Red Hen Press, 2020) was my debut book. A triptych, it moves between three Assamese American characters (Maina, Jumi, and Nirmali) and explores what it means to build a life as a young woman of color among immigrants in a country that devalues both. I connect deeply to place, so a central character is the Bronx, where I grew up. As is usual, some stories were published prior in journals, and I remain grateful to those editors that took a chance on my dark pieces and built my confidence.