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How To Be Different, How To Be Me

Identities and cultures get lost and found as people traverse land and sea. This a collection of ten poems written by an immigrant in New Zealand, a woman of colour with multiple identities. In some poems, she unpacks the social cues and cultural nuances of the situations she finds herself in. In others, she simply wants to be herself – at least one of the multiple identities she holds.

For best results, perform the poems like a song, a rap or spoken word.

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I celebrate the year of 2022 with my first self-published book How To Be Different, How To Be Me: Poems about identity and culture lost and found.

I started writing poetry when I was 15, published poems in local anthologies in Singapore in my early twenties and once entrenched in adulthood and soon after, motherhood, poetry became a distant memory. I started to write again when my children could walk and and run on their own, and as I saw my thirties start to move very quickly into another decade. Where did all that time go? And what did I have to show for it?

Words. I had words to capture the moments when something in me stirred: reacting to an incident, realising some dormant thought, or ranting in style.

By 2022, I had plenty of words for capturing scenes from motherhood, family holidays, coffee conversations, imagined lives of my alter egos, and pointy social commentary dressed up in verse. In 2022, the thirties were well over, and I found myself turning 45 – feeling restless about what I was going to do with my accumulated words, and tired of not having a birthday gift that I really wanted.

The antidote to that was buying myself a New Zealand Society of Authors (NZSA) membership and attending their Wellington Roadshow in July. I was going to be a writer, a poet, a someone who had words worth reading (and performing). I was inspired by the keynote address given by Witi Ihimaera who imparted these lessons: write to impossible deadlines, use writing structures like seasons, and decide what kind of writer you want to be. I re-connected with my element in a poetry masterclass by Siobhan Harvey. And I found like-minded people and discovered networks and events in the amazing literary capital of Wellington I call home.

Open mic poetry reading at Unity Books Wellington on National Poetry Day 26 Aug 2022

I took part in an open mic poetry reading organised by the Wellington branch of the NZSA as part of National Poetry Day. I started to write poetry to submit to anthologies, literary journals and any occasion that called for poetry that resonated with my personal and life themes. When my poems were not accepted, I wasn’t disheartened, but was actually motivated to find alternative ways to express myself to the public.

Self-publishing in the age of ‘self’

In the age of the ‘self’, I was starting to think I was missing out on something by merely wishing that someday someone would somehow discover my talent and sign me up as their publisher. I concluded one Sunday afternoon that I could do that for myself – look at the countless other individuals who have released their own music, published their own books, and produced their own apps!

I’ve had already been routinely putting together collections of poetry to share with friends and family, designing book covers and layout using Canva and promoting them on my Facebook page and LinkedIn account. So I was just taking another a few additional steps to getting my work into a more concrete and legitimised format.

With a collection of recent poems already forming in my head, I quickly went into entrepreneurial mode, googling my way through how-to-guides, YouTube videos and learning through trial and error. The result of this self-learnt journey into self-publishing are two products: A Kindle product and a softcover book.

Where to find my book

You can purchase the Kindle book here from anywhere in the world (almost) and you don’t need a Kindle reader – just download the Kindle app on your device. And if you’re in New Zealand, you can place an order for the softcover book here (free shipping). If you’ve read my book, please consider leaving a review on Goodreads.

I also did a poetry reading on Facebook live and this being my first experience hosting a FB live event, I thought it went pretty well!

Facebook live poetry reading from How To Be Different, How To Be Me

Poetry reading from “How To Be Different, How To Be Me”

Live poetry reading from my book “How To Be Different, How To Be Me: Poems about identity and culture lost and found”

Posted by The Diasporic Academic on Sunday, 4 December 2022

My next goals are to get it to local bookstores, events and do more live poetry readings, in-person and online. I also hope to use the book as a springboard for small group discussions, workshops and any kind of event that promotes self-reflection and discovery as it relates to individuals or communities who identify as being ‘different’.

So I bid you adieu 2022, with all the words I’ve written here, and look forward to resting, recovering and re-connecting to prepare for 2023.

Six Servings of Christmas

Celebrating the end of year with Six Servings of Christmas – a short collection of poems on different Christmas experiences. There are many musical references in these poems, and not just Christmas songs or carols.

If music be the food of love, play on.

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Six Servings of Christmas by Sherrie Lee (mobile-friendly)

Other poems

Nine at 35

Journal Notes

Loose Leaves

Finding my way home

Overture to Life of a Complex Woman

Overture to Life of a Complex Woman

Image by Gerd Altmann from Pixabay

The theme for this year’s International Women’s Day is ‘Choose to Challenge’ with the goal of forging a ‘gender equal world’. One expression of forging that equality is to celebrate women’s achievements.

Being a complex woman – is that an ‘achievement’ worth celebrating? Is it noteworthy enough to be female, married, have kids, and be living out a migrant life? Was my desire to move to a foriegn land on the premise that the ‘foreign’ is inherently better, only to realise that it was a mirage from one angle, and a scam in the harshest of lights, a disappointment felt more acutely because of my intersecting ‘woman’ roles and experiences?

If we are celebrating the complexity, are we giving recognition to the ‘seen but unheard’ struggles that we attempt to overcome, whether successfully or not? And if so, what can we hope to achieve from this celebration of complexity and struggle? Are we lauded as being resilient and given a badge of courage that can’t be exchanged for much apart from more well-meaning acclamations? Or do we stand proud and say, see, I am so much more than you make me out to be, and I don’t feel I have to be ashamed of my complexity and struggles. Is that reward enough?

I ask these questions not for rhetorical effect, but for response and dialogue. It’s not something you bring up in everyday conversation or a casual chat with colleagues. In fact, these experiences are so personal and revealing that it’s hard to have a conversation about it with others. I’ve found myself having conversations with myself (as inspired by Bill Evans) – I cry out in my mind the what ifs and rant about my tiredness and frustrations – all this running counterpoint to the roles and responsibilities my physical body carries out.

My work life is playing out a melody with a more or less predictable rhythm, while home life features greater dynamics with solo passages that seem to have a mind of its own. These two scores can play separately but refrains of one will echo in the other. And creeping in between and around the physical locations of work and home is a song I am writing and singing, often using familiar notes and phrases, wishing I could experiment with new chords, and when I try, enter into bars of silence.

Song of Restlessness

The Mother in me is tired
The one who needs to care for her chicks
Who sees the mess to be made right
That food and drink are prepared
To make the path smooth and straight
So her offspring can walk with ease
Releasing versions of independence
Only to be out of sync with actual demands
And outraged by their sheer disregard
Desperate tears sting with shame
The compass needle spinning
With no way to point home

Mother! Why are you so foolish?
Your generosity is such a mistake
Your love misplaced
Unreciprocity is what you deserve
For trying too hard too much
Haven’t you learnt the lessons from your own mother?
Haven’t you figured out how freedom works?

I want to ask Mother to leave me
Or be some other kind of Mother
But kicking her out is impossible
And changing her needs a miracle

So the Mother in me remains in me
The best I can do is ask her to rest
And she will have to however grudgingly
Our energies have limits
And the evening will quieten us down

Good night Mother
Good night
It’s time to say
Good night

So here I am, piecing together this Overture to Life of a Complex Woman, a composer who is working with lietmotifs from the past and present, with the hope of unleashing a triumphant opening for the future.

Finding my way home

Image by Pexels from Pixabay

Finding my way home 

I left home in a hurry
As I packed five large suitcases and several smaller bags
Told my children about the adventure we were going on
Squeezed my husband’s hand as we walked through the departure gate
Buckled up, took off, flew through time zones, and arrived all worn out
By the weight and clunk of our belongings
With the faintest memory of home

I left friendships behind
As they wrapped up the loose ends
Over food and drink and gifts
Frozen in time, intact over the distance
Their names scattered across the Facebook feed
Their words and photos filling the tedium of mindless addiction
Numbing the years that accumulate

I let it go
The security of approval
The unrelenting pursuit of success
The opinion of masses motivated by greed
The moral compass that has gone off course 
The unquestioning loyalty to the hand that feeds us
And now I start from scratch

I am building a new home 
With a vision and a hope
Through rough waves of emotion
Pausing for deliverance
Breaking through walls of disappointment 
Settling for makeshift comforts
The foundation is barely finished

I got lost on my way home
I found myself a stateless creature
Plastered with labels that justify my existence
Responsible for the outlandish dream that got us here
Paying the price for stretching across borders
Confiding in those who don’t take offence at me
Now looking for the breadcrumbs the birds left alone

© 2020 Sherrie Lee

Loose Leaves

Loose Leaves is a collection of poems written between 1994 and 1998, that is, between the ages of 17 and 21. Poetry then looked like an indulgence of heady emotion through words and awkward phrases. (Maybe it is still the case today!)

Instead of using Canva to create a book, I’m trying out Google docs with links to each poem and the contents page. A two-page and mobile-friendly pdf version are also available.

2-page PDF

Loose-Leaves-2-page

Mobile-friendly version


Embedded Google Doc eBook

Don`t copy text!