I also didn’t like that she equated photography with cultural appropriation (in “a question of appropriation”). she writes in multiple places, “have ate” and “can not”–while the latter is pretty innocuous, the former actually made it hard for me to figure out how to read the poems). If she wanted it to work for both ways, she could’ve just gotten rid of the “that.” She chooses awkward syntax and grammar like this throughout the collection (e.g. Are the men hiding their dreams? Or is it “they must hide / their stomachs” type of deal. I’m also not a huge fan of the full-stop period at the end of the lines, because it made the syntax hard to parse. To me, this seems like an awkward way to talk about this subject. Some men have uteruses, but most do not, and I don’t get the sense upon reading the rest of the collection and “him” that she’s talking about trans men. While the message of this poem and others about men learning to be “soft” (as she says) is a good one, the imagery of this poem seems off to me. Waheed jumps between the largely external–issues like imperialism and transnationalism–and the personal–with descriptions of recovering from trauma and self-healing. It makes you think yikes and true at the same time. Another quote I like is from “the end of the world”: It’s highly quotable, but I think unlike some of Waheed’s other poems, the line breaks add meaning and tone to “if no one…”. – if no one has ever told you, your freedom is more important than their anger I really liked the following poem, which I’ve seen shared on social media before: She also makes a point of encouraging young/new writers and other women writers of color. She has a strong emotional connection to the topics she’s discussing, and it shows. Run my heart across my teeth, repeatedly.Īt moments, her talent for imagery and rhythm shine, and her voice really shows. To be fair, I read it on Kindle, which is not the best way to digest poetry like this, so it may have been an easier reading on my eyes if I read the paperback. The choppy lines hindered my reading of the poem, and at some points it was too straight-forward, and at other times, it felt like it was too purple, that I didn’t really know what she was trying to say. She has some very quotable short poems but in general I found the collection to be a bit awkward to read through. Waheed tackles some important and tough subjects like the African diaspora, motherhood, the ways in which feminism can benefit men, and sexual assault. My review of Salt by Nayyirah Waheed: Rating: 2.5 stars: “It was okay”
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