“i’ll never stop stealing back what’s mine. i promise: i won’t forget” is the bittersweet ending of Franny Choi’s poem Choi Jeong Min. As Choi explores their relationship with their culture, their narrative changes from deep resentment to admiration, starting with the base of their identity: their name. This poem could be broken apart and collaged back together and the structure and bones of its meaning would still stay intact: of Choi grappling with the pent up anger of being forced into cultural assimilation, then told they are stealing when they are taking away opportunities from white people.
At the beginning of the poem there is a dedication to their parents, serving as an apology. An apology for asking to go by Frances in the first grade. An apology to their parents for neglecting an inherent part of their identity. As a child, tired of the mispronunciation of an unconventional name, being “butchered by hammerhead tongues.” To have their name, such an essential part of their identity, to be “safely out of sight.” A name is how we see ourselves, how we let others see a piece of us, and they keep that part of them hidden and protected. Their aspiration is to be a writer, but worried that their last name would follow them; trying to figure out how to “escape” their last name. Their last name is packed with racist history: “if not korean, if not garlic breath, if not seaweed & sesame & and food stamps during the lean years”; there’s something dismissive about their tone in how they see their culture. Part of their distasteful tone is put in the repetition of “if not”. That type of repetition is specifically also known as anaphora.
Repetition is one of the most common or frequently used literary devices, emphasizing the power of persuasion, giving their words rhythm. Another literary device they adopt is using the form of couplets. This whole poem is in the form of couplets, which (again) creates this heartbeat of a rhythm. Couplets make a memorable notion, emphasizing a theme for the reader to ponder on. Couplets’ main purpose is to make a phrase memorable, and for Choi to make their whole poem in couplets creates this subtle tone that this whole essay should be memorable. This isn’t something you should forget.
The tone of urgency and anger follows in the line “could i be paper thin & raceless? dust jacket & coffee stain” Can we just read that again? Really let that metaphor sink in. Dust jackets: keeping books safe; and coffee stains: old and tired. Invisible and faceless, tired of this layer of this old and stained idea of race; or what it was made up to be. They then add in the next couplet “speaking through an ink-stained puppet” still wondering what they could do to hide this part of their identity. Ink stained puppet, makes it feel as if someone is talking for them, controlling them. That someone is speaking for them through a voice that was never theirs, a voice, those strong, loud opinions, weighing on their back.
This disconnect from their culture also demonstrates Choi’s use of enjambment, to present one continuous thought; one breath, one exhale. Enjambment is also used to create a sense of urgency, making the poem a statement of something we need to be fixed now. A message that will hopefully reach others like them, forced into this puzzle of a country, and then ironically then called greedy when they learn how to solve it. However, unlike many, Choi did have a north star, leading them back to their culture when they were lost.
There is a clear tone of admiration when they talk about their parents, admiration for how they never let this westernized culture be forced upon them. Their parents never let the westernized assimilation guilt them into changing themselves. Choi’s parents acted as protection, trying to keep this white-pushed guilt away. “These are the shields for the names we speak in the dark to remember our darkness.” Their parents love acting as shields to westernized culture. The shield is the light within the darkness, making sure they will remember, even in the darkness, even when they don’t want to remember. Their parents love acting like a map, to find themselves again.
They then continue on to talk about “this gray country,” the place that forced them to hide the bits and pieces that made them unique. “This violent foster home whose streets are paved with shame.” To see America; to really see it. “This violent foster home.” A place that is made up of all of these cultures, all these people. This is what makes America unique, and such a violent home. “Riddled with bullies ready to steal your skin & sell it back to your mother for profit.” A home composed of bullies, people that will deteriorate you into nothing. That will “sell your skin & sell it back to your mother for profit.” Ready to take all of the broken bits of what makes you human and make it profit to sell to your own mother. Never safe, never sorry. A “land where they stuff our throats with soil and accuse us of gluttony when we learn to swallow it.” A home where they plaster on this consolidation of culture, then call you ‘white-washed’ when you adapt. Again the hypocrisy or irony of taking something that’s not yours, even though it was forced upon you. That doesn’t even make sense. Choi then states “I am greedy. I think I deserve to be seen for what I am: a boundless, burning wick.” An element that takes and takes, stealing the oxygen, burning until there is nothing left. Choi is touching on a significant point, one that POC in America have faced for decades. Scolded for stealing the opportunities, stealing the white picket fence life; a life that was forced on them to begin with. However, when they stop struggling and adapt, they are the thieves; the people who take what isn’t theirs.
From the beginning to the end of Choi Jeong Min the voice crescendos like a wave of grief spilling over into these singing bowls of acceptance. At the beginning of the poem Choi comes in fierce with rage (righteous rage, but range nonetheless). They are angry that they got this soul identity of them washed over by Western culture. And yet, on the other side of being stripped of your culture were people calling them greedy and gluttonous. However, as the end unfurls there is this distinct tone of realization that they can reclaim what was taken from them. Choi ends the poem with a promise, well two promises: that they will never stop stealing back what was once theirs and they won’t forget. There’s a strength in forgiveness, heavier than any mountain you might climb. Choi leaves us with letting westernized culture wield a power; a voice, by not forgetting. Giving the final tone of the poem this arc of acceptance; the last stage of grief.
5 Stages of Grief
“i’ll never stop stealing back what’s mine. i promise: i won’t forget” is the bittersweet ending of Franny Choi’s poem Choi Jeong Min. As Choi explores their relationship with their culture, their narrative changes from deep resentment to admiration, starting with the base of their identity: their name. This poem could be broken apart and collaged back together and the structure and bones of its meaning would still stay intact: of Choi grappling with the pent up anger of being forced into cultural assimilation, then told they are stealing when they are taking away opportunities from white people.
At the beginning of the poem there is a dedication to their parents, serving as an apology. An apology for asking to go by Frances in the first grade. An apology to their parents for neglecting an inherent part of their identity. As a child, tired of the mispronunciation of an unconventional name, being “butchered by hammerhead tongues.” To have their name, such an essential part of their identity, to be “safely out of sight.” A name is how we see ourselves, how we let others see a piece of us, and they keep that part of them hidden and protected. Their aspiration is to be a writer, but worried that their last name would follow them; trying to figure out how to “escape” their last name. Their last name is packed with racist history: “if not korean, if not garlic breath, if not seaweed & sesame & and food stamps during the lean years”; there’s something dismissive about their tone in how they see their culture. Part of their distasteful tone is put in the repetition of “if not”. That type of repetition is specifically also known as anaphora.
Repetition is one of the most common or frequently used literary devices, emphasizing the power of persuasion, giving their words rhythm. Another literary device they adopt is using the form of couplets. This whole poem is in the form of couplets, which (again) creates this heartbeat of a rhythm. Couplets make a memorable notion, emphasizing a theme for the reader to ponder on. Couplets’ main purpose is to make a phrase memorable, and for Choi to make their whole poem in couplets creates this subtle tone that this whole essay should be memorable. This isn’t something you should forget.
The tone of urgency and anger follows in the line “could i be paper thin & raceless? dust jacket & coffee stain” Can we just read that again? Really let that metaphor sink in. Dust jackets: keeping books safe; and coffee stains: old and tired. Invisible and faceless, tired of this layer of this old and stained idea of race; or what it was made up to be. They then add in the next couplet “speaking through an ink-stained puppet” still wondering what they could do to hide this part of their identity. Ink stained puppet, makes it feel as if someone is talking for them, controlling them. That someone is speaking for them through a voice that was never theirs, a voice, those strong, loud opinions, weighing on their back.
This disconnect from their culture also demonstrates Choi’s use of enjambment, to present one continuous thought; one breath, one exhale. Enjambment is also used to create a sense of urgency, making the poem a statement of something we need to be fixed now. A message that will hopefully reach others like them, forced into this puzzle of a country, and then ironically then called greedy when they learn how to solve it. However, unlike many, Choi did have a north star, leading them back to their culture when they were lost.
There is a clear tone of admiration when they talk about their parents, admiration for how they never let this westernized culture be forced upon them. Their parents never let the westernized assimilation guilt them into changing themselves. Choi’s parents acted as protection, trying to keep this white-pushed guilt away. “These are the shields for the names we speak in the dark to remember our darkness.” Their parents love acting as shields to westernized culture. The shield is the light within the darkness, making sure they will remember, even in the darkness, even when they don’t want to remember. Their parents love acting like a map, to find themselves again.
They then continue on to talk about “this gray country,” the place that forced them to hide the bits and pieces that made them unique. “This violent foster home whose streets are paved with shame.” To see America; to really see it. “This violent foster home.” A place that is made up of all of these cultures, all these people. This is what makes America unique, and such a violent home. “Riddled with bullies ready to steal your skin & sell it back to your mother for profit.” A home composed of bullies, people that will deteriorate you into nothing. That will “sell your skin & sell it back to your mother for profit.” Ready to take all of the broken bits of what makes you human and make it profit to sell to your own mother. Never safe, never sorry. A “land where they stuff our throats with soil and accuse us of gluttony when we learn to swallow it.” A home where they plaster on this consolidation of culture, then call you ‘white-washed’ when you adapt. Again the hypocrisy or irony of taking something that’s not yours, even though it was forced upon you. That doesn’t even make sense. Choi then states “I am greedy. I think I deserve to be seen for what I am: a boundless, burning wick.” An element that takes and takes, stealing the oxygen, burning until there is nothing left. Choi is touching on a significant point, one that POC in America have faced for decades. Scolded for stealing the opportunities, stealing the white picket fence life; a life that was forced on them to begin with. However, when they stop struggling and adapt, they are the thieves; the people who take what isn’t theirs.
From the beginning to the end of Choi Jeong Min the voice crescendos like a wave of grief spilling over into these singing bowls of acceptance. At the beginning of the poem Choi comes in fierce with rage (righteous rage, but range nonetheless). They are angry that they got this soul identity of them washed over by Western culture. And yet, on the other side of being stripped of your culture were people calling them greedy and gluttonous. However, as the end unfurls there is this distinct tone of realization that they can reclaim what was taken from them. Choi ends the poem with a promise, well two promises: that they will never stop stealing back what was once theirs and they won’t forget. There’s a strength in forgiveness, heavier than any mountain you might climb. Choi leaves us with letting westernized culture wield a power; a voice, by not forgetting. Giving the final tone of the poem this arc of acceptance; the last stage of grief.