INTERVIEW WITH MARGO JEFFERSON
“In my household, there was a double message. You learn to play certain feminine games, absolutely. That helps you get married. It helps to sustain the marriage, child-rearing, etcetera, but you don’t let it go. I’m not saying there weren’t women in my mother’s world who weren’t bourgeoisie female causalities— too much drinking, pills, unhappy marriages—but you survive, you find ways to subvert White femininity in order to survive.”
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“In my household, there was a double message. You learn to play certain feminine games, absolutely. That helps you get married. It helps to sustain the marriage, child-rearing, etcetera, but you don’t let it go. I’m not saying there weren’t women in my mother’s world who weren’t bourgeoisie female causalities— too much drinking, pills, unhappy marriages—but you survive, you find ways to subvert White femininity in order to survive.”
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WILLIAM DALRYMPLE TALKS ABOUT OUR CROSS-GENERATIONAL FRIENDSHIP IN THE AUGUST 2018 ISSUE OF VOGUE INDIA
"The slap of the thigh with which the poetry-dance piece ends encapsulates the tension that is prescient in the collection: a compelling moment of anger and defiance, intersecting the power of the spoken word with that of the physical body" -- A REVIEW IN POETRY SCHOOL
STAYING IN DYLAN THOMAS'S HOUSE
Dylan Thomas opened a window in the house of poetry for me. Part of it had to do with his Welshness, and my need to associate myself with that which was mine but not fully mine. But it was also shared affinities — his love/hate for Swansea mirrored mine for Madras.
He called it “an ugly, lovely town…crawling, sprawling…by the side of a long and splendid curving shore”. In the way that this sea-town was his world, middling Madras and her Marina was my world too. “I’ve longed to move away,” he wrote to one of his friends, but he kept coming back, because “it is still the best place.” I understood well the comfort of the familiar, which quickly turns oppressive, the seductive call of the great elsewhere. But it was also his rapaciousness for words themselves, his obsession with the inevitability of decay, his placing the body in the centre of the universe. “My body was my adventure and my name,” he wrote in The Peaches.
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Dylan Thomas opened a window in the house of poetry for me. Part of it had to do with his Welshness, and my need to associate myself with that which was mine but not fully mine. But it was also shared affinities — his love/hate for Swansea mirrored mine for Madras.
He called it “an ugly, lovely town…crawling, sprawling…by the side of a long and splendid curving shore”. In the way that this sea-town was his world, middling Madras and her Marina was my world too. “I’ve longed to move away,” he wrote to one of his friends, but he kept coming back, because “it is still the best place.” I understood well the comfort of the familiar, which quickly turns oppressive, the seductive call of the great elsewhere. But it was also his rapaciousness for words themselves, his obsession with the inevitability of decay, his placing the body in the centre of the universe. “My body was my adventure and my name,” he wrote in The Peaches.
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Tishani Doshi performs Girls are Coming out of the Woods. photo: Carlo Pizzati
A NEW INTERVIEW SERIES for OPEN MAGAZINE
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GIRL IN A BOX
PORTRAITS BY RICCARDO CAVALLARI
PORTRAITS BY RICCARDO CAVALLARI