A Clarification on Lineage, Myth, and the Work We Inherit

As an Asian American poet whose work has drawn deeply from inherited mythology, I feel compelled to clarify something, not for controversy, but for the record.

My use of Asian mythology in poetry is not a matter of aesthetic choice. It is lived, oral, familial. The stories I write come from my grandmother’s mouth, from the way my culture lives inside language, gesture, food, and mourning. These myths are not decorative. They are structural to my worldview and to my voice as a writer.

My first book, Wishbone, was published in 2000 by Heyday, a press known for championing historically grounded and culturally important work. I have published in journals like Ploughshares, The Kenyon Review, and ZYZZYVA, and my work is part of the American poetry canon, not only because of where it appears, but because of what it carries.

I am aware of newer writers who have recently begun to incorporate Asian mythology into speculative or poetic work, sometimes after my path was already cut and published. I will not name names. But I will say this clearly: There is a difference between researching myth and inheriting it. Between stylizing culture and living it.

If future discussions arise comparing or conflating the use of Asian myth in poetry, especially among Asian American writers, I ask that people consider source, history, and depth. Not all usage is equal. Not all engagement is legacy.

I speak not from envy but from authority. I have earned that. And I will continue to write from that place: one where myth is not a tool, but a bone. A voice passed down. A sacred flame, not a borrowed light.

Priscilla Lee