Bibliography: Writing The Other in Creative Writing Workshops


Representations & Critique

  • Anzaldua, Gloria, ed. Making Face, Making Soul: Haciendo Caras, (first section especially helps to contextualize unconscious racism).
  • Galang, Evelina. Screaming Monkey’s:  Critiques of Asian American Images.
  • Hernández, Daisy and ‪Bushrá Raḥmān, ed. Colonize This!: Young Women of Color on Today’s Feminism.
  • Hooks, Bell. Yearning: Race, Gender and Cultural Politics.
  • Minh-ha, Trinh T., Woman, Native, Other, chapter “Difference: ‘A Special Third World Women Issue’”.
  • Minh-ha, Trinh T., When the Moon Waxes Red: Representation, Gender and Cultural Politics.
  • Moraga, Cherríe and Gloria E. Anzaldúa, ed. This Bridge Called My Back:  Writings by Radical Women of Color.
  • Morrison, Toni. Playing In the Dark–whiteness and the Literary Imagination.
  • Mura, David. Reading and Writing Race, also quotations from Writing on Race Workshop.
  • Mura, David.  Asian Americans and The Front and Back of the Bus, forthcoming
  • Said, Edward. Orientalism.
  • Thandeka. Learning to be white:  Money, Race, and God in America.

Specific to Academia

  • Gutierrez y Muhs, Gabriella and Yolanda Flores Niemann, Carmen G. Gonzalez, Angela P. Harris, ed. Presumed Incompetent: The Intersections of Race and Class for Women in Academia.
  • McIntosh, Peggy white Privilege:  Unpacking the Invisible Backpack. Accessed at
  • Razack, Sherene, Looking white People in the Eye:  Race, Gender and Culture in Courtrooms and Classrooms.

Essays & Articles

Writing Craft

Blogs & Online Discussions


  • Painter, Nell Irvin. The History of white People.



  • Polido, Laura. Black, Brown, Yellow, and Left: Radical Activism in Los Angeles.


  • Kennedy, Adrienne. People that Led to My Plays.

***compiler’s note:  thank you to the many who have contributed to this bibliography.  I apologize for not naming you – it is solely because the truth is a dangerous thing, and you have spoken truth to power.  The bibliography is available at my website:


ask me to tell how it feels

remembering your mother’s face

turned to water under the white words

of the man at the shoe store. ask me,

though she tells it better than i do,

not because of her charm

but because it never happened

she says,

no bully salesman swaggering,

no rage, no shame, none of it

ever happened.

i only remember buying you

your first grown up shoes

she smiles. ask me

how it feels.

Lucille Clifton


Valentine for Los Angeles

For Tracy K. Smith


the smokeshop man is a bearded antique

he exchanges salaams in the morning

why do you always go back?

he gives you a red lighter

it tumbles from a bleeding sky into our

hands, that nebulous queer place


over breakfast we discuss significance

the resemblance between Christopher Dorner

and          everybody          else

the mountains are murdering things

when the smoke evaporates

you eat grapefruit next to the ashtray


the afternoon is drying the salt from

your body, licking the drops i smell

peaches and truth     do we hang

overripe in the garden?     are we stars

shot through the canon of the universe

punching rough holes in the ground?


Our fights remind me of making up

love me   love me     you are this magnet

with   dark   dark   eyes     at night we are two

questions blurring into each other     we laugh

about how close people are from one day

to the next, from everything was okay to


complete and total disaster

but we don’t know it yet.

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