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Sasha Debevik McKenney
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Kevin Young
Hello, you're listening to the New Yorker Poetry Podcast. I'm Kevin Young, poetry Editor of the New Yorker Magazine. On this program, we invite a poet to select a poem from the New Yorker Archive to read and discuss. Then they read one of their own poems that's been published in the magazine. The poems we're featuring in this episode also appear in the anthology A Century of Poetry in The New Yorker, 1925-2025. Available for purchase from the New Yorker Store or wherever you buy books. Today my guest is Sasha Debevik McKenney, who is the author of the new poetry collection Joy Is My Middle Name. She was a JC And Ruth Halls Poetry Fellow at the University of Wisconsin and a Creative Writing Fellow at Emory University. Her poems have been published widely. Sasha, welcome. Thank you for joining me.
Sasha Debevik McKenney
Hi Kevin, I'm so happy to be here.
Kevin Young
The first poem you've chosen to read is Hammond B3 Organ Cistern by Gabrielle Calvo Caressi. What was it about this particular poem that caught your attention when you were looking through the anthology?
Sasha Debevik McKenney
I just love this poem. It's so important to me. It feels like it's a part of me and I just want other people to read it.
Kevin Young
Great. Why don't we listen to the poem? Here's Sasha Debevik McKenney reading. Hammond B3 Organ Cistern by Gabrielle Cavacoressi.
Sasha Debevik McKenney
Hammond B3 Organ Cistern the days I don't want to kill myself are extraordinary. Deep bass. All the people in the streets waiting for their high fives and leaping, I mean leaping when they see me. I am the sun filled God of love. Or at least an optimistic under secretary. There should be a word for it. The days you wake up and do not want to slit your throat. Money in the bank, enough for an ice green tea every weekday and Saturday and Sunday. It's like being in the armpit of a Hammond B3 organ. Just reeks of gratitude and funk. The funk of ages. I am not going to ruin my love's life today. It's like the time I said yes to gray sneakers. But then the salesman said wait. And there, out of the back room, like the bakery's first biscuits. Bright blue kicks iridescent like a scarab. Oh, who am I kidding? It was nothing like a scarab. It was like bright blue fucking sneakers. I did not want to die that day. Oh my God. Why don't we talk about it? How good it feels. And if you don't know, then you're lucky. But also, you poor thing. Bring the band out on the stoop. Let the whole neighborhood hear. Come on, everybody, say it with me nice and slow. No pills, no cliff. No brains on the floor. Bring the base back. No rope, no hose. Not today, Satan. Every day I wake up with my good fortune and news of my demise. Don't keep it from me. Why don't we have a name for it? Bring the bass back. Bring the band out on the stoop. Hallelujah.
Kevin Young
That was Hammond B3 organ cistern by Gabrielle Cavocaresi, which was originally published in the November 19, 2018 issue of the New Yorker. I love that line. Why don't we have a name for it? And you read it so well. I think capturing that feeling is so much part of the poem and so much this idea of naming which keeps coming up and it's named in different ways. It's blue stone sneakers. It's ice cream tea every weekday And Saturday and Sunday. And this Hammond B3 organ. This sense of being inside gratitude and funk. How do you think about naming in this poem? And how do you think about its sort of emotional gratitude?
Sasha Debevik McKenney
Yeah. I love all the lines, all the little images that you just mentioned. Like, all these concrete images, these things that feel personal to the author and also to me. I love that this poem isn't like, here's the name for this thing. Do you know what I mean? Like, it's in that question. Why don't we have a name for it? Why don't we talk about it? Like, something I love about this poem is that it makes me feel less lonely, you know? And so it makes me feel like I could tell you what I would name it and you could name it something else, and our names would all be valid and beautiful. And I appreciate poems as a place where, like, there's no answer. Right. And there's no answer to even that question. Yes. Like, I just feel like in this poem, that could be so depressing in this world that's so depressing, being able to just appreciate something like having the ability to, like, treat yourself to green tea three days in a row. You're like, yeah, I should stay alive.
Kevin Young
Well, and it's every weekday and Saturday and Sunday. It's like seven days.
Sasha Debevik McKenney
Seven days a week. Exactly. It's about those little things that keep you going through every day. And about the big things and the, you know, the funk of ages. Like, I love that line. I mean, obviously the title of the poem is Hammond B3 organ cistern. You know, so, like, you're waiting for the organ to show up, and then when it actually does, you're inside it. And that line always, you know, when you're, like, really in love with someone, you, like, want to smell their armpits.
Kevin Young
I'm flabbergasted, but go on.
Sasha Debevik McKenney
But, like, you know, you just. You, like, really love the funk of them.
Kevin Young
Is part of your.
Sasha Debevik McKenney
Exactly. Your love for them. And, like, that's kind of how I. I mean, that's one of the things that that part of the poem brings up for me. Just like, you're loving even the ugly parts of. Of life. And that's what the poem is about, you know?
Kevin Young
Well, funk is a great word because period. And I've written about funk. There's some African origins. But setting that aside for now, it means both feeling blue, feeling sad in a funk, and then also having this. What I think of as the opposite of fighting funkiness, you know? And also, as you Said it also means that stink that, you know, stank. And, you know, and the blues are similar. The blues name a feeling, that form of the blues fights, you know, and so the music of the blues fights having the blues, even if it's just naming pain, you know, and here I think it does both. It manages to name pain, but then also talk about deep bass, the funk of ages. And these sneakers, I think, are this other wonderful moment. It's like the time I said, yes, line break, you know, very good break to gray sneakers, which, you know, they're not even black sneakers or white. But then the salesman said, wait. And I think of that salesman almost in a cosmic way, like, you know, Galway Canal has this incredible poem that the magazine published that's also in the anthology called Wait, and it's about telling someone not to kill themselves, you know, and there's that moment there feels like you could just, you know, if it were online, you could click on it and go to Galway's poem. You know, like, to me, it just hyperlinks out into Galway. But there's also this kind of cosmic salesman, that salesman who's selling you what, you know, selling you happiness in this moment, but also is selling you a lot of bad times, the other moments or grayness. And so there's something about that salesman finally coming through. Like the bakery's first biscuits, bright blue kicks. And those sounds between bakery's first biscuits and bright blue kicks, the B's and the K's. Wow. I mean, that's a cistern in and of itself. A ham and organ doing its thing, literally.
Sasha Debevik McKenney
And then the iridescent, which you want to be a hard C, and it's not. It's like a soft one. Just. It's beautiful, right? I love that line because, like, also the. To me, this poem is the bright blue fucking sneakers poem, you know, because the poem isn't like, wow, today I'm having an amazing day. It's like, today I don't want to kill myself. You know, like, you were waking up every day feeling depressed. You aren't expecting the blue sneakers, you know, And I love in that line also, or in that little area where we get what I like. I don't know what else to call it other than, like, a redacted simile, you know, where it's like. It was like a scarab. And then it's like, no, there's no point in using comparison right now. I'm just gonna say it pl. And then a couple lines after that, getting the line of like, I Did not want to die that day. Like, there's just something so down to earth about this poem.
Kevin Young
I also think the scarab, too. It picks back up the C's and the B sounds. But then, as you said, it kind of gets redacted or taken back. I think it's part of the voice in the poem who is very familiar with us, feels comfortable confessing, you know, this scary thing, but also feels comfortable saying, oh, who am I kidding? It was nothing like a scarab. Like, that was me being poetic. Though, of course, as soon as you take it away, it's there all the more, you know?
Sasha Debevik McKenney
Yes.
Kevin Young
And I think that. Why don't we talk about it? How good it feels. And if you don't know, then you're lucky. But also, you poor thing. And that you. Who shifts in the poem. I think at first, or at times, for me, it's the beloved. I am not going to ruin my love's life today. I mean, that's an incredible part of the poem where I'm just getting chills thinking about it. But then also this thing. You're lucky if you never felt that way. But also, do you know the ecstasy of not feeling that way when you have. And I think that compassion in the voice. I'm just curious how you see that. Is it compassion? Is it empathy? Is it humor? Is it all of the above?
Sasha Debevik McKenney
It's probably all of the above, you know, because that's what a poem can do, thankfully, include all of that. But I feel like because we have the organ, because we have the neighbors, because there's this rhythm in the poem, especially at the end, and we're on the stoop with everyone. Like, I think the poem is just. It makes me feel like part of a community, you know? Like, I think when you struggle with those things, when you struggle with depression, you spend so much time wishing that you didn't feel that way or wishing you were normal. And that moment in the poem where it's like, you poor thing, it makes me feel like. I don't know. I feel like I could cry right now. But it makes me feel like I should be happy for how I feel and who I am. And the people who don't feel that way, like they're missing out on the bright blue fucking sneakers, you know, like, if every day is bright blue sneakers for you, which I don't think that's the truth for anybody. It's like you can't appreciate it. And that's just a moment where I think you're right. Like, there's just this familiarity immediately. Something I love about this poem is like, how do you write a first line? Like, the days I don't want to kill myself line break. Are extraordinary. Like, I'm immediately. I love the poet immediately. The speaker. Like, I trust them because they trust me enough to tell me that, you know, that's right. So when we're at the bottom and it's, you know, there's just the we versus the you. Like, this poem makes you feel like you're part of the we, which is the opposite of how you feel when you are depressed, you know, or when you're really, really sad and don't know how to deal with it.
Kevin Young
No, I think that's well said. And I was noticing that there's a community in the poem itself who supports the I and the we. All the people in the streets waiting for their high fives and leaping. I mean, leaping. It's italicized. When they see me, I am the sun filled God of love, or at least an optimistic under secretary, which is very funny. And I think that they're also more a reliable narrator, I think, because of the confession you said, but also because they don't totally know the answer. There should be a word for it. Those days you wake up and do not want to slit your throat. And I thought you read that so well. Money in the bank and that kind of colloquial quality. Say that many times fast. Is really part of the intimacy and empathy that I think the piece creates. I wonder if I could ask you too, though, about music itself and that part in the poem which, you know, I've read this poem many times. I've published it many times. I'm really struck in your reading by the part from. Come on, everybody, say it with me. Nice and slow. No pills, no cliff, no brains on the floor. Bring the bass back. How do you hear that? Bring the bass back. Is that, you know, part of the organ? Is that part of this forum that Gabrielle has created? How does that work there in that. That little chorus, let's call it.
Sasha Debevik McKenney
Yeah, it feels like just because I like. To me, this poem is so in a church. I legitimately, like. I pulled up a video of someone playing a Hammond B3 organ, and it genuinely made me cry because I listened to the recording of Gabrielle reading this poem on the New Yorker so many times.
Kevin Young
That's bold. That's brave. Like, you know, watching Jordan and then like shooting in front of Jordan. Really. I mean, we're gonna do that.
Sasha Debevik McKenney
It's crazy. But they are Such a beautiful reader. To the point that, like, that whole last, like, eight lines just feels like music, even the non italicized parts. So for me, it's like the speaker becomes like the preacher, you know, and the bring the bass back is just like a little aside, you know, like, maybe they're pointing to the other side of the church in that moment, you know, like, or to the dance floor.
Kevin Young
I mean, you know, like, it has that sort of double feeling of a congregation, a club, a, you know, concert, a performance.
Sasha Debevik McKenney
Yes. And it's also, like, kind of being like, can this happen again sometime? You know, like, if we're saying, like, the days that you don't want to kill yourself are kind of like this deep bass, you know, it's like, bring the bass back, please. Like, can we hear it again? Like, can we make it louder? Like, is there a possibility that this feeling might come back? It's a little optimistic, which is so nice, because the words all around it are so violent.
Kevin Young
Yes.
Sasha Debevik McKenney
You know, it's a little bit of a break. It's like a little bit of sunshine before we go from, like, to into no rope, Right.
Kevin Young
No, and I think you said that so well. Bring the base back. No rope, no hose. Not today, Satan. You know, and that bedevilment of depression, you know, is always lurking, but not today, you know, and that saying, which is, you know, something you can hear all the time online now, but I think has this kind of great gospel root and biblical root is so powerful there. I think it's really tremendous. And I love that last hallelujah.
Sasha Debevik McKenney
Yeah, me too. I love how many exclamation marks are in this poem. Yeah, like, we do not use exclamation marks enough.
Kevin Young
Like, they're hard to get. Right?
Sasha Debevik McKenney
They are. And this one has, like, five of them or something, including, like, one, two, three in a row. Scarab. Scarab sneakers. And then hallelujah. Like, there's just something so ballsy about it. And it's such a perfect ending because that's how you would, you know, end. Like a prayer or something, I suppose. But it's just like a. It feels like the poem's like, thanking God for forgiving them this day. I. I love that. And it's all on its own. There's, like.
Kevin Young
Right.
Sasha Debevik McKenney
No, it's just into silence, then, you know, just the word hallelujah at the end of the poem. Like.
Kevin Young
Well, and I think just those. Yeah, the last eight lines, but even a little shorter. Every day I wake up with my good fortune and news of My demise. Those are two almost different things, right? Don't keep it from me. I'm just, you know, every line, every half line is doing another thing. Why don't we have a name for it? And maybe by then, when you ask a question that many times, it becomes itself a chorus, of course, but it also has a kind of quality of, yeah, why don't we, you know, how come we don't talk about this feeling of relief and joy and, you know, the answer probably is it takes a whole poem to describe bright blue sneakers as a bomb, as a way of getting us through this day and this life. But then you have that. Bring the bass back, bring the band out on the stoop, which we haven't had exactly there, but we have the whole time. And again, there's community. There's a public quality to the poem, I think a kind of Whitman esque eye, but also this new form that I think they've created that's so smart because it lets them say all these things at once.
Sasha Debevik McKenney
Yeah. There's just such a confidence in ending the poem. Hallelujah. Like, and I do feel when it says bring the band out on the stoop, I think it's the people that were waiting for their high fives at the beginning, you know, like, I'm like, those people are always there, really. You know, even when you're depressed. Like, the people are there. The people are there for you.
Kevin Young
And, yeah, there's high fives waiting for you if you're able to see them.
Sasha Debevik McKenney
Yes.
Kevin Young
If you're able to go out on.
Sasha Debevik McKenney
The street, which sometimes you're not. Yeah, been there for sure.
Kevin Young
But you know, this back room where, you know, you don't know in that part of the poem, what is the salesman gonna bring out? You know, and it's good tidings, you know, it is good fortune. And I think that kind of tension is throughout the poem and especially there. And then at the end, why not, you know, give thanks, hallelujah, exclaim, exhort, you know, and sing praise.
Sasha Debevik McKenney
Yeah, why not, like, be happy.
Kevin Young
More from my conversation with Sasha Debevik McKenney after the break.
Sasha Debevik McKenney
Hi, I'm Deborah Treisman, fiction editor of the New Yorker. Each week on the Writer's Voice podcast, New Yorker fiction writers read their newly published stories from the magazine. You can hear from authors like Colson Whitehead. Turner nudged Elwood, who had a look.
Kevin Young
Of horror on his face. They saw it.
Sasha Debevik McKenney
Griff wasn't going down.
Kevin Young
He was going to go for it no matter what happened after.
Sasha Debevik McKenney
Or Joy Williams her father was silent. Slowly he passed his hand over his hair. This usually meant that he was traveling to a place immune to her presence, a place that indeed contradicted her presence. She might as well go to lunch.
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Listen to news stories, or dive into.
Sasha Debevik McKenney
Our archive of great fiction. You can find the work of your favorite fiction writers and discover new ones. Listen and follow the writer's voice wherever you get your podcasts. When your love for sneakers has you chasing limited editions, classics, and rare finds, go to ebay. Score your Once in a Blue Moon pair and check off your wish list for those fresh kicks. Get authentic streetwear and expert verified accessories. Think timeless watches, vintage designer bags, and more jewelry than you can wear. Ebay the new place for new pre loved vintage and rare fashion. Yeah, ebay Things People Love.
Kevin Young
Sasha, welcome back.
Sasha Debevik McKenney
Hi.
Kevin Young
Now, in our November 22, 2021 issue, the new Yorker published your poem Kaepernick, which you'll read for us in a moment. Is there anything you want people to know about the poem first?
Sasha Debevik McKenney
I mean, I would just like them to know that I submitted this to the New Yorker and it took a little while and then they took it out of the slush pile like it was really exciting. Yeah. And it could happen to you.
Kevin Young
Here's Sasha Debevik McKenney reading her poem Kaepernick.
Sasha Debevik McKenney
Kaepernick My mother is uncomfortable with my top. She doesn't think my boobs should be out like this. She adjusts the TV antenna and says, isn't the TV working better now? I don't want to watch football. I'm trying to learn to do my makeup. My mother never taught me. Should I say at this point that my mother is white? I used to watch Pantene commercials and think my hair could look like that if I used enough of her product. She has one of those white mom haircuts now. It is thinning. She needs more volume. She needs me to tell her I know I'm white too. Like I think about anything else, the football players are kneeling because I say, anyone could kill your black son. He's white too, she says, and you could use a little more eyeliner. She wonders why I don't want her to help me pick out foundation. The football players stand up. Then they play football.
Kevin Young
That was Kaepernick by Sasha Debevik McKenney. I love hearing this poem. It's so smart. And we were talking about humor in poems, and there's a lot of humor in this poem. There's a lot of juxtapositions Too, between the TV and real life, between race, between mother and daughter. How did you think about the humor in the poem and the way you could sort of talk about this sensitive subject through that?
Sasha Debevik McKenney
Yeah, so I wrote this poem, like, quite a while ago, and when I read it now, I really see someone who's really, really hurt, you know, Like, I think I was struggling a lot because you're like, I shouldn't have to teach my own mother to, like, care about this stuff, you know, And I was really hurt. And I think that humor is a way to kind of, like, ease that hurt for me, you know? Like, it's kind of just how I talk. I like to make jokes, and I like to make other people feel comfortable in the conversation, you know, and, like, making them laugh is a way to do that. And I think that, like, here there's, like, humor, because I don't ever want to write, like, a poem that's just sad and just hurt. And there's another version of this poem that would be, like, so much more gutting, I think, you know, And. And the reality of the world and the. The jokes or whatever, they just. It. It makes it feel realer to me, you know, like, no emotion is simple. Like, you are kind of like, okay, typical mom. Like, ha, ha, you know, like, of course that's what she'd say, you know, And I think it just makes it easier to write about. To be a little bit funny about it, because then you're not admitting, or I'm not admitting how much it hurts me, you know?
Kevin Young
Right. Well, you get things like you said from the world. Haircuts and Pantene commercials, TV and football, which is now basically the American pastime. And you now have this title that is all you say about Colin Kaepernick and the sort of issues that came up with his kneeling during the national anthem. I think that's such a great title. Just to have that this large symbol and yet at the same time be talking about football, but also not be talking about football. Be talking about race, but not be talking about it, though I think you are talking about it, which is. I think what's beautiful for me about it is she needs more volume. You know, there's a lot of double entendre there. Foundation. Why don't I want her to help me pick out foundation? That kind of idea of volume and foundation and hiding, but also display, you know, is at work in the poem, too.
Sasha Debevik McKenney
Yeah, I. It's funny because the way it was written was, like, kind of all in one. You Know, like, literally in the moment of this happening, like, I remember sitting on the couch, like, watching football. I mean, like, watching sports is just, like. That's when my family comes together, really. You know, like, we put on the Yankees game. Unfortunately, I'm not a Yankees fan. Or, like, you know, like, just. Of course we're all gonna be in our own little world, but, like, also watching the football. And so, like, this poem just came out of, like, I think, an overwhelming amount of feeling that I, like, couldn't keep inside me. And my poems, honestly, are usually more like Hammond B3 organ sister, and, like, these long, windy kind of things. And so when this one came out in such a totally different way, in a totally different shape, I don't think normally or even now, I would like to do things like, she needs more volume or pick up foundation. Like, I don't think I would think that I could get away with that stuff. But, like, in this poem, it. I don't know. It was just like, one swing, like.
Kevin Young
Yeah.
Sasha Debevik McKenney
What else can I say? Yeah.
Kevin Young
Yeah. It feels that it has a kind of both off the cuff, but sort of short quality. Like, there's not a lot of ornamentation or metaphor. In fact, it's plain spoken in a way that I think really works. But it has this almost clipped quality, almost like a sonnet. But it's 17 lines. But, you know, you can feel how there was more to say. But here's a snapshot of this feeling, this moment, and in a way, as you put it, this ritual of community. But unlike the organ poem, it's sort of the opposite of community. A family that isn't quite connecting.
Sasha Debevik McKenney
Mm. Yeah. And my mom was not happy about this poem.
Kevin Young
I was going to ask, but I thought better of it. But. Yeah, you talk about the hair, everything.
Sasha Debevik McKenney
Yeah, I mean, I think that's such a huge part of it for me. Like, my mom, she was like, you're. You got a poem in the New Yorker. I'm so proud of you. And I was like, well, hold on a second. Let me tell you what it's about first. But, like, I think that I'm. I'm really proud of this poem. But I also, like, this caused someone that I love pain to, like, read this, you know, about themselves. And it wasn't easy, you know.
Kevin Young
Sure.
Sasha Debevik McKenney
And I think that's something that I struggle with a lot of. Like, what can we. Or can we not write about? Like, this is my story from my perspective, and, like, it really hurts somebody's feelings. And you're like, okay. But it's like. It's in the New Yorker. Like, you can't say, I don't want to say no, because I'm gonna hurt my mom's feelings. And then you kind of start feeling bad about that, and then, you know, it's just like a.
Kevin Young
It's a complicated appearance when you write, and it's complicated to write about family. But, yes, I felt like it was true and it wasn't setting out to harm. I felt. You know, I'm not sure I would like it. I don't want to watch football. I am trying to learn to do my makeup. My mother never taught me. Should I say at this point that my mother is white? You know, that's a lot of honest questions. The same way, like, how come there's not a name for it? How come we have to write about these conflicts that are about life and death, but also are affecting, you know, your life? Yalls lives, all of our lives. You know, I think the humor softens it for me. I'm just curious how this tone of restraint almost, because I think it's kind of very restrained. It could be far more finger pointy, I think.
Sasha Debevik McKenney
Definitely 100%. I mean, I feel like maybe there's an element of restraint because it's like, I didn't want to hurt somebody that much, but then I feel like. I say, like, okay, this poem is coming from, like, a hurt place. Like, I. I think I'm clearly, like, the speaker of the poem, like, wants their mom to get it and. And feels like if. If the mom doesn't understand, like, why Colin Kaepernick is kneeling, how can you also, like, have black children? You know? Like, these are the real questions that I was thinking about in, you know, like, 2016, because I had just moved home, and so I felt like there was all this, like, responsibility getting put on me to kind of explain this stuff to her, and, like, it wasn't my responsibility. But also, like, isn't that, like, love, too, to explain that stuff to somebody, you know, and. And make them feel closer to you? I don't know. I. I kind of feel like there's so many poems about, like, being biracial that are, like, I didn't fit in with the black kids, and I didn't fit in with the white kids. And it's, like, so corny. And, like, I think that I. I also want to write poems about race and about being biracial that are, like, real and upsetting and, like, shows what it actually feels like, not that it's like, oh, no. Like, I have it so hard. It's just like, here's what my life is like, you know, like.
Kevin Young
Right. Well, I think the setting helps. Having this ritual of football, which is a family time, but also a little like Thanksgiving can be a tense moment, you know, And I think you capture that intimacy. And for me, there's empathy in the whole poem. But also. And it comes up in. I love how you read it. The football players are kneeling because I say, you know, that I say is both, like, pointed and also a little bit like, this is what I spoke, you know, so the whole thing is in the voice of the speaker, but this is almost like this thing that can't be said but then has to be said. There's something about that I think really.
Sasha Debevik McKenney
Works when I read that line. Now, something I also appreciate about it is that it does kind of feel a little bit, like, bratty. You know what I mean? Like, just, like, very, like daughter. Like, actually.
Kevin Young
Yeah.
Sasha Debevik McKenney
Like, I can't believe I have to explain this to you. Like, duh, you know? Yes, exactly.
Kevin Young
You know, there's a kind of eye roll in.
Sasha Debevik McKenney
Yes, exactly. And I. I like that, too. It's.
Kevin Young
It's sassy, but also, like, pointing a little bit of a finger at the speaker. I don't know. Like, it feels real, like you said, you know, it feels like something someone would say. And on the one hand, it's absolutely true. On the other hand, how do you have these conversations? The poem is asking. The poem is saying, this is the most important thing. And we're talking about makeup and tops, you know, and so how do we kind of get past that? Get to the foundation, you know, or maybe past the foundation, and there's a beautiful end there. I could talk about this poem a lot more, but I wanted to talk a little bit about your new book, your debut collection. Joy is my middle name. Tell us about it. I love how it has this wide range of reference. You love a good American president story. You love US History, standup comedy, reality tv, social media. And, you know, you have this big, bold tapestry and the book of contemporary American life. So I'm curious how you put the book together or how this poem, say, fits into the larger hole.
Sasha Debevik McKenney
Yeah. Thank you so much for asking. I can't believe I have a book. It's crazy, but I think that I struggled a lot with my identity, like I said, you know, about being, like, half black and half white and not fitting in. Da, da, da, like all those poems say. But I think that As I still am today. If I don't understand something, I. I need to find out more information. You know, it's like, why I was, like, listening, watching videos about organs this morning. I'm just like, if I get more information, if I learn more, like, it will ease my nerves.
Kevin Young
Right?
Sasha Debevik McKenney
And I think a lot of my obsession with American history came from, like, a place to understand who I was, you know? Like, there's a lot of pain in the book, I think that comes from. From my history. Like I always say. Like, my dad telling me about how he, like, used to have to walk through, you know, doors for black people in, like, the back of the grocery store. And I'm like, but you're my dad. Why would they do that to you? You're so nice, and I love you. You know, like, there's this pain that comes from having that in your history that's like, I don't know how to put it into words. And a lot of these poems come from that pain, I think, and trying to understand who I am and where I come from. And then also, like, there's lots of, just, like you said, American life. Like, I wrote a lot of the poems, living in New York, and I'm a big walker, so there's just this energy. Like, this is why I love Frank o' Hara so much, because it's like, I'm walking around, and anything I see, anything I experience goes in the poem because I'm the connecting factor. Like.
Kevin Young
Right.
Sasha Debevik McKenney
And that's how I feel about my poems, too, where it's like, anything can go in there. Like, you can have bright blue fucking sneakers and also a scarab and also the Under Secretary of. Of happiness or whatever the line is, like.
Kevin Young
Yeah.
Sasha Debevik McKenney
I just think my. My book, it feels like, to me, like, just like a museum of my 20s, really. Like, there's lots of embarrassing stories in there and. And confused feelings. Like, when I think about Kaepernick, I'm like, you're so confused and hurt and up. And it's been so beautiful to recreate that part of my life and hopefully move on from it and be more confident now. I don't know.
Kevin Young
Right. Well, is the title a reference to that, or is the title ironic? Is Joy your middle name?
Sasha Debevik McKenney
Joy is literally my middle name, and it's my mother's middle name.
Kevin Young
Amazing.
Sasha Debevik McKenney
Yes. And we have matching tattoos that say Joy.
Kevin Young
So you're close, in case people were wondering.
Sasha Debevik McKenney
Yes, I. But, you know, the. The stuff in Kaepernick, like, that absolutely pushed us apart for a Little while. And, you know, we work on that relationship. But I think the book of poems, like, I like the title. Joy is my middle name because it is the truth, but it also is ironic. And, like, the COVID of the book is really bright and pink and stuff. And I. I wanted people to. What I like to do as a poet, I think, is to, like, lull people into a false sense of security and then just, you know, like, stab him in the stomach or whatever. Like, you're like, oh, you thought you were safe because this is funny. But then all of a sudden, you're, like, deeply upset about what I'm deeply upset about, you know? And I don't know any other way to. To write poems. Like, every time I try to write something that I'm like, this is so deep. Or, like, this is about nature, it just, like, sounds bad.
Kevin Young
Yeah. I mean, when you put it that way, I think you have to write about what's around you. And the moment that I realized that poems could be funny, which I probably have been writing poems a good while, but was really when I found some aspect of my voice. Because the folk humor that I love and the people who told stories in my family, they're all hilarious, you know, Even if they're the saddest story ever, they're laughing about that. And to me, that's that blues notion, that blues aesthetic, that black resilience and joy as an act of resilience that is so important to black culture, but also, I think, to poetry. Poetry takes these things and can put them in a form that holds them. It can play with it. It can make it, I want to almost say, redeemed by the poem itself. Is that how you think of things?
Sasha Debevik McKenney
Yes, 100%. Like, no human emotion is simple or sacred, perhaps.
Kevin Young
I mean, there's a way in which to say joy is my middle name. I love that it's literal and, like you said, also ironic. But I think that's really bold in this moment to both claim joy and also to say, you know what? It isn't just that, like, let's not just go overboard a bit. And I think there's a quality in the work I've seen of yours and the work in this book that I think really achieves that. And I look forward to seeing much more.
Sasha Debevik McKenney
Thank you, Kevin. I'm really excited for people to read this book because there's a lot of places where hopefully someone will read it and realize, like, they've done the same thing, or I'm just willing to admit a lot of stuff for the poem. You know, like this is what I love so much about Hammond B3, Oregon Sister and this is why I think Kaepernick is good, is because there's some secrets in there, even though obviously the poet is not always the speaker.
Kevin Young
Well, and like you said, you're using music, let's call it, which I think is humor and poetry all at once to draw us in, but also to help the medicine go down, you know, to mix metaphors. But there's something special about your perspective that you're bringing to it, and I'm excited to read more. Sasha, thanks so much for talking with us.
Sasha Debevik McKenney
Yes, it's been so lovely to chat.
Kevin Young
Kaepernick by Sasha Debevik McKenney as well as Gabrielle Cavalcareci's Hammond B3 organ cistern can be found on new yorker.com and in the anthology A Century of Poetry in The New Yorker, 1925-2025, out now. Gabrielle Cavalcaresi's forthcoming book is The New Economy. Sasha Debevik McKenney's debut collection is Joy Is My Middle Name.
Sasha Debevik McKenney
You may subscribe to this podcast, the Fiction podcast, the Writer's Voice podcast, and the Politics and More podcast by searching for the New Yorker on your podcast app. You can hear more poetry read by the authors on newyorker.com and the New Yorker app, available from the App Store or from Google Play. The theme music is the Corner by Chief Zion Attunde Adjoa, courtesy of Stretch Music and Rope a Dope. This episode of the New Yorker Poetry Podcast was produced by Chloe Prosinos, Hannah Eisenman, and Michelle o'.
Kevin Young
Brien.
Sasha Debevik McKenney
You come to the New Yorker Radio Hour for conversations that go deeper with people you really want to hear from, whether it's Bruce Springsteen or Questlove or Olivia Rodrigo, Liz Cheney, or the Godfather of Artificial Intelligence Geoffrey Hinton, or some of my extraordinarily well informed colleagues at the New Yorker. So join us every week on the New Yorker Radio Hour wherever you listen to podcasts from PRX.
Podcast Summary: The New Yorker: Poetry – "Sasha Debevec-McKenney Reads Gabrielle Calvocoressi"
Release Date: July 23, 2025
Host/Author: WNYC Studios and The New Yorker
Guest: Sasha Debevik McKenney, Author of "Joy Is My Middle Name"
In this engaging episode of The New Yorker: Poetry, Kevin Young, Poetry Editor of The New Yorker Magazine, welcomes Sasha Debevik McKenney, the author of her debut poetry collection, Joy Is My Middle Name. The episode delves into McKenney's interpretations of Gabrielle Calvocoressi's "Hammond B3 Organ Cistern" and her own poem, "Kaepernick." The conversation offers deep insights into the themes of mental health, community, humor, and racial identity embedded within contemporary poetry.
Reading of the Poem
At [02:31], Sasha Debevik McKenney begins by selecting Gabrielle Calvocoressi's poem "Hammond B3 Organ Cistern." She expresses a personal connection to the work, stating, "I just love this poem. It's so important to me. It feels like it's a part of me and I just want other people to read it." [02:47]
McKenney proceeds to read the poem, bringing to life its vivid imagery and emotional depth. The poem navigates themes of depression, gratitude, and the small joys that anchor one’s existence.
Discussion on Naming and Emotional Gratitude
Post-reading, Kevin Young highlights a notable line from the poem: "Why don't we have a name for it?" [05:05]. He commends McKenney's delivery, emphasizing, "Capturing that feeling is so much part of the poem and so much this idea of naming which keeps coming up."
McKenney reflects on the poem's use of concrete images and the absence of definitive names, fostering a sense of universality and connection. She articulates, "I love that this poem makes me feel less lonely... our names would all be valid and beautiful." [05:54]
Kevin further explores the duality of the word "funk," discussing its African origins and its multifaceted meanings—ranging from sadness to the vibrant rhythms of funk music. He draws parallels between the poem's musical elements and its thematic exploration of pain and resilience.
Community and Music as Healing
The conversation shifts to the poem's depiction of community and music. McKenney describes the poem’s setting as almost ecclesiastical, likening the speaker to a preacher and the communal call to "Bring the bass back." [16:27] She underscores the poem’s blending of gospel intensity with the cathartic power of music, creating a sense of collective healing.
Kevin remarks on the poem’s chorus-like quality and its Whitmanesque public voice, highlighting how it encapsulates both personal struggle and communal support. McKenney adds, "There's just this familiarity immediately... this poem makes you feel like you're part of the we." [19:48]
Reading of the Poem
Transitioning to her own work, at [23:06], McKenney introduces her poem "Kaepernick," originally published in the November 22, 2021 issue of The New Yorker. She notes the poem’s journey from submission to publication, indicating personal excitement and the universal potential for others to achieve similar recognition.
The poem juxtaposes personal family dynamics with broader sociopolitical themes, particularly referencing Colin Kaepernick’s protest movements. It intertwines discussions of race, beauty standards, and generational misunderstandings, all delivered with a nuanced blend of humor and poignancy.
Humor as a Coping Mechanism
Kevin observes the poem's adept use of humor amidst sensitive subjects, stating, "There's a lot of humor in this poem... how did you think about the humor in the poem and the way you could sort of talk about this sensitive subject through that?" [24:13]
McKenney explains that humor serves as a vessel to express and ease personal hurt. "Humor is a way to kind of, like, ease that hurt for me," she shares [24:39]. She emphasizes that incorporating humor makes the heavy themes more relatable and less confining, allowing for a more authentic expression of complex emotions.
Exploring Racial Identity and Familial Relationships
The discussion delves into the poem's exploration of racial identity and familial expectations. McKenney candidly addresses the challenges of conveying her biracial experience and the responsibility she felt to educate her mother about racial issues. "Isn't that my responsibility... but also, like, isn't that love, too, to explain that stuff to somebody?" [29:06]
Kevin highlights the poem's structural simplicity and emotional restraint, noting its succinctness and the powerful snapshot it provides of a tense family moment. McKenney concurs, reflecting on the poem’s ability to capture intense, real-life interactions without excessive ornamentation.
Overview of the Collection
Shifting focus to McKenney’s poetry collection, Kevin invites her to discuss Joy Is My Middle Name. McKenney describes the collection as a "museum of my 20s," encompassing a wide array of experiences and emotions tied to her American identity, heritage, and personal growth.
She articulates the duality of the collection’s title—“Joy is literally my middle name, and it's my mother's middle name... it also is ironic.” [37:08] This reflects the nuanced interplay of genuine joy and the underlying complexities within her poetry.
Themes and Inspirations
McKenney shares that her work is heavily influenced by American history, familial stories, and everyday experiences in New York City. She mentions her father's stories about racial discrimination and how they have shaped her understanding of identity and belonging.
“There's a lot of pain in the book... trying to understand who I am and where I come from.” [35:07] She also emphasizes the role of community and movement, likening her writing process to walking—absorbing the energy and experiences of her environment.
Balancing Humor and Depth
Discussing her poetic style, McKenney explains her approach to blending humor with profound themes. “I like to lull people into a false sense of security and then just... stab them in the stomach.” [37:18] She aims to create poems that are both engaging and emotionally impactful, using humor as a gateway to deeper, more unsettling truths.
Kevin praises this balance, noting how humor and resilience are intrinsic to both Black culture and effective poetry. McKenney agrees, stating, “No human emotion is simple or sacred, perhaps.” [39:07] She underscores the importance of portraying emotions authentically, without oversimplification.
The episode culminates with mutual appreciation between Kevin Young and Sasha Debevik McKenney for her poetic contributions and the thematic richness of her work. Kevin lauds McKenney’s unique perspective and her ability to intertwine humor with profound societal issues, expressing eagerness to further explore her poetry.
McKenney expresses gratitude and enthusiasm for listeners to engage with her collection, hoping that her honest and multifaceted portrayals resonate with and affirm others’ experiences.
“I like the poet immediately. The speaker... You can't appreciate it. ... it's just a moment where I think you're right.” [Multiple timestamps]
Sasha Debevik McKenney on "Hammond B3 Organ Cistern":
“I just love this poem. It's so important to me. It feels like it's a part of me and I just want other people to read it.” [02:47]
Kevin Young on the Theme of Naming:
“Why don't we have a name for it? ... it's in that question.” [05:05]
McKenney on Community and Depression:
“... this poem makes you feel like you're part of the we, which is the opposite of how you feel when you are depressed.” [13:55]
McKenney on Humor in "Kaepernick":
“Humor is a way to kind of, like, ease that hurt for me.” [24:39]
McKenney on Her Debut Collection:
“It's like a museum of my 20s... lots of embarrassing stories and confused feelings.” [36:31]
This episode of The New Yorker: Poetry provides a profound exploration of contemporary poetic expressions surrounding mental health, community, humor, and racial identity. Through Sasha Debevik McKenney's readings and insightful discussions, listeners gain a deeper appreciation for the nuanced layers that modern poetry can embody.
Accessing the Poems and Collection:
Produced by Chloe Prosinos, Hannah Eisenman, and Michelle O'Brien.