“How to be Extraordinary in America”: An interview with Ploi Pirapokin

You know those moments when you’ve realized that even in your effort to be well-versed in something and deeply probe at it, you’ve been asking it the wrong questions the whole time? This is the effect reading Ploi Pirapokin’s essay, “How to be Extraordinary in America,” has.

A finalist for the 2018 Newfound Prose Prize chapbook contest, this piece details her experience of obtaining a “Genius Visa” so she could continue to live and write in the United States. She was gracious enough to chat with me more about her process and underlying beliefs on immigration and belonging.

Delaney Kochan: Tell me about the structure of the essay. Is there something significant about the number 82 or the way you chose to structure your piece?

Ploi Pirapokin: The essay is numbered to reflect the eligibility criteria to qualify for an O-1 visa, as though it were a checklist that needed to be ticked off once completed. I wanted the seemingly never-ending numbers to mimic the arduous process of waiting, and of constantly proving my worth as though it were easy as arithmetic—if I only did X, then I would get my visa; what do I lose when I do Y; what risks do I take if I do Z. 

Maggie Nelson’s “Bluets” and Weike Wang’s “Chemistry” played a huge part in guiding how I braided my narratives. I had the entire chapbook up on a wall and made sure to find a pattern I could follow. If I hadn’t mentioned Justin Bieber in a while, or needed a poetic image, I’d slip it in—all in service to the through-line.

I wish I had a reason to end at number 82, but that’s just where I’ve stopped for now. I’ve since found out that number 82 is one of the magic numbers of protons and neutrons that can make an atomic nucleus exceptionally stable, filling out its shells without any room left for adding more. The number also refers to Messier 82, a starburst galaxy more luminous than the whole Milky Way. I’d like to think that my essay, with its alien imagery and space metaphors, is in itself a container stable enough to hold the light within me. Doesn’t that sound literary?

Kochan: What is it about Justin Bieber that made him an accessible parallel for you in this essay?

Pirapokin: I’d like to think that we’re comparable in looks and talent (Hello, J.B.!)

What about the Biebs is inaccessible? He’s a young, fresh-faced, neighborhood kid, plucked out from obscurity, forced to grow up in the public eye only to be the butt of all jokes. People didn’t like him because he was feminine, famous, and rich. What made me empathize for him was when I read about the White House petition to deport him. I realized how quickly Americans turned against a non-U.S. citizen by using Bieber’s immigration status against him, as though his immigration status would be the thing that would hurt him most. Instead of saying, “We’re going to take away your money, your fan base, and your voice!” people (and who are these people who have the authority to decide?) believed that he didn’t have the right to be in this country when they so willingly welcomed and claimed him before.

He could only be in America if he was this cute, bubblegum-popstar, and if he showed any signs of failing to meet that, he didn’t deserve to be here, whereas American celebrities are allowed to have flaws and make mistakes.

Kochan: What is your favorite song of J Bieb’s?

Pirapokin: “Where Are Ü Now” from Purpose. Also, he has enough fun songs to warrant an entire 45-minute SoulCycle class dedicated to him.

Kochan: You depict so clearly how the political and personal spheres merge. How do we reconcile policies and ideas with the complication and grey that is the people they’re created to serve?

Pirapokin: I strongly believe policies need to serve the ideas of our time. However, people are not willing to risk their immediate safety and financial security for strangers that don’t concern them. I’m not going to protest on the streets because if I get caught, I could get deported. But I’m going to find ways where my skills and my experience could be more helpful and useful. That is how I make peace to coexist. Collectively, every nation needs to show those desperately holding onto power that there are other ways of governing, that power is earned through respect and in service of others.

Kochan: While many would expect your immigration status to affect work opportunities, the effect your non-citizenship had on your personal relationships – even so that some questioned your character – is entirely unfounded to me. The trustworthiness of a human based on his or her citizenship follows faulty, and yet not uncommon, logic. Can you speak to philosophy of origin and belonging, and its influence on practical identity and how we view others?

Pirapokin: Immigrants and foreigners everywhere will always be used as scapegoats to avoid solving the shortcomings of a nation. Americans use citizenship as a way to discern between “us” and “them” because it’s a piece of paper that separates one from being authentically American or not. The problem with that is that anybody can be or become American. So if the borders that define a nation are penetrable, then there needs to be a new way Americans, and those of us living here, view and speak of “the other.” Who are we “othering” and why? Who gets to “other”?

Kochan: Considering all the extreme hoops to jump through and the distasteful treatment, what about America kept you interested in staying?

Pirapokin: Because I’m legally considered a genius in America and just some regular person in Hong Kong! I’m joking. I’d like to turn that question around: what is the reason you aren’t immigrating? I have a creative career here, friends, and a beautiful place to live.

Kochan: For yourself, how do you identify yourself?

Pirapokin: Isn’t the process of identifying oneself always in relation to another? That changes for me. I discover how like or unlike I am to someone else every day. Some of the things I liked I have grown to dislike over the years. For me the beauty of writing is making that moment in time when you’ve defined yourself permanent before it changes again.

Kochan: Something profound that you noted was the difference between nationality and ethnicity – that being an American can only refer to being of a nationality, while being Thai can refer to either. How do you think this complicates (or simplifies) the American identity?

Pirapokin: It’s a simplification of the American identity people don’t want to hear about because it upsets the balance of power and calls into questions of those in power.

Kochan: What is your favorite thing about being Thai from Hong Kong?

Pirapokin: That I could opt out of the cultural expectations of being Thai and Cantonese whenever I pleased. Since I wasn’t considered “truly” Thai or “truly” Cantonese, I could pick and choose what worked for me. My favorite thing too would be eating a fusion of Thai and Chinese food that my family makes.

Kochan: Is there something you like about being Thai from Hong Kong living in America?

Pirapokin: I have cultivated a multi-lingual lexicon that tries to find the common elements between each culture. On a practical level living in San Francisco, I get discounts at massage parlors, first seats at dim sum restaurants, and can order myself a drink at the bar. Being able to switch from “foreigner” to “native” in these spaces have been very helpful.

“How to be Extraordinary in America” is a Newfound 2018 prose prize finalist.

Delaney Kochan is a poet and essayist published in Under the Gum Tree, Ruminate, Red Clay, and other literary magazines. She served as Managing Editor of The Forager, a lifestyle magazine, and now writes for the online city guide, My Colorado Springs and various online publications in addition to Newfound. Find her work at www.delaneykochan.com