Elizabeth Mayorca
Elizabeth Marquis~Mayorca received an MFA in Creative Nonfiction and Poetry from the Vermont College of Fine Arts and a BFA in Dramatic Writing from NYU, where she received the Rod Marriot Playwriting Award. Her poem “A rock shaped like a house, found in the mountains,” was the 1st prize winner of The Poets for Human Rights Award. “Sewing in Syria” was published in New Monologues for Women by Women, through Heinemann Drama. Her plays have been produced at New York University, the State Theater in Austin Texas, and Golden Thread Productions in San Francisco. With her sister Francesca Greene, she created Sister Symmetry a book of original poetry and paintings. She edited and wrote the introduction and afterward for Sea of Images (The Collected Poems of Walter John Hawver: Soldier-Patriot-Poet). Most recently her essays were published in Ovunque Siamo, New Italian-American Writing, Adelaide Literary Journal, and Maine Review. She is writing a book about her relationship with her New York-born Calabrese grandmother and the myths of motherhood passed down from her ancestors. Elizabeth has taught for Hugo House in Seattle and Tongass Mist Writing in Sitka, Alaska. You can find her at www.ElizabethMayorca.com .
Excerpt from Elizabeth’s essay, “I Thought You Italian Girls Were Supposed to Be Sexy” published in Ovunque Siamo, New Italian-American Writing:
He was Irish and Dutch, and his mother wished for him to have a nice Irish girl, a pretty blonde-haired daughter-in-law. When she heard the name Concetta and saw the dark-hair and the regal Roman nose of my grandmother, she disliked her on sight. An Italian. Everyone knew the Italians meant trouble. After all, the same year my grandfather proposed, 1941, was the year that the attack on Pearl Harbor brought the United States into war with the Axis Powers of Japan, Germany and Italy. What a disgrace. “Guineas”, “dagos”, and “wops” they were called. My grandmother’s own brother-in-law, Filipo, a man that was more like a father who raised her, was called ugly and laughed at by her Irish classmates, because his skin was dark and ruddy, his nose large and he spoke with a prominent Italian accent. “They wouldn’t know what beauty was if it bit them on the nose,” she often said crying.
But that didn’t stop my grandfather from loving my grandmother. His courtship lasted two years, even as she became bedridden for a year with trichinosis, and he had to take a long bus ride every week to her home out in the Columbia County, New York countryside. He saved up his money through his job writing for the Knickerbocker News in Hudson until he felt he could provide “a few dollars” to start their life together. In short, he waited a long time to be able to finally embrace the woman he loved. He had overcome years of obstacles, including my grandmother’s own initial hesitancy and fears. “You’re crazy! I’m only seventeen. I won’t marry you. I’m going to go to school to become a nun or a nurse!”
When she was nineteen years old and he finally had her standing in front of him as his wife, (his wife, he could finally have her, the woman of his dreams!), he saw how much further he had to go to truly have her. With that doggone nightgown covering up her body.
“I thought you Italian girls were supposed to be sexy,” he said half joking, half prodding her into a reaction.
“Well you thought wrong,” my grandmother replied, trying to appear less catching.
He was Irish and Dutch, and his mother wished for him to have a nice Irish girl, a pretty blonde-haired daughter-in-law. When she heard the name Concetta and saw the dark-hair and the regal Roman nose of my grandmother, she disliked her on sight. An Italian. Everyone knew the Italians meant trouble. After all, the same year my grandfather proposed, 1941, was the year that the attack on Pearl Harbor brought the United States into war with the Axis Powers of Japan, Germany and Italy. What a disgrace. “Guineas”, “dagos”, and “wops” they were called. My grandmother’s own brother-in-law, Filipo, a man that was more like a father who raised her, was called ugly and laughed at by her Irish classmates, because his skin was dark and ruddy, his nose large and he spoke with a prominent Italian accent. “They wouldn’t know what beauty was if it bit them on the nose,” she often said crying.
But that didn’t stop my grandfather from loving my grandmother. His courtship lasted two years, even as she became bedridden for a year with trichinosis, and he had to take a long bus ride every week to her home out in the Columbia County, New York countryside. He saved up his money through his job writing for the Knickerbocker News in Hudson until he felt he could provide “a few dollars” to start their life together. In short, he waited a long time to be able to finally embrace the woman he loved. He had overcome years of obstacles, including my grandmother’s own initial hesitancy and fears. “You’re crazy! I’m only seventeen. I won’t marry you. I’m going to go to school to become a nun or a nurse!”
When she was nineteen years old and he finally had her standing in front of him as his wife, (his wife, he could finally have her, the woman of his dreams!), he saw how much further he had to go to truly have her. With that doggone nightgown covering up her body.
“I thought you Italian girls were supposed to be sexy,” he said half joking, half prodding her into a reaction.
“Well you thought wrong,” my grandmother replied, trying to appear less catching.
Recommended Books
- Song Poet, Kao Kalia Yang
- The Color of Water, James McBride
- Half-Broke Horses, Jeanette Walls
- It Didn’t Start With You, Mark Wolynn
- The Artful Edit, Susan Bell
Student Testimonials From Hugo House and Tongass Mist Writing:
- "Thank you so much for encouraging and challenging me in the best ways possible."
- "This class went above and beyond my expectations."
- "I can't thank you enough for providing such a safe space that gave us permission and allowed us to go places we would not otherwise have felt able to go."
- This was the most organized and inspiring class I have ever taken! And I’ve taken a lot of writing classes! I would take this class again!
- “Thank you so much Elizabeth, this was wonderful and just what I needed.”
- “Thank you, Elizabeth. This was fun and I have so many great writing prompts and ideas for follow up. Thank you for all my share buddies! “
Teaching Philosophy
All my classes get students writing and reading out loud, so they can hear what’s working and feel in real time how those words affect others. I believe in encouragement over criticism, but I provide clear examples of excellent writing and we study how it was
achieved. My specialty is helping writers trust their own voices and to write the words they never thought possible.
All my classes get students writing and reading out loud, so they can hear what’s working and feel in real time how those words affect others. I believe in encouragement over criticism, but I provide clear examples of excellent writing and we study how it was
achieved. My specialty is helping writers trust their own voices and to write the words they never thought possible.