Readers, it is incredibly surreal for me to be able to introduce you all to Issue I of Xenolithic Edges Literary. Once a figment of my imagination, this journal has now become a tangible reality. Words cannot express how deep my gratitude is for my Associate Editors, Jamie and Mia, and our Issue I contributors, all who believed in, worked hard on, and made this journal’s emergence into the world possible.

In my writing as of late, I’ve been thinking a lot about sacrifice. As writers, we know that the most key decisions we make when we come to the page are sacrificial choices: what to say, what not to say, what to include, what to let go of, what to confront, what to confess, what to conceal. And as queer diaspora people of color, we know this to also be true in our day-to-day lives—that we must often sacrifice life to survive, or else, sacrifice survival to live.

When I founded Xenolithic Edges Literary, I knew I was unwilling to sacrifice the thing I felt was the most foundational tenet to both our literature and communities for the sake of growth, profit, popularity, or power. That tenet being, simply put, a craft of care. 

“Craft of care” is a phrase that has been pinballing around in my head since I envisioned XE Literary. To me, it means that care is more than a feeling, more than even a simple act. Care is an intentional, continuous, laborious practice. Caring is a craft, as much as any art is a craft. It takes constant effort, failure, accountability, and repair. What makes a community such as the one I am trying to create here is more than just the commonality of identity—we are all queer diaspora people of the global majority, but that identity does not guarantee community and kinship without this craft of care.

Of the contributors of our inaugural issue, some I have already known and admired the hearts and words of for a while, and some I, and the publishing world at large, are meeting for the first time. But each and every one of them are writers who my Associate Editors and I feel a strong sense of kinship with, and writers whose work we care immensely about. Every single submission received our personal readership, attention, and deliberation, and every contributor received personalized editorial notes, handmade gifts, access to workshop materials, and close involvement during issue production. And throughout the whole process that has led us to the launch of Issue I, I’ve heard from our Associate Editors, contributors, submitters, and other writers and editors in our circles just how much XE Literary means to them, how touched, energized, inspired, supported, seen, and cared for they have felt by our mission, ethos, and methodologies—even before any issue was brought to life. There is so much breathtakingly evocative and brilliant writing in this issue that will hopefully live on forever on the page for the world to see—but the words I heard from our community during the creation of this journal and issue are the ones that will live on forever in my mind and heart, and to me, are the true measure of why XE Literary should exist.

I am about to turn a quarter of a century old, less than two weeks after this issue is released. As I enter this next quarter century of my life, I am so lucky to bring XE Literary with me—especially when I cannot also bring its namesake, my Ngoại, Xê Thị Huỳnh, with me. I named XE Literary after my Ngoại because her legacy is a legacy of care. But in founding Xenolithic Edges Literary, I hope that I will also leave behind my own legacy of care. I founded this journal, and have produced this issue, during a very turbulent and transitional period of my life, feeling exactly like the type of rock I named it after: a xenolith. But throughout this time, XE Literary has nurtured, heartened, and sustained me, reminding me exactly why I founded it in the first place—so that in a moment, in a life, in a body, that can all feel at odds with the world around us, with time and space, with what we believe or once believed or have been told is true, all of us can fathom ourselves within the unfathomable, can imagine the unimaginable, can be real in the intangible, can live through the unlivable, can hope through the hopeless, can belong without belonging. When nothing else makes sense, let the perseverance of our care for ourselves and each other be the one thing that always does. That is the only thing that matters. I don’t need anything to fit except these visions in your mind’s eye, these words on your lips, my hand in yours.

It is my greatest honor, joy, and pride to welcome Issue I of Xenolithic Edges Literary to the world. I hope that our readers can feel the care put into every inch of this issue, and feel cared for by the work our contributors have so generously offered to us all. I look forward to many more issues of XE Literary, and to meeting and welcoming to our literary family the many more contributors and readers who will continue to join us along the way.

Take care, and be taken care of,

Kyla-Yến Huỳnh Giffin

Founder & Editor-in-Chief