Laila Freeman On Writing "Piss Christ to Stare"

Before sharing more about writing “Piss Christ to Stare,” I need to first touch on the art that inspired it, which is Andres Serrano’s photograph, “Piss Christ.”

I was first introduced to the photo in an art history class back in high school. My teacher, Ms. Park, who’s one of the greatest educators I’ve ever known, projected the image onto the board and then just asked the class what we thought of it.

I initially judged “Piss Christ” purely on aesthetics, enjoying the spiritual image paired with its bold colors.

Then Ms. Park told us that the photo captured a plastic crucifix submerged in urine. My aesthetic appreciation turned into offense until she explained the meaning of the piece. In short, “Piss Christ” makes the statement that the commercialization of religious iconography cheapens its spiritual value and the teachings of Christ.

There are other interpretations and meanings that this artwork holds, but Ms. Park’s exercise revealed to me that information or the lack thereof can easily affect your opinion of something, and oftentimes people refuse to understand something further if it signals a negative reaction.

Uncomfortability often paralyzes people from wanting to dig deeper into something, which brings me to the poem itself. I value ambiguity in my work and prefer to leave much up for a reader’s interpretation, but I will say that “Piss Christ to Stare” is my own exploration of how Christ’s suffering has been cheapened, often by ignoring dark realities.

The language in this poem is intentionally provocative. It’s like an experiment for me. Who will allow their initial reactions to overpower the curiosity to understand what I’m trying to say here?

From the Biblical point of view, the Pharisees were so offended by Jesus’s claim of divinity that they rejected what He was preaching completely. Religious hypocrisy is an element in both Serrano’s “Piss Christ” and my ekphrastic poem, which again, was a guiding attribute in the Pharisees’ spiritual practices.

In the weeks leading up to “Piss Christ to Stare”’s publication in Calf, I woke up to find my own crucifix’s chain broken in my bed. I must have ripped it off in my sleep, so I put the bejeweled cross on a new chain and hung it around my neck again. I had worn it every day for years ever since purchasing it at a flea market for $1. I woke up again soon after to find that the new chain had broken while I was asleep.

It seems God had also encouraged me to put my money where my mouth is.