The Fabric of Resistance
“Rachielle, you do not need another hobby.”
My friends say this when I mention something that interests me. They have seen hula, cross-stitching, crocheting, knitting, quilling, sewing, yarnbombing, and drawing. I took up hiking and did the Three-Day Walk for Breast Cancer Cure. I enjoyed most pursuits but struggled with sumi-e, the art of Japanese brush painting. The instructor, a petite woman we called Sensei stemmed her impatience with me. “Your bamboo leaves look like okra. Release the stroke from your elbow, not from the wrist. Don’t overthink it.”
She sat me in a corner to practice the motion. I filled the page with bamboo leaves, trying hard to let go and paint with the heart. After an hour, I presented her with my work. She pointed to one out of a thousand leaves. “I like this tip.”
I went back to quilling (the art of paper filigree) and other pursuits.
VMOTA
In the summer, my best friend and I stumbled into the Visions Museum of Textile Arts (VMOTA) at the Liberty Station in San Diego. She was visiting from Michigan, and I had just picked her up from the airport. I showed her around Liberty Station, formerly the National Training Center (NTC) for the US Navy. It closed around 1993 with the end of the Cold War. The Navy has since sent all recruits for basic training to the Great Lakes Regional Training Center in Illinois.
NTC became Liberty Station, a bustling center with restaurants, shops, galleries, and gardens. We browsed through VMOTA and the nearby displays of immigration art and watercolor paintings.
I was intrigued by an invitation for an upcoming activity at VMOTA:
The Feminist Embroidery Circle is a project of Women of the Color of the Earth, whose workshops promote the artistic knowledge of embroidery connected to its deep historical roots. Participants will design their own piece by using basic embroidery techniques (linear stitches) and textile collage that connect back to the origins of textile practice.
I could do basic. I signed up for the workshop.
The instructor was Miriam Garcia-Aguirre, an artist from Mujeres Del Color De La Tierra/Women of the Color of the Earth. Her friend Jill Marie Holslin interpreted from Spanish.
Women from all walks of life sat at the table. Miriam asked why we came. Some were seeking a retirement hobby, and others like me were curious about the workshop title. A few were looking for something fun to do on a Saturday afternoon.
We received a bag of supplies and listened to the instructions.
“Draw a circle in the center. Embroider with a satin stitch. This stands for the moon. Then sew twenty-seven running stitches around, and mark the twenty-eighth with a bead, French knot, or a button. This symbolizes our cycles as women, which mirror the moon’s. Stop at twelve beads to complete twelve months of the year.”
When I sew, I usually do it alone. That afternoon, I could not help but think of the sisters in Little Women gathered around the fireplace. Meg, Jo, Beth, and Amy shared dreams and expressed worries about their father fighting in the Civil War. Then I chuckled at the memory of Arya in Game of Thrones protesting the exercise while the teacher praised her sister Sansa’s embroidery.
I thought of the women who stitched the Philippine flag, first flown in battle in May 1898 to proclaim independence against Spain.
I belonged to a community, albeit for an afternoon, and evoked generations of women sharing stories, supporting each other, staging protests, or planning revolutions.
Miriam spoke about the grandmothers in Argentina who put white scarves over their heads when they marched the plaza. The cloth symbolizes a diaper, for a child who was probably born in prison or a concentration camp. Its mother is counted among the thousands of desparecidos, victims of oppressive military regimes. Miriam shared stories of South American women harnessing the power of the needle to empower themselves.
Activism using fabric is not unique to that region. In the United States, quilts were displayed on windows and clotheslines to guide runaway slaves to freedom as they navigated the Underground Railroad. The quilts encoded messages signaling danger, and pointing to food containers or safe havens.
My sewing journey began at home with simple darning projects. In high school, I started with embroidery samplers then graduated to cutting cloth from patterns. My grandmother, Mama Ching, showed me how to operate the Singer sewing machine. I looped the leather cord around the machine’s balance wheel and the larger wheel below. I controlled the speed by pedaling on the cast iron treadle. I learned to fix the machine, taking cues from my older brother who scoured the Baguio City Market for parts. I can still smell the oil we dropped on the metal teeth.
Mama Ching learned to sew on the same machine. Her mother, Lola Oming, also taught her to weave using the inabel (cotton weaving) loom. In Ilocos Sur, dexterity with the needle was not confined to women. Fishermen were adept at repairing their nets before the next kalap, or harvest.
My Immigrant Blanket Story
(Excerpt from a piece previously published on Blogspot, July 2017. Context: In January 2017, the President signed Executive Order: Border Security and Immigration Enforcement Improvements) to build the wall between the US and Mexico.
In the ongoing debates about immigration, many have spoken for the refugees and the immigrants. In social media, a new term has arisen—craftivism. The Welcome Blanket Project calls for 3200 blankets representing the 2000-mile border between the U.S. and its southern neighbor. Each blanket, measuring 40" x 40", will be displayed in the Smart Museum at the University of Chicago. The blanket’s maker writes a note about their immigration story or a welcome note to a new immigrant or refugee, who would receive the blanket after the museum display.
I picked yarn in red, white, and blue—the colors of the U.S. flag. Then I added yellow for the sun and stars from the Philippine flag. By synchronicity, I listened to Forty Autumns by Nina Willner while crocheting this piece. She chronicled how the Berlin Wall separated her family.
Though the Cold War has ended, the reminder couldn’t be more timely. Instead of building walls, we must remember the famous challenge, "Mr. Gorbachev, tear down this wall!"
This is my blanket, the fusion of my two cultures.
Update: A detail of one blanket graced the Museum of Design Atlanta (MODA) website in 2018.
The project’s success led to a new goal, “to blanket the circumference of the earth (24,901 miles that connect us all) with 36,521 blankets and notes.”
The creator of the Welcome Blanket Project co-founded The Pussyhat Project. The hat worn at the Women’s March in 2017 graced the cover of Time Magazine.
I still have to learn quilting. Perhaps it will be my retirement hobby. I am fascinated with works by Philippine artists Pacita Abad and Aze Ong Liwanag who use vibrant colors and unique techniques. I want to tell a story through fiber.
Some Examples of Resistance through Fabric or Color:
Click on the links for the full description:
“I’m Speaking”: Meet the Feminists Stitching the Country Back Together
Color commentary: How Cromoactivismo uses the power of hue to challenge invisible systems
The Social and Political Roles of American Sewing Circles
An Indigenous community in Mexico uses dressmaking to fight assimilation
Aram Han Sifuentes, The radical power of sewing: the artist turning textiles into activism
In Chile, women use traditional embroidery to urge political change
Stitch by stitch, a brief history of knitting and activism
Recommended Reading:
the blankets you made look amazing!! also, i definitely belong to the arya camp so i am forever fascinated by those who can weave and make art with threads
Thank you so much for sharing! Your blanket is beautiful. Did you crochet or knit it? I’m currently working on a temperature blanket.