Elaine Hedges sums up the correlation
between women and quilting when she writes, “too reticent, perhaps, to record
life in her own words,” quilting provided girls and women a medium to speak of
themselves and to create identities outside their domestic spheres (293). What
we consider the stereotypical, nineteenth-century persona of the angel in the
house was the reality faced by most middle to upper middle class women. They
carried out their duties, namely, to moralize their children and their
husbands, while sanctifying their homes so that they may offer them safe havens
from the demoralizing world outside. In her poem, “Repining,” Christiana
Gabriel Rossetti characterizes the emotional condition of such a woman:
She sat always thro’ the long day
Spinning the weary thread away;
And ever said in undertone:
‘Come, that I be no more alone’ (1-4).
Alone
and weary characterizes most of a woman’s condition in the nineteenth century.
However, added to that, silence plays a crucial part in that condition,
described here by Rossetti’s sentiments in “Twice,” “Yet a woman’s words are
weak;/You should speak, not I” (7-8). The nineteenth century was the era of
separate spheres, believed by many to be of God's design, designating women and
men with separate abilities to govern their spheres. Incidentally, speaking of
God, Rossetti writes, “He broke my will day by day/He read my yearnings
unexpressed/And said them nay” (3-5). Domestic duties, successful children, and
“good” matches proved for many nineteenth century women not enough. Therefore,
female/girl productions became invaluable identity makers. Quilting,
commonplace books, jewelry making, mourning clothes, and later, as Liz Rohan
notes, photography became more than production for many women, but outlets. Men,
in the business sphere, the sphere of hunting clubs, drinking, socializing,
negotiating, and producing capital, left the domestic sphere open for women to
create tight-knit communities revolving around their domestic endeavors and
labors. As Hedges observes, quilting “enabled women to transcend the limiting
daily routine” (294). It also enabled women, daughters and mothers, friends and
family, to meet in a commonplace and reveal some yearnings in the safety of
coded practice within the commonplace setting. As novels like Mary Barton
illustrate, with scenes such as Mary’s scandalous confession (simply admitting
that she loves Jem in a public setting), the social norm surrounding women
dictated a silent acceptance and perseverance, a “reticence” in speaking, in
revealing anything intimate about themselves. So its imaginable that the
quilting parties entailing exchanges—scraps and pieces stitched into personal stories—gave
voice “at a remove” to the daily weariness, the longings for more.
Personally,
what I find interesting about all this in terms of girl identity is the
secretive connotation built into girl/female socializing. Spinning does conjure
the Fates from Greek Mythology. From the
“reticence” of nineteenth-century, female decorum develops into an almost
inherent suspicion surrounding “girl time,” a sense that girls speak in code,
gossip and whisper. I remember a few years ago talking with a male friend about
watching Julie Dash’s Daughters of the
Dust. He said, “I didn’t get it at all, but I think you’ll like it a lot.
You’ll get it.” When I asked why, he replied simply. “Because you’re a girl.”
The statement is curious on so many levels. Dash’s film is comprised of visual
images, cut and pieced together like a moving collage, and the dialog spoken is
predominantly Gullah. And, coincidentally, it’s about a matriarchal culture
from the lens of the female members of a particular family. Here’s a link to the
trailer for those interested, http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=c4PEcVK6gbM
His
comment, if I’m inclined to give him more credit, seems to suggest that my “girl”
born talent to digest “visual” media and “object” is heightened to the extent
that meaning (in this instance) transcends the foreign language and avant-garde
film style. Or perhaps, he implies that in the film’s represented communal “girl”
space, he felt excludes somehow. There is certainly a mystery surrounding “girl”
conditions (periods, boy-craziness, PMS, pregnancy, birth, consumer fetishism,
romance) as we have touched on in this class, that are represented in ways
marketed specifically to “girls.” Maybe it would be worthwhile to investigate
quilting as a social activity, its visual narrative practice a means to make girlhood
specific and different from boyhood in terms of marketing and identity making.
Quilting is a social activity - good point.
ReplyDeleteI love Rossetti-thanks for tying her in.
ReplyDeleteI also like the idea of girl spaces making men/boys feel excluded. I'm sure some of the exclusion was purposeful on our part, but males have certainly contributed to the idea of otherness.
I think there is some line crossing in "The Quilters" when the husband helps with the piecing, but drops it as soon as he hears anyone coming--private vs, public identity (39).
I also really like your point about women being able to connect socially through quilting and I wonder if the act of quilting lends itself to conversation and quiet listening and reflection. It would be difficult to have deep discussions while plowing or washing clothes, but in the quiet still of quilting that can be a place where it is not only acceptable but invited.
ReplyDeleteBria-
ReplyDeleteLovely connections between quilting communities and literary communities of women. I also love the way you are thinking about these women's productions giving them some power, a voice maybe. Girls and women were often denied access to public spaces for speaking. How does quilting - and similar "feminine production" - give voice and agency?