Sewing: An Act of Defiance

Sewing, for me, was an act of defiance. My mother sewed and had an old Singer machine she used regularly. When I asked her to teach me, her answer was clear and firm: “No.” To this day, I’m not sure if that was because she didn’t think she’d do a good job, didn’t want me touching her machine, or for some other reason only a good therapist could uncover.

Of course, that “no” only made me more determined. My first projects were making clothes for myself when I was about ten. I made many—many, many—mistakes. But eventually, I got better, and for my high school graduation, I received my very own Singer sewing machine. It was all I wanted.

I took that baby to college with me and made a few extra dollars hemming people’s pants. It turned out to be quite the commodity—most of the young women around me didn’t know the first thing about sewing, and I was happy to help.

Looking back, I realize that’s how I’ve learned almost everything that’s stuck with me—by diving in, making mistakes, and figuring it out as I went. Sewing wasn’t just about fabric and thread; it was about trusting myself to create something new. That’s still what creativity feels like to me today—equal parts curiosity, persistence, and the wonder of seeing an idea take shape.