I took up sewing as a hobby and started making my own bowties about eight years ago. Well, it was less of a hobby and more of a meditative practice. Last fall, I decided to make the leap from bowties to quilting. I didn’t know anything about quilting, other than the fact that I was very drawn to the idea of quilts as artwork we can touch. If the traditional idea of art is something that is displayed on walls or shelves with “please resist the urge to touch” signs, then perhaps quilts run counter-cultural to that idea. Art doesn’t only belong on the walls; it also belongs on the bed. It belongs everywhere. That was enough to entice me to learn more about both the history and techniques of quilting.
Quilting, as an artform primarily passed on from generation to generation by women, is under duress. The introduction of cheaply made quilts has reduced the commercial viability of hand-pieced quilts and is often under-valued as an artform. Quilting was historically sustained by local quilt shops that offered both classes and fabrics. Those regenerative mechanisms were disrupted by the introduction of big box fabric stores, the decline of interest in sewing and, consequently, the closing of many quilt shops. The result is that the artform is primarily currently sustained by older white women. As they pass on, there are not enough new people joining the ranks of the quilting community to sustain its future.
I was recently at a regional quilting conference where that last point was made vociferously by a lecturer. If our artform is to survive, then we must welcome everyone. Quilting is for everyone, and we need to welcome new and diverse quilters — including young quilters, men and people of color — to our artform! Most of the room applauded in support. Some did not. The majority of the attendees at this conference embraced this idea.
In an afternoon class on a specific quilting technique, I was the only man and only person of color in the room. Most of my fellow learners smiled, said hello, and asked me how I got interested in quilting. We showed each other pictures of quilts we had made. We shared techniques, squealed with joy when we had used similar designs or fabrics, and generally found commonality: our love for quilts and quilting. It was like finding long-lost friends I never knew I had. I had found my people.
It was therefore a bit jarring, moving into smaller groups to practice some techniques, when one of the participants was a little acerbic with me. I consider myself a hybrid quilter, because I tend to mix traditional and modern quilting styles. I have deep respect for traditional quilting methods and designs that favor muted colors and precision. However, I am also drawn to modern quilting techniques that favor bolder color choices and improvisation. In my small group, one traditional quilter just seemed frustrated with me. My question about a modification was met with a noticeable sigh and eyeroll. Moments later, when I started laying my fabrics out, she literally grabbed the fabrics out of my hand and said frustratedly: “Well, if you are going to make this block, you might as well learn how to do it the right way!”
Thankfully, one of the other quilters in my small group stepped in and said, “First, we should let Amit finish and fully share his idea. And I am not sure if he was specifically asking for help at this point.” This act of stepping in encouraged other people in the group to be more welcoming and attentive to me in a different way. It was nothing short of a moment of allyship. A small act made me feel welcome.
This experience also led me to think more deeply about what caused the person to be frustrated with me. If I took my ego out for a moment, I could step back and understand that I was trying to alter her style — the traditional method that she had likely practiced for decades — to something new. My ideas might have not only seemed wrong, but perhaps even blasphemous! At that moment, I had a choice to make. I could take an oppositional point of view and cut her out. Or, I could give her the benefit of the doubt, and try to build a bridge. I chose the latter. She showed me her way. I asked open-ended questions. And after building some rapport, I asked her what she saw as the pros and cons of my idea. The result was a very different conversation, and I ended up with a block that found the middle path. It was better than just my idea, or hers. At the end of the class, she asked me if she could give me a hug, and I graciously accepted.
You might be wondering what this story has to do with Chautauqua and inclusion, diversity, equity and accessibility. Chautauqua has a lot in common with the quilting community. The struggles and opportunities for the quilting community are similar to ours. There will undoubtedly be moments of push and pull where customs and change will feel at odds. But, if we allow for it, perhaps we will lean into new experiences that honor both tradition and innovation. All of that starts with an open mind and a willing heart.
Amit Taneja
Senior Vice President
Chief Inclusion, Diversity, Equity & Accessibility Officer
