I have this very distinct memory from my preteen years of my dad saying that Latina women were very good with knives and needles. I understand that taken out of context that line probably seems alarming. It came in a moment we were visiting my great grandmother’s farm in Brasil and one of the women was cutting me a fresh orange. The precision in which some of those farm ladies can use a knife is intimidating and beautiful at the same time.
My grandmother was one of those ladies. Before her dementia really kicked in, she was most comfortable in physical labor. She woke up, cared for my grandfather who was bedridden for all of my life, tended to her garden, cooked for the family (and sometimes the neighborhood), volunteered at church, and maintained the home, all while being a phenomenal grandmother. She really knew how to work. I know where my mother got her ethic.
In her prime, Vo Zica’s only relaxed moments were sitting down watching her novelas. I remember fondly watching Malhação and Alma Gemea with her. As we sat in her living room, my cousins and I seated on the couches, she sat in the head chair with her feet up on the ottoman.
Even as she sat down to relax for the day to watching her 6, 7, and 8 PM novelas, she had her needles in her hand. My grandmother cross stitched and crocheted, depending on whatever she was working on.
The next summer, I decided that I too wanted to learn. So I did. I worked with my grandmother and my two aunts. I learned Cross stitch and Hardanger. I also learned (but never developed the knack for) knitting.
I don’t know what it’s like to ride a bike because I never learned. In the way people say It’s like riding a bike, I’m sure that I feel similarly with needlework. I can put it down and pick it up whenever I like and just know have that muscle memory.
In my senior year of college, I missed needlework and found a local needlepoint shop. It was my first exposure to needlepoint (which is much more expensive and prominent than cross stitch and hardanger in the United States than in Latin America). I completed two ornaments in my senior year.
I bought a Princeton pillow design right before graduation. It got left behind on a trip to Florida about a month later.
Movers destroyed a needlepoint belt I was working on.
I lost a different belt I was working on.
Now I’m determined to get back into stitching. This is my accountability.