"The rising of the women means the rising of the race."

While I try to stay away from the overtly political on this blog, the universe has been asking for an "Amen" for the last few weeks and I have been trying to comply in my way.  I renewed our day sponsorship for our local public radio station and sent a contribution to Planned Parenthood--freedom of the press and access to health care for women being two very important causes to me.  Dan has also recently finished an incredible book called Half the Sky which makes clear the fact that many women and little girls on this planet still do not have access to education and are not safe in their persons, cared for when they have children, or allowed to make choices that directly affect their lives like who they marry and when.  A PBS special based on the book is due this fall.  It is chilling.  His Holiness the Dalai Lama has said that Western women can rescue the world.  Clearly, we have the power.  We are now the primary breadwinners, can elect a President, we represent the majority of college students, we have found our voices.  We must march on.

(Lyrics to the song "Bread and Roses" by Mimi Fariña)

As we go marching, marching, in the beauty of the day,

A million darkened kitchens, a thousand mill lofts gray,

Are touched with all the radiance that a sudden sun discloses,

For the people hear us singing: Bread and Roses! Bread and Roses!

As we go marching, marching, we battle too for men,

For they are women's children, and we mother them again.

Our lives shall not be sweated from birth until life closes;

Hearts starve as well as bodies; give us bread, but give us roses.

As we go marching, marching, unnumbered women dead

Go crying through our singing their ancient call for bread.

Small art and love and beauty their drudging spirits knew.

Yes, it is bread we fight for, but we fight for roses too.

As we go marching, marching, we bring the greater days,

The rising of the women means the rising of the race.

No more the drudge and idler, ten that toil where one reposes,

But a sharing of life's glories: Bread and roses, bread and roses.

Our lives shall not be sweated from birth until life closes;

Hearts starve as well as bodies; bread and roses, bread and roses.

The lyrics for this song come almost directly from the poem of the same name by James Oppenheim that was inspired by the Lawrence Mill workers..

Doorknob art

Safety Pin Studio was open early this morning (5:45!) so I could finish the flag for my Team India students for the Multicultural Fair. I ironed a piece of freezer paper to the center so one of the girls can draw the center motif. You can see my lovely cup of tea in my Hogwarts mug, too.

I'm coming around side three on the baby quilt, but rather than photograph that again, I thought I would show you some "small art"* that I've made for years. Usually, I take one as a gift when we're invited out to eat or as guests at someone's home. One of my friends back in Crawfordsville used to display hers on all of her doorknobs, so my dear husband dubbed them "Doorknob Art". I loved the phrase, so it stuck. Eventually, I found rubber stamps and now I make tags to go on them. I often make these little ornaments for faculty friends, so I use the school colors and embroider the name of the school and crazy piece around it. This is one I did for myself for Skidmore, my undergraduate alma mater.

This one was for my last one woman show, Ancora Imparo ("I am still learning" in Latin).

When I find charms or buttons, I will make a small joy piece. Tea is a very important part of my life, so I also made this one for me.

These are my stamps and several of the tags I've made to go on the doorknob art.

And finally, a hopeful image from my front yard. Sure, some of the leaves got nipped in the last frost, but, they are still trumpeting the arrival of spring!

* "Small art" is a phrase that I first heard in a Judy Collins
song "Bread and Roses." The song lyrics are a poem by James Oppenheim set to music by Mimi Fariña. The poem is incredibly moving. The song just kills. Tissues at the ready. This is the stanza it comes from:
As we come marching, marching, unnumbered women dead
Go crying through our singing their ancient cry for bread.
Small art and love and beauty their drudging spirits knew.
Yes, it is bread we fight for -- but we fight for roses, too!
This site has the entire poem and the story of the Lawrence Textile Mill workers who inspired it.