From quilt patches to politics, women are having their say

Sometimes, it’s worth listening to what women have to say.

I’ve believed that for a long time. If you’re reading this column, to your credit, you probably do, too. You may even be hoping that I’ll weigh in on whether Tuesday’s election results contain any clues about what we should expect next year in Texas. And, I will. But first I’d like to say a few words about Houston’s International Quilt Festival, which I visited this weekend. Technically speaking, it’s a co-ed event. Some of the vendors were male, as were some of the textile artists whose work was exhibited. The man who accompanied me enjoyed the experience, as I think many men would, although on Sunday afternoon a few had sequestered themselves in a corner of the George R. Brown Convention Center marked off as the “Husband’s Lounge,” to read the paper or watch the Texans.

Still, being a quilting festival, the event was dominated by women. To be more specific, the event was dominated by women with the time, skill, and inclination to turn scraps of fabric into something useful, and often necessary, while simultaneously telling a story, making a statement, or creating art. That’s long been the case with quilting, which has a long tradition in the United States in part because the craft is well aligned with the context: the immigrants who came to this country, and the pioneers who settled its frontiers, needed blankets and reminders of home.

The end results can be stunning, and especially impressive in a world full of mass production and fast fashion, where those of us who know how to sew a button onto a shirt that has lost one may proudly list that among our specialized skills.

But when it comes to textiles, the artists themselves are always part of the draw. Quilts can be a bridge to communities that are

otherwise isolated or cut off. In some cases, that’s by choice — the Amish — but for others it’s the result of factors that left people ignored, if not marginalized, such as poverty, illiteracy, gender or race.

That aspect of things was impossible to overlook this year, thanks to the inclusion of HERStory: A Celebration of Strong Women, a collection of quilts curated by Susanne M. Jones, which included tributes to leaders like Michelle Obama, Nancy Pelosi and Angela Merkel, in addition to advocates and athletes, and singers and suffragettes.

But many of the quilts on display throughout the exhibition hall were similarly explicit about their politics.

“I fear parts of my country are sinking underwater, both environmentally and politically,” wrote Regina Benson of Golden, Colo., whose textile poster depicted the Statue of Liberty, nearly submerged.

“No matter what color, creed, gender, or sexual identity, we are all interconnected in this ocean of life,” wrote Susanna Hotchkiss of Lake Helen, Fla., explaining why she had decided to make a quilt calling for hope and healing after the 2016 mass shooting at Pulse, a nightclub in Orlando.

Not all of the artists included in the exhibition were such radical leftists, I should note. One of the quilts on display by Karlyn Bue Lohrenz of Billings, Mont., depicted her husband Harold’s track loader, as a tribute to both: “They have seasoned well as they represent some of the backbone of our country in their projects.” And on the other side of the convention center, among the vendors, there were no overt references to politics at all. Patchwork collection

Still, to engage in commerce can be a kind of quiet protest, against those who would say, even still, that woman’s work has no value. And as my friend observed, toward the end of our visit: “There aren’t any Trump posters here.” He then corrected himself: no pro-Trump posters, at least.

The over-arching theme that emerged was aptly summarized, I thought, by Kathleen Loomis of Louisville, Ky., whose quilt “Crazed 16: Suburban Dream” was featured in the Masterworks — Abstract and Geometric category.

“We like to think we’re masters of the universe, but really our civilization is a collection of 6 billion people held together by an increasingly fragile set of connections,” Loomis wrote. “We neglect our children, our poor, and our homeless; we disrespect our government; we overstress the social bonds that should unite us.”

It’s hard to argue with any of that, although if anyone from our government is reading this, I would like to remind them that this is America, and respect is something you earn.

That is, in a sense, what many voters were trying to say on Tuesday. The election results in Virginia, in particular, have been widely interpreted as a rebuke of the president, Donald Trump, and the ill-tempered identity politics he represents.

After a heated campaign, Ralph Northam, the Democratic lieutenant governor, defeated Republican Ed Gillespie by roughly nine points. Northam’s successor as lieutenant governor, Justin Fairfax, will be the second African-American to hold statewide office in Virginia history. Democrats also won more than a dozen seats in the state’s House of Delegates, and may control the chamber, pending the results of a few recounts.

I’m reluctant, in general, to extrapolate too much from such results; it’s worth remembering that, in this case, they reflect the will of voters in Virginia. We should therefore be careful when interpreting them through a national lens.

Many of the Democrats who won seats in the Virginia legislature, for example, campaigned on a promise to tackle the state’s transportation problems. Texas Democrats might give that a try, I suppose, while campaigning in 2018, but it’s debatable if the message would resonate in a state like ours, which does have transportation problems but does not seem to have an electorate that subscribes to the belief that the government may play a role in fixing them.

With that said, the Virginia results were part of a nationwide pattern. Voters in New Jersey, similarly, elected a Democrat, Phil Murphy, to replace the outgoing incumbent, Chris Christie; in St. Petersburg, Fla., they opted to return the incumbent Democrat, Rick Kriseman, for a second term as mayor. Elections inspiration

And all of these races were shaped by the figure who has glowered over us all since winning the presidency last year. A year after Trump’s election, Republicans are aware that his approval ratings are not as high as they might hope. But until Tuesday, they may not have appreciated the intensity with which many Americans disapprove of his performance thus far, or the fact that he is president at all.

They would have, though, if they had been listening to women all along. The day after Trump’s inauguration, some 4 million women, and men, turned out to protest his election. The Women’s March was, according to political scientists, the largest singleday protest in American history. It also inspired Trish Hodge of Osprey, Fla., to make a textile poster commemorating the event, dedicated to her 15-year old granddaughter, Adessa, who attended the march in Washington.

“It gives me great joy to see the next generation of young women moving forward with strength and pride,” explained Osprey, in the placard next to her quilt at this year’s festival.

Many Republicans were, at the time, dismissive — and, in some cases, derisive — of such sentiments.

Those who still are should remember that John Carman, who serves on his New Jersey county’s board of freeholders, was once among them. “Would participants be home in time to cook dinner?” wondered the Facebook meme he shared with his constituents 10 months ago. On Tuesday, he lost his seat to Ashley Bennett, the 32-year-old woman he inspired to run.