Knitting on BART: Speaking the Universal Language of Knitting
When Mama died the only comfort I had, the only way to escape for a few moments from deep, deep sorrow was knitting. I knit like a fiend. Even now, I use it to escape moments of quiet when I can think about my loss. My loss is so overwhelming, I cannot allow myself much quiet time.
Times of quiet include my rides on BART (Bay Area Regional Transit). I can't sit and do nothing or I'll just cry. And I'm not comfortable crying in public, so I carry projects in my backpack. And I sit and knit.
Because BART is a public arena, I am frequently watched by non-knitters, those curious to see what I am making or how I can manipulate 4 double-points. Sometimes, people, former knitters and non-knitters, want to talk and share experiences. Sometimes, we don't have a common oral language. And that's where knitting comes in, something shared across cultures. And so, I am recording the following event that describes how knitting is a tool of communication.
One day, while on BART. I was knitting a striped scarf. Two older Chinese women got on, loaded down with fresh vegetables for the evening meal. One sat with me and the other across the way. In seconds, it was obvious they spoke very little English. They both kept watching me knit and both kept saying, "Good, good." All the time, they kept smiling; occassionally they exchanged comments with each other.
Suddenly, the one sitting with me grabbed my needles. She began knitting, in the same basic pattern, only she held her needles in a different way. She smiled and held up her hands. The woman demonstrated how she knit. Signing to me, she suggested this was another good way to knit.
I thought for a moment this woman used to knit when she was younger. Probably when she was still living at home. a student. When she had time to do this craft. Looking at her, I knew it had been years, that work and family now occupied so much of her time, she no longer had time to sit and knit, sit in silence and escape.
We had another couple of stops to go before getting off. So the woman kept the needles and continued to knit. She had obviously been watching to see when I changed colors and what the pattern was (a basic garter stitch). We sat quietly as she knit a few rows.
Our stop came up. The woman gave me back my knitting and I quickly stashed it back into my backpack. The ride shared with this older woman kept my sorrow at bay and demonstrated to me the camaraderie of being women, knitting quietly. Words did not need to be exchanged. We sat, sisters together regardless of culture or race, like so many people, men and women alike, and shared, silently the unity crafting and constructing can bring. The joy of creation and being together.
Once on the station platform, we said our good byes, knowing we would likely never see each other again. And now, two years later, I remember this event, this sharing and this moment I could escape from my sorrow. And even now, I wonder if I'll ever see the two women again.
Times of quiet include my rides on BART (Bay Area Regional Transit). I can't sit and do nothing or I'll just cry. And I'm not comfortable crying in public, so I carry projects in my backpack. And I sit and knit.
Because BART is a public arena, I am frequently watched by non-knitters, those curious to see what I am making or how I can manipulate 4 double-points. Sometimes, people, former knitters and non-knitters, want to talk and share experiences. Sometimes, we don't have a common oral language. And that's where knitting comes in, something shared across cultures. And so, I am recording the following event that describes how knitting is a tool of communication.
One day, while on BART. I was knitting a striped scarf. Two older Chinese women got on, loaded down with fresh vegetables for the evening meal. One sat with me and the other across the way. In seconds, it was obvious they spoke very little English. They both kept watching me knit and both kept saying, "Good, good." All the time, they kept smiling; occassionally they exchanged comments with each other.
Suddenly, the one sitting with me grabbed my needles. She began knitting, in the same basic pattern, only she held her needles in a different way. She smiled and held up her hands. The woman demonstrated how she knit. Signing to me, she suggested this was another good way to knit.
I thought for a moment this woman used to knit when she was younger. Probably when she was still living at home. a student. When she had time to do this craft. Looking at her, I knew it had been years, that work and family now occupied so much of her time, she no longer had time to sit and knit, sit in silence and escape.
We had another couple of stops to go before getting off. So the woman kept the needles and continued to knit. She had obviously been watching to see when I changed colors and what the pattern was (a basic garter stitch). We sat quietly as she knit a few rows.
Our stop came up. The woman gave me back my knitting and I quickly stashed it back into my backpack. The ride shared with this older woman kept my sorrow at bay and demonstrated to me the camaraderie of being women, knitting quietly. Words did not need to be exchanged. We sat, sisters together regardless of culture or race, like so many people, men and women alike, and shared, silently the unity crafting and constructing can bring. The joy of creation and being together.
Once on the station platform, we said our good byes, knowing we would likely never see each other again. And now, two years later, I remember this event, this sharing and this moment I could escape from my sorrow. And even now, I wonder if I'll ever see the two women again.
posted by Juana @ 6:43 AM
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