Juneteenth 2020

Sometimes the words come fast, sometimes they come slow, sometimes they don't come when wanted, and sometimes they maybe aren't needed. The past three weeks have felt like all of that – and suddenly it's the Juneteenth.



Three weeks ago I had no clue this period would prove to be one of the most consequential for the current presidency and, indeed, for the nation. On a personal level, I had no idea this satellite photo of Black Lives Matter Plaza adjacent to Lafayette Square in Washington, DC would precipitate a haughty social media spat, of the structural gaslighting variety. Oh well, humor is a difficult concept, and so is performative virtue-signalling. (Screenshot image below of 16th Street NW, between H and K Streets, Washington, DC from Apple Maps and The Verge.)



BC, I had plans to attend a gathering of the clans in Washington. The in-person event was cancelled, of course, but the online event that replaced it was inspirational, comforting, and restorative. It was good in this time of pandemic, economic turmoil, and civil unrest to speak frankly about the realities and ongoing consequences of Native American genocide and black enslavement. It was good to recognize that the desire for justice and peace springs not only from empathy and shared experience, but also from the deep truth that my own freedom is inextricably intertwined with the freedom of others. And it was very good to honor prior commitments and to push back against later claims and the usual FOMO, because there is more than one way to seek the good.

For me, seeking the good includes crafty action: sewing face masks for asylum seekers in Matamoros and knitting prayer shawls, among other things. For others, knitting is no outlet. Some change their names or statues or brands or clothes or rallies. And in the midst of tumultuous times, some apparently need to offer clueless allyship and some apparently need to post ugly nonsequiturs, and to be gently or not-so-gently or even sarcastically smacked down.

For Loopy Ewe June Science Camp I cast on Mittens from Colonial New England by Marcia Lewandowski. It's a type of poetry mitten, but the pattern is so neglected there's no photo on Ravelry (gasp). My version varies from the original, as I changed the font and the verse.



In the time of coronavirus, of tear gas and gaslighting, I'm liking it a lot.