The Story Behind the Quilt

Written by Becky Cain

Summer Issue '24 - Online Shop

“Faggot!”

I tried to let the hatred roll off my shoulders, following the same path as the sweat created by the mid-summer sun. While I wish I didn’t need to protect myself from this in the community that I love, I had been warned to expect it when I shared my plan to paint my fence.

The summer of 2023 was the hottest on record, and tensions were running high locally, nationally, and across the globe. Stories tumbled around citing climate change, Supreme Court rulings, polarizing politics, the rumblings of war, the tumult of daily life and constant change. All this as we struggled for social connection amidst a dwindling worldwide pandemic.

The heat was on in our little corner of Traverse City, and I was spending my free time outside. What I wanted was to pour myself into a new creative project, but what I received was more than I could have imagined. Initially a solo project became embraced by the community. The feedback was overwhelmingly supportive and folks arrived to help paint the 4x4 inch squares. Visitors and locals alike stopped by to take photos and exclaim their pleasure with the positivity emanating from the corner of 14th & Cass. 

While my first instinct upon feeling the “heat” was to fold into myself as an act of self protection, I instead took my neighbor Sam’s advice to lean further into the proposal to “Love Thy Neighbor.”

Before the Painting Began

In May 2023, our neighbor Sam LaSusa hosted a little soiree, inviting a number of us into their vision for the 14th & Cass neighborhood. Sam saw an opportunity to become a group that is welcoming to All, pollinators included. Sam’s enthusiasm was infectious—I found myself equally overwhelmed and entranced by Sam’s creativity. A part of Sam’s original vision was to use our fences as canvases to showcase unknown artists; because they line a major north-south thoroughfare, our fences had an opportunity to welcome others into the city utilizing pieces of public art. 

Over the next month, Sam’s Pride flags were stolen several times. Not willing to succumb to bullying, Sam decided to paint the fence; “Steal this!” was the dare. Yet more predominantly was Sam’s desire to counter hatred and fear with love. This message is one that I fully support. As I internally wondered what a straight, middle class, white woman could do to support those around me seeking justice, I simultaneously started to design a “little something” for my fence. 

While the fence artwork that resulted wasn’t a part of that neighborhood conversation in May, we couldn’t have foreseen the blatant act of discrimination that occurred very publicly in July. The story is well known locally. In response to the Supreme Court ruling, a TC beauty salon owner spoke out against folks who identify other than male or female; folks whose preferred pronouns may be other than those assigned at birth. 

My response to that blatant act of prejudice and discrimination was to ask myself what I could do to support the community. Not just the LGBTQ2S community, but ALL of the greater TC community. A quilt, evoking warmth and comfort, felt like a visual effect that matches my desire to wrap our community—locals and visitors alike—in warmth, compassion, and empathy. While it’s a huge dream, I want to live in a world where All feel open, safe, and free. 

Quilting to Build Community

A love of fabrics came from my mother. She was a seamstress who crafted a number of matching dresses for my sisters and I as children, and prom dresses in our teenage years. Under her tutelage, I earned my Girl Scout sewing badge by piecing together a number of different fabrics and creating a skirt. As an undergrad in art school, I chose a fabrics major. My senior project was, once again, fashioned from different fabrics that I had designed, printed, and stitched together into wearable art. 

As a young mother I sewed Halloween costumes. Then, as the offspring grew I was a necessary cog in the costuming wheel during the high school musical season. It was during these years that I began to paint—sometimes furniture or kitchen cabinets, and sometimes leftover plywood from my carpenter-husband’s worksites. The intention was always to transform something utilitarian into something just a bit more bright and beautiful. 

Quilting appeals to me as a means of efficiency, using what’s available, not letting anything go to waste; salvaging what may otherwise be discarded. Ideologically this premise has become a part of my MO, that of piecing together different ideas, philosophies, practices, and standards to constantly shape my own. A curiosity about others has led to an inherent desire to learn from everyone. This propulsion has provided the wind to propel me outward, and from 2016 to 2018, I served as an AmeriCorp Vista in Whitsett, North Carolina. 

While living in rural North Carolina, I encountered an old school quilting community at Mt. Hope Baptist Church in McLeansville. It was amongst these folks that the pages of some beloved childhood books came to life. The fiber community quilts of North Carolina transferred to paper in 2019 when I found myself within the community at Crestwood Vineyard Church in Oklahoma City. In an attempt to convey the ideal of providing comfort to one another, both inside and outside of the church, the community quilt project was born. Church members were invited to create individual paper squares that were pieced together with clothespins on twine. Together the squares were much more vibrant, and covered space with the visual illusion of warmth. 

Back in Traverse City, and spurred by Sam’s enthusiasm and vision, I began to imagine what it could look like to brighten our corner of Traverse City. It became important to me to liven up the fairly prominent intersection. Living on a road that runs directly into the city became a responsibility as thousands of tourists traverse the path every year. I challenged myself, “what would it look like to be more welcoming to visitors and locals alike? And what would it look like to love and support my neighbors?” Using graph paper and Sharpies in hues associated with the Progress Pride Flag, recognizing indigenous and pan-African peoples, transformed moments of tedium and exhaustion from a world “on fire” blossoming into a design infused with love. 

The Community of the Quilt

When I began the project in July of 2023, my three daughters and I were all suffering a bit. These were mostly internal struggles that we had each kept to ourselves, not wanting to burden those other than our individual therapists. When I reached out for help painting, the daughters were the first to arrive. Slowly, we began to share our inner battles with one another, regaining trust and then heart, with relationships that had wandered. By and large, we continue to gather on Saturday mornings to catch up and share the details of our lives with one another. This is a huge gift that I could have never imagined.

While appearing tedious, the acts of priming the wood then measuring and drawing the squares was mesmerizing. There was an ethereal feeling as I began painting the first color, red. Gratefully, I had counted correctly and was able to move on to orange, then yellow and green. After posting the first few colors on social media on a Friday evening, folks began to reach out with “likes” and messages of encouragement. A few even offered to help. That’s when I began to realize the impact the quilt was beginning to have on folks around town.

What had started as the plan to paint a single panel had quickly grown into a larger expression of community love. Wrapping the quilt around the corner became a commitment of time and effort that I could not have foreseen. After a public cry for help painting on social media, folks came together every Saturday through July and August. Some who weren’t able to join donated brushes and containers. Sam gifted the leftover paint from their fence. I filled in painting during the week in solitude, yet never really felt alone. One of the ongoing joys of the process of creating the quilt were the honks and verbal affirmations of the colors being applied and design filling in. Several warm conversations were embraced, along with a few prickly comments from passers by. 

Some of my favorite moments involving the fence were overheard from my kitchen window. This is another acknowledgement of the positive effect of the quilt. There’s one family in particular that walked by almost everyday before the snow flew. A mother, father, a 2-3 year old—sometimes in a wagon—and a dog. The first time I heard the exchange, tears came to my eyes. “Point to the yellow,” said the adult female. “Where’s blue?” was the next question. Imagine, using this piece of community art to teach. 

Lessons in Love for Self and Others

Completing the community quilt has literally been a labor of love—love of self, love of others, and love of community. Although I graduated from art school, I’ve very rarely embraced the role of “artist.” I’ve been able to call myself creative, and even a designer, yet something has always stopped me from grasping the title. The knowledge that sharing one’s art is both freeing and terrifying. That sharing is to risk exposure; to be vulnerable. Having the courage to be seen—to display my artwork in public has given me the confidence to embrace my artist self. 

I’ve been afraid to be seen for most of my life. There’s some childhood trauma that I attribute that fear to. At times, I’ve allowed those memories to hold me back. Yet I’m finding more and more that as I age, the courage to come out of the shadows appears. Perhaps courage, when flexed more often becomes like a muscle—stronger and more powerful. There are stories that predate the community quilt which, when viewed along a continuum, make perfect sense to me. You’re gonna have to trust me, dear reader; painting the quilt on my fence certainly wasn’t easy, nor was it an event that happened in a vacuum. It was an(other) act of inner faith and trust in doing the right things.

Being willing to be seen has some negative effects as I’ve noted. There are people that don’t agree with the idea that we ALL deserve love. Those comments from drivers can be the toughest to take. On any day painting I could have received ten or twenty honks and affirmations, yet the one negative comment may be the one that stays with me. 

Thankfully, they’ve never stopped me. Inspired by Pastor Jane Lippert of Central United Methodist Church and boldly painted by local artist Heather Spooner, the message of the quilt is clear: Love is greater than fear. This love is embodied by folks who’ve shared that they are honored to live in a neighborhood whose message is proudly proclaimed on our fences. The fences are a gateway to the city, a reminder to be kind and above all, to simply love. It’s just that easy. 

BIO

After raising four in Traverse City, Becky Cain has been leaving and returning to the area for the last eight years. She is currently nurturing both her creative gifts and her community at Commongrounds Cooperative. Becky enjoys a simple life that includes a passion for justice and inclusion, good friends, a loving family, and hiking the Boardman Lake Trail. She blogs at humblyhealthy.wordpress.com and can be reached at rcain828@gmail.com.

Summer Issue '24 - Online Shop