Woven Together As we sat laughing, braids of fabric in our hands, I silently wondered at the differences in our childhoods. It was a sobering thought, comparing her journey from war-torn refugee camps and tragic goodbyes to my bright and uneventful life in the suburbs. Yet here we were, sitting on a picnic table in the sun, making rugs for children who lived lives like hers. Soon we would have enough braids to craft a cozy mat to give to a needy refugee family. This idea made me incredibly happy, but I wondered how it made her feel; to provide a small slice of comfort to someone in the same place she was just months ago, to understand the trauma of the past, the fear of the unknown, and the brilliant hope that freedom brings. As we chatted and joked, I knew that this moment mattered. The simple work we were doing with our hands would directly help a fearful family. Over the years, I had often grown accustomed to new faces each week at church. I knew they were newly arrived refugees whom our church was welcoming in, but I didn’t know the details: the intense escapes from their home countries, the months without proper food or medicine, and the cold, empty apartments that awaited them here in Greensboro. I heard of the Ikaze Ministry, (Ikaze meaning “welcome” in Kinyarwanda) a ministry of my church that provides additional support. I knew there had to be a way my love for sewing and textiles could aid in this divine mission. I began by meeting with the director of the Ikaze Ministry. He shared their needs and we brainstormed how I could collaborate. We analyzed how my strengths could best benefit Ikaze and I decided that crafting rag rugs would be the answer. It was the perfect solution, connecting my passion for textiles and upcycling with the necessity of home furnishings. Partnering with my close friend, we spread the word throughout our local community about The Woven Project. We asked anyone and everyone to donate t-shirts. Soon we had accumulated almost 80 pounds of shirts! With our generous bundle, we organized a production station at our church’s weekly connections night. Volunteers physically unable to work on the church farm could cut and braid strips of fabric. This process didn’t feel like work; it was enjoyable! I could sense a community being built. Senior citizens worked alongside youth and African refugees joined with long-time church members. A former Savannah College of Art & Design weaving professor worked tirelessly to finish our first rug, which was beautiful. From ideation to test runs, marketing, and troubleshooting, I could visibly see the strands of this mission weaving our community together. I saw people connected and lives touched. That isn’t to say we did not face setbacks, we had our share, but didn’t give up problem-solving. The next big step for the Woven Project is delivery. As soon as the Ikaze Ministry distribution begins again this season, we will hand deliver to families acclimating to the United States. When I began this service project, I had a lot of questions. Would we receive enough T-shirts? Would personal delivery be rewarding for everyone? What I didn’t expect was the joy and fellowship that grew from our simple braiding sessions. This demonstrated the therapeutic nature of textile crafting activities. I am proud to be part of a collaborative and sustainable community-based project. As we continue to serve our new refugee neighbors, we will become increasingly woven together.

My biggest inspiration could also be labeled my muse. History has captured my mind and will not let go. As a seamstress, I want to revive intricacy and creativity in garment construction as seen in the past. What we drape our bodies in holds significance beyond mere comfort or function. Fashion is a means through which the chronicle of our lives is conveyed. Seeing the grandiose work of historical designers like Vivienne Westwood or Danilo Donati never fails to inspire me, and reminds me that it is an honor to see into their minds. The rigid structure of historical fashion has prompted me to reach outside its walls, exploring how I can reshape antiquity with my contemporary ideas. The use of pleating repeats throughout my work as a metaphor: the gathering of an abundance of fabric into a compact area mirrors the suppression of women throughout history. A recent sewing venture of mine was my Harlequin ensemble, inspired by the picturesque costumes of traditional ballets. Growing up as a ballerina has granted me insight into the often-forgotten world of dance costumes: the flamboyant textures and colors, intelligent movement-based designs, and cultural significance. I drafted my bodice pattern by wrapping tape around my torso to get exact measurements and shapes. I then sought out thrifted fabrics of contrasting colors and sewed these consecutively to each bodice panel, applying gold trim in the seams. I utilized a bedsheet for the lining. Next, I created a circle skirt with meticulous measurements to sit perfectly on a pancake tutu. I wanted to challenge myself by designing an accessory I hadn’t attempted before, so I crafted a pleated collar and cuffs reminiscent of Elizabethan ruffs. I fashioned a jester hat from a cereal box to tie in the color and textile of the collar. While the fashion industry may be churning out an endless stream of cheap and substandard materials, I take pride in my sustainable stance; one that reflects the feminine spirit. My love of history has shifted the way I view the world. Earlier this year, after learning of the horrific war in the Democratic Republic of the Congo resulting in the arrival of refugees in my city, I began a service project crafting braided rugs for these families. While constructing rugs, I became friends with some of the emigrants and heard their first-hand accounts of life under persecution. This experience filled me with a desire to spark more reform in my community and prompted me to use my talents to address obstacles around me. From ideation to test runs, marketing, and troubleshooting, I could visibly see the strands of this mission weaving our community together. I saw people connected and lives touched. That isn’t to say we did not face setbacks, we had our share, but didn’t give up problem-solving. Though my life is often filled to the brim with schoolwork, dance, and volunteering, I continuously seek ways to feed my hunger for knowledge. Whether it’s taking AP Government online when the in-person class couldn't fit my schedule, or selecting a guiding question with a historical lens for AP Art, I am determined to never stifle my passion. What grew from a love of books as a child, has developed into a catalyst for change.

My biggest inspiration could also be labeled my muse. History has captured my mind and will not let go. As a seamstress, I want to revive intricacy and creativity in garment construction as seen in the past. What we drape our bodies in holds significance beyond mere comfort or function. Fashion is a means through which the chronicle of our lives is conveyed. Seeing the grandiose work of historical designers like Vivienne Westwood or Danilo Donati never fails to inspire me, and reminds me that it is an honor to see into their minds. The rigid structure of historical fashion has prompted me to reach outside its walls, exploring how I can reshape antiquity with my contemporary ideas. The scarcity of words to describe the female experience can be channeled into textiles. With my use of traditionally female materials and notions, I ask the question “Why reject the hand you have been dealt if within it you find joy?” While teaching myself to sew through independent exploration, I’ve struggled to source affordable fabrics and turn to unorthodox materials. Preloved curtains, tablecloths, and bedsheets are my go-to mediums. Unearthing discarded garments with enchanting lace or buttons is an adventure. I love the idea that I bring new life to something deemed useless. For example, I’ve discovered that the jacquard pattern on vintage tablecloths delightfully reflects that of Renaissance fabrics. A recent sewing venture of mine was my Harlequin ensemble, inspired by the picturesque costumes of traditional ballets. Growing up as a ballerina has granted me insight into the often-forgotten world of dance costumes: the flamboyant textures and colors, intelligent movement-based designs, and cultural significance. I drafted my bodice pattern by wrapping tape around my torso to get exact measurements and shapes. I then sought out thrifted fabrics of contrasting colors and sewed these consecutively to each bodice panel, applying gold trim in the seams. I utilized a bedsheet for the lining. Next, I created a circle skirt with meticulous measurements to sit perfectly on a pancake tutu. I wanted to challenge myself by designing an accessory I hadn’t attempted before, so I crafted a pleated collar and cuffs reminiscent of Elizabethan ruffs. I fashioned a jester hat from a cereal box to tie in the color and textile of the collar. While the fashion industry may be churning out an endless stream of cheap and substandard materials, I take pride in my sustainable stance; one that reflects the feminine spirit. My love of history has shifted the way I view the world. Earlier this year, after learning of the horrific war in the Democratic Republic of the Congo resulting in the arrival of refugees in my city, I began a service project crafting braided rugs for these families. While constructing rugs, I became friends with some of the emigrants and heard their first-hand accounts of life under persecution. This experience filled me with a desire to spark more reform in my community and prompted me to use my talents to address obstacles around me. Though my life is often filled to the brim with schoolwork, dance, and volunteering, I continuously seek ways to feed my hunger for knowledge. Whether it’s taking AP Government online when the in-person class couldn't fit my schedule, or selecting a guiding question with a historical lens for AP Art, I am determined to never stifle my passion. What grew from a love of books as a child, has developed into a catalyst for change.

Woven Together As we sat laughing, braids of fabric in our hands, I silently wondered at the differences in our childhoods. It was a sobering thought, comparing her journey from war-torn refugee camps and tragic goodbyes to my bright and uneventful life in the suburbs. Yet here we were, sitting on a picnic table in the sun, making rugs for children who lived lives like hers. Soon we would have enough braids to craft a cozy mat to give to a needy refugee family. This idea made me incredibly happy, but I wondered how it made her feel; to provide a small slice of comfort to someone in the same place she was just months ago, to understand the trauma of the past, the fear of the unknown, and the brilliant hope that freedom brings. As we chatted and joked, I knew that this moment mattered. The simple work we were doing with our hands would directly help a fearful family. Over the years, I had often grown accustomed to new faces each week at church. I knew they were newly arrived refugees whom our church was welcoming in, but I didn’t know the details: the intense escapes from their home countries, the months without proper food or medicine, and the cold, empty apartments that awaited them here in Greensboro. I heard of the Ikaze Ministry, (Ikaze meaning “welcome” in Kinyarwanda) a ministry of my church that provides additional support. I knew there had to be a way my love for sewing and textiles could aid in this divine mission. I began by meeting with the director of the Ikaze Ministry. He shared their needs and we brainstormed how I could collaborate. We analyzed how my strengths could best benefit Ikaze and I decided that crafting rag rugs would be the answer. It was the perfect solution, connecting my passion for textiles and upcycling with the necessity of home furnishings. Partnering with my close friend, we spread the word throughout our local community about The Woven Project. We asked anyone and everyone to donate t-shirts. Soon we had accumulated almost 80 pounds of shirts! With our generous bundle, we organized a production station at our church’s weekly connections night. Volunteers physically unable to work on the church farm could cut and braid strips of fabric. This process didn’t feel like work; it was enjoyable! I could sense a community being built. Senior citizens worked alongside youth and African refugees joined with long-time church members. A former Savannah College of Art & Design weaving professor worked tirelessly to finish our first rug, which was beautiful. From ideation to test runs, marketing, and troubleshooting, I could visibly see the strands of this mission weaving our community together. I saw people connected and lives touched. That isn’t to say we did not face setbacks, we had our share, but didn’t give up problem-solving. The next big step for the Woven Project is delivery. As soon as the Ikaze Ministry distribution begins again this season, we will hand deliver to families acclimating to the United States. When I began this service project, I had a lot of questions. Would we receive enough T-shirts? Would personal delivery be rewarding for everyone? What I didn’t expect was the joy and fellowship that grew from our simple braiding sessions. This demonstrated the therapeutic nature of textile crafting activities. I am proud to be part of a collaborative and sustainable community-based project. As we continue to serve our new refugee neighbors, we will become increasingly woven together.

The tragic description of the Hungarian Uprising fills my ears as I wind down a long country road. It's a bright Saturday morning, 7:52 to be precise, and I am making my way to ballet class. I let the intense description wash over me as my mind picks up speed. Although this is the fourth time I’ve listened to this podcast, I can still feel my heart race as the tragic events unfold, a dramatic chorus drawing to a crescendo in the background. As the familiar tune of the podcast’s intro monologue begins, I find myself speaking aloud with it, quoting Churchill, Gorbachev, and Reagan. Knowing that I will soon be in the company of contemporary figures, I soak up these last few minutes in history. While my life may seem insignificant in comparison to the giants of the past, hearing their stories gives me strength. I notice their impact everywhere, trailing across the pages of time and soaking into my environment. Where can I find that snippet of history surrounding me? A pocket of time exists in every space I inhabit, a thought which enlivens me. My biggest inspiration could also be labeled my muse. History has captured my mind and will not let go. I want to revive intricacy and creativity in garment construction as seen in the past. What we drape our bodies in holds significance beyond mere comfort or function. Fashion is a means through which the chronicle of our lives is conveyed. Seeing the grandiose work of historical designers like Vivienne Westwood or Danilo Donati never fails to inspire me, and reminds me that it is an honor to see into their minds. The rigid structure of historical fashion has prompted me to reach outside its walls, exploring how I can reshape antiquity with my contemporary ideas. The use of pleating repeats throughout my work as a metaphor: the gathering of an abundance of fabric into a compact area mirrors the suppression of women throughout history. The scarcity of words to describe the female experience can be channeled into textiles. With my use of traditionally female materials and notions, I ask the question “Why reject the hand you have been dealt if within it you find joy?” While teaching myself to sew through independent exploration, I’ve struggled to source affordable fabrics and turn to unorthodox materials. Preloved curtains, tablecloths, and bedsheets are my go-to mediums. Unearthing discarded garments with enchanting lace or buttons is an adventure. I love the idea that I bring new life to something deemed useless. For example, I’ve discovered that the jacquard pattern on vintage tablecloths delightfully reflects that of Renaissance fabrics. A recent sewing venture of mine was my Harlequin ensemble, inspired by the picturesque costumes of traditional ballets. Growing up as a ballerina has granted me insight into the often-forgotten world of dance costumes: the flamboyant textures and colors, intelligent movement-based designs, and cultural significance. I drafted my bodice pattern by wrapping tape around my torso to get exact measurements and shapes. I then sought out thrifted fabrics of contrasting colors and sewed these consecutively to each bodice panel, applying gold trim in the seams. I utilized a bedsheet for the lining. Next, I created a circle skirt with meticulous measurements to sit perfectly on a pancake tutu. I wanted to challenge myself by designing an accessory I hadn’t attempted before, so I crafted a pleated collar and cuffs reminiscent of Elizabethan ruffs. I fashioned a jester hat from a cereal box to tie in the color and textile of the collar. While the fashion industry may be churning out an endless stream of cheap and substandard materials, I take pride in my sustainable stance; one that reflects the feminine spirit. My love of history has shifted the way I view the world. Earlier this year, after learning of the horrific war in the Democratic Republic of the Congo resulting in the arrival of refugees in my city, I began a service project crafting braided rugs for these families. While constructing rugs, I became friends with some of the emigrants and heard their first-hand accounts of life under persecution. This experience filled me with a desire to spark more reform in my community and prompted me to use my talents to address obstacles around me. Though my life is often filled to the brim with schoolwork, dance, and volunteering, I continuously seek ways to feed my hunger for knowledge. Whether it’s taking AP Government online when the in-person class couldn't fit my schedule, or selecting a guiding question with a historical lens for AP Art, I am determined to never stifle my passion. What grew from a love of books as a child, has developed into a catalyst for change. The core of my passion is people; our triumphs and tragedies and how even the smallest actions can have a colossal impact. The famous photograph of an East German guard jumping over the barbed wire fence separating East and West Berlin is a perfect example. One small hop not only altered the course of that man’s life but, having been captured on camera, this hop served as inspiration for thousands to escape the oppression in which they were trapped. I keep stories like this in mind when making everyday choices. Will my decision to study during lunch be the small hop that causes me to ace this test? Will taking the role of National Art Honor Society president be the small hop that leads to a generation of successful artists? Sometimes a hop can be difficult to land. In those cases, I hold onto the knowledge that an attempt is meaningful, and the hope that next time I will not only land but land on two sturdy legs with a story to tell.

The square filled with screams as Soviet tanks roared through the crowds. Civilians pushed and shoved each other in feeble attempts to save their own lives. Those who had been arm in arm in solidarity mere moments before were now thrusting their comrades into the path of tanks. What had begun as a peaceful protest at the Budapest Parliamentary Building was now a brutal massacre in which thousands would die. The tragic description of the Hungarian Uprising fills my ears as I wind down a long country road. It's a bright Saturday morning, 7:52 to be precise, and I am making my way to ballet class. I let the intense description wash over me as my mind picks up speed. Although this is the fourth time I’ve listened to this podcast, I can still feel my heart race as the tragic events unfold, a dramatic chorus drawing to a crescendo in the background. As the familiar tune of the podcast’s intro monologue begins, I find myself speaking aloud with it, quoting Churchill, Gorbachev, and Reagan. Knowing that I will soon be in the company of contemporary figures, I soak up these last few minutes in history. While my life may seem insignificant in comparison to the giants of the past, hearing their stories gives me strength. I notice their impact everywhere, trailing across the pages of time and soaking into my environment. Where can I find that snippet of history surrounding me? A pocket of time exists in every space I inhabit, a thought which enlivens me. Though my life is often filled to the brim with schoolwork, dance, and volunteering, I continuously seek ways to feed my hunger for knowledge. Whether it’s taking AP Government online when the in-person class couldn't fit my schedule, or selecting a guiding question with a historical lens for AP Art, I am determined to never stifle my passion. What grew from a love of books as a child, has developed into a catalyst for change. My love of history has shifted the way I view the world. Earlier this year, after learning of the horrific war in the Democratic Republic of the Congo resulting in the arrival of refugees in my city, I began a service project crafting braided rugs for these families. While constructing rugs, I became friends with some of the emigrants and heard their first-hand accounts of life under persecution. This experience filled me with a desire to spark more reform in my community and prompted me to use my talents to address obstacles around me. The core of my passion is people; our triumphs and tragedies and how even the smallest actions can have a colossal impact. The famous photograph of an East German guard jumping over the barbed wire fence separating East and West Berlin is a perfect example. One small hop not only altered the course of that man’s life but, having been captured on camera, this hop served as inspiration for thousands to escape the oppression in which they were trapped. I keep stories like this in mind when making everyday choices. Will my decision to study during lunch be the small hop that causes me to ace this test? Will taking the role of National Art Honor Society president be the small hop that leads to a generation of successful artists? Sometimes a hop can be difficult to land. In those cases, I hold onto the knowledge that an attempt is meaningful, and the hope that next time I will not only land but land on two sturdy legs with a story to tell.

The square filled with screams as Soviet tanks roared through the crowds. Civilians pushed and shoved each other in feeble attempts to save their own lives. Those who had been arm in arm in solidarity mere moments before were now thrusting their comrades into the path of tanks. What had begun as a peaceful protest at the Budapest Parliamentary Building was now a brutal massacre in which thousands would die. The tragic description of the Hungarian Uprising fills my ears as I wind down a long country road. It's a bright Saturday morning, 7:52 to be precise, and I am making my way to ballet class. I let the intense description wash over me as my mind picks up speed. Although this is the fourth time I’ve listened to this podcast, I can still feel my heart race as the tragic events unfold, a dramatic chorus drawing to a crescendo in the background. As the familiar tune of the podcast’s intro monologue begins, I find myself speaking aloud with it, quoting Churchill, Gorbachev, and Reagan. Knowing that I will soon be in the company of contemporary figures, I soak up these last few minutes in history. While my life may seem insignificant in comparison to the giants of the past, hearing their stories gives me strength. I notice their impact everywhere, trailing across the pages of time and soaking into my environment. Where can I find that snippet of history surrounding me? A pocket of time exists in every space I inhabit, a thought which enlivens me. Though my life is often filled to the brim with schoolwork, dance, and volunteering, I continuously seek ways to feed my hunger for knowledge. Whether it’s taking AP Government online when the in-person class couldn't fit my schedule, or selecting a guiding question with a historical lens for AP Art, I am determined to never stifle my passion. What grew from a love of books as a child, has developed into a catalyst for change. My love of history has shifted the way I view the world. Earlier this year, after learning of the horrific war in the Democratic Republic of the Congo resulting in the arrival of refugees in my city, I began a service project crafting braided rugs for these families. While constructing rugs, I became friends with some of the emigrants and heard their first-hand accounts of life under persecution. This experience filled me with a desire to spark more reform in my community and prompted me to use my talents to address obstacles around me. The core of my passion is people; our triumphs and tragedies and how even the smallest actions can have a colossal impact. The famous photograph of an East German guard jumping over the barbed wire fence separating East and West Berlin is a perfect example. One small hop not only altered the course of that man’s life but, having been captured on camera, this hop served as inspiration for thousands to escape the oppression in which they were trapped. I keep stories like this in mind when making everyday choices. Will my decision to study during lunch be the small hop that causes me to ace this test? Will taking the role of National Art Honor Society president be the small hop that leads to a generation of successful artists? Sometimes a hop can be difficult to land. In those cases, I hold onto the knowledge that an attempt is meaningful, and the hope that next time I will not only land but land on two sturdy legs with a story to tell.

The square filled with screams as Soviet tanks roared through the crowds. Civilians pushed and shoved each other in feeble attempts to save their own lives. Those who had been arm in arm in solidarity mere moments before were now thrusting their comrades into the path of tanks. What had begun as a peaceful protest at the Budapest Parliamentary Building was now a brutal massacre in which thousands would die. The tragic description of the Hungarian Uprising fills my ears as I wind down a long country road. It's a bright Saturday morning, 7:52 to be precise, and I am making my way to ballet class. I let the intense description wash over me as my mind picks up speed. Although this is the fourth time I’ve listened to this podcast, I can still feel my heart race as the tragic events unfold, a dramatic chorus drawing to a crescendo in the background. As the familiar tune of the podcast’s intro monologue begins, I find myself speaking aloud with it, quoting Churchill, Gorbachev, and Reagan. Knowing that I will soon be in the company of contemporary figures, I soak up these last few minutes in history. While my life may seem insignificant in comparison to the giants of the past, hearing their stories gives me strength. I notice their impact everywhere, trailing across the pages of time and soaking into my environment. Where can I find that snippet of history surrounding me? A pocket of time exists in every space I inhabit, a thought which enlivens me. Though my life is often filled to the brim with schoolwork, dance, and volunteering, I continuously seek ways to feed my hunger for knowledge. Whether it’s taking AP Government online when the in-person class couldn't fit my schedule, or selecting a guiding question with a historical lens for AP Art, I am determined to never stifle my passion. What grew from a love of books as a child, has developed into a catalyst for change. My love of history has shifted the way I view the world. Earlier this year, after learning of the horrific war in the Democratic Republic of the Congo resulting in the arrival of refugees in my city, I began a service project crafting braided rugs for these families. While constructing rugs, I became friends with some of the emigrants and heard their first-hand accounts of life under persecution. This experience filled me with a desire to spark more reform in my community and prompted me to use my talents to address obstacles around me. The core of my passion is people; our triumphs and tragedies and how even the smallest actions can have a colossal impact. The famous photograph of an East German guard jumping over the barbed wire fence separating East and West Berlin is a perfect example. One small hop not only altered the course of that man’s life but, having been captured on camera, this hop served as inspiration for thousands to escape the oppression in which they were trapped. I keep stories like this in mind when making everyday choices. Will my decision to study during lunch be the small hop that causes me to ace this test? Will taking the role of National Art Honor Society president be the small hop that leads to a generation of successful artists? Sometimes a hop can be difficult to land. In those cases, I hold onto the knowledge that an attempt is meaningful, and the hope that next time I will not only land but land on two sturdy legs with a story to tell.