sometimes present-weird
sometimes present-weird
on the creative reuse of existing infrastructure, broadly understood
One of my most beloved articles of clothing is a collared shirt printed with rows of folded collared shirts, henceforth known as “shirt shirt.” Before I claimed it in college, the shirt shirt used to belong to my mother, who borrowed it from my father around the time I was born. The shirt shirt is probably tacky, but in the realm of tacky, it is excellent: supremely soft from decades of wear, funky but not aggressively so, and blessed with a color scheme that has suited my preferences over many years. Fabric softened by time, however, is often weak, and a few years ago the cuffs began fraying (this was fixable) and the left sleeve ripped. This was not so easily mended, because thin material tends to disintegrate when punctured with new stitches, regardless of intention.
When I last brought out the shirt shirt for repair, my mom said no, she would not try to help again, and also, why do I love this falling-apart shirt so much (to which I should have said: tacky excellence.) So I machine-sewed a patch of old pajama fabric inside the sleeve. Then I embroidered (satin stitched) around the edges of the holes, triumphantly donned the shirt shirt, and, a mere seven hours later, busted the shoulder seam. Too dynamic a torso twist, I suppose. At this point I had to take a brief frustration break, but then I reinforced the new rip, too, with the same technique. To my delight and to my mother’s chagrin, the shirt shirt lives on.
Sticker by Jozi.
#stitchitdontditchit comes from/goes with an organized dissonance tactic where people convene with a line of chairs in front of a clothing store, ideally a fast fashion purveyor in a visible location, to mend together in public. It’s a ‘joyful disruption’ in which I hope to someday participate. I am already in the habit of darning socks during readings and while using public transportation, partly because doing something with my hands helps me listen better and pass the time but also because I believe in drawing attention to repair work, particularly the so-called domestic arts. The prospect of darning with company is quite tantalizing: spectacle, community, and landfill diversion in one fell swoop.
Speaking of spectacle: This summer I turned 28, glue-gunned together a flower crown, and danced on a field at sunset with friends, documented here in this quasi-iconographic photo by digital illustrator Sierra Shaw
And now, this edition’s music video recommendations:
For a song and a color palette that will leave you dance-twitchy and desiring a metallic suit (don’t worry, happens to me all the time), try “Freedom” by Jon Batiste
And for THE BOOK TRAILER THAT UPENDS ALL EXPECTATIONS FOR BOOK TRAILERS (read: usually, they are not good), watch Lilly Singh’s video about her book ‘Be a Triangle.’ I have no idea if this book is good; I don’t have a well-formed opinion of Lilly Singh; I just know that this video is incredible and that she’s paving the way for me as a writer to someday make a music video without having to be a musician and I am pumped.
Poster by illustrator Mikan Key
“If you have yet to be called an incorrigible, defiant woman, don’t worry, there is still time.” -Dr. Clarissa Pinkola Estés
I hope you will consider donating to small/regional reproductive health clinics as well as the Indigenous Women Rising abortion fund.
I’m grateful to borrow an argument from a friend here: legislation should be about outcomes, not morals. If the desired outcome is a society with fewer abortions (a goal that people of many a political feather can agree on, albeit for wildly different reasons), then we need to legislate in a way that addresses the systemic conditions that lead to abortion, not the procedure itself.
By ‘conditions,’ I do not mean ‘sex.’ I mean that raising minimum wage, lowering housing costs, increasing literacy, and developing universal healthcare could all help lower the number of abortions.
In this context I also think it’s worthwhile to read this thorough article about teaching consent at every age by Missoula writer Sarah Aswell.
So even if you are not religiously aligned with giving to clinics or abortion funds, or it is unsustainable for you to spend money on non-essentials, or you do not believe that donations are an effective driver of social change, well, there you have it. A list of other ways to proceed.
Graphic by radical copyeditor Alex Kapitan
“In 2021, the NFL approved changes requiring every team to interview at least two external minority candidates for open head coaching positions and at least one external minority candidate for a coordinator job. Additionally, at least one minority and/or female candidate must be interviewed for senior level positions (e.g., club president and senior executives).
Following the 2022 Spring League Meeting, NFL teams are now required to conduct outside interviews with a minority and/or female candidate for vacant QB coach positions. With many prospective head coaches beginning their careers in the QB room, the ruling is expected to help increase the hiring of minority head coaches in the future.” —NFL Rooney Rule website
This NFL operations rule, which requires franchises to interview a specific number of people of color and women, has been enormously effective in increasing the percentage of minority coaches and executives across the league. The page with the above text also includes some misuse of the word ‘diverse,’ e.g. “clubs must interview at least two diverse candidates” where ‘diverse’ is a euphemism for ‘not white’ or ‘non-male.’
I’m not pointing out this error so I can neener-neener at the NFL (okay, maybe a little bit—I was a pretty insufferable child, as far as grammar gremlins go). Rather, this is an excellent example of how though imprecise language can reinforce oppression, you can use the ‘wrong’ words and still effect meaningful change.
Photo by Rio Chantel via Western Cider
I’m writing this on the day of mid-term elections. Maybe you feel optimistic. But it can seem safer to feel dread. At least then you’re not surprised by unsatisfactory outcomes (theorist Eve Kosofsky Sedgwick called this approach ‘paranoid reading’), and you can disengage more easily from disappointment.
To stave off this anticipatory hopelessness, I like to read and re-read something that articulates what I value. Right now, that something is this solarpunk manifesto. “As our world roils with calamity,” it says, “we need solutions, not only warnings […] we are solarpunks because the only other options are denial or despair.”
I’m too new to the word “solarpunk” to label myself immediately, but when I found the manifesto during an internet wander, I did have that marvelous feeling of recognition. The list of solarpunk aesthetic sensibilities includes the phrase “sometimes post-apocalyptic, sometimes present-weird.” I think I’ve been dressing present-weird since middle school; how wonderful to have finally found the language for it.
In solidarity, and with full-bodied enthusiasm for your present-weird, too,
Abby