I come from a long lineage of women weavers. I believe they have weaved their way into freedom. From violence, poverty, misogyny.
Here is one of them—Muié Rendá.
Around their weaving circles, they/we speak of losses, of memory, of hope, of despair.
They/we pray to God. We become witnesses to a life that holds all kinds of irreconcilable contradictions, all kinds of knots.
As we co-weave and co-create and undo the gnarly configurations of these threads, we speak of accountability, of hope, of transformation. Our songs speak of an ethics of combat and resistance, in which there is room for the delicate cotton thread, the thin needle, and—sometimes—the knife.