Thank you

This post is a thank you — and a story, the story of the symbolism of my Pride Like the Wind shawl.

I was at the Strungalong knitting retreat last week, and someone there asked very kindly about the symbolism in my shawl. Specifically, she asked why the contrasting lines stop, why they change.

I’ve shared before about some of the more overt symbolism in this shawl. The sections are triangles because it’s meant to be reflective of the Inclusivity Pride flag, a flag that shows not just Pride but the importance of a movement that embraces everyone, regardless of sex, identity, color, or what body you were born into.

The background stitch I chose for most of the shawl — a tremendously fun one to knit, as it happens — was described to me as a honeycomb, but I didn’t see it that way. I see it sometimes as a scallop, or a shell, and at other times like seafoam. Both of those made a lot of sense to me because Purly Shell Fiber Arts, the source of the yarn, is located on the coast of Washington State. If you know me, you know the seacoast calls to me, especially the Pacific coast. It’s often wild, heartbreakingly beautiful, and always capable of taking my breath away. It’s the coast I call home.

I’ve spoken about all that before. But those contrasting lines in the shawl, I hadn’t spoken of them. Those were there for me.

In the border section of the shawl, there are lines that go almost all the way across, and then they change into something different. And that’s about me, and a very personal journey I began not that long ago in my life.

I always thought that once I was “grown up,” that I was fully formed: pretty much the same self I was going to be forever. But sometimes things happen that call for change, and something like that happened to me. I learned that in order to survive some things, you can’t remain who you were. You have to evolve. So the line in the shawl evolves, it changes, and I think it becomes something more interesting and better, just like I think I’m becoming something better.

In the largest section of the shawl, though, there are lines that only go a little way, then they are interrupted. They change into something that’s nearly just a memory. Those lines are there to commemorate something sadder, someone who didn’t get to live long enough to experience change in their life, someone whose life ended at 16. The lines stop just a little way across the shawl, and the specks that continue on are what I like to think of as the possibilities that would have been, had Eddy been able to change instead of leave us.

I miss Eddy. So many of us miss Eddy. I try to take Eddy’s memory as impetus to do good in the world, to speak up about the high rates of suicide among trans youth, to help raise funds for organizations like The Trevor Project and Human Rights Campaign and Knit the Rainbow. And you’ve all been part of that. Everyone who’s bought this pattern this month, or donated directly to one of those organizations because you saw something I posted, you’ve been part of that, and I’m so grateful. Thank you, from me and from Eddy, too.