Mask per Masx

When I was laid off back in April, I felt helpless, confused and worthless. So much of my identity was drawn up in having a job; that means of supporting at least myself. With fear and anxiety penting up, I chose to do what most seamstresses did when the pandemic began- make masks.

All at once our loved ones had become essentials, needing masks for protection, an addition to even the most casual of uniforms. Our most essential workers on the frontlines needed them with an urgency most of us still can not fully grasp. Posts went up from local hospitals, asking for mask donations from anyone willing and able. Then, all across the USA, citizen protests of every frame and style hit the streets. Everyone needed a mask.

By the grace of more experienced creators, patterns of every size and style of mask went up online. Many even giving out safe care and handling instructions to ensure the most preventative qualities. Cutting out each mask, I felt a fear building. It cramped my chest and made my legs feel heavy as concrete. Self-doubt was blooming.

Fears that my work would somehow harm others built a ragged framework in my mind, where scenarios played out of such failures. The masks not filtering well enough or fitting comfortably, discouraging the wearer. Anxiety rose as I tried to keep the masks as sterile as possible, safeguarding from pet dander and other contaminants until my entire work space was in its own quarantine. Even when I would get a batch sent out, no matter the precautions I took, there was knawing fear that I was no help at all.

Somewhere into my time as a mask maker, a dear friend and essential worker sent me a Tumblr link. A fellow creator had given two patterns and full instructions for the Plague Mask. The example given by the providing artist was quilted, lined and had sunglass lenses for eyes. I was immediately obsessed and began to imagine the first masx I would create.

That same night I dug out the donated fabrics that were too worn or questionably stained to make masks with- the perfect waste fabric for this mockup. As I sketched out the pattern, I felt released from something. My own restraints and limitations. The fear of failing in my care for others. Self-doubt was trimmed away as my scissors cut across that grungy fabric. By the time I was reclaiming plastic baggy for the eyes, there was a lightness in my steps.

For every ten or so mask I started another masx. Making them “alongside” each other not only infused me with energy (energy I thought I no longer possessed), but also revealed new and smarter ways to work and create. Suddenly I was making masks with more ease, precision and speed with no waste (since everything could be reclaimed into a masx). Drafting new patterns and taking on new challenges seemed possible and exciting again.

As my time making masks finally dwindles, that old fear comes sneaking back. Fear that I am worthless and unable to help even myself. When that happens, I let that energy exist before working it into something else, usually a masx.