Still I Rise

Bleeding from the heart,

too strong to show any signs of weakness,

I poured my soul into my designs,

Not knowing that it would be my savior.

If someone were to tell me I would be consumed with cancer going into my 22nd year of life, as I was already going through the toughest school year of my life, I wouldn’t have believed them. I first started feeling symptoms in my last semester of college and pretty much just chalked it up to stress… as I was in my senior year. I even had various professional opinions who reassured me it was just stress, even though deep down in my heart knew it was more. When I first started feeling ill, I noticed changes in my body that I politely ignored. It wasn’t a “convenient” time for me to be feeling this way with everything I had going on. I was so close to receiving my bachelors degree in Fashion Design and Production, I could almost feel the diploma in my hand. All I needed to do was successfully complete my senior collection for the big showcase. This was no easy feat, as this year-long collection would be the physical representation of who I believed to be as a designer.

I was right in the thick of it when I first started feeling different. It started with unbreakable migraines that nothing could relieve. Then it transitioned to a tightness in my throat that made it hard to breathe. Eventually I lost my voice altogether as the tumor on my throat continued to grow. I learned that listening to your body and responding to its messages is so important, no matter what you have going on. Luckily, sewing allowed me to speak without having a voice. With so many things inside me changing, the only thing I knew for certain was that I felt no pain when I was sitting at my machine. So I focused on completing client orders and my senior collection 24/7.

I poured my soul into my work, I stitched myself into this collection.

I remember junior year, lying in my London flat as I studied abroad when I felt the electricity run through my body. Inspiration struck. I knew exactly what I wanted to do for my senior collection the following year. I wanted it to reflect the journey of my life, my evolution. That idea turned into a solid concept as I decided to make my collection about the monarch butterfly life cycle, paired with the empowerment of a woman developing into her destiny. More specifically, my collection would be based on a quote by Maya Angelou. The quote reads, “we delight in the beauty of the butterfly, but rarely admit the changes it has gone through to achieve that beauty.” I wanted my collection to not only represent the evolution we go through as human beings, but to represent how beautiful that story can be once we open up our perspectives. [Little did I know, I would soon end up fighting and beating cancer, and this illness would be the best thing that has ever happened to me.] I remember that sensation of inspiration striking my body that night and how amazing it felt once I actually started bringing it to life the following year. Now looking back I am able to see that this collection was giving the world a piece of me that cancer tried to take away. My hope.

There was something about making things by hand that relaxed me. Everywhere I went I had a needle, thread, and a couple pairs of Fiskars scissors attached to me. Sewing is one of the oldest crafts that has withstood the test of time, but somehow had a newfound meaning to me during my illness. Sewing became my survival. Pattern drafting to prototyping was the hard stuff. However, the more exhilarating aspect was getting to construct my entire vision in my desired fashion fabrics. There was no better feeling than the first Fiskars cut through the beautiful fabric and knowing all of my cuts would be as precise and accurate as possible. Piece by piece; I lived for the details because they represented me.

This collection literally represented life in my eyes. The evolution of our strength as we navigate the obstacles placed in our way. The metamorphosis or maturation I went through from a girl who had not endured anything life threatening, to a woman fighting for her life. Having to handle myself with elegance and grace in order to keep my family and friends from worrying about me, was a lot to carry. During this time I operated as if everything was perfectly fine, showing no signs of weakness at all times. The only one who knew what I was going through were my garments. They felt my pain and passion in every stitch, I couldn’t lie to them.

The effortless glide of the scissors as I cut my patterns, then muslins, then fashion fabrics for each of my looks was priceless. I was in my own world. Safe and unable to be harmed. From the outside looking in, my family and friends thought I was overworking myself. In reality, designing was the only thing keeping me from falling into a deep depression. It wasn’t really something I could explain, all I know is that designing kept me from going insane. I have always been the girl with too much work on her plate and designing kept me centered and focused. Most nights I lie awake in pain and agony, no medication could quite do the trick. I remember thinking to myself, “if I’m going to be awake I might as well be designing.” So I’d crawl out of bed, throw on some sweats, and before I knew it I was creating mindlessly. My hands just knew what to do; I would watch them work in awe. I felt no pain in these zones. Sewing was my only happy place.

So I spent long sleepless nights hand beading and sewing as if my life depended on it. But some days I was too weak to sew so I’d lie in bed drawing sketches; I just needed to be designing. [I actually recently wrote that sentence, “some days I was too weak to sew”, on a sticky note and placed it on my machine. Now I look at it everyday as motivation to create a little each and every day as I am reminded of a time when I couldn’t.]

It is hard not to dwell on the past or overly anticipate the future. But this collection taught me to live in the now. It taught me to embrace my life cycle. Butterflies go through stages of their lives that are unique to their specific species. Similarly to the butterfly, our individual stages are unique, but there are many other individuals out there who share similar experiences. These obstacles allowed me to rediscover my passion in a completely new way, as well as introduced me to a community of artists I would not have otherwise discovered. I was lucky to have the support system I did, especially when it came to supporting my work.

I can vividly recall final sketches turning into pattern making, draping, and sewing... Days turned into weeks, weeks turned into months. I found peace in hand beading, in knowing the depth behind each garment, from the design to the fabric choice, everything was meticulously thought out. For example, the first stage of the butterfly life cycle is the egg. As they lie on the leaf they look like a mixture of little pearls and golden beads securely bound together. But if you look closer they are translucent little rippled shells with baby caterpillars growing inside. My interpretation of this image in a garment form was to create a baby doll dress, hand beading hundreds of pearls and gold beads around the neckline, to represent the eggs from afar. But then pleating yards of translucent sparkling chiffon to create not only the baby doll effect, but to symbolize the egg up close. Underneath this piece was a white tailored mini dress to represent the caterpillar inside the egg. Each of my 8 looks had an equally meaningful explanation and comparison to some aspect of the butterfly life cycle. Hand beading became therapeutic and sewing became my medication. It was as if designing was single-handedly putting life back into my body, my spirit was being restored.

It was this passion and attention to detail that kept me from being in pain at times.

This amount of love for what I do has healed me.

As time went by, my collection and production all started falling into place. Finals season came for all my other classes and they were all aced. Now I could really focus all of my attention on my collection without feeling guilty. Placing the final touches on each garment, pressing out any wrinkles and adding in closures. I had created a story through my heartfelt collection. I remember the strength that took over me as I demonstrated the pageantry to my models. As I floated across the stage, it was my strength that carried me. It was my strength that drove my car to over a dozen stores searching for fabric, closures, props, makeup and accessories for the final show. It was my strength that carried my sleepless body from point A to B and made the pain I was feeling more manageable.

I remember around 4am on a Tuesday night I was in the sewing lab finishing closures, facings, zippers and hems. I was sitting at one of the machines to the left back of the classroom, and a couple of other seniors were also in the room. Suddenly I heard one of my classmates yelling out to me, shouting my name. She startled me out of my daze, and when I looked over at her she was rushing towards me as if something was wrong. When I looked down I realized I had sewn into my finger out of pure exhaustion. I was constantly in so much pain that I didn’t even feel it. Even looking down at my bloody nail, I felt nothing. It was only until I realized I could have gotten blood on my garment that I felt a rush of emotions.

Needless to say, using my work to push myself to achieve my greatest potential made the success of my collection and graduation mean so much more to me. I had even won the award for being the most exemplary student by the faculty in the fashion design department, when none of them had any idea what I was going through. Keeping my illness to myself, helped me feel normal and respected as a designer. One of the best things I learned is to do what makes me happy. It took almost losing my life to realize the real importance of truly living life to the fullest and stamping my mark on the world. Now as I sit here in remission, I carry the lessons I learned in battle close to me, and designing will always be my hope, my passion and my cure. I don’t say this too often, but I am proud of myself. When all else failed I went back to what I know and love, sewing. Amidst the pain, chemotherapy, radiation and so much more, my machine, sewing supplies and I have built a bond beyond passion. It’s greater than the strongest feeling or emotion I've ever felt.

Sewing is my soulmate.