Trousseau

Trousseau brings together three inherited textiles: a Christian Dior negligee from her paternal grandmother, a lace curtain from her maternal grandmother, and lace trim from her maternal great-grandmother. All three women taught her to sew. Laid over a deep red ground, the negligee carries the word "Anger" in deep red thread, and the stitched scars of her breast reduction, laparoscopy, and hysterectomy. The embroidered text reads: Always on display, never truly seen. She labours in love, anger folded tight beneath her skin.

This is about anger. The simmering kind, which women learn to fold and carry.

The materials came from three generations of women in my family. The Christian Dior negligee belonged to my paternal grandmother: pristine, luxurious, delicate. The lace curtain came from my maternal grandmother: weathered and torn. I had played with it as a child, mainly to be a bride. The lace trim came from my maternal great-grandmother's sewing stash, given to me after her death: unused, but browned with time. All three women had taught me to sew, embroider, and cross-stitch.

I grew up watching marriages of many kinds: convenience, grief, love, passion, companionship. In all of them, I saw varying degrees of gender disparity. The negligee sits at the centre of this: an object that distils some of the assumed roles and expectations within a couple.

Laid over the deep red ground, I embroidered the word "Anger" in deep red thread within the lacy layers of the negligee. Over the white fabric, I stitched the scars of my breast reduction, laparoscopy, and hysterectomy: a comment on female healthcare, and on what women's bodies are subject to. The embroidered text reads: "Always on display, never truly seen. She labours in love, anger folded tight beneath her skin."