I touched my grandmother’s hands and felt her pain. Despite having advanced osteoporosis, she focused on using her hands as much as possible. She peeled peas, simmered, sang, and clapped, and in her touch was a deep love for so many. She found warmth and relief in her blue room in Mexico for her aching bones. Bill Withers' song "Grandma's Hands" reminds me to celebrate her hands in every possible way, surrounded by flowers. "My Grandmother’s Hands: Racialized Trauma and the Pathway to Mending our Hearts and Bodies" by Resmaa Menakem illustrates a healing journey in practice.
2021
40" x 57"
Digital collage on cotton, applique, and quilted on cotton
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