creating Genesis

A Portland winter can be so brutal when you have no escape from the grey. This last year I had Genesis, although I did not yet know her name. She was just an idea and two silk Persian carpets. One from my mother, the other found neglected street-side in front of a Brooklyn brownstone- both in desperate need of revival. 

My mom and I tackled this task together outside during a thankfully mild December. Tank after tank of wet vac water turned from dark to light brown color as I sucked out years of dirt from the weave. My perfectionistic tendency would not let me stop until the water ran clear or my wrists gave out.

The whole time I silently repeated a phrase to myself, something my mom used to say to me in reference to my hair. "Ghorboneh abrishamat", which translates to — I sacrifice for your silk. In Persian, the word ghorbon or sacrifice, is used to convey deep affection and warm thanks in everyday speech. Every time I would emerge from the hallway with the bounce of freshly styled curls kissing my teenage shoulders, I would hear her lovingly say "Ghorboneh Abrishamat dokhtaram!" literally — "I sacrifice for your silk my girl.".

I felt my mother's fierce love as the words became my own maternal affection for the piece I would bring into being. Removing years of filth from the silken textiles became my meditation, a promise to my people. I will make them see you. I imagined the flowing locks of every Iranian daughter gleaming in the sunlight, whipped up in the freedom of the wind. Ghorboneh abrishamat dokhtarah ye Iran, ghorboneh abrishamat.