the year of the mask
of wild unkempt hair and curls returning of compliance and co-operation, collectively safeguarding, preparing, hoping. I've sewn more masks that I can count for my parents, sister, husband, friends, children, self and I've washed them too over and over and over and over again to see the world's faces awash with masks is now familiar, however strange - people covering their faces is nothing new. I remember when I was eighteen and in my first year of university I chose to study Arabic and Arab, Islamic culture and history for my major - I'll never forget having lunch with a girl called Fatima who told me her hijab was liberating it was personal she said, her religious conviction, but it was political too - it was a social statement she wore wore gladly around her head and neck and was radiant. Our bodies are personal, they are inherently worthy of love and respect of care, compassion, of tenderness - they our ours; not something to simply adorn cover, or undress for others - and yet our bodies and our garments do affect each other. A mask can be uncomfortable and comfortable, it can be right and still feel distancing, it can contain a virus and share solitary, a symbol for an unjust disease, a symbol for common good it's been a year of masks, and I have worn them gladly.
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ABOUT the authorEmily Clare Sims is a farmer and mama to three young boys. Each day she looks for ways to notice beauty, contemplate her faith and savour the seasons... Categories
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March 2023
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