Make Small Acts of Repair

Increasingly in my life, I welcome, value and trust people who make small acts of repair. And it teaches me how to make them too. Like the visible clothes mending practice I picked up a few years ago in a free community workshop lead by an artist, acts of repair between people are a love language.

I recently learned that the love language framework was developed by a rotten man, no surprise really. But I still like the phrase and will try to use it in liberatory ways. Repair it, if possible, from its origin story.

Visible mending of our clothes, and upcycling anything in our lives, is sadly still a radical act. The Shein-ism and AI of our era has shoved a visual perfectionism so far down our throats I wretch if anything dares catch me on Instagram.

My discovery of the very human act of putting needle to thread and thread to cloth has been a huge balm. Antidote to the mania of colonial capitalist structures on our body. My clothes now overwhelmingly come from two charity shops within walking distance of my home, which often stock “plus“ sizes in soft non-polyester fabrics. This itself is a form of privilege.

I am so happy taking something home that needs a little mend, and I dance when my t-shirts form little holes. Bright coloured threads come out of the shoebox under the sofa, all bought secondhand on eBay. My needles are from various cross stitch packs over the years, scissors from a little sewing shop in a village on holiday. Nothing is bought as a whole set designed to sell me a “sewist” identity, everything is a slow working towards a life I now get to live.

And in my relationships this is catching on. I find more and more joy entangling with people who see how we have drifted or torn a little, and how we can find each other again. It takes some mettle and some time. Intention. It’s not easy and it wasn’t taught to us, or me at least. After a mend, a jacket is even more special because it is utterly unique and you can see the love put in. The same with people I think. My friendships and family relationships - and one day lovers and partners - who I have repaired with are extraordinarily beautiful. The people I’m in community with who repair are completely shimmering in their capacity for reparatory love.

Love is not without tension and conflict. It gets attacked by the elements. When I know repair is possible, my nervous system and deep seated trauma memories turn into meadows full of potential, care and rest. And fuck, repair is sexy too.