The warmth of a quilt at my great-grandmother’s house, the weight of wool and polyester patchwork that dared you to try to break free – these are not just memories but layered stories of love, struggle, and resilience.

Quilts are treasures in our cultural inventory, forever linked to the South within Black history. They extend far beyond our borders as we migrate, taking root in new homeplaces. Those privileged enough to own these cherished heirlooms can walk you through the memory that each patch invokes. But for others, quilts represent a bygone era and commitment to labour that seems unimaginable in today's culture of immediacy.

As curator and scholar, I find this binary of appreciation intriguing: quilt holders vs observers. Cloth is integral to human experience, textiles following us from birth to death. Yet, quilts often meet a split audience due to histories of ‘women’s work’, underappreciation of craft, consumerism and capitalism, and the politics of recognition.

The study of Black quilts across time and space reveals an archive that rivals most historical texts. From Hystercine Rankin to Faith Ringgold, Black quiltmakers have scripted their experiences into worlds of fabric only fully understood from the inside. Quilting continues to offer refuge and kinship in a world where anti-Blackness and misogynoir run rampant.

Art-making is also a sanctuary for Dawn Williams Boyd: “It’s where I am engaged, safe, calm.” Her quilt ‘Piscean Dancer’ captures Black girlhood's beauty and self-actualization shaped by intergenerational love. Tina Williams Brewer approaches quilting as a ritual, intuitive, spirit-led, meditative – invoking connections between the physical and spiritual realms.