We have nosy neighbours whose kitchen window is directly across from ours. Also, we are skint. So, I spent my weekend sewing kitchen curtains. First, I had to work out, given how much fabric I had–how long and how wide–how many panels to cut; then how wide to make the hems; how deep to make the channel for the curtain rod; and so on. And it suddenly struck me: curtains are, basically, just flat rectangles with finished edges. It must be mind-numbing to design a pattern for, say, a dress. start with a flat rectangle, make it into this shape: 
Now, this particular dress was probably made by an experienced and gifted professional, but not so for most of its lowly contemporaries, and those that came before it. Most dresses–and trousers, and shirts, and so on–would’ve been made in the home. And, prior to the second half of the 19th century, would’ve been made without the benefit of a commercially-produced sewing pattern.
William Jennings Demorest and Ellen Louise Demorest began the home sewing pattern industry in 1860 by holding fashion shows in their homes and selling the patterns. This was the beginning of the Mme. Demorests’ Emporium of Fashion. They published a magazine, The Mirror of Fashion, which listed hundreds of different patterns, most available in only one size. Patterns were of unprinted paper, cut to shape, and could be purchased “flat” (folded), or, for an additional charge, “made up” (with the separate pieces tacked into position). The latter version was intended to compensate for the absence of detailed instructions.
So, until the second half of the 19th century, the clothes of the common people were made at home, and, most likely designed by the maker. Who would have undoubtedly been…well…a woman (or girl). And this got me to thinking about women and spatial reasoning. Again, start with a flat square, and make this:
Or start with string, and get this:
I don’t even know what else to say. Suddenly, these women-can’t-reason-spatially claims don’t just seem sexist and wrong; they seem knowingly dishonest.
My curtains, by the way, look great. Well, much better than the nosy neighbours’ faces, anyway…
Sweaters are no problem–try knitting a sock on 4 needles and turning the heel. Or designing stitches and cable designs. Women with “mechanical aptitude” do all these crafts that take very elaborate “spatial reasoning.” My grandmother did all this stuff–and so do I. However tests usually involve machinery with which women are less familiar–questions about how which way gears will turn. And even if in the abstract one has the ability, it doesn’t always translate completely if the problem is unfamiliar in its concrete details. Try doing a simple derivation using Polish notation.
yep, i think knitting, as well, is a good example of how reasoning abilities like this don’t just pop out of people: they’re practiced and honed. i starting knitting about seven years ago, and i’m getting to the point now where i can read a pattern and visualise what shape will result, but that’s because i’ve now *spent a lot of time making shapes with string*.
Great points, H.E. Baber and ELP. Back in my mathematician days, I was very interested in topology and geometry. My girlfriend got me a little starter knitting kit for Christmas last year, and I was instantly fascinated by all the spatial complexities of working with yarn and fabrics. It turns out a handful of mathematicians have been working on using fabric to create models of some otherwise very abstract creatures in the topologist’s zoo. Here’s a good introduction.
Oh, also: We read a bit of Matthew Crawford’s great little book Shop class as soulcraft in my Intro to Philosophy class, as part of a unit on the wide variety of different conceptions of the good life. Crawford talks pretty much exclusively about the virtues of manual work in terms of examples like motorcycle repair and electrical wiring, but everything he says also applies to other complex activities that require a fairly long period of training to learn to do well. I illustrated with a tangent on child care, cooking, and knitting.
What a fascinating discussion!
Interested folks might like to know we’ve had a couple of other posts on knitting (1st and 3rd): http://feministphilosophers.wordpress.com/?s=knitting
Jender, I was just about to put up a link to the third:
http://feministphilosophers.wordpress.com/2008/02/12/when-maths-and-traditionally-feminine-crafts-meet/
Its about a female mathematician who use crochet to build a model of hyperbolic space, for example.
I was just thinking about this the other day because I quilt, which takes some really complicated mathematics. What’s weird about sewing is that you do the math in your brain without thinking about it too hard, if you are good at sewing, you just kind of know how it should work. You train yourself to see the pattern and just know how the pieces should fit together.
As an avid knitter/crotcheter/sew-er myself, I have often thought this. Glad to see I’m not alone.
[...] think this was a load of crap? Yep, me too, so this article was an interesting lighthearted read Thoughts on Sewing and Innateness. It was especially interesting since I spent a couple of hours yesterday working out how some [...]
I have thought about this before, also. I don’t tend to think of my grandmother as intelligent (she made it through 3rd grade, from a farm then a very small town, etc). But several years ago I needed help cutting a quilt, and messed up a piece, which she proceeded to fix. The complexity of mental rotation of a single piece of fabric, with a right and wrong side that also had a single up-down direction to the print, that needed to fit into a single sideways slot in the pattern so that the print lined up with that on either side, was astounding. And she did it all effortlessly, in her head. That experience, and trying to learn to sew from patterns, has really made me rethink my assumptions about intelligence, mathematical skills, and spatial rotation. Rule-following, as well – the directions given in most patterns are peculiarly uninformative unless you already know what you are doing.
Those engaged in this discussion will really enjoy the following book:
Women’s Work: The First 20,000 Years
by Elizabeth Wayland Barber
Amazon.com: Women's Work: The First 20,000 Years: Women, Cloth, and Society in Early Times (9780393313482): Elizabeth Wayland Barber: Books
When I TAed logic as a grad student, the head of the course explained the high marks I got from my students on course evaluations thusly: “They needed a mother’s shoulder to lean on.” In fact, I was good at teaching logic — emphatically NOT my subspecialty in philosophy — largely because of my experience teaching people how to knit. But of course a lunkhead would have taken that fact the wrong way, too.
I have found this post and the ensuing discussion about it inspiring, but what I would like to know is whether readers of this blog think that the character or topic of a post on this blog overrides the oppressive manner in which the post’s character or topic is conveyed. Do readers of this blog think that this post is so interesting and valuable that it should not be sullied or compromised in any way as it might be if someone were to object to the phrase “they seem willfully blind, and knowingly dishonest” which seems to be pivotal to the post, that is, does alot of work to drive home one of the post’s messages/arguments?
shelley, thanks for your feedback. i shall certainly change the wording. but i do think one ought to be careful not to overstate one’s case on such matters: i don’t think it’s quite fair to characterise my manner as “oppressive”. thoughtless, perhaps? insensitive?
I don’t think I’m overstating the case. I think suggesting that manifestations of ableism are “thoughtless” and “insensitive” depoliticizes them and returns us to a focus on personal intentions. If everyone was just kinder and more sensitive to disabled people there would be no problem, right? This puts us squarely back in the realm of charity and benevolence which themselves have been major sources of disabled people’s oppression.
i see. again, shelley, thanks for your thoughts.
Thanks, elp! Now I know what to do about my daughter’s geometry weakness–very unusual in my family. I’ll get Synaesthetik to teach her how to knit!