The Needle's Eye: Women and Work in the Age of Revolution

Introduction: Early American Artisanry: Why Gender Matters

Early American Artisanry Why Gender Matters SELDOM DOES a historian find her scholarly interests reflected in the aisles of Toys-R-Us, even more rarely so those of us who study the eighteenth century . But the advent of Colonial Barbieprovided me that rare instance. When I first spotted her, the historically garbed figure seemed out of place amid rows of Holiday Barbies, Dance-n-Twirl Barbies, and Gymnast Barbies. But as a women's historian studying early America I was drawn to her in both amazement and amusement. Dressed in red, white, and blue, her costume the familiar mantua, petticoat, and mob cap, she would more accurately have been named Revolutionary Barbie, I remember thinking. Most interesting to me, she held in her hand a piece of needlework. Barbie was working on a quilt square, it seemed, depicting an American eagle. Also enclosed in the box was a booklet recounting Barbie's participation in the American Revolution and explaining the small object she held in her hand. The title of the volume was "The Messenger Quilt." At first, I assumed that the usually adventuresome Barbie was involved in some sort of spy operation, cleverly inscribing and conveying military intelligence through a seemingly innocent quilt. I was disappointed to learn that the quilt simply, if enthusiastically, celebrated the signing of the Declaration of Independence with a large red, white, and blue design reading "Happy Birthday, America." Barbie's quilt brought to mind another piece of red, white, and blue needlework announcing the founding of the new nation. Though thousands of girls have now encountered their colonial counterparts through Mattel's incarnation (aswell as the American Girls popular doll "Felicity"), among the first early American women that most children meet is Betsy Ross, the alleged maker of the first United States flag. Ross has for generations been the only woman included alongside the founding fathers, her contribution to the fledgling nation her skill with a needle.1 On any given day, close to three hundred titles concerning her crowd the nation's bookstore and library shelves, the vast majority aimed at the young adult market. She has been porI INTRODUCTION 2 Introduction trayed in films, and she has lent her name to lamps, cocktails, and sewing tables. She is one of only three historical figures immortalized as a Pez candy dispenser. Prompted first by the nation's centennial and enlarged by subsequent commemorations, the legend that surrounds Ross is both larger and smaller than the woman herself.While most popular accounts casually label her a seamstress,Elizabeth Griscom Ross Ashburn Claypoole actually worked Colonial Barbie. Authorscollection. Early AmericanArtisanry 3 as an upholsterer, one of two hundred independent businesswomen in Philadelphia . Her shop thrived for several decades beyond 1776, employing over the years many young female apprentices and assistants.2 What's more, as a resident of revolutionary and occupied Philadelphia, the nation's first capital, her association with the Independence effort—which she struggled to reconcile with her Quaker upbringing—far exceeded the making of a single flag. Betsy Ross could, and should, be remembered as representative of large numbers of female artisans and entrepreneurs in early America, but the skilled craftwork, business acumen, political conviction, and religious commitments that shaped her life are almost completely overshadowed by the aura of domesticity that has come to surround her. When Ross's story emerged in the last quarter of the nineteenth century, it resonated with wistful colonial revival visions of early American women and their work. Needlework, at least among the white middle-class women who promoted the colonial revival, served an important purpose among Victorians coping with industrializingAmerica. The embroidering of those tremendously popular mottoes—God Bless Our Home, Rock of Ages, No Cross No Crown—reconciled progress (in the mass-produced punch-cards through which these patterns were produced) with tradition (in the application of needlework and the selection of the messages inscribed).3 New technologies gradually rendered decorative needlework, once the province of elite women educated in academies, the province of all. While images of Ross with the nation's first flag draped gracefully across her lap collapsed patriotism and domesticity into one compelling scene, women's personal experiences with needlework increasingly emphasized the ornamental over the prosaic. Early American needlework has continued to be revered as evidence of the industry, taste, diligence, devotion, and resourcefulness of our colonial counterparts. These objects bring emotional comfort, too, as they...